When you ASSUME, you make an ASS out of U and ME. Stop assuming, and ask.
There's more than one way to skin a cat.
If you really know, then it is not an assumption. But by trying to prove your knowledge of what I'm talking about, when you really don't know, you prove your lack of knowledge. Then my corrections may become awkward, and the entire situation a mess.
Why assume? Is there really only one path of thought that can be followed from a starting concept?
"I'm studying film." "Oh, so you want to be a director?" "No..."
"I'm in theatre." "Actor!" "No, Techie." "Techie????" "Yeah, Techie. Builder, painter, creator. The ones who really make the magic."
"I want to work on telescopes." "To be an astrologist?" "I think you mean astronomer. Astrologist you'd know with horoscopes. They work with the constellations and birthdays to find personality traits and life predictions..." "Is there really a need for astronomers?" "I'll find it. I want to work on telescopes." "...work for NASA..." "No, build telescopes." "...design them..." "NO, build them."
Is it so difficult to imagine that someone -wants- to be the secretary, and not the CEO? or that people are okay with being the technician who repairs the computers, not the genius programmer who makes the applications the world uses? Or the construction workers who use tools and machines to build the houses, not the designing architect who drew up the blueprints, or the contractor or supervisor? the sales associate, not the manager?
27 December 2009
15 December 2009
Health & Healing: Belonging
Sometime during high school I debated the concepts of being alone and being lonely. These resulted from my examination of the definitions and associated connotations:
Solitude
There is a solitude found
in the high, snow-covered peaks
of a mountain range
or down a quiet street-
where a teen walks, lost in thought,
the solitude made complete
by the gently falling snow
that mutes everything:
sounds, corners, colors.
Except, makes footsteps loud
enunciating the physical loneliness.
And yet, only physical loneliness
because the mind can then more easily wander
and explore daydreams and ideas
that he dares not look at when others are around
to keep his thoughts and worries from showing.
Alone
Solitude is different from being alone
If you are by yourself and thinking
That you are in a place that is safe from the rest of the world
But you know of someone who is waiting with open arms
To welcome you back to the real world,
Then you have enjoyed the moment's solitude
For you are not alone.
If you are in your own little world
The tiny corner of the universe where you are safe from everyone
And the only ones that would welcome you back to safety
Have gone,
Then you are truly alone.
Humans, especially as a society, are community based. We need someone to care for us, about us, and that we are all right. We need someone to care for and about, to worry over and support. We thrive on the sense of connection to others provided by working together toward a common goal. Why else do we search for the perfect partner? Or celebrate en masse? A partner is there to support us and for us to support them. They are a permanent best friend who promises to be that and more. This promise and other occasions prompt celebration by those who care for the parties involved, allowing everyone tied together by this union to feel the network of the support system established via the connections between people. Anyone who can sense this web can feel the power of the emotional ties, if they open their hearts to it. Once open to it, it is not a far step to take to become a part of it, knotting into the interconnected strands.
We need to belong.
Always Someone
There are times when
All you need to know
That someone cares.
When life picks you up
—Then drops you.
Helps you up
—Then knocks you over.
And kicks you while you’re down
Just know someone is always there.
You may not know them
—Or who they are,
They may not reveal it
—Until the right time,
It may come from someone
Whom you never thought would,
But someone—always—will care.
You are my friend;
I’m watching out for you.
So find something to smile about
Because
There’s always Something;
You just gotta find it.
A memory, an idea, a thought,
Or just the knowledge we’re friends.
Have a hug from me to you.
Smile.
I can understand how people turn to others for backup. That is what I do. I can also understand that God is a persona to whom others go for a ‘reset point,’ if you will.
This is who I go to when I can’t take what life throws at me any more and need to be rebalanced to deal with it more. Preferably with more strength and patience and confidence in myself, and this is who provides me with it. When I need it they let me release everything and collapse with the relief, then can inflate me again back to my normal size so I can go back out and face the world again.
I just have trouble seeing God – by that name or label – as the one for me to go to. I am much more at ease with someone tangible, whose answers I can clearly understand or easily receive clarification for, or who can give me a hug to help rebuild my self-esteem, since I understand comforting touch as well as if not better than reassuring words.
With my grandmother having spent decades working in Ministry (she is currently a hospital chaplain and will receive my copies of this class’s texts once we are done with them) I have been taught that God is everywhere. It is He whom we see as love from other people; it is He whom we admire when we find beauty or peace somewhere in the world. Besides the lessons to be open-minded, to take care of your cousins because they are as close as siblings, and that it is okay that someone recognizes you though you have never been to this town, family is there to be loved, however you define ‘family.’ I mentioned before at how my people at school are closer to me than my biological family at times. It only seems that way: I do not know how many times I have had to explain myself by saying “It’s how I was raised,” or “I was always taught to do that.” My biological family now extends through all the Midwestern states from Texas to Wisconsin, Michigan to Mississippi, and now even to a fourth generation on both sides. They have carried through any lessons I have picked up through life. Family designed my original set of filters, and everything about the world gets sifted by them first.
My family is where I will always belong. Whether it is merely their care for me and each other, or if there is more – the power of God – that comes through, it does not matter to me. We all care, and that is more than enough. We care for the families that maybe cannot provide for themselves very well, or the kittens picked up in the middle of the intersection, or the kids who come from struggling, unhealthy homes, or the dogs who just adopt a household as their new family.
With my upbringing and experiences, I have really come to understand the oft-used phrase “Home is where the heart is,” and the idea that “Family is what you make of it.” At a reunion out at a cabin (or three) on Lake Michigan is just as much ‘being home’ as sitting on the couch at my cousins’. And dinner at school with my friends is just as much a family dinner as Dad’s Chicken Dried Beef Bake and mashed potatoes that Mom has to specially request a week ahead of time.
Knowing that I can be at home and with family at my house or school or anywhere beyond is a confidence booster. I belong somewhere, with someone, or many someones, and they belong with me. This in turn has made me a mite possessive; they are ‘my boys’ just because they are really good friends, and despite their objection to be claimed, I am as much one of ‘their girls’ as they are my family. I know what I have and am thankful for it. I try to spread it to others when I can –which just makes my family bigger- and we all keep going because life makes keep existing, so we love it and live it while it is here.
--(c)CBates. (My essay; give credit where it is due.) Dec 2009
Solitude
There is a solitude found
in the high, snow-covered peaks
of a mountain range
or down a quiet street-
where a teen walks, lost in thought,
the solitude made complete
by the gently falling snow
that mutes everything:
sounds, corners, colors.
Except, makes footsteps loud
enunciating the physical loneliness.
And yet, only physical loneliness
because the mind can then more easily wander
and explore daydreams and ideas
that he dares not look at when others are around
to keep his thoughts and worries from showing.
Alone
Solitude is different from being alone
If you are by yourself and thinking
That you are in a place that is safe from the rest of the world
But you know of someone who is waiting with open arms
To welcome you back to the real world,
Then you have enjoyed the moment's solitude
For you are not alone.
If you are in your own little world
The tiny corner of the universe where you are safe from everyone
And the only ones that would welcome you back to safety
Have gone,
Then you are truly alone.
Humans, especially as a society, are community based. We need someone to care for us, about us, and that we are all right. We need someone to care for and about, to worry over and support. We thrive on the sense of connection to others provided by working together toward a common goal. Why else do we search for the perfect partner? Or celebrate en masse? A partner is there to support us and for us to support them. They are a permanent best friend who promises to be that and more. This promise and other occasions prompt celebration by those who care for the parties involved, allowing everyone tied together by this union to feel the network of the support system established via the connections between people. Anyone who can sense this web can feel the power of the emotional ties, if they open their hearts to it. Once open to it, it is not a far step to take to become a part of it, knotting into the interconnected strands.
We need to belong.
Always Someone
There are times when
All you need to know
That someone cares.
When life picks you up
—Then drops you.
Helps you up
—Then knocks you over.
And kicks you while you’re down
Just know someone is always there.
You may not know them
—Or who they are,
They may not reveal it
—Until the right time,
It may come from someone
Whom you never thought would,
But someone—always—will care.
You are my friend;
I’m watching out for you.
So find something to smile about
Because
There’s always Something;
You just gotta find it.
A memory, an idea, a thought,
Or just the knowledge we’re friends.
Have a hug from me to you.
Smile.
I can understand how people turn to others for backup. That is what I do. I can also understand that God is a persona to whom others go for a ‘reset point,’ if you will.
This is who I go to when I can’t take what life throws at me any more and need to be rebalanced to deal with it more. Preferably with more strength and patience and confidence in myself, and this is who provides me with it. When I need it they let me release everything and collapse with the relief, then can inflate me again back to my normal size so I can go back out and face the world again.
I just have trouble seeing God – by that name or label – as the one for me to go to. I am much more at ease with someone tangible, whose answers I can clearly understand or easily receive clarification for, or who can give me a hug to help rebuild my self-esteem, since I understand comforting touch as well as if not better than reassuring words.
With my grandmother having spent decades working in Ministry (she is currently a hospital chaplain and will receive my copies of this class’s texts once we are done with them) I have been taught that God is everywhere. It is He whom we see as love from other people; it is He whom we admire when we find beauty or peace somewhere in the world. Besides the lessons to be open-minded, to take care of your cousins because they are as close as siblings, and that it is okay that someone recognizes you though you have never been to this town, family is there to be loved, however you define ‘family.’ I mentioned before at how my people at school are closer to me than my biological family at times. It only seems that way: I do not know how many times I have had to explain myself by saying “It’s how I was raised,” or “I was always taught to do that.” My biological family now extends through all the Midwestern states from Texas to Wisconsin, Michigan to Mississippi, and now even to a fourth generation on both sides. They have carried through any lessons I have picked up through life. Family designed my original set of filters, and everything about the world gets sifted by them first.
My family is where I will always belong. Whether it is merely their care for me and each other, or if there is more – the power of God – that comes through, it does not matter to me. We all care, and that is more than enough. We care for the families that maybe cannot provide for themselves very well, or the kittens picked up in the middle of the intersection, or the kids who come from struggling, unhealthy homes, or the dogs who just adopt a household as their new family.
With my upbringing and experiences, I have really come to understand the oft-used phrase “Home is where the heart is,” and the idea that “Family is what you make of it.” At a reunion out at a cabin (or three) on Lake Michigan is just as much ‘being home’ as sitting on the couch at my cousins’. And dinner at school with my friends is just as much a family dinner as Dad’s Chicken Dried Beef Bake and mashed potatoes that Mom has to specially request a week ahead of time.
Knowing that I can be at home and with family at my house or school or anywhere beyond is a confidence booster. I belong somewhere, with someone, or many someones, and they belong with me. This in turn has made me a mite possessive; they are ‘my boys’ just because they are really good friends, and despite their objection to be claimed, I am as much one of ‘their girls’ as they are my family. I know what I have and am thankful for it. I try to spread it to others when I can –which just makes my family bigger- and we all keep going because life makes keep existing, so we love it and live it while it is here.
--(c)CBates. (My essay; give credit where it is due.) Dec 2009
Health & Healing: Stress Therapy, Meditation
I clock in to work after changing into a paint-covered t-shirt, old jeans, and my now -splattered gym shoes. I move my watch from my wrist to my belt loop, next to my shop key. I leave my room key with my sweatshirt and pick up my work gloves, tucking them in my back pocket as I adjust the bandanna on my head. No matter what day, my mood or anyone else’s, we always start off with the same little ritual:
“Hey G. Hey B.”
“Hey,” G glances up from his work and smiles.
B comes out of his office: “Hi Courtney, how are ya?”
“Pretty good. You?”
“Not too bad.”
“What’re we doing?”
“Well,” B begins. And we’re off. We take a lap around the shop, the stage, the house, the booth finding what needs to be done next or who needs help holding this or painting that or what I can do right then and there, saying “Hi” to the other student workers as we pass. “Go find a screw gun and attach these over here…” or put those over there, which screws? This length. Are you guys using them? No, we left them over there. Someone moved them since then, though, so look in the shop. Is that an extra gun? Yeah, sure, here. Where is a level? In the closet on the back wall. Hey B? G, I finished! I need this cut to this size. Going loud! Could I borrow the knife for a moment? Here, hold this. Where’s the gaff tape? Move me downstage, please. Did I do this right? Walls going out! Thank you. Next channel. Where are the bolts? On the door by the brooms. Can you grab a dustpan while you are over there? Never mind, I found them.
The shop babble floats around as we settle in with our power tools and paint brushes. The occasional shout of success or distinctive clunk of dropped wood joins the din of questions and short responses, but usually the only whining is of the drills, any screams from the three-inch screws as they are forced to twist into two-by-fours. We talk and joke, venting and exchanging horror stories of life. We come in to work in the crabbiest of moods, frustrated from tests and overwhelmed with emotion. Force a bit of civility, just long enough to get something to do, then get to work. After a time of ignoring everything but the task at hand, becoming completely immersed in the rhythm of grab a screw, place it, drive it, move to the next, repeat, we find that the majority of the negative emotions have worked themselves off. Every screw needed something behind it to make sure it went in all the way. We draw on our frustration and channel it into the project at hand. There is nothing quite like taking anger out in a constructive manner. Everything we build has parts of us in it. Where else am I (or any of the others who are smaller than I am) going to get the determination to move a wall twice my size? By treating it like the problem in mind, only knowing that, with this wall, I can move it. And if I can’t, I know all I have to do is say “Can I get some help please?” and someone will come. It may not be a perfect metaphor for what I’m representing with my wall, but the wall gets put into place, and in feeling better about accomplishing that I feel better about my issue it stands for.
Last year there was a point when it seemed everything had been going wrong and breaking, leaving the shop workers to clean up and repair the mess. We decided that the Shop could fix anything: scraped floors to scraped knees, chipped paint to chipped nails, ripped canvas to ripped dreams, rewiring of cables to rewiring of perspective. The only thing the Shop hadn’t had to fix at that point was broken hearts, and none of us were too keen on the idea of testing it.
As I take pieces of wood and assemble them, I puzzle over life’s troubles and begin to build solutions. It is probably my best time to think, while I’m working with my hands on something I know how to do. That is partly why I knit through classes: when I am doing something with my hands I know I am thinking; when I create something tangible I synthesize mentally. When I knit outside of class, I find myself turning thoughts and concepts end over end. Look at it this way, that way, wait, what about over here? I sit and think, and as I work, I calm down. I can figure out maybe what direction to go in to find the solution. And if the problem is just too raw to work with, my knitting tells me that: it gets all tangled and knotted and I get just as stuck with the string as I am with the thoughts. This mental calming and solving is probably as close as I get to meditation; Monday will be a nice reminder of what it really is.
We used to do a bit of meditation as part of warm up for the musical’s dance rehearsals; our choreographer enjoyed it, and meditation helped everyone have enough patience to work together fresh out of a long day of high school. That is what I can refer to when working with the word “meditation”: those five-minute breathe, relax, let it go, come back sequences that I think most of us really used as a quick power nap before needing to be energized for dancing. We were supposed to come back from our moment feeling rested and focused, ready to rehearse and leave the day’s troubles behind us. This part I can see as the power of wishful thinking: if you think and want it hard enough, it will happen. We all wanted energy and to relax for a moment, so we took our calming moment and came back rested.
The sort of meditation I find in working with my hands allows me to solve the problems that bother me, if not distract me to the point of forgetting how much they aggravate. The form we did before practice just let me put everything else on hold until after rehearsal. I find my version to be more helpful for me, because then what is done is done, and not just waiting to pounce on me when I turn back to it. The waiting until I can deal with an issue just multiplies my stress; I am impatient when mental quandaries stick around longer than it takes to solve them. Just let me knit, or build, or write. I will have something to show you at the end of it, and I will feel much more sane and stable for doing so. You may only see the scarf or the set or the journal entry, but I see another battle won, another string of problems solved.
--(c)CBates. (My essay; give credit where it is due.) Nov 2009
“Hey G. Hey B.”
“Hey,” G glances up from his work and smiles.
B comes out of his office: “Hi Courtney, how are ya?”
“Pretty good. You?”
“Not too bad.”
“What’re we doing?”
“Well,” B begins. And we’re off. We take a lap around the shop, the stage, the house, the booth finding what needs to be done next or who needs help holding this or painting that or what I can do right then and there, saying “Hi” to the other student workers as we pass. “Go find a screw gun and attach these over here…” or put those over there, which screws? This length. Are you guys using them? No, we left them over there. Someone moved them since then, though, so look in the shop. Is that an extra gun? Yeah, sure, here. Where is a level? In the closet on the back wall. Hey B? G, I finished! I need this cut to this size. Going loud! Could I borrow the knife for a moment? Here, hold this. Where’s the gaff tape? Move me downstage, please. Did I do this right? Walls going out! Thank you. Next channel. Where are the bolts? On the door by the brooms. Can you grab a dustpan while you are over there? Never mind, I found them.
The shop babble floats around as we settle in with our power tools and paint brushes. The occasional shout of success or distinctive clunk of dropped wood joins the din of questions and short responses, but usually the only whining is of the drills, any screams from the three-inch screws as they are forced to twist into two-by-fours. We talk and joke, venting and exchanging horror stories of life. We come in to work in the crabbiest of moods, frustrated from tests and overwhelmed with emotion. Force a bit of civility, just long enough to get something to do, then get to work. After a time of ignoring everything but the task at hand, becoming completely immersed in the rhythm of grab a screw, place it, drive it, move to the next, repeat, we find that the majority of the negative emotions have worked themselves off. Every screw needed something behind it to make sure it went in all the way. We draw on our frustration and channel it into the project at hand. There is nothing quite like taking anger out in a constructive manner. Everything we build has parts of us in it. Where else am I (or any of the others who are smaller than I am) going to get the determination to move a wall twice my size? By treating it like the problem in mind, only knowing that, with this wall, I can move it. And if I can’t, I know all I have to do is say “Can I get some help please?” and someone will come. It may not be a perfect metaphor for what I’m representing with my wall, but the wall gets put into place, and in feeling better about accomplishing that I feel better about my issue it stands for.
Last year there was a point when it seemed everything had been going wrong and breaking, leaving the shop workers to clean up and repair the mess. We decided that the Shop could fix anything: scraped floors to scraped knees, chipped paint to chipped nails, ripped canvas to ripped dreams, rewiring of cables to rewiring of perspective. The only thing the Shop hadn’t had to fix at that point was broken hearts, and none of us were too keen on the idea of testing it.
As I take pieces of wood and assemble them, I puzzle over life’s troubles and begin to build solutions. It is probably my best time to think, while I’m working with my hands on something I know how to do. That is partly why I knit through classes: when I am doing something with my hands I know I am thinking; when I create something tangible I synthesize mentally. When I knit outside of class, I find myself turning thoughts and concepts end over end. Look at it this way, that way, wait, what about over here? I sit and think, and as I work, I calm down. I can figure out maybe what direction to go in to find the solution. And if the problem is just too raw to work with, my knitting tells me that: it gets all tangled and knotted and I get just as stuck with the string as I am with the thoughts. This mental calming and solving is probably as close as I get to meditation; Monday will be a nice reminder of what it really is.
We used to do a bit of meditation as part of warm up for the musical’s dance rehearsals; our choreographer enjoyed it, and meditation helped everyone have enough patience to work together fresh out of a long day of high school. That is what I can refer to when working with the word “meditation”: those five-minute breathe, relax, let it go, come back sequences that I think most of us really used as a quick power nap before needing to be energized for dancing. We were supposed to come back from our moment feeling rested and focused, ready to rehearse and leave the day’s troubles behind us. This part I can see as the power of wishful thinking: if you think and want it hard enough, it will happen. We all wanted energy and to relax for a moment, so we took our calming moment and came back rested.
The sort of meditation I find in working with my hands allows me to solve the problems that bother me, if not distract me to the point of forgetting how much they aggravate. The form we did before practice just let me put everything else on hold until after rehearsal. I find my version to be more helpful for me, because then what is done is done, and not just waiting to pounce on me when I turn back to it. The waiting until I can deal with an issue just multiplies my stress; I am impatient when mental quandaries stick around longer than it takes to solve them. Just let me knit, or build, or write. I will have something to show you at the end of it, and I will feel much more sane and stable for doing so. You may only see the scarf or the set or the journal entry, but I see another battle won, another string of problems solved.
--(c)CBates. (My essay; give credit where it is due.) Nov 2009
Health & Healing: Meals
Tonight I will be making dinner. My friend N and I will head to the store right after this class to get the ingredients; then we will bother my neighbor K for his pots and spoons, knife and cutting board. N and I will then go down to the kitchen available for residents’ use and make chicken noodle soup, with carrots, celery, onions, and herbs, just like her Polish mother does. She and I both have a maternal streak. Since K and our fourth partner, A, are both sick to the point where they have traded pain relievers and decongestants to see what works better for whom, N and I have found something that we can do to maybe help them feel better. Nothing says “home from school being taken care of by Mom” like homemade chicken noodle soup, so that’s what we’ll do, for the sick ones, ourselves, and the rest of our group.
Why make food? In my theology class on “Health & Healing,” we’ve discussed the importance of food: it’s necessary for our survival, for one. Two, it provides bonding time. We may joke about the stereotypical 50’s “So how was your day?” “Just fine, Mother.” conversation over breaded chicken and potato pancakes, but we mean it. The people I cook for and with are my family at school. Dominican is more my home than my house, and my floor mates more family than the ones I was born to. It happens when you’re a resident.
My favorite memories from the past year or so are of meals. Doesn’t matter what we are eating (homemade pizzas, Coldstone ice cream, our food service’s Thanksgiving dinner, or the occasional dining hall ‘um.. I’m not sure what it is but I guess it’s edible’ food), it’s the conversation that matters. The laughter at each others’ puns, the commiseration over failed physics tests, the constant flirting that happens when we relax and open up to each other after a long day of classes. This is the community that happens over food. We bond to each other, and to the meal. Like the first meal we cooked ourselves: when we made about three dinners at once. (Oops. Well, we had plenty of leftovers for the next week.) Or the birthdays that we would celebrate with cake or pudding. Even the perpetual mess of flour –because it gets everywhere- or splashing water while washing dishes. We all cry together in the kitchen, too; someone is chopping an onion and the room is too small to escape the tears. Anyone who walks by the commons while we are cooking gets annoyed at us for having the door open to let out some of the heat, carrying the smell of frying bacon with it.
Despite the individual details from each meal that make each memory special, there is always a moment when I can look around at my people, momentarily silent but for chewing, and know that this is what I’ll remember. Knowing that we made a meal and it is definitely of better quality than the school is giving us, and that it was made with love and support, not the masses, in mind. Being able to sit back, relax for a moment and really breathe; sharing a table, conversation, and evening with these people; knowing they care and support me.
This community of the meal table reminds me slightly of the Last Supper painting and stories; of the importance of consuming in company. Eating alone is eating for necessity. We have to eat to survive. We may as well take the time that has to be spent eating, stretch it out a little and let it be relaxing and mentally and emotionally recharging as well as physically.
Religion, politics, and finances are not to be discussed at the dinner table, but if we speak of one, we debate them all. The longest lasting conversations tend to be the religious vs. spiritual, because we know we cannot change finances or politics with mere dinner table talk. My group of scientists and mathematicians do not tend to be the most religious of folk, despite being raised in varying degrees of Catholic, Lutheran, or Christian homes. The existence of a God is still up for debate, in our own minds and hearts as well as over the table, but at the moments when I realize I am truly happy, watching and listening to the strangers I adopted as family, I say thank you. If there is a god, he’ll hear me. If not, I’m adding that moment to my list of things to be thankful for. It is that list that I go back to when I am over stressed, or feeling down, or overwhelmed. It is those moments that make the harder times just a little bit easier to get through.
As college students in such a technological age, we are constantly bombarded with electronic messages and impatience. (What do we want? Everything! When do we want it? Now!) This type of lifestyle, in a recent conversation, became a metaphoric stove. There are many burners, and on each is a pot. Some things, like the task at hand, are front and center, being stirred and watched, added to and tested. Other things are literally “on the back burner,” pushed away and turned to Low heat. The problem with letting things sit at the distance is that it is harder to watch them. If the heat is not low enough, they will boil over. (Like my grade in a certain class. I thought it was under control, next thing I know it has bubbled over and made a huge mess that has to be cleaned up off of a hot stove, by other pots that will hopefully not boil over at the same time.) Other times, a little nudge is all it takes to turn off a back burner, or even the front one. That pot is done cooking, time to move on. It is an extremely welcome thing when other people can come by and turn one off, perhaps the one with the guilt from some situation, removing it from the heat merely by saying something as simple as “You didn’t let us down.” The best part is when everything can be turned to Low and moved, or turned off completely: that’s when the meal is done and can be shared and enjoyed, celebrated. When everyone around the dinner table can sit back, relax, be reminded of the support system they have established, and prepare for the next wave of incoming pots.
--(c)CBates. (My essay; give credit where it is due.) Oct 2009
Why make food? In my theology class on “Health & Healing,” we’ve discussed the importance of food: it’s necessary for our survival, for one. Two, it provides bonding time. We may joke about the stereotypical 50’s “So how was your day?” “Just fine, Mother.” conversation over breaded chicken and potato pancakes, but we mean it. The people I cook for and with are my family at school. Dominican is more my home than my house, and my floor mates more family than the ones I was born to. It happens when you’re a resident.
My favorite memories from the past year or so are of meals. Doesn’t matter what we are eating (homemade pizzas, Coldstone ice cream, our food service’s Thanksgiving dinner, or the occasional dining hall ‘um.. I’m not sure what it is but I guess it’s edible’ food), it’s the conversation that matters. The laughter at each others’ puns, the commiseration over failed physics tests, the constant flirting that happens when we relax and open up to each other after a long day of classes. This is the community that happens over food. We bond to each other, and to the meal. Like the first meal we cooked ourselves: when we made about three dinners at once. (Oops. Well, we had plenty of leftovers for the next week.) Or the birthdays that we would celebrate with cake or pudding. Even the perpetual mess of flour –because it gets everywhere- or splashing water while washing dishes. We all cry together in the kitchen, too; someone is chopping an onion and the room is too small to escape the tears. Anyone who walks by the commons while we are cooking gets annoyed at us for having the door open to let out some of the heat, carrying the smell of frying bacon with it.
Despite the individual details from each meal that make each memory special, there is always a moment when I can look around at my people, momentarily silent but for chewing, and know that this is what I’ll remember. Knowing that we made a meal and it is definitely of better quality than the school is giving us, and that it was made with love and support, not the masses, in mind. Being able to sit back, relax for a moment and really breathe; sharing a table, conversation, and evening with these people; knowing they care and support me.
This community of the meal table reminds me slightly of the Last Supper painting and stories; of the importance of consuming in company. Eating alone is eating for necessity. We have to eat to survive. We may as well take the time that has to be spent eating, stretch it out a little and let it be relaxing and mentally and emotionally recharging as well as physically.
Religion, politics, and finances are not to be discussed at the dinner table, but if we speak of one, we debate them all. The longest lasting conversations tend to be the religious vs. spiritual, because we know we cannot change finances or politics with mere dinner table talk. My group of scientists and mathematicians do not tend to be the most religious of folk, despite being raised in varying degrees of Catholic, Lutheran, or Christian homes. The existence of a God is still up for debate, in our own minds and hearts as well as over the table, but at the moments when I realize I am truly happy, watching and listening to the strangers I adopted as family, I say thank you. If there is a god, he’ll hear me. If not, I’m adding that moment to my list of things to be thankful for. It is that list that I go back to when I am over stressed, or feeling down, or overwhelmed. It is those moments that make the harder times just a little bit easier to get through.
As college students in such a technological age, we are constantly bombarded with electronic messages and impatience. (What do we want? Everything! When do we want it? Now!) This type of lifestyle, in a recent conversation, became a metaphoric stove. There are many burners, and on each is a pot. Some things, like the task at hand, are front and center, being stirred and watched, added to and tested. Other things are literally “on the back burner,” pushed away and turned to Low heat. The problem with letting things sit at the distance is that it is harder to watch them. If the heat is not low enough, they will boil over. (Like my grade in a certain class. I thought it was under control, next thing I know it has bubbled over and made a huge mess that has to be cleaned up off of a hot stove, by other pots that will hopefully not boil over at the same time.) Other times, a little nudge is all it takes to turn off a back burner, or even the front one. That pot is done cooking, time to move on. It is an extremely welcome thing when other people can come by and turn one off, perhaps the one with the guilt from some situation, removing it from the heat merely by saying something as simple as “You didn’t let us down.” The best part is when everything can be turned to Low and moved, or turned off completely: that’s when the meal is done and can be shared and enjoyed, celebrated. When everyone around the dinner table can sit back, relax, be reminded of the support system they have established, and prepare for the next wave of incoming pots.
--(c)CBates. (My essay; give credit where it is due.) Oct 2009
03 December 2009
Computer Repairs
Error: "User Profile Service failed the logon. User profile cannot be loaded."
Based on help posted all over, this is what I found helped the most. Saved passwords, bookmarks, etc are lost unless you know where to look to transfer them, but files/photos/music can be saved easily.
----------------------------------------------------------
Run computer in [Safe Mode with Command prompt] for all of this. Save yourself the headache of restarting it an infinite number of times.
Log in to problem profile
Using the Command Prompts: type text in [ ] without using backspace, hit "enter"
You may need to repeat the commands to get the proper responses. If you mess up, just finish typing the command and try again.
CP: [net user administrator /active: yes]
--command to un-hide the admin account. Returns successful acknowledgment
CP: net user newProfile newPassword /add (/domain)
--creates new standard account with username: newProfile and password: newPassword as typed. Returns successful acknowledgment
If yours, like mine, had failed to open Windows Explorer and won't give you a tool bar,
CP: start..
Log out of problem profile
Log in to the newly found admin account, Control Panel > User Accounts > Manage Another Account to change my working profile from standard to admin.
Log out of admin account
Log in to the working account to be sure everything transferred accounts nicely. If it didn't, you should be able to access the files as before through the working profile until it does. If it did, Control Panel > User Accounts > Delete Account the problem profile.
CP: [net user administrator /active: no]
--command to hide the admin account. Returns successful acknowledgment
----------------------------------------------------------
Now feel free to restart in normal mode and continue on with life, using the new working admin file in place of the old, now deleted, file.
Based on help posted all over, this is what I found helped the most. Saved passwords, bookmarks, etc are lost unless you know where to look to transfer them, but files/photos/music can be saved easily.
----------------------------------------------------------
Run computer in [Safe Mode with Command prompt] for all of this. Save yourself the headache of restarting it an infinite number of times.
Log in to problem profile
Using the Command Prompts: type text in [ ] without using backspace, hit "enter"
You may need to repeat the commands to get the proper responses. If you mess up, just finish typing the command and try again.
CP: [net user administrator /active: yes]
--command to un-hide the admin account. Returns successful acknowledgment
CP: net user newProfile newPassword /add (/domain)
--creates new standard account with username: newProfile and password: newPassword as typed. Returns successful acknowledgment
If yours, like mine, had failed to open Windows Explorer and won't give you a tool bar,
CP: start..
Log out of problem profile
Log in to the newly found admin account, Control Panel > User Accounts > Manage Another Account to change my working profile from standard to admin.
Log out of admin account
Log in to the working account to be sure everything transferred accounts nicely. If it didn't, you should be able to access the files as before through the working profile until it does. If it did, Control Panel > User Accounts > Delete Account the problem profile.
CP: [net user administrator /active: no]
--command to hide the admin account. Returns successful acknowledgment
----------------------------------------------------------
Now feel free to restart in normal mode and continue on with life, using the new working admin file in place of the old, now deleted, file.
20 November 2009
The little things that make life perfect at that moment.
- Hug (or other comforting touch)
- Cinnamon or gingerbread ice cream
- Heath candy bar
- Good song on the radio
- Hot apple cider
- Warm comfy spot to curl up in
- A bonfire or fire in the fireplace
- Lots of stars in the night sky
-
I'll add more as they come to me.
- Cinnamon or gingerbread ice cream
- Heath candy bar
- Good song on the radio
- Hot apple cider
- Warm comfy spot to curl up in
- A bonfire or fire in the fireplace
- Lots of stars in the night sky
-
I'll add more as they come to me.
17 October 2009
Finishing
I didn't want to stay at school. Most of my usual group went home and left me; I had nothing to do but take the car back home so here I am. I'm tired. More than I was yesterday. And I thought I got a decent amount of sleep... but midnight-ish to 748 am just doesn't seem to work. Yet the days after 4 hour nights seemed perfectly fine. And it's 140 am, I'm still up, and it's a Friday night of MU project. Wooo.
I don't want to be at school - staying there all weekend by myself seemed such a waste of my time. But coming home won't be much better, at least as I can see.
Almost done with "Pebbled." I think I've subconsciously decided I can't finish it until I finish my Vectorworks battle, so it is still sitting there.
In the car on the way home --because driving alone on a cloudy night was the only thing that I might actually have a willingness to do-- I was thinking about what I wanted. The words didn't make that much sense, of course, but I was more feeling than thinking in words anyways. I wanted a presence like K that cared like C. Or was it K's proximity and C's contact? I think the decision ended at wanting the person C used to be. But I'm not the person I was then, so why would I want the same thing I did then? I've changed too much since then. And so has C. Which is why I miss then-C. But K's one presence that has been around. Even though I suspect that's more wishful thinking because it's really been A who has been around and helpful and filling in that spot that was partially C's and is partly K's. Especially now with the drastic differences in distance...
But I am tired and still have to put wires in my diagram and email lots of things to K for MU. Maybe the wires will be tomorrow's project. Along with my Networks and Discrete assignments. I'd like to finish the Pebbled project, too --I could finish L's replacement hanger in an hour if I took the time to as well. I could finish a lot tomorrow//\\ technically today. Who knows anymore. I have laundry to fold and a proposal to email. Good night (morning?).
I don't want to be at school - staying there all weekend by myself seemed such a waste of my time. But coming home won't be much better, at least as I can see.
Almost done with "Pebbled." I think I've subconsciously decided I can't finish it until I finish my Vectorworks battle, so it is still sitting there.
In the car on the way home --because driving alone on a cloudy night was the only thing that I might actually have a willingness to do-- I was thinking about what I wanted. The words didn't make that much sense, of course, but I was more feeling than thinking in words anyways. I wanted a presence like K that cared like C. Or was it K's proximity and C's contact? I think the decision ended at wanting the person C used to be. But I'm not the person I was then, so why would I want the same thing I did then? I've changed too much since then. And so has C. Which is why I miss then-C. But K's one presence that has been around. Even though I suspect that's more wishful thinking because it's really been A who has been around and helpful and filling in that spot that was partially C's and is partly K's. Especially now with the drastic differences in distance...
But I am tired and still have to put wires in my diagram and email lots of things to K for MU. Maybe the wires will be tomorrow's project. Along with my Networks and Discrete assignments. I'd like to finish the Pebbled project, too --I could finish L's replacement hanger in an hour if I took the time to as well. I could finish a lot tomorrow//\\ technically today. Who knows anymore. I have laundry to fold and a proposal to email. Good night (morning?).
07 October 2009
Discrete Structures / Mathematics Review I
Chapter 1
a sentence is a statement if can be labeled T/F.
original: p->q.
inverse, like a tarot card: ~p->~q.
converse is left and right like shoes: q->p.
contrapositive is both inverse and converse: ~q->~p.
biconditional: p<->q
which means (p->q) & (q->p)
DeMorgan negates by flipping the &/or and adding ~:
[ ~(p & q) = ~p or ~q ]
[ ~(p or q) = ~p & ~q ]
Circuits:
T (from truth table) = Closed (circuit) = On (light bulb) = 1
F = Open = Off = 0
Gates:
AND D = &
OR )> = or
NOT |>o = ~(stmt)
1. CAN'T combine input wires
2. CAN split input wires
3. output CAN be next input
4. usually, output CAN'T be same gate's input
Number Systems:
*LABEL BASES*
binary = base 2 / 2^nth power = uses digits 0-1
octal = base 8 / 8^nth power = uses digits 0-7
decimal = base 10 / 10^nth power = uses digits 0-9 <--- 'Normal' numbers
hexadecimal = base 16 / 16^nth power = uses digits 0-F (0-9 as is, A=10, B=11, C=12, D=13, E=14, F=15)
Two's Complement: for negative binary numbers
take number, subtract from 11111111base2 (256base10) = one's complement
add 00000001base2 = two's complement
Adding/Subtracting in Binary:
1. convert numbers to 8-bit binary, use 2'sC for negative numbers
2. add 2 binary values
3. if sum overflows into 9th high order bit (9 bit digit, not 8), eliminate 9th bit -doesn't matter.
4. resulting 8 bit value: if starts with 1, is negative. if starts with 0, positive value.
5. convert back to original base
Half-Adder: (P or Q) & ~(P & Q) = Sum + Carry
Full-Adder: HA -> PQSum -> HA with R -> RSum = Sum, PQCarry or RCarry = Carry.
Three Bit Adder: HA -> FA -> FA
---Diagrams!---
a sentence is a statement if can be labeled T/F.
original: p->q.
inverse, like a tarot card: ~p->~q.
converse is left and right like shoes: q->p.
contrapositive is both inverse and converse: ~q->~p.
biconditional: p<->q
which means (p->q) & (q->p)
DeMorgan negates by flipping the &/or and adding ~:
[ ~(p & q) = ~p or ~q ]
[ ~(p or q) = ~p & ~q ]
Circuits:
T (from truth table) = Closed (circuit) = On (light bulb) = 1
F = Open = Off = 0
Gates:
AND D = &
OR )> = or
NOT |>o = ~(stmt)
1. CAN'T combine input wires
2. CAN split input wires
3. output CAN be next input
4. usually, output CAN'T be same gate's input
Number Systems:
*LABEL BASES*
binary = base 2 / 2^nth power = uses digits 0-1
octal = base 8 / 8^nth power = uses digits 0-7
decimal = base 10 / 10^nth power = uses digits 0-9 <--- 'Normal' numbers
hexadecimal = base 16 / 16^nth power = uses digits 0-F (0-9 as is, A=10, B=11, C=12, D=13, E=14, F=15)
Two's Complement: for negative binary numbers
take number, subtract from 11111111base2 (256base10) = one's complement
add 00000001base2 = two's complement
Adding/Subtracting in Binary:
1. convert numbers to 8-bit binary, use 2'sC for negative numbers
2. add 2 binary values
3. if sum overflows into 9th high order bit (9 bit digit, not 8), eliminate 9th bit -doesn't matter.
4. resulting 8 bit value: if starts with 1, is negative. if starts with 0, positive value.
5. convert back to original base
Half-Adder: (P or Q) & ~(P & Q) = Sum + Carry
Full-Adder: HA -> PQSum -> HA with R -> RSum = Sum, PQCarry or RCarry = Carry.
Three Bit Adder: HA -> FA -> FA
---Diagrams!---
06 October 2009
Pebbled - II
Cont. from Pebbled
I finally made it long enough that I felt okay to BO. The tension changed at one point, and it's not as sideways stretchy as it was before the switch but oh well. It isn't as wide as I'd hoped it'd be, but I've picked up stitches down the side with the remaining ball and am working the pattern perpendicular to the original rectangle to add some width and not look so much like a scarf (though it'd make a great one. This yarn has been a treat to work with.) K's watched the last 6-8" be worked as I knit through class, but he doesn't get to watch this. Something about it has to be a surprise, since I told/showed him on his birthday that it was in the works and went along with the book. So far he doesn't know I changed direction - and won't unless he walks past while I'm working on it... O:-) I'd love to be done with it by the time we all go down to cook a meal again. I'm almost done, but we're overdue for a meal so we'll see if it works. It might need to be for the meal after the next. :)
There was a stretch where I would work 4 rows, rip 5, +5 -3 +6 -4... ie, undo everything I'd done. It set me back about two weeks worth of knitting time. Then tennis kept me too busy and sore to knit very much, but I got back to it and made progress.
It's still a calming project; I can't decided if that's because of the pattern, the yarn, or the intended.
It will be as perfect as I can make it. 1- variegated yarn: uncontrolled striping. 2- made by hand: variation of tension, stitch, errors, sizing, shape... It is a practical object that we will all use (if only because we'll steal it from his shoulder for the moment) and will be a reminder of me. But I made it with K in mind, and worked it with care and intent. And that's the point and what makes it perfect.
I finally made it long enough that I felt okay to BO. The tension changed at one point, and it's not as sideways stretchy as it was before the switch but oh well. It isn't as wide as I'd hoped it'd be, but I've picked up stitches down the side with the remaining ball and am working the pattern perpendicular to the original rectangle to add some width and not look so much like a scarf (though it'd make a great one. This yarn has been a treat to work with.) K's watched the last 6-8" be worked as I knit through class, but he doesn't get to watch this. Something about it has to be a surprise, since I told/showed him on his birthday that it was in the works and went along with the book. So far he doesn't know I changed direction - and won't unless he walks past while I'm working on it... O:-) I'd love to be done with it by the time we all go down to cook a meal again. I'm almost done, but we're overdue for a meal so we'll see if it works. It might need to be for the meal after the next. :)
There was a stretch where I would work 4 rows, rip 5, +5 -3 +6 -4... ie, undo everything I'd done. It set me back about two weeks worth of knitting time. Then tennis kept me too busy and sore to knit very much, but I got back to it and made progress.
It's still a calming project; I can't decided if that's because of the pattern, the yarn, or the intended.
It will be as perfect as I can make it. 1- variegated yarn: uncontrolled striping. 2- made by hand: variation of tension, stitch, errors, sizing, shape... It is a practical object that we will all use (if only because we'll steal it from his shoulder for the moment) and will be a reminder of me. But I made it with K in mind, and worked it with care and intent. And that's the point and what makes it perfect.
Headband Swap - August - Rec'd
My headband from lyngHeadband swap finally came in!! (a month late, but it made it :) ) and pretty green...
"I'm worried that it will be too big after getting yours - hope not."
It's perfect. It's just snug enough it stays in place and soft enough to be comfortable. And, it's loose and wide enough I can cover my ears with it - Perfect, considering it's October in Chicago :):)
25 August 2009
Tennis Season
Preseason started 5 days ago. Three days of one practice, now two of two-a-days + conditioning. It's more than we did last season, but I'm okay with it. I'm mostly keeping up, and only a little sore, despite heating/icing my neck before/after each practice. The only thing that prepared me for this was being really active this summer, working in the shop and climbing whenever I could.
I really am enjoying the team this year. We all generally get along and can laugh and talk and hang out together (though I doubt any would really fit in with my normal group // school family and that's okay). We're all of similar level, which means that anyone you play against is a fair game, but that makes it really hard for the coaches to place us for the lineup. I will be happy if I'm playing. Exhibition is fun and all, but I get bored. I just want to play, as I keep telling Bob. I just want to play. And this year, I get to play. Really play and improve and enjoy the game. I enjoy the practices, the girls, the coaches, and even conditioning. I like what tennis is doing to me and will be sad when season is over. (Now, it'll be nice to have some free time, but still... We all miss it until Spring/NonTraditional season rolls around.)
I really am enjoying the team this year. We all generally get along and can laugh and talk and hang out together (though I doubt any would really fit in with my normal group // school family and that's okay). We're all of similar level, which means that anyone you play against is a fair game, but that makes it really hard for the coaches to place us for the lineup. I will be happy if I'm playing. Exhibition is fun and all, but I get bored. I just want to play, as I keep telling Bob. I just want to play. And this year, I get to play. Really play and improve and enjoy the game. I enjoy the practices, the girls, the coaches, and even conditioning. I like what tennis is doing to me and will be sad when season is over. (Now, it'll be nice to have some free time, but still... We all miss it until Spring/NonTraditional season rolls around.)
13 August 2009
Pebbled
I am much enjoying my new pattern. It's a birthday present, so it's an unmentionable, but I'm having too much fun to keep too quiet about it. The yarn is soft and unexpected, but it was on sale so I looked at it with different eyes than I usually would. It's variegated, from a white to a mid-shade to dark. The stitch is "Pebbled", a moss stitch variant that I was surprised to find and find that I liked (I hate moss/seed stitch, 1x1 rib, twisted rib,... ie, quickly alternating knit-purl). A very pleasant surprise, plus calm and quiet, yet subtle complexity that really isn't that difficult to figure out or follow, just enough to fool the world. How appropriate, considering the person I'm giving it to. I guess that gives it away almost as much as the color scheme would... No, you don't get that. I know better. ;)
I had a moment after reading a blog post where I was smashed with deep emotion and upset and found myself sliding into what couldn't be a good place for my mental state and emotions. I said to myself "Stop." and turned to pick up this project. Just holding the work to figure out which row I was on in the 4-row pattern, feeling the stitches, looking at the colorway and the finished product's use made me think of the recipient. And that was enough to stop sliding. And I appreciate it.
I know this project is going to take a beating, so I will make it gently. It will probably need to be replaced along the line, but it's okay. I will be happy to remake repair replace it. My worry is that it won't be appreciated, but it reassures me it will be, if only because as it's maker I can already feel the content and peace that nullify my worries. It will bring some sort of contentment along when I give it. Fuzzy, pretty colors, and the content peace I find in it that only a few other projects have achieved. Now that I think of it, the only projects that had that sense were scarves... one of them only for the first half (I was too worried about running out for the second half) the other two because of amusement (I had to keep switching the one I was working on to keep their presence/present status secret, depending who was around).
The only problem I've found is that I want this project to take a long time - so I can enjoy it as much as possible - but I have a self-imposed deadline that must be met. Well, if there's any yarn left (there should be) I'll be casting on for another just to keep it going :) In the meantime, I will be making myself happy working on it, and wanting it off the needles so I can happily mush it without being poked.
I had a moment after reading a blog post where I was smashed with deep emotion and upset and found myself sliding into what couldn't be a good place for my mental state and emotions. I said to myself "Stop." and turned to pick up this project. Just holding the work to figure out which row I was on in the 4-row pattern, feeling the stitches, looking at the colorway and the finished product's use made me think of the recipient. And that was enough to stop sliding. And I appreciate it.
I know this project is going to take a beating, so I will make it gently. It will probably need to be replaced along the line, but it's okay. I will be happy to remake repair replace it. My worry is that it won't be appreciated, but it reassures me it will be, if only because as it's maker I can already feel the content and peace that nullify my worries. It will bring some sort of contentment along when I give it. Fuzzy, pretty colors, and the content peace I find in it that only a few other projects have achieved. Now that I think of it, the only projects that had that sense were scarves... one of them only for the first half (I was too worried about running out for the second half) the other two because of amusement (I had to keep switching the one I was working on to keep their presence/present status secret, depending who was around).
The only problem I've found is that I want this project to take a long time - so I can enjoy it as much as possible - but I have a self-imposed deadline that must be met. Well, if there's any yarn left (there should be) I'll be casting on for another just to keep it going :) In the meantime, I will be making myself happy working on it, and wanting it off the needles so I can happily mush it without being poked.
06 August 2009
Frisbee
I love playing Frisbee. Out in the quad, cul-de-sac, or grotto, with eight people or two. If we’re playing Ultimate, everyone gets in a little running and has to at least try somewhat. If just Catch (which is usually the case because we'll wait for people to join in to make enough for Ultimate), then everyone can play at their level, whether they want to talk (shout) across the yard between throws or make a move for every toss to keep on their toes and ready. Some watch each flight and call where it will land; some still think it will come to them if they stand still. Sometimes both work. It’s still something all of us can do, from the cross-country runner, to the lifeguard, to the distinctly non-athletic. We’re still congratulating the newest people every time they make a catch, because it’s still a fairly rare thing for them, and we give applause to some of the more…creative… catches by those more practiced. All in all, give us a Frisbee and some space and we’ll be amused for the next hour or two.
Better yet if you give us some drinking water as well. We play hard.
Well, some of us do.
Sometimes... :)
:)
Better yet if you give us some drinking water as well. We play hard.
Well, some of us do.
Sometimes... :)
:)
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