Project Hera: On Hold

Darn, and just when I was really getting into it, too! I'm sorry to say that Project Hera has been postponed for at least a few weeks, but at least with good cause.

It turns out that Weasel needed the book more than I do. As we pack her and her spinning wheel off to college, she's really worried that she won't make friends, won't fit in, isn't attractive... all fears I can debunk in about half a second, but let's face it: hearing it and believing it are totally separate things.

As much as I want to just sit Weasel down and tell her that in college there are no popular kids, and the people who were losers in high school meet all the other losers from high school and suddenly no one is a loser anymore and you have friends who know and love you. Hey, I met Super Boy the first day of college, so anything is possible!

But Weasel needs to learn all of this for herself. And I want her to feel as confident and self-assured as possible, so my copy of Seven Days to Sex Appeal is now (temporarily) in her hands. What does she hope to gain from it? Well, that's her business, but I get the feeling that, like me sadly, she just needs a boost in her assertiveness, self-confidence and just become more aware of herself in general.

So go forth and learn Weasel, and who knows? Maybe you can teach me a thing or two!

Because I am not sexy...

I have a confession to make: I am not hot. I am not particularly thin, my face is not particularly beautiful, and I don't know what to do with hair and clothing. Yes, I do have clinically diagnosed body dysmorphic disorder, but regardless, I am still convinced that, although I am told I am pretty, I do not see myself in that way and I do not think I attract positive attention.

It also doesn't help that I have low self-esteem or confidence.

In an effort to make me feel better about myself, Super Boy recommended  I buy this book, not so much as to be "sexier" but more assertive and confident in social situations, which, if you are a habitual reader, you know I am not.

So this is my seven day experiment: I will practice one of the lessons every few days and report my findings. If nothing else, this could be a fascinating read on the power of body language...

Don't mess with my magic...

It's hard to believe but it's already been one month since Super Boy and I hopped on a plane and went to Disney. Everyone one who went, from (the now slightly more likable) Gavone to my sisters Lady Diva and Weasel, from my mom and dad to my cousin, Opossum, and Aunt Squeak, everyone still raves about how much fun it was, how incredible the adventures, and how soon we must return.

In fact, it was a frequent topic of discussion this weekend when we were all reassembled at my parents home for a family weekend celebrating Weasel's graduation. And in between looking at pictures (again and again) and reliving our glory days in the sun, we also had some rather philosophical discussions on propriety, manners, and what is appropriate when in public.

The conversation centered on the final day we spent in Disney, spent mostly in the Magic Kingdom. It was the appointed "Gay Day" at the park; LGBTQ individuals, family and groups  had spent the week in the surrounding area outside the park and help events in Disney and elsewhere, a sort of meet and greet vacation. That day it was a trip to the Magic Kingdom they planned, and thousands of people in red shirts (the color of the day, I assume, there's no other explanation) poured off the monorail and into the park.

Other than the increased crowd, it usually wouldn't have bothered my family in the least. When you live in a family like mine, you tend to have a very relaxed "live and let live" mentality about these kinds of things. It would even be worth mentioning if it hadn't been for the shirts.

Those red shirts. Some of them have really cute saying on them, like "I believe in fairies!" But others were, if not offensive, then at least incredibly inappropriate in a children and family friendly environment. Some said things like "Fag" and "Hag," which would be difficult to explain to a child, but others were outright and blatantly sexual, like "Single: form line in rear" and "Big Bear Boy" (not explaining that one, look it up yourself).

 Here's the issue: Your business is your business, but when you are out in public, especially at a place like Disney, which is specifically designed for children and families, you need to keep in mind what's appropriate for the situation. Night club? Wear the leather chaps. Disney? Stick to the glittery fairy wings and magic wands.

My biggest hang up about all this? I wish I had wings like that...

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...

Love is in the Air

This week Super Boy and I will be together three years. And in a little more than two, we'll be getting married. I've done a bit more wedding research this weekend and I've come to the conclusion that weddings, like any family function, are political drama fests disguised as parties. Who gets to be a bridesmaid? Do I have to have Lady Diva (middle sister)? Do I have to invite Gavone (Diva's obnoxious boyfriend)? Can my cousins be his groomsmen? Can I put all the people I don't like at a table in the back?I know I'm going to have to give in a lot to keep the peace, and sometimes I'll have to grin and bear it when I'd really rather be screaming.

On the bright side, my mom and Weasel (youngest sister) are both very involved in the planning. So much so that I sometimes get phone calls from them telling me what they have decided my wedding will be like. So far velour tracksuits are the worst suggestion (I hope they were kidding) and a two week honeymoon to Disney World the best (although it looks my entire family will be joining Super Boy and I...).

What have I learned in the end? It's going to be a busy two years, and patience will be a virtue I must nurture. I'm sure I'll laugh about this in years to come...

PS- I designed the image above as a potential "wedding logo" for Super Boy and I. It was the first time I've used photoshop in years and I really am just proud on myself! Consider it this week's Moment of Joy!

Moment of Joy

I don't often have a lot of time to get creative, but when the mood strikes me I tend to craft at the speed of lightning. One afternoon, three projects. And I must say the process, from planning to finished product, is such a joy to me.

This is my second vintage mixed media collage, which I jokingly call my "Postcard from Africa."  Ironically, the day after I made this collage Super Boy and I made a day trip to the Philadelphia Zoo for an end of the holiday adventure (I get really depressed when school starts, so this was a real pick me up!). And what do we see running through an enclosure? Yup, the bird you see above. They are even more beautiful in person!

Also... happy birthday, Super Boy! I love you, endlessly...

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.

Soothe the heart through the stomach...

So I recently experienced the loss of a very, very beloved pet and I can't handle it. I am in denial, I'm angry, and I'm absolutely shattered.

That said, I am trying very hard to keep myself busy and not dwell on sad things. One way I've tried to do keep myself going is cooking. I have always found cooking to be extremely enjoyable; I love the freedom and creativity of the process, especially when the results are good. So yesterday I endeavored to invent my own stir fry recipe from the things I had on hand and whatever I could pick up at the grocery store with minimal expense and ease.

The result is below, my very own Ginger Beef and Peanut Stir Fry. While the vegetables and meats can be varied at will, the sauce if what really brings the whole dish together. Super Boy and I really enjoyed making it together and, of course, devouring nearly the entire pan.

It may not make everything better, but I'd like to think that, in a small way, the heart can be soothed through the stomach. Prayer and faith can help, but love (in any form) is truly the strongest bond of all. 

Ginger Beef and Peanut Stir Fry
¾ lb. lean beef, thinly cut (leftovers work well)
1 tbs grated ginger 
2 tbs peanut butter
2 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs brown sugar, not packed
2 tbs olive oil (For sautéing)
2 carrots, chopped into sticks
1 zucchini, chopped into sticks
1 small onion, cut into large pieces
1 bell pepper, sliced into ribbons
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (small) beef/chicken/ vegetable broth
Dash pepper (go a little heavier if you like it) 
8 oz. angel hair, cooked
Chopped peanuts, for garnish
Directions

1. In a bowl, combine the broth, soy sauce, peanut butter, ginger, sugar and pepper until smooth; set aside
   
2.  In a large skillet or wok, stir-fry the beef, onion, carrots, zucchini, peppers, and garlic in oil for about 8 minutes or until meat is no longer pink. If using leftovers, add the already cooked beef to the pan halfway through the vegetable cooking time.
   
3. Stir the broth mixture and add to the pan. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 1-2 minutes or until thickened.
   
4. Add cooked noodles and toss until well mixed.
   

Notes: All of the ingredients in this recipe can be increased or omitted at will; it is very adaptable and can be altered to suit individual tastes. Vegetables can be improvised and changed at will. Just make sure everything gets cooked through.  Meats can also be substituted, just make sure they are well cooked accordingly.

Note to Self… Don’t Do This

So as a (not so) soon to be bride, I have been slogging through countless posting on The Knot, reading over millions of their articles, and scouring over (literally) thousands of reception décor photos and flowers. I know what I want, in theory anyway. I want something special, classic nad entirely personal. And it has to "have a playlist that just won't quit" (thanks, mom). My wedding is about 2.5 years away, and I still have nightmares about missing cakes, wiliting flowers and evil bridesmaids. Yes, there are in fact more important things for me to focus on, but planning something so special for Super Boy's and my family is a rush. It's a high. It's buttercream-pink-orchid-and-tulle-crack.

I'm planner, so starting now is not just fun, but preventing be from having a coronary two weeks before. But, alas, there are some things you simply cannot plan for, things so bizzare you can't possible comprehend them. Things like your Dad climbing under your wedding dress, having to use a port-a-potty before the ceremony, or having the urge to do a keg stand in a $2,000 dress. For all these things, there is The Wedinator.

I have no idea how I stumbled across this, but stumbled I did, and now I can't get these images out of my mind. I think they might be burned onto my retinas. Then again… at least I know exactly what NOT to do at my wedding. Enjoy!

http://wedinator.com/

Here comes the bitch…

So Super Boy and I spent last night at a family wedding; my cousin (who is practically a brother, really) married a very, very sweet girl in an outdoor ceremony followed by an incredibly fun reception. The music was phenomenal, the food was to die for, and all of my family turned out for the party. It was a wonderful night celebrating two wonderful people.

Not everyone at the wedding, however, was well behaved.
I have not spoken very much about my immediate family yet, but I have two sisters, both younger. We are all 2 ½ years apart, and while my youngest sister, Weasel, and I get along usual, the middle sister Lady Diva and I do not. Diva is evil. Yes, I know, all sisters fight, but this goes beyond that. Diva has lied to my parents about me to cause trouble, spread rumors about me, and once even tried to punch me in the face in the middle of a church. On Easter Sunday. We have hated each other from birth, and honestly, things aren't likely to change (more on our complicated relationship to come).
Now Lady Diva and her long time boyfriend, the obnoxious Gavone (again, a story for another time), were at the wedding of course. Now typically these two split off and do their own things at family gatherings, but since it was a wedding I was forced to endure their company most of the evening. To make matters worse, Diva didn't appreciate being out of the limelight. Not wanting to be merely a spectator at this event, she pulled a major coupé right under our parents' noses and tried to upstage the bride.
Yes. Lady Diva threw a fit in the middle of the wedding. First, she bought a white dress. True, it has a green sash and delicate flower pattern on it, but the rest was white as snow. And, to add insult to injury, Diva had a tiara perches atop her updo. A golden, sparkly tiara of all things. If her appearance wasn't enough, she actually walked out of the ceremony just as the bride was coming down the aisle, complaining of feeling "really quite faint." It was a hot day, but nearly hot enough to disrupt the wedding for a fainting spell.
Luckily, I don't think the bride noticed; it was her special day, and it makes me fume to think of Lady Diva and her petty tantrums. But you have to wonder what this kind of behavior says about my family and about wedding etiquette today in general. Wearing white to a wedding is still considered a faux pas, and rightly so. But many other behaviors, such as bringing a guest uninvited or wearing electric pink mini dresses, are becoming if not accepted then certainly less frowned upon. Personally, I think Emily Post had the right idea. A wedding is a special celebration centering on two people; their guests have no right to draw away that focus. When in doubt, it is best to err on the side of tradition and opt not to wear the gold sequins.
As for my family, it hints at the tensions and dysfunction underneath the surface. For my parents to let Diva's behavior go without comment is disappointing. At 20 years old, you'd think they put a little more pressure on her to grow up and act like a decent human being. Even Weasel, who has an admitted flair for drama and is the baby of the family, acted with more maturity and grace. If this is how my family acts at the happiest of occasions, it makes you wonder what the bad times look like.
And just think, I get to be in the center of all this madness in a few years.
Dum dum da dum…

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.

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?

The background story…

So some background information is probably in order. I am a twenty-something criminology major at a pretty selective state school in the mid-Atlantic region (no specifics here, folks). The department of criminology here is… volatile at best. Lots of regime changes, name changes and, I'll admit it, grandfathering in old to make life easier. Apparently I came in just as things began to get straightened out, and I really have thrived here. I have a great mentor, and I have done very well academically (dumb luck mostly). Suddenly I find myself about to graduate and desperately trying to throw together an exit strategy.

Considering I have been spending the majority of the past few months trying to get into PhD programs, I haven't actually searched for jobs. So there is no plan B if plan A falls through. Oops. And, because I am a sucker for punishment, I am also interning at state and federal organization (I'd tell you where, but then I'd have to kill you… no… really). Oh yeah, and I am on the campus EMS squad. And I get sucked into doing all kinds of extra things that are time consuming and make me want to pull my hair out.

So, hi. I'm rozzie bear, a walking ball of over-stressed and overbooked nerves.

But I am lucky in many respects. Firstly, I am pretty darn smart. Not by any real hard work, just good luck and good genes. So the whole grad school thing might be a real possibility. And I have a great family. They're all insane, of course. Family reunions, especially the big holidays, are more like feeding time on the psych ward. But they really are the most loving and supportive (if dysfunctional and gossipy) family around. I may say I'm the lone white sheep in a herd of black ones, but I say it with lots of love… most of the time…

And then there's Super Boy. Super Boy and I met on the first day of college and we have been friends ever since. About two years ago he and I finally got around to dating, and things have never been so good. I know, it sounds disgustingly saccharine. Can't help it though. Even on my worst days (and there are a lot of those) I've got Super Boy to cheer me up, keep me sane and keep me going. Without him I'd probably be even more of a mess than usual.

So there you go. That's me in a nutshell (emphasis on the nut)… So now I just have to figure out what happens next. I probably should do some research… or at least some homework. But no. I'd much rather nap. Oh well. So much for all that drive and ambition.