Now this is culture!

I recently downloaded all of Shakespeare's sonnets from the Listening Library for free! So obviously I am revisiting my glory days of Shakespeare plays and Ms. Czekaj's class, thinking about the annual "I Love My Willy... Shakespeare" performance.

Who says grad students have no class?

Overheard and out of context...

From an evening out at a bar... with my professors...

"Are...you... ON A TRAIN?!?!"
"Oh, him? We just call him f*ck face..."
"Let's drunk dial criminologists."
"Sherman? Eck? Wiesburd? They're my b!tches."
"This is grad school. You get drunk, then go teach class. Trust me, now one will notice..."
"Happy birthday, @sshole."
"You  want a lemon drop? Don't be a biznatch."
"Dude, some of the bitches here can out drink you."
"I'm not here to be equal to the patriarchy, I'm here to overthrow it... are you going to finish those nachos?"

And this isn't even the best of them... those are... well... better left unsaid.

Maybe my life doesn't suck as much as I thought...

Yeah, yeah, I know...

Bad, grad student, bad! Where have all the posts gone? What happened to September? Where are all the snarky comments? What about my Moments of Joy? Where have you been?

Honestly? I hate September. It's nice in theory, summer fading into autumn, school bells and bright red apples. But in reality? It sucks. It's not summer, it's not fall, you are so not ready to get back into the swing of classes and papers and exams and the month kind of creeps by in limbo. It's not one thing, it's not the other, and now it's over.

Let's move on.

Besides ignoring the month of September I've been studying for the dreaded Qualifier (yes, it's so terrifying it gets capitalized), the exam that will make of break my career. Seriously. If I fail this exam (ok, ok, so if I fail it twice, but still!) I am no longer a doctoral student. I'd need to beg (yes, literally) to get back into the program. I don't think I could bear the shame of failing this test. I keep joking about throwing myself into the nearest river, but I think I might actually do it... then again, the nearest river is filled with industrial waste, so I'd probably jump in and be able to walk upon the crust that's formed over the top... where was I?

Oh yes, big test, not blogging because I am studying, need to pass.

Oh, and it's in 11 days. Not that I'm counting or anything...

Small, Fuzzy Buddha

I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I admire it's zen. It's like a little monk, or a furry Buddha. I think he'd be a great family pet, or maybe more like a spiritual adviser. He just exudes inner peace...

Incidentally, the featured camelid at the end of this video is lovely. I'd love to knit a sweater from that fiber, but I feel like they'd object. Now if I made a sweater for them...



*UPDATE* Speaking of camelids... see that little guy at the end? The one who awkwardly face-plants into the ground? Yeah... that pretty much describes my first day back at grad school...

Crockpot Beef Stew

Rabbit Rabbit!

My maternal grandfather, Papa, has always been an inspiration to me; my earliest memories of him are in the kitchen, tasting whatever he was cooking. There is no meal in the world more delectable than Papa's broccoli-rabe, beef stew and his own invention, potato pie. My offhanded, handful of  this, handful of that cooking style is a direct result of watching him throw whatever is on hand into a pot and creating something spectacular.

My quest into graduate school is also inspired by him. When I was little I was slightly awed by him and how he can talk about any subject with authority. He tells the most incredible stories about his childhood, time in the Navy, career as a police officer and everything in between. When I was in college and studying the court system he'd lend be books on Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes and landmark Supreme Court decisions. His passion for learning and desire for me to get the best education possible is one of the main reasons I went to grad school.

Consider this improvised beef stew recipe as an ode to Papa and a learning experience!

Crockpot Beef Stew
1 pound of cubed beef stew meat (or more if desired)
4 large potatoes
4 cloves garlic, chopped or pressed
1 tbs paprika (I don't have it on hand and usually substitute with taco seasoning)
2 tbs soy sauce (or Worcestershire)
1 onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups beef broth (or whatever, bullion and water works, too)
1 cup wine (red or white, you pick)
2 carrots, cut into sticks (or chopped in a food processor to save you time)
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 cup homemade tomato sauce (or 4 chopped fresh tomatoes)
Grind to a Salt (have you noticed I love this stuff?)
Freshly ground black pepper
Some flour

Combine broth, wine, soy sauce, tomatoes, brown sugar, paprika, some seasoned salt and pepper in the slow cooker and set to high (4-6 hours cook time) or low (8-10 hours cook time) depending on when you want to eat.

Wash, peel and chop potatoes, carrots, onion and garlic. Throw them into the broth.

Take your stew meat and put it into a zip-lock bag. Sprinkle some flour over it and salt and pepper it a bit. Close the bag and give it a good shake to coat the meat (or, in the words of Weasel, "Shake it like a Polaroid picture!"). Throw this in the fridge for a few minutes while you drag out a frying pan and add just enough olive oil to coat the bottom on the pan and let the flame heat it up on high. Toss in the now coated meat and saute until nice and brown. It doesn't have to be cooked all the way, because  you will now throw it into the slow cooker with all the rest to continue cooked. Make sure the pot is covered, and walk away (cocktails, anyone?).

Enjoy!

Note: The measurements in this recipe are arbitrary. I usually just pour, sprinkle, toss and add according to my whim, what I have in the fridge, and what kind of flavor I am looking for. The beauty of this method? I have a base recipe I can work with, and I also have the freedom to experiment!

What you need to know about your physician assistant student...

I'm fairly certain I've mentioned the Super Boy is studying to become a physician assistant but I never told you that he's a blogger, too. In fact, his blog on pre-physician assistant students has become quite popular in some circles!

While offering unique insights into the student experience, however, he has neglected to discuss what the experience is like for those around them, especially family and significant others. This, I feel, warrants some information,explanation and advice on my part, as I am very well aware how grueling this program can be...

You'll be alone even if you are sitting in the same room as your student. This might be the hardest part. A student can be so focused on their work for hours at a time, every night for weeks, until you might as well be in a room by yourself. You might also get more conversation by talking to yourself, too. I haven't found a good way to combat this feeling yet, but I think it's worth knowing about. The best advice I can offer on this point is to make sure our student sets aside some time for activities that you both enjoy and can participate in without thinking about your workloads. Quality time is scare, so use it wisely!

You'll be taken for granted, even if they don't mean to. I have seen Super Boy take a plate of dinner I'd spent hours making and start to tuck in without ever taking his eyes off of his computer screen and his radiology scans. He'll drop dirty scrubs and clothes and books all over the apartment I'd spent all day cleaning. And yeah, it makes me mad, but I know he doesn't mean to do it. His head is so full of pharmacology, H&P's,  and anatomy that he's drained at the end of the day and blind to a lot of the little things that are happening in the background. Try not to take it too personally, but gently point these things out if they are really bothering you.

Be patient and supportive with your student, but don't hesitate to give them a swift and loving kick in the pants if they start to get snippy with you or too critical of themselves. It takes a lot of faith to wade through all the dysfunction, and you need to be there to act as a guinea pig for their physical exams, quiz-masters for flashcards and general cheerleader when their spirits get down. But it's just as important they you do not let them take their frustration and anxiety out on you, and it's counter productive to let them beat up on themselves. Be firm, positive, honest and assure them that everything will be okay.

The good times will be really good. I know I might sound like this is a miserable, heartbreaking program, and some days it can be, but when things are good they are really good. For instance, when Super Boy and I were in Disney World, we were so deliriously happy and spent every moment together. The fact that the week was sandwiched between very busy weeks made it all the more special. You can expect every day to be a fairy tale, but the fairy tales you do have are extra sweet!

I hope this gives some comfort and insight to those who love physician assistant students, and who knows? Maybe I'll get Super Boy to be a guest blogger and offer his side of the story...

Feminism and Common Sense

Super Boy came home with an interesting story last night. During a lecture the presenter was drawing parallels between offering medical care to teenage boys and girls. Whereas a boy will give you barely audible one word answers, a teenage girl will not only tell you what hurts, but everything else that's happened in the last month!

This exaggeration provides a useful caricature; guys may say too little, and girls may say more than you need. And it was the effective use of generalization as a teaching tool that makes the comparison so resonant; I doubt anyone in the lecture will forget the examples given.

Not everyone, however, saw these generalizations in their intended light. One individual in particular took such offense that, after writing swear words all over her lecture notes, stormed out of the room an refused to return until the lecturer had left for the day. This whole show was done in the name of "feminism;" apparently, drawing a comparison between men and women was a slur against females in general, and was perceived as a great insult.

This is where I begin to question wisdom of letting beliefs grow so strong that they begin to cloud reason and common sense. I have strong beliefs, too. I think everybody does in some way. But I firmly believe that just because I feel a certain way about things that I have the right to rub anyone's nose in it. And that's what this girl did: she allowed her feelings about feminism overrule common manners such as paying attention in class and showing respect to professors. She even did herself a disservice in leaving a lecture and handicapping her education.

The moral I find in this story? Believe in what you think is right, be it regarding faith, politics or other hot topics. Stand up for your beliefs. But don't let them cloud your common sense.

An Esty Review!

Spring is always a busy time of year in my family, with Mother's Day, my sister Weasel's birthday, my birthday and Father's day all falling within weeks of each other. And, of course, I end up buying many presents, mostly online as I am a graduate student short on time and money.

This does not mean, however, that I cut corners of gift giving! I have found Esty, the handmade and vintage community offering all kinds of fantastic goods and supplies imaginable. With a wide range of prices and an unlimited selection of beautiful things, picking out gifts has become a dangerous task: I often buy more for myself and others than I originally intend.

My first Esty purchase was from Little Bird Design UK, a fantastic Edinburgh based Esty shop that specializes in beautiful paper goods. These pictures are just a small glimpse of journal I gave my mother on Mother's Day and the photos hardly do it justice.

The variety of journals at Little Bird Design UK is astonishing. In all kinds of patterns and prints, from sedate to extravagant, and in all kinds of textures and styles. The attention to detail, from paper selection of the fine hand stitching on the binding, is the mark of a true artist.

There is even, I kid you not, a journal shaped like a cupcake. Heavenly!

 For anyone searching for a unique and truly personal gift, I highly recommend the products of Little Bird Design UK.

In fact, forget about gifts... once you see these works of art you'll want one for yourself!

See for yourself here, the Esty home of these delights!

Serving the State: the perils of jury duty

I often joke about how I am not ready to be a grown up and I'd much rather hide under my bed all day. I am without a doubt 5 years-old at heart, and I'd like nothing more the spend the first few days of summer vacation in my pajamas eating ice pops and watching Disney movies. Unfortunately, in the eyes of the state at least, I am  most definitely a grown up and therefore I am required to serve the state in the most irritating and mind numbingly boring ways possible.

I am now eligible to sit as a juror.

In an incredible stroke of irony, I was called to serve on a jury today, just days after I finished my last exam.The little form came in the mail, and, under penalty of being held in contempt of court, I went to the county courthouse this morning and settled in for a long, boring day. Summer break would just have to be put on hold. Armed with snacks and a few novels, I watched the criminal justice system unfold in front of me, and boy is it ugly.

To add insult to injury it's a beautiful, cool spring day out after nearly a week of unseasonably low temperatures and constant drizzle.  But there I was, doing my civic duty by sitting in this converted block of jail cells turned conference room with a very varied slice of humanity slouching in office chairs. Even worse was the educational film "We the Jury: the basics of court proceedings" that we were forced to watch.

Believe it or not, I'm pretty sure I covered how a jury works at some point during my 5 years of study in criminal justice and criminology.

Of course I know that a jury is an important part of the court process and that the system could not function without citizens serving on juries in both criminal and civil cases. I am, however, not sure I'm the best person for the job. After so much exposure to the criminal justice system through classes, studies and internships I am in now way impartial and unbiased. I've written papers on the ineffectiveness of courts. I've interned with the state police. I've blatantly said that, 9 times out of 10, I'll probably take the side of the state in any criminal proceeding (and I really feel, at least sometimes, that defendants are probably guilty of something if they are there in the first place). I'm getting my doctorate in criminal justice for crying out loud!

I know too much about the field. I am a prosecutor's dream and a defense attorney's worst nightmare.  I'd make a terrible juror.

Lucky for me (and those involved in any of the three cases I could have been selected for), the judges presiding today were not ready to pool a jury, so I was freed from the possibility of sitting through voir dire (jury selection procession) and will not have to serve on an actual jury and sit through a trial. I was released with the thanks of the state, and I practically sprinted out of there.

After all, doesn't it make you feel all warm and fuzzy knowing that your time is worth $5 and a free cup of coffee?

What I've learned in grad school... so far

Summer has officially begun! Break out the margaritas, stuff the criminology books under the bed and let's head to the beach!

In all seriousness, it's been a long year, but I can honestly say that I have finished my first year of grad school and I did it well. I have, of course, learned a great deal about criminological theory, policing and statistics. But the greatest lessons I have learned have very little to do with academic.

So without further ado, the top three things I've learned in grad school:

3. When in doubt be vague. Didn't read that article? Didn't understand that last stats problem? Have no idea what your professor is asking you? Be vague. Start with "Well, there are several theories regarding that..." and end with "... but of course, there are different ways to see this." And if all else fails, smile blandly and say that you were wondering about that too, and what did the professor think about that? It just wasn't clear...

2. You can stand a lot more than you realize. From filthy roommates to 10 page papers weekly, you can get through a lot more dysfunction that you think. It takes planning, it takes patience, and it takes a whole lot of reminding yourself that everything works out in the end. This mantra, "everything will be okay," has kept me sane. And in the end, you actually get a lot more work done when you keep your eye on the big picture.

1. By far the most important thing I've learned in grad school... when it's done it's done. Like reminding yourself that everything works out in the end, letting go of perfection and instead focusing on getting things just done and done well enough is freeing. It's not about doing a job half way or not caring about assignments. Instead, it encourages getting things done, and done well, without going overboard and driving yourself nuts. And sometimes it's better to just finish a project than slave over it and worry.

It's been a long, stressful, busy year and I've busted my butt to get everything in order. But the greatest lesson of all is to trust in yourself, and trust in the higher powers in the world to get you through.

Moment of Joy

So I am in the middle of my finals, and in less than a week I will have completed my first year as criminal justice doctoral student. If I ever needed a pick me up, it's now... so in honor of the last statistic exam I will ever (hopefully) have to take, I give you a silly video.

Enjoy!

What is Criminological Theory and Why Does it Matter?

So the semester has started up again, and so has all the nonsense. Toad is being Toad, bragging about a "grant" that isn't all that much to brag about, because I doubt the existence any such thing. And, of course, professors are being professors, adding "last minute" books that we need for yesterday ( and are hundreds of dollars to boot) and handing out syllabi that make no sense (there are only 14 weeks in a semester). So the typically stress has started up again, and the petty annoyances are just that: petty and annoying. In the end, I'll laugh, I'll cry, I'll freak out and I'll work my butt off. And I'll be fine after all.

Obviously, grad school is very different from college, and a PhD program is going to be different from a master's program. But in the end, the subject matter is the same: criminal justice is the study of crime and practitioners in the field, and criminology is the study of the causes of crime. This is an oversimplification; the real definition is amorphous and intricate and there is no one right answer, making it a bit difficult to explain to the layman (or just wrap your head around in general). I have this problem with my family and friends quite often, particularly my grandmother. She is thrilled to have a grandduaghter working towards a PhD, thrilled beyond belief. But she has no real understanding of the material, just a general sense of what I might be working on at any given time. And that is perfectly normal.

So why does theory matter? If it's so hard to pin point and there are so many conflicting views, then why bother? Well, in order to try and change crime, you need to know what causes it. For instance, let's say there is a burning building. You could just throw water on it and be done. But that might be a temporary fix; what caused the building to light on fire in the first place? What is the root cause? By identifying the cause of the fire, you know whether you have to shut of the gas lines, find an arsonist, or take that pack of matches from the toddler. You see? In order to fix a problem, you need to identify what's causing the problem.

If you think crime is caused by biological factors, then identifying a "crime gene" or medicating offenders will fix crime. If you think it is a matter of social inequalities an upheaval, then social programs and community involvement will stop crime. And if you think that crime is a function of the ruling class's oppression of the under class, then the redistribution of wealth and power within society is the answer. These are by no means the only theories out there, but I think it illustrates the point. If you want to change something, you need to know what needs to be fixed first.

If you are looking for books on criminological theory, I have two to recommend. The first is Cullen and Agnew's Criminological Theory: past to present. Unlike other tests that just summaries theories, this work offers the original articles that have become landmarks in the study of criminology. There is also a very handy grid in the first few The second is my personal favorite, Lilly, Cullen and Ball's Criminological Theory: Context and Consequence. Again, unlike other textbooks this work offers not just the theories, but the social, economic, political and cultural climate and changes that prompted new theories to develop. There are also discussions on whether these theories worked, and the long lasting effects of programs implemented on these recommendations. I personally felt that the chronological structure of this book, complete with the historical subtexts, gave me a greater understanding of where the theories came from and what they were a reaction to.

Theory may not be my favorite facet of my studies, but it's an important one. In order to understand where you are going, yo need to know what came before you. Happy theorizing!

Best "Frenemies"... the Story of Toad

I think It's about time I introduced you to Toad. Looking back at my first semester a grad student, I have to say that all of the students in the criminal justice department are really unpretentious and down to earth. Everyone seems ready to talk to you, offer bits of advice, give you encouragement and repeat the mantra I've come to internalize: "You'll worry and you'll work hard, but in the end it's really not that bad."

Everyone is, if a bit reserved and private at first, really quite friendly. That it, everyone but Toad. Imagine, if you will, that stereotypical student of the White Tower, all theory and name dropping and high and mighty opinions. That's Toad, very full of himself and very quick to toot his own horn. He is best described, I suppose as a "frenemy," someone who you are polite and friendly to but secretly hate their guts. He is never outright rude or condescending to anyone, but everything about his manner, and every word that comes out of his mouth, says otherwise.For instance, he recently got a 97/100 on a presentation (during which he stopped every three seconds to refer to some professor's assistance or flatter himself with false modesty) . He turns to me and says, "Oh, well, you know. Not too bad. I don't think there'll be any grades higher. No such thing as perfection." He says all of this, of course, just as I am about to get up an present. So, no pressure or anything.

I like to think I handled this very well. I nodded and made some kind of noncommittal noise in response. I then got up, gave me presentation (which I practiced with Super boy easily 10 times) and, lo and behold!, I am handed my rubric with a large 100/100 written on it with several glowing comments. Being the bigger person, I put the paper in my purse and didn't say anything about it to anyone, but in my head I was whooping with joy.

This is just one example of his behavior. Apparently, I am not the only one to notice or be annoyed by this constant barage of offhanded compliments/insults. Others have approached me with similar gripes; in fact, one of these conversations lead to Toad's epithet. A few fellow disgruntled grad students, all fed up with his references to "Dr. So-and So" and "special projects" and "independent research," tried to analyze the root of this behavior. One student put it brilliantly, referring to a species of toad in his native country; this toad, rather puny and insignificant, will puff itself up and hiss when it feel threatened by another frog and predator.  Following this line of thought, Toad then resorts to rattling off achievements and acquaintances and projects on order to make himself feel bigger than he really is and superior to the rest of us. This is very likely the truth of the matter; while no one else is so vulgar as to list our distinctions, Toad is in a cohort of scholars that have Phi Kappa Phi memberships, Phi Beta Kappa distinctions, teaching assistantships, scholarships and advanced degrees.  Maybe he is inflating his ego to keep up.

I, however, have some worries. Despite knowing the likely reasons for his behavior (insecurity) I still wonder if he is in fact better than me. Do the professors really buy his brown-nosing? Do they see through his flattery, or are they taken in by it? Is he ahead of the game by befriending so many professors and committing himself to so many projects, or is he spreading himself thin to no avail? Will his plan to schmooze every he can really get him ahead?

I don't know. I'd like to think I can compete with him. I have awards. And memberships. And, out of the entire cohort, the department practically begged me to join this program. I was the chosen one. I was the first in their eyes. And yet... I never tell anyone this.  I don't make this sort of information public to my peers. The rest of us are honest in our fears, share our concerns, open in our weaknesses. But Toad never shows weakness. He makes himself bigger than the rest of us and, while I know it's a ruse, I'm still intimidated.

I just wish I knew why, and how I could make it stop.

It can only get better from here...

So the year is off to a really rough start. There have been tensions between family members already, and we have already faced very sad events. For my part, I feel like hiding under my bed most days and pretending the world doesn't exist. The rest of the time I am pretty useless, dazedly walking around the apartment at a loss of what to do.

Much of my black mood springs from fear. Fear for the health and safety of my family. Fear for my own ability to cope with reality. Fear of future. And, probably most pressing at this particular moment, the fear or returning to grad school and criminology. I am not ready to return to the sniping and self-praise of some of my classmates, nor do I feel able to compete with the rest and succeed in my classes. The thought of returning there fills me with dread, and no amount of traveling back and forth between school and my home will make it any better. 

To make matters worse the holidays are over, which at once astounds me and depressed me. I love the Christmas season; it's my favorite time of year, and for it to be ending makes the rest of the years stretch out before as one desolate and bleak expanse.

My rock through all of this has been, of course, Super Boy. He is currently slogging through his first day back at school, and his absence is palpable. This entire break he has been at my side, encouraging me, comforting me, caring for me. I cannot function without him. He has been my strength for a long time; when he asked me to marry him, he began by acknowledging that there would be tough times in our future, be they grad school or other obstacles. But not matter what we'd face, we'd face it together and be there for each other through the good, bad or indifferent. He promised me his strength and his support, his care and his constancy. And that, I think, is the foundation of love.

I am very blessed to have him in my life. As for the rest, I have to have faith and hope in brighter things to come.

The Prodigal Grad Student Returns

Finally! I am done for the semester! Yes, I know I have been very lax in updating, but never fear, you will get all kinds of insights and gossip on the world of the PhD student over the next few weeks. It's been a ride, and this is just the first pause I get before I plunge right back into it, a cycle that will repeat over and over again for at least 5 years.

But right now, I want to direct your attention to the bottom of this blog. See that "Let's Say Thanks" widget? It's a great program brought to you by the people of Xerox. The company has collected some great artwork from kids all across the country and they are turning them into postcards for the troops. They have a website outlining their project and a facebook group you can join, too. All you need to do is follow that widget to their homepage, where you too can send your own greetings and thanks to those who serve. Trust me; this is a great holiday treat for those who can't be home to celebrate with family and friends. So take a minute (even less, take 10 seconds) to send one to a stranger who cares for you and your freedom.

Isn't it time you care back? Send a "Let's Say Thanks" card.

Soldiers harassed in Afghanistan…

… by roving packs of sheep and goats? Hey, it could be much worse…

…you could be this guy.

I came across these photos while doing some research for a paper (got to love the grad school workload). I guess everyone needs something to keep their spirits up, especially these guys. Seriously folks, say a prayer for our armed forces. They need love, too.

Also, send new boxer shorts.

The return of the prodigal grad student…

Yes, I know it is June. No, I haven't had time to blog. So let's pretend I didn't flake out for three months and move right along.

Anyway, now that a grad school has been chosen, an apartment leased and a dorm room lined up, all I have left to do is pack. However, that is much more complicated than originally anticipated. Firstly, I am moving out of my family home (at least partially) and into two, yes two, different places. The first is the apartment Super Boy (now Super Fiancé) and I will be sharing. The second is yet another dorm room. This is an unfortunate necessity considering the apartment is a good two hours from where I'll be going to school so… two "homes" it is.

But how do you divide your life into equal pieces? I still have a place to crash in my parents' home, so I have to leave some stuff there. And I will be teaching while going to school so all of my work clothes are getting shipped there. And everything else is getting loaded into a truck and hauled over to the apartment. Logically it all makes sense. But really, how do you live in so many places at once? It feels like I am pulled in three directions and once and I really don't have a place to call "home."

Do I have a roof over my head? A place to sleep? A place to work and study? Yes, and I am deeply, wholeheartedly thankful to have so many places to stay if need be. But I don't have that once place, that one spot on earth that is mine. I don't have that niche where I am utterly, entirely comfortable with my surroundings and myself. I don't have a real "home."

But there's nothing I can do about that. I will just have to put up with this awful feeling of displacement until I get a real home to call my own. Until then there is nothing I can do.

I am, in some sense, homeless.

…as you love yourself

Super Boy and my mom, each on their own and without discussion between them, both commented on my "love your neighbor" post in their own ways. In the case of Super Boy, I offhandedly joked that the entire ordeal with Bam Bam and Sally the Slut, combined with the grad school saga, was making me depressed and old before my time.

And he agreed.

Super Boy agreed that I was depressed. And not just depressed, but entirely self loathing. How's that for brutally honest? He said that over the past month I have sunk into a funk; the more good news I get from schools (and the more options I suddenly have), the worse I feel. And no, the repetitive thumping doesn't help, either. But he does have a point. So did my mom. I mentioned my struggle with loving my current neighbor and she cut me off. She said to forget about the neighbors; I ought to spend more time trying to love myself.

Her exact words? "You have the self-esteem of a fruit fly."

Wow. Thanks, mom.

I know I'm a bit hard on myself. But I never thought about the second part of "love your neighbor as you love yourself" as all that important. I really think I have tunnel vision here. I can beat myself up all day when I say really unkind things about other people. And I feel like a really lousy person when I do, even if they bring it on themselves. But when I treat myself like crap? It's just another day in my world. And that isn't fair. If I should be nice to the people around me, I damn well better be nice to myself. And I am really going to try.

As for the "love your neighbor" bit? I wish I could say that progress has been made but… they got loud. Again. I got pissed. Again. Then the society of angry neighbors got pissed. And then the cops were called.

So, yeah. It could be going better. I guess Jesus will just have to give me a mulligan on this one.

All you need is love…

Nothing has changed. No new news about the graduate programs, no idea what I am going to do. I don't know what school I'll go to, where I'll live or what my next step is. I feel numbed. I am totally crushed. This is nothing like I imagined. I never thought I'd be so conflicted and confused; I was hoping it'll all just magically work out wonderfully and that would be the end of it.

If there's anything I hate, it's not having a plan.

So, because I can't deal with all of this right now, I have been spending my time doing… well, nothing really. I haven't been doing anything. I had a few days off from my internship (thank God for state holidays) and I have spent the time napping, watching TV and snacking. I probably now official classify as a vegetable, mostly likely a potato of the couch variety. But I only feel marginally guilty. I am sure I should be doing something productive, but I like naps so much better. And I have a wicked cold, so I really do need some rest.

But I did manage to rouse myself out of bed for Valentine's Day. Ok, so Super Boy prodded me along. He's much more romantic than I am; if I had my way, anyone who celebrated Valentine's Day would be boiled in their own champagne and buried with a long stem rose through their heart. But not Super Boy. He takes things seriously. A dozen and a half roses. Dinner at PF Chang's. A very sweet card. And, my personal favorite, an owl shaped bath mitt covered in hearts.

Bizarre? Yes. Perfect? You bet.

You see, I may not be a big fan of the whole Valentine's Day thing, but I needed it. In the middle of this grad school debacle I needed to be reminded that there are more important things in my life. And for someone who gets very wrapped up and consumed by things that can't be control, the reminder is a good thing.

What more do I really need? I've got Super Boy.

The Good, the Bad, and the Confusing

I hardly know where to begin. Just when I had resigned myself to playing the waiting game as grad schools considered my applications, everything has sped up to a frenetic pace. Suddenly so many things have changed that I hardly know whether to be ecstatic or devastated.

The first big chunk of news came last Monday. I was napping after a really, really long day at my internship when I got this phone call. Now, I usually just turn off my phone and let anyone who wants to talk to me leave a message, but I was with Super Boy at the time, and he has this weird theory about cell phones. When they ring, he answers. Or, in this case, pokes me in the ribs and makes me answer.

And then suddenly there is this graduate coordinator, a real big shot in the criminology community, asking me how I am, if I'm not too busy to talk for a bit, would I have a few minutes to spare. I think I mumbled something. He might be a criminal justice institution, but he woke me up. He'll just have to deal with me half conscious. And as I begin to full understand what is happened, I realize he is saying things like "very excited," "hugely impressed," "teaching assistantship," "Presidential Fellowship," and "full tuition." And, because I am an IDIOT, I interrupt him and say, "Wait… wait… I'm sorry. What was that? I don't… what? You mean I'm in? Seriously?"

I am such a tool.

But yes, not only was I in, I was being offered the world. Tuition, fees, a salary, a shot at a prestigious fellowship. Out of everyone who applied to the school, I was it. I was the one they wanted. I was the homegrown girl, the state born, bred and educated rising star (or so they said, I am still convinced they had the wrong number). The only downside here? There's a clock on the offer. I have until March 13^th. And it's creeping up very quickly.

Now, I applied to four schools. Two are very far away, but my mentor made me apply (they are the two best criminology programs in the nation, so I kind of had to try). The one I just heard from is my back up plan, a safety school that is still one of the top 5 (and the longest established program in the country). But my top choice… it's an Ivy. The only Ivy with a PhD program in criminology. And I want to go there so bad I could cry.

So… now the bad. And the confusing. With the clock ticking on a very attractive offer from my second choice of programs, I needed to ask my first choice what they were thinking. So (with lots of guidance from my mentor) I send an email inquiring as to my current status, if I was in, did they want to meet me, could they give me some kind of clue. Because you see, they don't tell students until March 15^th.

These deadlines are all a game. A test to see how bad you want an offer, how much you really want to go somewhere. I don't play games. Especially head games. So now I am caught in the middle of two schools and I have more questions than answers.

But I didn't get good news from the Ivy. In fact, I don't even know if I got bad news. All I got was a short, nebulous email that really said nothing at all. They said that there were "only two to three applications" they were looking at to see if they "fit available faculty mentoring." What does that even mean? There are only 3 people getting in? Am I one of them? Or are they talking about some kind of assistantship or fellowship? Are they just letting me down easy? I don't know what any of this means, and neither does anyone else I ask.

After waiting so long I suddenly have too much information. How could so much good news be so bad? And what do I do now?