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.

…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.

Love your neighbor…

I rarely talk about religion, and with good reason. My mother always told me there are three things you never talk about in public: money, politics and religion. It's not a matter of having no opinion on the subject, or being ashamed of what you believe; my silence is a matter of self preservation. And, in a way, it makes me stronger and maybe even a little better as a person. Rather than spend time arguing with others and trying to make them see my side of things, I try listen to what others have to say regardless of whether or not I agree. Most of the time I nod and smile and move on. Sometimes I learn something. Regardless, I don't feel the need to push what I think is right onto others.

But the Lenten season has just started, and as a practicing Catholic (at least in theory) I am taking the time to reexamine my life and the way I live. So talking a little about religion is kind of required. There are a lot of aspects of religion I question, or just outright disagree with. I think that while God is infallible and always has a plan in mind, people definitely make mistakes. So while I have faith and believe in many things, I don't accept outright some of the Church's more modern teachings. I believe that Jesus had the right idea. God loves everyone, period. We are all made equal in His eyes. He is forgiving and never gives up on people. All in all, He's a pretty cool guy.

Anyway… I digress. Recently I have been considering one of the cornerstone tenants of the New Testament: "Love your neighbor as you love yourself." Simply speaking, treat those around you the way you want to be treated. I'm pretty sure I've been hearing that since Pre-K. But I will be the first to admit that I don't always follow it that closely. I have a short fuse and less-than-perfect people skills. I am not a big fan of humanity as a whole. People in large crowds can be incredibly stupid. One on one they can be just as bad. I have a low tolerance for idiocy.

My most recent and aggravating example of this is my interaction with Sally the Slut and my neighbor Bam Bam. Easy to love they are not. A few nights ago they woke me up not with sex but with conversation. A loud one. At 2 in the morning. I suppose I should be thankful considering their normal pursuits, but I had to be at my internship early the next morning and my nerves were worn thin to begin with. This was the last thing I needed. By 4 a.m. I hit my limit; I stomped down the stairs and knocked on Bam Bam's door. When he answered (in a revolting state of undress that is just too traumatizing to record here) he seemed angry at me, as if I were disturbing him rather than the other way around. After a short and sharp conversation I went back to bed. But it bothered me. True, they were in the wrong to act so selfishly at the expense of everyone else in the house, but did I do the right thing? Yes, it fixed the problem. But I think Jesus would have taken this in stride, maybe used a parable to get his point across rather than a scowl and sarcasm. So maybe I should try to be a bit more patient and a little more understanding of the people around me. And maybe I should forgive people, no matter how inconsiderate they are.

Then again, Jesus never had to live in a college dorm. Maybe if he did "love your neighbor" would have a few exceptions to the rule…

The Adventures of Sally the Slut and Bam Bam

Warning! This post is rated PG-13 for brutal honesty and loud moaning!

So I haven't mentioned Sally the Slut yet. And I should, considering the important role she plays in my life. Sally the Slut is the girl a neighbor of mine, the aforementioned Bam Bam, has recently begun having obnoxiously loud sex with. I could be nice and say that they are in a committed relationship, but we are talking about Sally the Slut. All they do is have sex. And I have my doubts that he is the only one she is currently boinking.

So I was not the first to christen Sally with her moniker. Apparently she was picked out and marked for what she was within the first days of her being on campus. Not only has she been around the block a few times, she has apparently become known far and wide as the campus bicycle; everyone has had a ride, and now it's Bam Bam's turn.

Oh, by the way. She's a freshman. He is a senior. Which makes all of this that much more unpalatable.

Now I have the unfortunate luck to live in the general vicinity of these two. She has, much to the resentment of everyone who lives in this house, practically moved in. No one likes her. Especially the ones who have to hear the two of them go at it. The first time she spent the night I was woken out of a dead sleep convinced that there was an earthquake. But then I heard the moaning. Screaming, actually. And she's… a talker. She says… things… and at that volume you can't help but listen.

And then there is Bam Bam, who, of course, lives up to his name. I am lulled to sleep by very rhythmic, earnest thumping on a nearly nightly basis. He's very focused. So focused, in fact, that he doesn't seem to realize that he's beginning to rival Sally the Slut with the screaming. So I like to mess with him. Just when he gets into a rhythm I jump on my bed sporadically to throw him off beat. It works.

And things get worse. Somewhere along the line, Sally the Slut picked up at least a few unsavory diseases. So when Bam Bam suddenly came down with mono, everyone looked to her. And guess what? She had it too. So much for monogamy. Share and share alike, I guess. Spread the love. And now I have to listen to them have sex and take breaks to hack up a lung. Lovely.

Don't get me wrong. I don't look in people's bedroom windows, and I don't want people looking into mine. But when you are that… exuberant… what do you expect?

So after an impromptu meeting of the "Shut up Sally the Slut, and move your bed off the wall Bam Bam" society, several neighbors and concerned citizens have offered the following solutions to our little problem:

1. Hang a roll of duct tape on the door with a post-it note that reads "Put over both of your mouths, then have sex."
   
2. Start a collection to buy a used ball gag on eBay, then nail it to Bam Bam's door. This should be self-explanatory.
   
3. Get a muzzle and matching dog tag engraved with "obey local leash laws and muzzle your bitch" (my person favorite).
   
4. Add saltpeter to everything they eat and drink.
   

I welcome any suggestions you may have. Feel free to add your own solutions, the wilder the better.

At this point, all bets are off.