Several things I have to remind myself:

1. Sometimes when people treat other people in a thoughtless way, it is because they are ACTUALLY NOT THINKING. In other words, they're not planning on being a jerk, they're not doing it intentionally to hurt the other person - it just happens.

2. Lots of times people are so caught up in their own maelstrom of stuff that some of the problems they're having wind up rubbing off on other people. When someone gets angry over a truly minor event, it's likely that something else was actually the trigger and the event was just a catalyst.

3. People aren't always actually talking about what they are talking about. Even sometimes when they think they're talking about that thing.

4. It doesn't matter that the high-muckety-mucks don't see a lot of the good I do. What is important is that I do it to help the students.

5. Having one person think I'm an idiot doesn't make me an idiot.


This is not shaping up to be a stellar week :(

sigh

This whole week has just been a big ball of suck on the personal front for me. I've had banking problems, bad news at work, snipy colleagues talking smack about people who happen to disagree with them politically. I've had stuff break, stuff go wrong, people take stuff that was said the wrong way.

I'm just kind of tired and sad. I get like this once in a while. And I get to feeling kind of sorry for myself. If I had been smart enough - or outgoing enough - or WHATEVER enough - and had managed to marry, I would not be facing all of this alone. I could come home and talk it over with someone else, get someone else's opinion. And I'd have someone else to come with me to the bank and back me up - or someone to sit by the phone at home and wait on a call while I am out taking care of necessary things. (And I'd have the chance at other times to feel useful by doing the same for him).

Sometimes being single in a community that is mostly couples and families feels a lot like fighting your way through a South American jungle with a dull machete while everyone else has chainsaws and Bobcats.

And you know, I know people love me and all. But sometimes I need to hear it. And yet, I can't quite bring myself to call a relative up - or a friend - and say to them, "Tell me that you love me." To me, that feels manipulative and needy. And the truth is, yes, dammit, I'm emotionally needy right now but I don't want those closest to me to know. It's kind of a very personal hell to be in - to feel like you need something but also have your feelings of not wanting to LOOK like you need it be greater than that need.

I'm just very worried and very scared about what will happen with my career. If teaching gets to be untenable, what do I do? I don't have a hella lot of skills. I don't have sufficient love or tolerance of my fellow man to do stuff like wait on tables - I'd be dumping hot soup in people's laps and stuff like that. I don't think I quite have enough saved up to go back to school and learn to do something else...and then what would I do with all my stuff? I'd have to sell my house and move away. I'd probably have to sell all my books. Or put them in storage, where they'd be damaged or stolen. (Been there, done that, years ago.)

Maybe this is the end of college teaching as a career for people, the future is University of Phoenix where people with "real jobs" moonlight (literally; I know someone who worked for them and they were expected to be available quite late into the night) by being "content providers." I don't want to be a content provider. I want to be a professor. But maybe that career is going away. And maybe some would say it's time for it to go away, maybe we really are all a waste of tax dollars. I don't know. Maybe only the really damn good hot-shot researchers will have university careers. And the rest of us - those of us who are at best "floppers," will have to go out and try to find something else to do with our lives. (I don't do research that would be interesting or seen as valuable by most people. I'm not curing diseases or looking for new energy sources. Actually, some days I ask myself if I even deserve this job.)

I realize on some level that I'm whipping myself up into a flurry of "what ifs," but it's my nature to want to be prepared - emotionally or otherwise - for bad crap that's going to happen. That sometimes mean I agonize a lot over stuff that never happens.

I don't know. I almost snapped at my dad last night, he asked, "Are you getting enough to eat?" I mean, of all the nonsensical questions (from my perspective, at least). I almost said, "Dad! I weigh [number redacted] pounds, I could afford to miss a few meals. But I'm not! And of all the ways I could fail to take care of myself, that's the one I'm least worried about!" And I've been on the verge of tears a few times this week.

It is too early in the semester for me to feel this way. I need some kind of good news, or, actually better, some kind of reassurance.

(I need reassurance - both that I am doing all right, that I am not totally screwing everything up, that I am not horrible at what I am doing - and in a more cosmic sense, that things will be all right (and I don't just mean all right "on the other side," I don't want to have to wait for that). I don't feel up to asking the people right around me for it though. It's hard for me to ask for emotional support when I need it because I have cultivated this illusion of being the tough strong career woman who doesn't need anybody...)

I had something at church I was supposed to go to tonight but I'm just going to skip it. I'm tired and I have a sore throat. I don't absolutely have to be there (it's not like a meeting that I need to be at). I know I will have people sad-faced on Sunday because I didn't show up, but you know? I just don't feel well. (And I know: "If you feel sad, go out and be around people; it will make you feel better." It doesn't always work that way for me. In fact, often I feel more stressed...because the parents get onto the parenting discussion and I have nothing to say, or because I feel like I have to be "up" and entertaining, or just because the whole thing breaks up later than I would like it to and I worry about being tired the next day).

I suppose all of this COULD be because I'm coming down with a cold (hence the sore throat). That would be the best possible explanation.

Sigh

Something came up that reminded me of my cousin who committed suicide. It's been five years now but it still hurts when I'm reminded of it.

I realize people in that frame of mind aren't really thinking, but really, it is the ultimate selfish act.

I'm just kind of melancholy right now. It's rained all week long, I'm trying to grade some absolutely terrible papers (I think I'm going to have to go back and re-teach stuff they should have already known) and all I have to look forward to tomorrow is coming in and doing the research work I didn't have time to do today.

I will admit to going over to "Superbuzzy" (a site that sells Japanese print fabric and cute little toys from a company called Re-Ment) and buying myself a couple of treats. (I got paid today. And, oh crap, that reminds me: don't go grocery shopping today. Or tomorrow, for that matter.)

sad and angry news

You've probably heard about the creeps (the most g-rated word I can come up with, and it's not strong enough) arrested in Florida for killing a couple that adopted special-needs kids.

Emily said it once before about another situation, but I think it applies here:

The wrong people died.

Seriously. These creeps went into the house of this couple, and in front of several of the kids, murdered the parents in cold blood. A couple of the creeps had apparently worked for the couple. The couple was known to be wealthy, which I suppose ignited the greed and sense of entitlement in the creeps: "Hey, why don't we have that? We want that. Hell, we deserve it, let's go get it."

This just makes me splutter with rage - this couple, from everything I've heard, was doing something to help. To make a positive difference in this world. They were doing the kind of thing I only wish I had the resources, the stamina, and the personal fortitude to do.

And now they're gone. And their 16 kids will have to find new caretakers.

I effin' hate the human race some days.

hate hate hate

I hate academic publishing. Hate hate hate it. I would never even bother to do it if promotion and "post tenure review" didn't demand it.

It's one of the most soul-sucking, potentially self-confidence destroying SCAMS out there.

If you get an article accepted: you sign away your copyright to it (for most journals, that's still the case). That means, if you want to legally copy your article for a coursepack or for your class to read, you have to pay the publisher - for something YOU wrote. You also have to pay anywhere from $300 to $1000 a year for a journal subscription/society membership. You also may be levied "page charges" (which are generally paid by the university, but still). Oh, and libraries get even more screwed - their subscriptions are often at least twice what an individual's is. I suppose because so many people use the journal.

But that's if you get an article accepted.

If you get one rejected, like I did today, you get a couple terse letters with contradictory information in them, where one tells you that YOU SUCK AND GO AWAY NOW and the other says, well, it's not so bad but you were kind of sloppy on your citations here, oh, and you never referred to Big Famous Guy's work and that could piss off Big Famous Guy (even though Big Famous Guy's work is totally peripheral to what you're doing). And you look at the rejection letters (which now come via E-mail, which is somehow even worse) and you just feel awful.

I literally can hear the sound of a toilet flushing away that eight month's worth of work.

No, I can't resubmit. There are two journals I know of in this field, and this is the "lesser" of them. So I'm screwed. I have an unpublishable article.

And I was really depending on this article to break my string of journal rejections.

I don't know. Maybe I just totally suck. Maybe nothing I do is worth it and I should just hang up the research thing and be grateful that I even got tenure and pray like mad that they never make publishing a requirement to retain tenure, because I'm really afraid I'm never going to publish successfully again.

All around me, my colleagues are getting articles accepted and published, and that just adds to my belief that I suck as a researcher and a writer (and I also think some days that I suck as a teacher). I should just quit and do something else, except I don't know anything else. My skill-set is pitifully small.

I read the rejection letters. I admit, I didn't read them word for word because at this moment it's still too painful (I got the rejection this afternoon).

What's wrong with me? Why can't I write a good article that gets accepted? How the HELL did I manage to get a job and get tenure? How will I manage to hold on to my job and tenure with zero scholarly productivity (I don't think "I tried" counts).

I have no new projects planned - I have one that will be a couple years off, I have one I could revive and redo but I kind of suspect it will get ash-canned too. I have one other article in review and I sincerely hope it gets accepted or I will really lose whatever shaky self-esteem I have.

I love doing research, but I hate the whole publishing game. I hate that there is zero institutional support for this short of them paying page charges once you get an article published - there's no release time, we've been told research is "on our own time," if we need supplies and don't get a grant we either need to buy them ourselves or (hopefully) there's a bit left in the department budget. It just sucks. It's like we're expected to do this thing, but there's nothing under us - like they're poking us to go out onto the high wire, but they haven't bothered to put in a net. (Writing grants is even worse. Most people I know have given up on grant-writing, at least for large external grants, because there's no help and no support).

I'm just really sad and fed-up right now. I wish some days that all I had to do was come in, teach, and go home. I was even all excited to gear back up for that research project I referred to, but now that I look at it through eyes jaded by an article rejection, I feel like it's just sh*t too, like everything I write is sh*t and I don't even know why I bother to try.

Frustrated

I don't quite know what to do. I feel as if the Youth program - at least the one I do, for the older kids - is getting nowhere.

There's one guy in the group - he doesn't come regularly, but when he's there, he's decided that it's his "thing" to be cute-rude, to compete with me for the other kids' attention.

Last time, I had to stop the lesson because he was making those under-the-armpit fart sounds and making the younger kids giggle.

I feel like no one is learning anything - that it's all a big joke to them, that it's a chance to get out of the house, get a dinner that's (usually) more fun/more junky than what their parents serve, and socialize.

I had to get after a group of the younger kids last night because during the activity time, they claimed they were going in to play the piano in the Fellowship Hall (two of them are taking piano lessons) but then ducked out and went somewhere else. This is not the first time they've run off; last summer, while there was a "diversion" (one of the little bitty kids fell down and got hurt), they decided to take off for the Dairy Queen several blocks away.

OK. So they don't respect me. I don't know what to do with them. There's only so far I can "lower the boom" as I'm not their mom. I don't want to just throw up my hands and say, "That's it - we are not having junior high and high school youth groups any more because the kids are too rude and disruptive."

But I really don't know what to do.

I think part of it is frustration over the fact that a couple of the kids - the ones I really felt I was "reaching," the ones I felt were showing some improvement - well, their parents divorced (and it was UGly), and they moved away with their mom and her new man.

And the kids I have left - a small group - are a group of brothers who feel like they "own" the church because their family's been in it so long, the rude-cute guy, the girlfriends (Well, not romantic girlfriends, I don't think...I think they're just girls he likes to hang out with) of one of the boys, and then once in a while a few other kids who are kind of quiet and non-responsive (except when Rude Boy is making his jokes).

And I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. I have people tell me, "Oh yeah, I'll be there tonight to help you" and they never show. Or I announce some volunteer work where the church needs help and none of the kids ever show.

And I'm starting to feel taken for granted. Like a part of the furniture. Like what I'm doing really doesn't matter any more, the kids are going to go on their own path regardless of anything I do.

The biggest frustration is the activity time. It used to be we'd rotate activities - kickball, or volleyball, or other games. And everyone would take part. But now, it's like everyone or every pair of people wants to go off and do their own thing - there are two kids tossing a football back and forth, and a small group playing dodgeball (with a soccer ball, which made me cringe. Luckily no one got a shattered ulna), and another group wanting to roam the neighborhood.

And I've explained until I'm blue in the face that THAT IS NOT THE POINT. The point of being part of a group is to - nominally at least - do things as a group. Not to go, Ew, I don't want to play kickball this week and run off, leaving too few people to make effective teams. Or to break loose in the middle of a game and start playing your own game.

But I don't know what to do. I was telling my co-leader last night that if they could find someone that the kids would respect more - maybe someone closer to their age and not as square as I am, I'd happily relinquish the leadership of the group.

But I'm afraid that there's no one currently in the congregation like that. (And even if there were - well, we have a sizable chunk of people who don't do much around church. Leaving a core of people to do all of it and to get kind of burnt out, which is happening to me right now).

The thing is, the little kids program is going really well - they usually have 3 times the kids we do. And everyone LOVES the little kids - they're cute, they're funny, if they run around in the fellowship hall or throw balls indoors it's no big deal - but the older kids...well, if one of them gets into a game with a little kid and throws a ball indoors, if one of them runs a little bit - the adults are coming down on ME for not "controlling" the kids better. (What would you have me do? Most of them are taller than me and at least one of them outweighs me).

I literally do not know how to make them listen to me. I've tried being kind. I've tried explaining why things are not done, or why it's a good idea to behave a certain way. I've tried yelling at them. Nothing works.

I think part of it is the isolation in our culture - when we're hanging out before the lesson, unless I yell at them to put them away, each kid is off on his or her own cellphone/PDA/whatever textmessaging or wirelessly going online or something like that. There's just not a lot of interaction, or at least not interaction with the rest of the group. And I feel like, if the group doesn't want to BE a group, what's the point - why not just disband and, I don't know, have "weekly verse e-mail" or something like that.

I don't know. I really wonder about the upcoming generation. It seems like they often CAN'T work together, CAN'T play together without some kind of electronic device between them and the other person. Or that doing things away from the cell phone is "lame."

The problem is, I can't ban the cell phones out right - a couple of the kids are in situations where their parents might need to be able to reach them fast (one has a not-well set of grandparents). So I can't quite do the "Put the cell phones in a box until the end of the evening" thing.

So I'm just kind of tired and sad. I don't feel like I'm doing a very good job. I'm actually tempted next week to bring some kind of a small prize (or heck, even hold up a $5 bill) and say, "The first person who can tell me ONE of the Bible verses we studied last week gets this."

The problem is, they'd probably come to expect that and I tend to be morally opposed to bribing people for things like that.

I really wish there was someone else who could take this over; I feel like I've run out of ideas. But whenever I approach someone with that concern, they're all "Oh, you're doing such a good job." No, it does not feel that way to me. And I suspect you're just saying that to try to keep me from quitting.

I wish I felt like there was ONE person in that group who cared about what I had to say, but recently I haven't felt that at all; it's been like talking to a wall.

Sad

This is why I am so uptight about having things done well in advance (I wrote Friday's exam last Friday). Because sometimes something comes along that knocks you on your keister.

My friend Dorothy - she was somewhere in her late 80s - the first person who ever welcomed me here, the first person who ever made me feel like I was something other than this Yankee stranger who talked funny - passed away last night. She belonged to the same church as I did and was also a member of my AAUW group.

She had had a bad fall and probably broken her back. (Ladies: do your exercise, get your calcium, don't diet excessively and don't drink too much soda or eat too much red meat!). She was in a nursing home...she wasn't expected to return to her home but I assumed that that meant she was going to spend the rest of her life (perhaps a couple years) there.

I had plans to visit her this afternoon. Even dug out some back issues of a travel-related magazine I get that I thought she might enjoy looking at.

(I'm glad I got the e-mail rather than just driving out to the nursing home and finding out once I got there.)

I'm really sad. As I said, she was my first "friend" here. The first person who made me feel like I didn't make a huge mistake moving here, that it wouldn't be best for me to just turn tail and move back home.

Part of that may have been that she was an "outsider" herself - she grew up in California (wow, she had some great stories...she remembered the Pearl Harbor attack, she remembered learning to drive and driving some fairly large machinery partly because most of the men were off at war). She moved here with her husband back in the 50s or 60s...so she knew the culture here but also remembered being an "outsider" well enough. She kind of took me under her wing and I really credit her with part of my decision to stick it out, rather than to resign after my first year, move back in with my parents, and teach night classes at the community college near them.

She cared about the research I was doing and asked about it...one of the few people outside of my department who did.

She could be kind of..."rude" isn't quite the right word, maybe "brusque" or "abrupt" is better...with people who were foolish. She had high standards and if you didn't live up to them, she let you know.

But she also respected other people...and her high standards were PART of that respect. She expected good things out of people because she believed them capable of such.

But she was also caring...she could show great sympathy when, for example, I was frustrated by university politics or by the foolishness of some people.

I'll miss her. I hope she's reunited with her husband now, all pain gone, her hearing perfectly restored. I hope she's getting the answers to all the questions she had during her life (she was a tremendously curious person, both about scientific matters and about matters of faith).

She's going to leave a giant hole. a GIANT hole. I had kind of "adopted" her as a surrogate grandmother (even though she was probably protest she was a bit young for that) as both of my grandmothers had passed years before. And she reminded me a bit of my maternal grandmother, with the opinionated quality and the exacting standards.

They're asking for prayers for her family. But if I might, I'd also like to ask for prayers for me, because she was a really, really good friend of mine, and I'm very sad right now.

Something I don't like...

I don't like it when I dream about someone who has passed on, and I'm there in the dream, happy because they're alive and OK, and then suddenly my brain goes, "Wait...they shouldn't be here; they're dead" and then I wake up.

don't know what to say.

So last night my folks called me. (They had been out of town at a reunion for my dad's high school class).

My mom said: "there's some sad news."

Oh Lord no.

My aunt - the one I referred to in an earlier post, the one who had been in the hospital but had seemed to be doing better, has died.

She was my mom's sister. My mom's last surviving sibling. (Oddly, it was the oldest child - my aunt, who was nearly 20 years older than my mom, and the youngest - my mom - who were "left standing" for many years after the deaths of the others).

My mom seems to be holding it together OK. Perhaps you reach a point in life where losses come less hard, because you've experienced enough loss? I don't know.

On the one hand, the death isn't unexpected - my aunt was nearly 90, she had been in poor health for a while (she's had treatment for congestive heart failure for a number of years, plus she had colon cancer five or so years ago, plus she has battled psoriasis most of her adult life, plus some other stuff). I guess her body just wore out.

And I have to say I'm somewhat comforted by a few facts - one of them being that most of her children (and I guess some of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren) were at her side; she didn't die alone. And her daughter told my mom it was a peaceful death; she wasn't in pain at the end, she wasn't fighting to breathe or anything like that.

And my cousin - the same daughter - thanked my mom for all the calls she made. My mom called my aunt twice a week (sometimes more frequently) for years - I think she started doing it back in 1989 after my grandmother passed away, because my aunt had been a major caretaker for my grandmother, and I think my mom was concerned about my aunt feeling a little alone and isolated. My cousin told my mother that those calls meant a lot to my aunt, that it was something she looked forward to (especially when she was in the nursing home).

I talked to her some - not often - and I hadn't seen her for a few years.

But I am comforted by knowing the last thing I ever said to her was "I love you." My aunt had the habit of, instead of saying "goodbye" at the end of a phone conversation (either when you were going to hang up or when you were going to pass the phone on to the next family member) of closing the conversation with "I love you." And the expected response was "I love you." So those are the last words I ever said to her, and I'm glad that they were that.

I'm doing OK this morning. Last night, not so much. If I'm going to have a hard time of it emotionally, it tends to be at night - when it's quiet and I'm alone and I don't have things to occupy my mind or my time. (When I get in bed it's worst. It took me a very long time to fall asleep last night because I got to thinking about my aunt).

One thing I thought about...I hope she found out that those people who told her what they believed about suicides and the afterlife were wrong. One of my aunt's sons took his life several years ago, and even though he had been a person of faith, some of the people around my aunt apparently told her that people who committed suicide didn't get in to Heaven. And my aunt was a woman of deep faith, and that troubled her a lot. I remember her asking my mom and dad what they thought about it, and her talking it over with the pastor of her church. And while all of them did their best to reassure her, I think she was troubled by it.

So one of the things that popped into my head: I hope she met Tom again and found out that he was OK after all.

And I kept hearing her voice in my head...she had a very distinctive voice, I would best describe it as being something like Julia Child's but without the New Englandy accent. And she had a distinctive laugh - it started out hearty and kind of ended in a giggle, and it was always gratifying to tell her something funny and to hear her laugh.

She was a very sweet person. I'm sad I didn't get a chance to see her recently. And I'm kind of sad I won't be able to get to the funeral (it's not been planned yet but it's over 1000 miles away from me, and it's in a remote area that's not served by an airport or train station - I'd have to fly into an airport a state or two away, and then rent a car or take the bus and it would take a day to a day and a half for me to get there. And at the start of the semester - I just can't afford that.

My mom said she knew my aunt would understand, and I think she's right. My aunt was one of those people who talked about how "brave" I was to go off so far away from everyone and everything I knew to make my way in the world. And while there are good things about having done that, there are also bad things - a very big one being that you can't get to the people you love fast enough sometimes).

Rest in peace, Auntie. I hope you're seeing your mom, and your son Tom, and your brothers and sisters who went before you, and each of the husbands that you lost too soon....

the end of the "summer of suck"

...Or so I hope.

(Dave, I'm OK - I was just out of town visiting family and attending meetings. But thanks for the concern).

This has been a pretty dreadful summer in a lot of ways - lots of bad stuff happening to people around me, a few things happening to me, specifically.

I'm hoping that the new semester will make things better but sometimes it just seems that a period of time has lots of "sucky" occurrences - things that seem to test your faith or your equanimity or something.

One last thing I found out about in The Summer of Suck was when I went home to visit my parents. My mom informed me - probably because there was a chance they were going to be my "ride" home from the train station after my meetings - that my sister-in-law was having some problems.

Her parents have decided to split up.

It's a complicated and unfortunate situation but I guess in a nutshell, it's this: her mother has suffered off and on from what may be depression, or what may be bipolar disorder. (My brother, who has had some psychology classes as part of his minister's training, says it sounds like bipolar to him, but "who am I to know?")

She's on medications now. The medications seem to have improved her mood a lot, to the detriment of people around her, because they seem to have the side effect of removing her "social filter" - that thing that makes us not say things we MIGHT think, but realize are tactless or unhelpful to the other person.

Apparently she has become very hard to live with. Her husband regretfully took an apartment (in the same town) but informed her that he could not share a house with her any more unless she got counselling and looked into changing her meds.

(At one point, when she was visiting my brother and sis-in-law, she actually got my sister in law in TEARS - not an easy thing to do - claiming she thought my sister in law was a "failure." Now, my sister-in-law is a woman who:
1. Has a good and happy marriage (and has made my brother's life a happier one)
2. Has an active faith life
3. Has an interesting job that pays well and is of service to society
4. Has a number of good friends right around where she lives
5. Has a lot of hobbies and free time activities she enjoys (she is an avid gardener and does scrapbooking and reads a lot and takes part in "game nights" she and my brother have for their friends where they play board games or cards)
6. Has a family of in-laws who think she's a wonderful person and who love her a lot.

I'd kind of define that as being an ANTI-failure in my book, but whatever.)

So, C. (my sister-in-law) is now thrown into the situation of playing mediator, along with her younger brother (who is himself recently married and has two babies at home, one of whom is not in good health). Her older brother doesn't seem to want any part of the situation and is very angry at both his parents.

So this is really something C. doesn't need, and I'm kind of angry at the Universe on her behalf. (I know she'll come through it fine; my brother is very supportive as is her younger brother, and my parents are close enough in proximity to take a part in helping out if necessary).

****

Another item that could have been More Suck, but wasn't so much: when I was at my meetings, my mom called me Wednesday night. Her sister (my aunt), who is way up in years and has had a number of health problems (including successfully beating colon cancer) was in the hospital.

My mother sounded worried, and my mom generally isn't the worrier type.

So all the way home, I alternately prayed for my aunt and contemplated whether I would be able to arrange to return "home home" (to my house and the town where I live) a few days later if a funeral necessitated that.

Well, when I got off the train in my parents' town (turns out that my brother and sister in law didn't have to pick me up after all), my mom told me that my aunt was doing better. Part of it was that she had gotten severely dehydrated (her children are now looking for a different nursing home to move her to; she had not felt well for a while and apparently no one was sufficiently monitoring whether she was drinking enough water or not). My mom said she told her son, "It's so nice here [the hospital]. I wish I could just STAY here." That may be partly because they had her on a saline drip (and on oxygen) and she was feeling better; it might also be because the hospital is a lot closer to the town where she used to live and more people have been able to drop in to visit her and she's not so lonely.

(I hope when it gets to that point - if it gets to that point - my parents DON'T have to go into a nursing home; at least not one far from all the people they know. It must be kind of discouraging after having been an active person all your life to be stuck in what's essentially God's waiting room, especially if you're isolated and far away and don't get visitors often.)

At any rate, I'm glad to be HOME home - part of it is being back somewhere where I have a certain amount of control over things, part of it is not having to look forward to more travel. I like visiting my family, I like being new places, but I kind of abhor traveling to get there. Going by train is better than most methods (for me at least) but it's still kind of awful when things go wrong and you're stuck waiting somewhere and you don't know what's going to happen and you're tied to someone else's schedule. I think traveling ALONE is also probably worse than traveling with someone; there's no one to watch your suitcases if you have to go and pee, and there's no one you know well to talk to in the waiting rooms or on whatever conveyance you're on. I read a lot of mystery novels on the trip up to and back from my meetings.

keeping it together

I realize to the non-pet-owning part of my readership this may look trivial, or not make sense, but it's important to me, so I'm going to talk about it.

One of my parents' cats is almost certainly dying. She's refusing food except when coaxed, doesn't seem to be that interested in things. The vet said she's not really in pain or suffering, and is trying one last thing to see if that will get her some more life (and some more quality life) but I'm not sanguine as this is a very, very, very old cat.

This cat is so old, my parents got her when I was still in college. I kind of "bonded" with her when I lived with my folks when I was in grad school. I always looked forward to seeing her on trips back to my parents.

So I've kind of been dreading this day.

My dad warned me last night that the cat was "winding down" and that she probably wouldn't last much longer. The first words out of my mouth was, "If it's time...don't try to keep her alive just because I'm coming up for a visit in a couple weeks." Because I don't want the cat artificially kept alive just so I can say 'goodbye.' I'm grown-up enough to deal with it and to understand. (And I honestly don't want to see the cat all emaciated and half-dead; I'd rather remember her as she was. And I'm not sure I want to be in on the trip to the vet's to put her down, if it comes to that.)

How I deal with grief is funny. Or at least some people would find it funny. I'm actually grateful that I have a lot of grading to do this weekend and that I have final exams to write and that I agreed to go to a play with my church group on Sunday. Because by keeping busy, I can grab a few minutes to a few hours of feeling good and happy and normal in between the grieving.

(And I'll be over this pretty fast. While it's sad, it's not the same as losing a human relative. Though then again - losing an animal is hard because [depending on what you believe] they show you unconditional love, or at least what humans interpret as unconditional love. And because I tend to have so many problems and issues in my relationships with people...)

When my grandmother died - the most recent "big" close relative loss - I was trying to finish college physics and pack to move. Both of those things helped me cope. Not by covering up the grief or allowing me to be in denial, but somehow, having "normal" every day things to do reminded me that life goes on, that there will come a time when I will hurt less and not be sad.

I think I reacted worse than I might have to the suicide of a cousin some years later because I found out over my Christmas break and I didn't have a lot else to do; I spent a lot of time thinking about it, probably more time than was really good for me.

I know some people think that way of dealing with grief is strange or "wrong." When one of my colleagues lost her husband suddenly (heart attack at a very young age), she was back to work the next week. There was a lot of talk about that. But I totally understand - it's good to go back to a place where you have some control over the situation, where there are things to be done, where the business of living keeps you from brooding on the sadness surrounding the death. Where there are things going on that do not explicitly remind you that you have lost that person. I do think some people successfully grieve and reach that "closure" state faster if they're allowed to do what seems to work for them. (Not that I'd prescribe the back-to-work-right-away for everyone; I recognize that it only helps some people and for a lot of people, going back to work right away would probably make things worse).

I didn't sleep all that well last night. (Part of it was totally external - my neighbors were away until late AGAIN and their damn dogs were barking out in the back yard AGAIN and the stupid security light kept getting triggered AGAIN. I finally stuck in earplugs and put on a dark eyeshade and managed to grab some sleep). I dreamed twice about the cat - in one dream, my mother and I were arguing about who got to take the cat in to be euthanized (It being a dream, the thought of both of us going together didn't occur). The other one - the cat was there, but I don't remember much of the dream, I just remember waking up and crying for 10 or 15 minutes afterwards. (Stupid dreams. I thought they were supposed to afford some kind of escape.)

(Similarly, after my grandmother died, I had lots of dreams about losing other family members. And after my cousin's suicide, I had a very vivid dream where I was trying to prevent someone else's suicide. Remembering one's dreams is not always the blessing some claim it to be.)

The other thing I did last night as a self-consoling behavior...regressive reading. I looked at all the books I have going, couldn't face any of them. So I pulled my old battered copy of "The Silver Chair" off the shelf and started to re-read it. It's been years since I read it so it helped, somehow. Both in the sense of an escape...and also, oddly enough, it comforted me because it was something from "the time before" - the time before my parents got the cat they have now, back when we had the old cat, Sam, the one who passed on when I was a freshman in college. (And oddly enough, now, I realize last evening I sought out another object...an old toy I had saved from childhood...which was also from "the time before" and had to have it near me while I was reading. Strange. But it did help.

So it'll take a little time.

So, while I'm trying not to be TOO sad (she had a long life, probably the best life a cat could have, and if she starts suffering my parents are strong enough to have the vet do what needs to be done), I'm still sad.

Alzheimer's can FTFO...

I'm kind of sad today. I'm sure part of it is that I'm in the "Groundhog Day" part of the summer, where every day is 97*, killingly humid, no rain in the forecast, and I'm at the midpoint of the semester, when I usually run out of steam.

But I have another reason.

I found out last night that a family friend - a retired minister - is suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's. My parents hadn't seen him and his wife in a while, and they saw them somewhere and got to talking. The wife passed on that she was taking her husband around to all the churches he had either pastored or done an interim ministry in (the implication being, "for one last visit"). My dad said that the man's long-term memory was OK, but some of the things he said didn't make sense 100%, and his short-term memory was pretty much gone. (He remembered my parents - having first met them some 15 years ago - but he couldn't remember what he had ordered at the restaurant they were eating in).

Alzheimer's is such a devilish disease. In its worst stages, it steals the very essence of the person - they "check out" long before their body does. In some cases the person gets fearful (I've seen that with someone I know from here who developed the disease; she is now in a nursing home up where her children live - her disease progressed very fast) or they get hostile. And that makes it incredibly hard for the caregiver. I can't imagine how hard it would be to keep caring for a spouse that didn't remember me, that treated me like one of the "help," or that demanded to know why I was there.

I wonder if people with Alzheimer's realize it. I suppose in the early stages they do. And I have to admit - the only situation I can see where I would, personally, to myself, justify the "escape hatch" (suicide) would be in a case where I had been diagnosed with that disease, there was really no treatment, and all I had to look forward to was a long slide into unknowing. It would be very hard not to make the decision to forcibly "check out" physically before my brain had a chance to.

And I have to admit, Alzheimer's is one of my fears. Probably not a rational fear; there is no family history of it (my oldest relative made it to 101 and was still arguing lucidly with the nurses about his medications at the nursing home the day he died). And I do other things that are thought to be preventative - eating all those damn vegetables, for example. And exercising. And the fact that I'm fairly highly educated is supposed to be a preventative (though it didn't seem to help in the case of my family's friend).

But still, it's something I fear - having my personality and ability to care for myself stolen, becoming like a baby again.

And it makes me angry when I hear of someone's last years on this earth being stolen by it. Granted, the man I'm talking about seemed fairly happy (or so my parents related) and untroubled by the fact that he had the disease, but it still makes me angry - his wife said that he could no longer read the Bible because he couldn't follow the thread of it and would lose his place. And I know of other people who had fun retirements planned - and then didn't get to do a lot of the stuff, because they got the disease.

And I have to admit, I can't think of any disease I'd rather get Alzheimer's than. Not heart disease, not some autoimmune disorder (as miserable as they can be), not even cancer. Because with those diseases, while they do have mental and spiritual effects on you, it's not the same - not the same as having your memories and ability to function as a Homo sapiens stolen from you.

I hope they come up with a treatment (or better yet, cure) sometime for this. Or some kind of vaccination people can take that will keep them from ever getting it.

sadness and gossip

Friends of mine - a couple - are separated and are likely divorcing.

(I knew about this several weeks ago but was sworn to secrecy - they were still trying to figure out the best way to let the entire circle of acquaintances know. And as these are people who both have careers in the public eye, and this is a small town with the typical small-town "sport" of gossip, they had to be very careful. But they've notified everyone now).

I have a couple of things to say about this:

1. This makes me sad. I hate seeing this happen. I thought they were happy together, but I guess we never really do know what burdens people carry, what difficulties they have.

I suppose in a way it's better than them having public fights or trying to make their friends pick sides. But it's a shock and a bad surprise and it takes me a while to readjust my worldview: "Happy couple - not so much."

The other thing about this is it makes my dream of maybe someday finding someone who's compatible and having a late-in-life (well, for where I live, 39 is late-in-life for a first marriage, and I'm 39 NOW with no suitors on the horizon) marriage that was happy and peaceful. Because, I tend to feel, if people who are as "normal" as the members of this couple can't make a go of it, how can someone as idiosyncratic and messed-up as I am ever manage to forge a life with someone else?

I mean, most of the time, I'm happy as a single - but I still hold out that tiny weak guttering candle of HOPE that maybe I will wind up with someone to "grow old with" as the songs say.

But maybe I've just lived alone for too long. I'm too fond of my free time, too fond of my privacy. (One of the issues the couple mentioned as leading to the separation: because of a recent change in careers, they were spending a lot more time together and they realized there were some fundamental incompatibilities).

And these are not children, these are not selfish, foolish people. These are both intelligent and deeply caring people. The kind of people I'd think could work out marital differences if they were possible to be worked out.

(So again - I'm singing, "What chance have I in love" in my head, seeing as two reasonable, stable, sane grown-ups can't work out their differences.)

But it just makes me kind of sad and a little bereft. I'm sad for them but also sad for the fact that I am telling myself I just have to ACCEPT that I will be alone forever because I'm too weird to work as part of a couple. (Oh, I probably knew that before - the whole situation with M. in my past - but I don't think my eyes were fully open to it, I was able to blame M.'s "immaturity" or the fact that he was looking for something I wasn't able to provide at that point in time...)

Also, at least one member of the couple will probably move away (that's how it's always worked in situations with friends who divorced before), so I'll have one less friend in my life. (And if it's the woman...well, for me, hanging with the divorced guy would be a little weird and would lead to problems with situation #2...)

2. This is going to lead to gossip. I HATE gossip. I don't mind the kind of benign information-passing, like, "Have you heard that T. and J. are going to have another baby?" where the information is generally positive, and while you might not TELL T. or J. that you already KNEW when they came to you and announced that J. was expecting again, still, it's a non-damaging type of gossip.

But it seems like so often, especially in small towns, especially among people who don't have a lot going for them otherwise, gossip gets blown up into a big huge ugly monster. A couple isn't separating because of irreconcilable differences, "no, that's what they're TELLING people but really they're both having affairs left and right and I KNOW it because my cousin's roommate's hairdresser was PROPOSITIONED by the guy, and I heard the woman goes to these swinger's parties that they have in the Big City."

Or -"Did you hear that Youth Coach X is really into kiddy p*rn? EVERYONE knows it." (When Youth Coach X is in fact the father of two of the children in the program, serves with CASA, is totally devoted to his wife, and doesn't even look at Playboy magazine because the thought of seeing a naked woman other than his wife outrages his sensibilities.)

The whole gossip situation in my town - it's almost like "So when did you jet in from Bizarro-world?" Because totally, some of the gossip that goes around, it's like the polar opposite of what is really actually true.

And it makes me worry sometimes, because some of the gossip I have heard, repeated to the "wrong" person, could lead to the subject - with no comprehension as to why it was happening to him or her - being arrested or at the very least, questioned by the police.

And you know? It makes me kind of sick. I don't want to hear bad stuff, even stuff I strongly suspect is false, about people around me. Gossip makes me angry - it seems like such a small-minded, small-HEARTED thing to do to people in your community. I have no idea how such rumors get started, but they seem to grow on their own.

(One of my friends - she and her family have since moved away because her husband was offered his dream job somewhere else - experienced this twice. First, there was a rumor afoot that her husband was a serial philanderer - when some of the nights he was supposedly out "catting around" she knew he was sleeping right next to her in bed. The second one was a rumor that he abused their children. And like she said, if that was happening, she'd KNOW. But she was terrified that the cops would investigate him, which she felt would only give credence to the rumor, even though they'd find no evidence of abuse.

Why did these rumors get started? I don't know. Jealousy, maybe? She and her husband had a happy marriage and a good family. He had a good job. He was kind of a good-looking man and in addition to his 9 to 5 job, he taught karate in town - so maybe it was just because he was in the public eye, maybe some crazy person got fixated on him and started some rumor. Or, hell, I don't know, maybe one of the she-sharks here in town propositioned him and he turned her down ("You KNOW I'm a married man") and she decided to spite him by spreading rumors.

I suspect part of the reason my friend was so quick to encourage her husband to take the job and move with her family was to get away from these small-minds.)

But anyway - it amazes me how gossip has the power to mutate into something so wildly untrue so fast. (Fortunately my friend wasn't too upset over the first rumor - she could laugh off the idea of her husband catting around - but the second one worried her a little because of the potential for DCFS or the cops to get involved).

Some years back, one of the "newsletters" I get had a bit of advice. It was aimed at coping with family holiday gatherings but I think it's generally true when dealing with people. The advice went something like, Before you say something, ask yourself three questions:

1. Is it true?
2. Is it necessary?
3. Is it kind?

And while I can see suspending #3 in "tough love" type cases with relatives, I do think those three rules are generally useful, ESPECIALLY when repeating information about people you know - if you don't know it's 100% true, don't repeat it. If it's information that is more than 2nd hand, or if you don't actually in-person know the person who had the experience being recounted, don't believe it.

I hear so many, "My best friend's cousin's boyfriend's doctor said..." stories that are wild and don't make any sense. People need to use a little of the good old critical thinking.

The other part - is it necessary. That means, is it NECESSARY for the other person to know? I can see, for example, telling a friend of a friend who might encounter either member of this couple "They're separating, I don't know if you knew that" just so they wouldn't cause pain by asking one member of the couple how the other is doing or where they are (if they didn't, for example, show up to have coffee with the friend).

The problem is, so often people seem to think "is it necessary" means "is it necessary to my social status to repeat this?" or "is it necessary for me to win points in the game of life to repeat this?"

And then there's the whole kindness issue. I would regard it as unkind to a person to repeat to them wild, nasty stories about one of their friends. Honestly? If one of my friends is into sexual practices I would regard as peculiar, I really don't need to know. (Only if it were a single guy I was thinking of dating, and probably the information would come out when necessary). I don't want to hear the details of a knock-down-drag-out argument a couple had; it only damages my image of them. I want to believe that people are basically reasonable and kind, and it kills a little bit of my idealism every time some friend-of-a-friend feels the need to share their little nuggets of TMI.

I know, I know, in some circles being the first one with gossip gives you some sort of sick status, but I don't care about status.

You know, I think one of the reasons so many famous people have problems is because of gossip. I can't imagine what it would be like to have your every move scrutinized. To have everything you ever order in a restaurant published in some tabloid somewhere. To have things blown up into some big quivering mess - like, if you pop a Claritin because your allergies are bugging you, the news stories come out implying you're on some kind of illicit pills.

It's hard for celebrities - although I suspect on some level they have to prepare themselves for that, being in the public eye - but I suspect it's even tougher for everyday folks - because you don't EXPECT it. I never expect the stuff that I hear is being passed about people I care about (and I find it upsetting even though I'm not involved). I can't imagine what you could do to clear your name after some kind of rumor about how you treat your kids or what you do when you're away from your spouse comes up. I guess you just kind of have to ignore it, or ask your friends to politely squash the misinformation when they hear it.

But it's just so damn petty, and so unnecessary. People who do that need to find a hobby. Something other than trying to disrupt other's lives to make themselves look good.

broken world

I found out two pieces of not-happy-making news today.

First, a couple of good friends of mine are moving. Now, they have good reasons - they are moving to be close to an adult daughter who is having some serious problems and will probably need prolonged help and care. But still, they are moving AWAY, and will leave holes, not just in my life, but in several volunteer groups they worked with.

That's the less-bad of the bad news. Because although I'm sad they're leaving, I understand and respect their reasons.

The other piece of news - well, I can't really share it, even with people who probably don't know the people involved, because I've been asked not to. But it's the sort of complicated, interpersonal, problematic, messy, sad-making stuff. It's going to have a lot of bad repercussions beyond even the people who are involved. And there is - as so often the case - literally nothing I can do to help the situation but pray.

The other difficult side of the situation is that when the situation becomes public, those of us who know the people involved will probably be encouraged (by people outside the situation) to take sides. I DO NOT WANT TO TAKE SIDES. I am sad enough about the situation without feeling the need to inject myself in it. It will also probably be a gossip generating situation and that kind of thing makes me want to smack my forehead against the wall. (And my S.O.P. is going to apply here: anyone who wants to try to pump me for gossip is going to hit a big wall of obfuscation, subject changing, and attempts to subtly shame the person into feeling bad about trying to pump me for information.)

I honestly do not understand the people who want to create drama - who stir the shit, to use a vulgar expression. The ones who figuratively throw rocks at hornet's nests to see what comes out. Because I find there's enough sadness to go around without my looking to cause any myself. I also don't understand the felt need of some people to put themselves closer to a sad situation - as I said before, to inject themselves into it. Just being a bystander is more than enough for me.

So I don't know. I have a feeling I'm going to be even less tolerant this week of the "Poor Me! Woe is me!" plaints of a particular person I know - when the woe-causing things are things I can look at and go, "it's stupid but not fatal to my happiness" and move on.

I also turn a year older this week. Whoopee. Another year close to being completely and totally invisible. And it happens on a day when I'm going to be too busy to even go out to lunch, so I'm not even going to really celebrate at all.

I think it's time for me to stop watching the news for a while, because I can tell this is the kind of week where I'll start screaming at my tv if I do.

I know, according to theology, that I shouldn't be surprised at the "brokenness" of the world, but it still kind of blindsides me sometimes.

Thoughts and prayers

There's been another school shooting. This time it's Northern Illinois University, a school I know a little about - I did a summer course up there, I know (slightly) a few people in the Biology department. I have a basic familiarity with the campus (But cannot remember which building Cole Hall was - what department).

This kind of thing makes me sad. While I guess I understand on an intellectual level someone being messed up enough that they want to do a "Top 'o' the World, Ma!" type exit, emotionally....emotionally I just have a certain revulsion, a sense of "what a giant effing waste."

I don't know what's screwed up in people - or if we're just hearing it more because it makes for sexy news. (Kind of necrophiliac-sexy news, when you think of it). Maybe people always did this. I don't know.

I do know I'd like for it to stop. For the people who are depressed or angry or upset or desperate or whatever to go and get meds, get counseling, get religion, whatever it takes, so they don't do these things. Or if they're bent on taking themselves out, that they do it solo. Even that's a bad solution (speaking as someone who is a relative of a suicide).

But my main feeling now is for the families. I hope all the kids who were in that vicinity and are OK (well, physically OK. It will probably take a while for them to be emotionally OK after that) called their families or friends right away to check in. And I hope no one else dies, that the folks in hospital get better and are able to go back to school.

I can't even really work up a lot of anger towards the kid who did this. I'm mostly kind of sad - sad that someone thought that was the only solution to the problems in their life.

One thing I can say about getting older - it may suck in certain ways (more aches and pains, gray hair, can't eat the way I used to) - you do gain the benefit of perspective, and come to realize that almost anything that looks life-changingly horrible one evening will look not quite so horrible the next morning. And less horrible the day after that. And even if it doesn't look less horrible, there are people out there who can help you do what can be done to fix it.

(Update: oh shit, it was a geology course. I wonder if my dad knew the prof involved (I guess the prof is OK?). Makes me shudder to think of the situation.)

serious and sad

I have to be serious today. Part of this is to vent but part of it is just asking advice, or maybe support, or I don't know what.

Some of you know that I'm a co-leader of the Youth Group at my church. This is kind of a challenge because I don't have kids, have never worked with kids, and a lot of the time feel like I'm making it up as I go along.

I thought I was doing pretty well - lots of people were telling me that I was doing a good job, that the kids were learning a lot. We even had a Youth Sunday last fall where the kids did all the serving and that was well-received.

Well, somehow, things have changed. I don't know if this is some kind of resentment or frustration or something a few people had that has been coming to the fore (because this is the first I've heard of problems), or if there's an agitator somewhere, or what.

I am also an Elder in the church, and there was a "special" meeting called for this afternoon after church. I wondered about it at first, then figured it had to do with the plans to start some kind of adult version of a pastor's class, as we've had a lot of adults join the church in the recent months.

I was wrong. And I really wish someone had given me a heads-up.

The meeting was, "What shall we do about the youth group?"

A couple weeks ago, there were some minor acts of vandalism (they were repairable - unnecessary but repairable) and were committed mainly by someone who has been disinvited back.

But the feeling I got was two-fold:

First: should we just give up on this and start again in a few years

and second, and strongest: "We don't have kids of sufficient quality in the youth group."

And I don't know how to respond to that. Yes, we have a lot of kids from broken homes. We have kids from tough family situations. We have one kid who's on fairly heavy-duty meds. And I thought we were doing reasonably well with them.


But I guess they're not the "kind" of people that some members think will make "good" future members, or something. That's the sense I got.

And you know? I'm not looking towards, "will these kids grow up and join our congregation?" In fact, I'm expecting at least some of them won't - they'll move away for jobs or college or because they go into the military. What I'm trying to do is introduce them to God and God's teachings now, so whereever they end up in the future, they'll have that as a base.

But I guess a lot of people have been complaining to the minister. And, in the name of shielding me, he never passed on those complaints until they got severe.

And so now I'm faced with an unattractive prospect - either dump the program (and doubtless have some people believe I quit in a fit of pique or some other bad reason) or keep going, knowing that there are at least some people who think it would be wiser to pull the plug.

I cried a lot during the meeting. I could not help it. Part of it is that I feel like I am doing my absolute damnedest to make this work, and I've frankly done pretty well (some of the complaints have been about things like, "Their athletic shoes leave black scuff marks on the tile that have to be rubbed out. Can't you ask them to wear other shoes?" Considering that some of these kids might have but one pair of shoes, no. And even if they aren't in that situation, I'm not going to micromanage to that degree. I will admit there have been weeks after hearing that complaint where I ran around with a dry sponge after youth group and tried to clean up all the scuffs).

But now I feel like I've reached the point where there's enough non-support that I don't know what to do. I pointed out that it was me and one other woman running the group - every other helper we've had has either flaked out on us, or has had a change at work where they can no longer come and work. And oftentimes the largest complainers are the ones who never set foot in the church outside of Sunday morning.

And part of it is, frankly, stuff that's my own "stuff." I'm a perfectionist. When I hear less than a perfect report, I assume it's some kind of a failure on my part - if the kids respected me more, this wouldn't have happened. If my lessons were more interesting, things would be different. If I had more of a charismatic personality, maybe I'd attract some of the "right" kids. I don't know.

And on the other hand, I'm frustrated with the perception of "we want the 'right' kind of kids." Isn't the church more a hospital of sinners than a museum of saints? That's my objection right there. It's NOT the "good" kids that need us so much as the kids in tough circumstances, who maybe have been given up on at home or at school - and dammit, I'm NOT willing to give up on these kids. I'm not willing to write them off as "bad." Sure, they have problems - but I've also seen flashes of insight and real love and kindness come from them.

And that's really what I object to about the idea of pulling the plug. Because it's all tied up, in part, with the sense that I've failed...that I've failed to control things well enough, that I've failed the kids. But I also think if we end the program, it sends the message: here's another group of people who's giving up on you, who says you're not worthy.

Oh, I've read the kids the riot act. My co-leader and I really laid it down last week. (In fact, one of the kids I suspected of the vandalism - the other suspect was not there and he may not be returning - came and apologized to us afterwards). We told the kids that we need to be twice as good as people expect us to be, because many people seem to think we're only half as good as we actually are.

So after trying to deal with it - and feeling that I HAD "dealt with it" last week, it hurt to have it brought up again. Especially hurt in the middle of a group of people where I'm by far the junior, where I sometimes feel like I have to be extra-good to gain the same level of respect.

I was actually begging them for a "probationary period." Like I had done something wrong. Actually, I do feel like I've done something wrong, I just don't know what.

So I don't know. I just don't know what to do. On the one hand, people are telling me how much they appreciate my work. But...and there's always that little "but" - the kids aren't the "right kind" of kids.

I'm not quite brave enough to argue (even though I think I'd be right) that Jesus hung out with people who were not the "right kind" of people.

But I'm very sad and very conflicted right now. I work my tail off, I have almost no support, I keep being paid this lip-service about how everything's so wonderful, and then I hear that all these people have been coming to the pastor with complaints (which in itself bugs me - it feels like they're going over my head, like they're maybe trying to get me in trouble or persuade the pastor to suspend the youth program without my input).

So I don't know. If I were a different sort of person, I would have resigned right then and there...told them that if that was how they felt, they could find someone else. But like so many things that would feel satisfying at first, I would feel terrible later - because it would be the kids I screwed over, not the people making the complaints.

So I don't know what to do. This is 100% volunteer work, done after my longest day of teaching. I used to love it - I felt it was one way I could give back, one way I could minister to people. But I don't like the feeling that others think I'm ministering to the "wrong sort" of people and that something needs to be done to change the group's composition.

It's going to take a few weeks at least before I can start to feel joy in doing this again, I think. (And I don't even want to think about how to present it to my co-leader: it was proposed that she was part of the problem because it was thought she recruited some of the "bad" kids.

One of the problems, of course, is a lot of the "good" or "desirable" kids already are going to church somewhere. Thanks to the church split of a couple years ago, we lost most of the youth group and have been having to rebuild from scratch.)

But I really don't know. I'm hurt, I'm sad, I'm kind of angry (both at the kids who have brought all this onto the youth group by their foolish actions and also at the adults who can't be bothered to come and help me, but who can condemn the kids and complain to the minister about the program while still telling me I'm doing a good job.)

(Actually, I think that's what bothers me the worst - people telling ME I'm doing a good job and then coming and voicing their complaints to the minister. It feels like talking-behind-my-back. It reminds me too much of the girls in high school who were all simpery and nice to my face, and then said horrible things about me behind my back. I realize it's not the same thing, really, but it feels like it).

I suggested maybe a "real" youth minister - someone with training and someone who would be paid - be hired, but they said that there wasn't money, and besides, none of them had ever had a good experience with having a "professional" youth minister.

(And I will never take pay for the position, even were it offered. Because that sets up even a greater level of expectation. And obviously the group isn't living up to the level of expectation some people have for an all-volunteer organization)

So, I don't know. I suppose I keep the "nuclear option" open - tell the kids up front, "This is what people are thinking" and tell them that if they don't shape up and police themselves, we won't have a youth group any more. Or I suggest another form of "nuclear option" - if I don't get more good, consistent, shows-up-when-they-say-they-will help, I will resign and there will be no more youth group.

I don't know. I'm running on and on here. But I'm really in a lot of pain right now and I don't know what to do.

cuss word, cuss word, cuss word.

(I have a friend who has young children at home, and because she doesn't want them picking up bad language from her, when she gets angry, she says "Cuss word! Cuss word! Cuss word!" over and over again. In fact, I think she's encouraged her oldest to do that when he's ticked).

I'm working on rewriting papers.

I HATE rewriting. I HATE the whole publishing scam. I HATE having to deal with co-authors.

But something happened today that is my own fault, and I can't do anything to fix it.

Cuss word.

I had done an extra analysis on some data. I had printed the analyses out, and used them in the last paper I got published (which was in January 2006 - too long ago really for comfort in the academic world). I tossed those analyses because, you know? Once a paper comes out you shouldn't need that stuff ever again.

I was also in the middle of a de-packrat program. I am a horrible, terrible packrat. I save everything. In my parents house there are notebooks from when I was in the seventh grade. Notebooks that were packed up and MOVED when my parents moved from the house where I grew up to where they live now. I had tried over the years to de-packrat myself: it's not healthy, it's not good, it's hanging on to a lot of useless stuff. I had used the justification of "But what if I need it someday?"

Fast forward to last summer. Cleaning my office which had gotten so bad it was a departmental joke. I KNOW I trashcanned those printouts; I can almost see a mental movie of me looking at them and going "I won't need these ever again, thank goodness."

Well, that came back to bite me nicely in the ass.

My co-author suggested I include one tiny, little detail from those printouts. The printouts which I do not have any longer. I don't really want to admit this to him because this is the same co-author who persuaded me to shitcan another article we were writing earlier this spring, and I'm afraid he's thinking I'm some kind of a ****-up now. (Oh, I know he's saying it to people. He said it to me about others: "She seemed so good at the time but now she's gotten lazy." "He seems to be kind of accident prone." And I know - I shouldn't care and it's really shabby that he does it. But you know? I do care. I want him to have a good opinion of me. And that includes not having lost the damned printouts.

So now I'm re-running the analysis program on the data. It's one of these complex situations where there are about eighty permutations of the different factors you can look at, and I DO NOT REMEMBER what combination of factors I used. So I'm going through methodically (and each analysis takes about 15 minutes) and running each one to see what combination of factors gives the same output that I have. (I do have the results; just not the printout of what I did. SO I'm generating a buttload of results and comparing them to see what combination gives the same outcome. If any combination does.)

I'm just so tired and fed up. I almost get the feeling that the co-author is doing a passive-aggressive, "I'll suggest so much crap in this rewrite that she'll eventually call me up and kill the project."

And I feel all "I suck" and I feel all like I'm never going to successfully publish again, and it's eighty eight degrees in my office and there is NO air, no air, and I can't breathe.

And part of me is so #*$U#ing stubborn that I want to go and FIND those results, I've dug through all my filing cabinets (no mean feat) just in case some angel stayed my hand and I actually filed them but no luck.

So I don't know. I hate publishing. I love collecting data. I love writing it up for the first time. But I hate the million-papercuts, being-pecked-to-death-by-ducks feeling of trying to rewrite a paper and make it pleasing to some anonymous reviewer who may or may not understand what you're trying to do.

sad news

This morning, I got a call on the church's prayer chain. One of the men - someone I considered a friend and somewhat of a mentor - had been airlifted to one of the large hospitals in the nearest large city. He was having internal bleeding and they couldn't find the source or stop it.

Of course, you're supposed to pray for "God's will be done" but I have to admit I had a few prayers for his recovery - and no other options - in there.

Well, just as I was getting my shoes on and gathering up my stuff to go over to my office to print out some stuff I need to start teaching Monday, a good friend of mine from church called.

Mr. W. just passed away.

She had called his wife's cell phone to see if there was any news, got their son, he started crying, and said, "We just lost Dad."

I haven't cried yet; I'm still trying to process the fact that Mr. W. won't be in church tomorrow. There will definitely be a hole there.

He was retired military and was also one of those people who seemed to know everybody and who was related to whom. He had a prodigious memory and used to tell lots of stories about the way the town used to be (he grew up here; he was my dad's age - early 70s.)

(I think the fact that he was the same age as my dad is also kind of getting to me.)

He was in a lot of ways, sort of the living-history repository for the church. We should have written down more of the stuff he remembered.

He was also one of the people who pushed for me to be made an Elder; as I think I've said before, when I was chosen, I figured it was because the people who asked me saw something in me that I don't always see in myself. Mr. W. was that kind of person - he was really good at seeing the best qualities of a person and encouraging those qualities to come out.

He was also the head of the Elders. I suspect that I'm going to be asked to fill that role now; of the people in the Elders group, I have a longer tenure than some (boy, that sounds weird to say, at 38) and of the ones with longer tenure than I have, they either have health problems or are caretakers for spouses with health problems and that can keep them away from the meetings.

I don't WANT to be head of the Elders but I will do it if asked.

I was thinking about how Mr. W. died suddenly - and earlier this year, when Mr. F. passed, his death was longer and more drawn out - he was in the hospital for weeks and then in a long term care facility for a while.

I think a sudden death is probably easier on the person it happens to (well, that's just my guess - I figure Mr. W. is probably going "What? Heaven? Already?" right now. Followed shortly by the realization that he can hear without his hearing aids...). But it's a lot more difficult for those left behind to deal with. There are all kinds of ends (emotional and more quotidian) that need to be tied up - as I said, I've not really cried yet (I probably will when I get to church tomorrow and find he's not sitting in his usual place), I'm still kind of in shock. With Mr. F., there was time to say goodbye and to prepare oneself emotionally.

I guess the one thing I can say is that Mr. W. didn't have a long period of drawn-out suffering, where he had to go through lots of painful and humiliating medical procedures. He just went, fast. I know it's hard on his family, but I suspect it was easier on him.

He's definitely going to leave a hole...his stories, the fact that he was very opinionated (and yet, somehow, it was never a nasty or unpleasant kind of opinionatedness). Even his squealy, never-could-get-them-adjusted-right hearing aids.

It's funny how something that annoys you becomes something you realize you'll miss.

I pray for his family, and also for our church - he was a really big part of it.

Of course, no funeral plans have been made. I suppose that as a veteran he may be buried in one of the veteran's cemeteries. If there's a memorial service or funeral at church, I'm going - I hope it's at a time when I don't have to cancel class, but if it comes down to that, I'll ask one of my colleagues (I think I have someone in mind who can do it for me) to take it, because I think I need to be there.

funeral

My department chair's husband's funeral is this afternoon.

I don't WANT to go but I am going. (Does anybody WANT to go to a funeral?)

I know from experience I will feel better after it's over but right now I'm sort of sad and apprehensive. (It's a "manners" thing. I'm always afraid I'll commit some horrible faux pas that will offend people. I haven't been to many funerals in my life).

Everyone in the department is all dressed up. The men have ties on and the women either have dresses or nice pantsuits. (Do you know, it's kind of sad that that's what it takes to get us to dress up?).

I'm wearing what I've come to think of as my "funeral dress." I think it's the same one I wore to Mr. F.'s funeral about a month ago. And it's actually the one I bought for my grandmother's funeral. (The dress is very nearly 20 years old. Yes, it is. I bought it in 1989. But it's a classic style and was good quality and I've taken good care of it. So I can still wear it in 2007. It's navy blue with tiny white dots. Sort of a shirtwaist style with long sleeves and a wide belt and silver buttons. The fact that I can still fit into it - okay, the belt is perhaps a bit tighter than it was when I first bought it - is a small point of pride with me.)

One of my students this morning said, "Hey...you look really nice today, all dressed up!" and I thanked him but said that I wished it was for another reason that I was dressed up. And he said, "Oh...the funeral."

And one of my students left a message for me with a question but told me that she'd not be available for a while this afternoon, because of the funeral.

That's how everyone around here refers to it. "The funeral."

I guess it's part of being a grownup, isn't it: going to a funeral you'd really rather not go to because you know the family of the person being buried will appreciate having you there. Going because you know it's the right thing to do even if it's not the thing you want to do.

As I said, I'll feel some better when this is all over.

My heart still breaks for my department chair and her son.

sudden loss

I was sitting at home last night, after youth group, thinking about getting ready for bed, when my department's secretary called.

My department chair's husband had collapsed while working out, was unable to be revived, and had died. (He was only about 43).

There's just nothing you can say in a situation like that. It's shocking, and horrible, and I can't imagine how my chair must feel.

They have a young son.

She had had a TERRIBLE fall- with the break-in here, and the minor fire, and lots of the typical sort of dumb annoying petty political carping that goes on (she's also involved with the faculty senate on campus which seems to me to basically be a big bitchfest for people who are dissatisfied about things. And she was on the receiving end of a lot of the bitching, even in cases where she had no power to change the item being bitched about)

Her spring was getting some better. And now this.

It just boggles the mind. I can't imagine losing someone that close to you so suddenly. Up to this point in my life, most of the deaths of people close to me have been people who were old, and sick, and it was more or less expected, and in many cases there was an adequate chance to say goodbye.

When stuff like this happens, it awakens all kinds of conflicting feelings in me. Part of me wants to become very loving and open and to remind myself every time I talk to someone that that may be the last words I ever get to have on them (at least on this Earth) and so my words should be loving and kind and wise.

And yet, on the other hand, I catch myself thinking, "but you shouldn't let yourself get attached to people; this is what happens when you get attached - people die or leave or disappoint you and you are really fundamentally alone and isn't it really better to kind of labor under the quiet gray fug of aloneness every day rather than to have a few bright moments of happiness, only to have it wrenched from you?"

Except I don't know how not to get attached to people.

And it also makes me feel like the stuff like what the people I wrote about the other day are doing seem pointless and stupid and useless. If your life could end suddenly, why should you deny yourself little things that bring joy? It's like the dieter who never lets chocolate or bread or sweets or anything that most people regard as a 'treat' pass her lips, and then she gets hit by a bus. And it makes me want to take and spend this weekend out having fun, instead of working on research, and....oh, I don't know. It just makes me ask lots of questions about what I'm doing and why I'm doing it and will I regret it on my deathbed that I went out and picked up trash instead of going to concerts, that I was the one who could always be counted on to be responsible even when it meant that I denied myself doing something I really wanted to. Am I going to regret starving myself of sleep to make the time to work out?

Everyone's walking around today, talking in very hushed tones: should we be making casseroles? where do we send the plants? SHOULD we send plants and flowers or is that just another thing for her to deal with? Has anyone talked to her? Who's looking after their son while she deals with the inevitable paperwork and stuff?

the good news is they are members of a pretty supportive church here in town and I'm guessing that she and her son are getting a lot of help from them right now (They are Methodists; the Methodist church here is one of the larger more active ones).

There's kind of a little unspoken (unspoken because we fear it will sound selfish) subtext: will she still be our chair? Will she decide to move back East to be closer to her family? Will we be able to function effectively as a department for the rest of the semester and the summer?

I don't know. I'm going to be off-campus tomorrow for a science-fair related thing and in a horrible, selfish way, I'm glad I'm going to be away, breathing some clear air. Everyone's so confused here and we're all kind of hurting (W., the man who died, was a prof in another department and we all knew him) but we know our chair is hurting far, far worse. And so there's just this kind of fog over everything - if I had been "second in command" I probably would have cancelled the department's classes for the day - but I don't know.