nerdywithatwist

Not Your Mama's Nerd

On buying a car:

I hate buying a car. Hate. Hate. Hate. It’s the most frustrating, annoying, stressful processes I think I can endure. Last time when I bought the Scion the reason I purchased that car was the fact that I was exhausted of trying to figure out the myriad of features, accessory packages, gas mileage, manual or automatic transmission. I ended up with a xD more out of frustration and simplicity more than a true love of the car. But the fact is, I did love my little car. I named her Edison and she was my rolling boom box. She went with me to watch several friends get married, a vacation with some of the most amazing people I’m privileged to know, more nights driving and listening to my music too loud than I can count. 

But I had to say goodbye to to that little thing. Something about slamming it into a concrete barrier at 55 miles per hour really puts a dent in things (ba duh dum). The take away from the story is that the car did what it was suppose to, it took a beating. I walked away with a seatbelt bruise and a dented but untracked skull. She wasn’t so lucky left & right, top & bottom main rails were bent on the car. Totaled. Totally totaled. 

End result, I had to buy another car. 

Indeed the moment I realized this fact I believe the noise I made was “Uhhhhghhhghh” Instead of buying into the angst of car shopping, I tried instead reveled in it. I spent a week going to different dealers and getting use to the talk, the glad handing, the lies, the fact that I’m going to know more about the foot pounds of torque in the different engines and iPod integration than the sales man. Through this process I’ve been referred to as “Sweetheart” and “Hun” I’ve had sales man try to cast themselves as the good guy while their “manager” is the bad guy. However, I’ve had my private fun, generally upon opening the trunk I’ve made the “Tisk” sound and make some comment about how the trunk opening is too narrow to conveniently stuff a body into or worse yet get out of a vehicle (having had a semi serious conversation about this with some Eastern Bloc friends over Vodka at one point makes you sharply aware of taking this into consideration when purchasing a car). I’ve plugged in my iPhone and turned to the sales man “You may not want to be here for this.” before putting on some of the loudest Girl Talk on the album. Hitting the end of a interstate on-ramp at 87mph, beating a semi I picked out from the steam of traffic and looking over to the sales man to giggle coquettishly and merge with alacrity. 

I knew what I wanted as soon as I was sure I would have to buy another vehicle. Not in terms of the specific terms but in the things I needed in a vehicle. Enough oomph to push me back into the seat a little bit when accelerating, good sound system with decent iPod/iPhone integration, cruise control, and a bit bigger and more room in the cabin.

I searched almost every brand, in a week I test drove Mazdas, Hondas, Toyotas, Mini’s, Hyundai, Fords, Chevy, Scion. Hated almost single one, and I mean hated with a capital H.

Surprisingly it was a brand that I hadn’t really considered that won my business. Kia. Thats right folks, I bought a hamster-mobile. And I’ll tell you what. I love that little thing. I cannot wait for my first road trip in it.

Anyone want a visit from the Babbs? 

A letter on love between sisters:

Connor,

You may wonder one day who the old people in your life are. Not in a “how am I related” but wonder about their essence, the star-stuff of their souls.
Baby know this, your Momma and I have fought hard to be friends. She’s fought for me when I’ve been defenseless. Fought by me when I’ve needed it. She’s even fought me herself when she knows I’m going the wrong direction.
She is my north star.

There are a few things you should know:
1. She loves with her whole heart, body and soul. Always and forever.
Your mom throws herself into life. But where I’m reckless abandon, your mom moves with the grace of a dancer. Steps lightly here only to be a thunderclap of footfall there. I remember when she told me about you for the very first time. The love in her voice was only matched by the steel resolve in her bones.

2. By her being, she makes it okay.
I can’t count the number of times she did nothing or said nothing and just let me cry/ sit without talking/ eat all her chocolate and nothing else. Your momma has the power to hold open whatever space you need. Space for your fears, your dreams, your failures. She can see it all and you know what? She’ll love you all the more for it.

Connor, I love your momma like shes family. For me she’s a constant in this universe. She tends to love. Cares for it and nurtures it. She knows in her bones that you may not like something, but love it all the same.

Which brings me to number 3

She knows how to let things be without letting something go.

She and I always find our way back to each other. Through time and missed chances. She’s been there for me no matter what a number of times. You’ll always find your way back to her. She’s a magnet in out lives, all you have to do is pause to breathe and feel her pull.

Your mamma is brave and fierce.
She’s tender and loving.
She’ll match you step for step and go toe to toe with anyone who’ll do you wrong.

And remember, if it ever gets too bad you can always come spend a summer with your Auntie.

Xoxo,
Lynn

Spaces between inspiration

I’m writing again.

It’s all, and I mean ALL crap. But I love it. I’m finding my center again. When I was in the stupor of Graduate School I could feel the creativity I use to have in my fingertips, leaking out at inopportune moments. A flash of inspiration driving to work, or in the middle of a teaching session. Most of the time I hushed these moments, “Not now…” I’d think “I’m doing something else right now…” Like a rubberband thats pulled tight the acceleration of the retraction is causing more and more ideas to come. Faster and more diverse. Last week I was on vacation and not a vacation in the traditional sense of going somewhere different, trying something new, meeting new people. Instead I solidly spent the week at my house, enjoying the quiet unabashed freedom of being single, recently graduated, living alone, and quite honestly free to do as I damn well please. Purposefully, I didn’t write much last week. But still ideas came.

Hopefully, one of these will be fashioned into pages soon. Until then: a taste of how my mind works.

Stories:

A fracked up love story about a serial killer and his only surviving victim.

A navigation about a woman having a date at her house, only to realize that she’ll have to share the couch.

A Los Angeles fairy who decided how bad of an overdose you’re going to have tonight.

Poems:

A tribute to Apple Juice

The comparison of joys.

An ode to mens shoulders.

Graduate School = Finished

What follows is my final reflection essay for school it was a hard three year process. I realized recently that the work I put into this degree is not about the end result of my Action Research or even this paper, it’s about the process that was the degree.

I don’t like writing these, a capstone to think and reflect on what I’ve done in this program. Not that I’m in any way am I opposed to the concept of reflecting and writing about my experiences and how it’s changed me, but more so I perceive that the GPE has been such a struggle for me that it’s hard to separate the true learning from the challenge. But then again that might be part of what has to happen. A end note to the three year process of hell I’ve put myself through in obtaining this degree.

I started looking over the books we initially read that very first fall. For me, that was over two years ago. In my mind it’s a hazy portion of time when I was “young”. Or “green”.  The names of  authors like Barth, Palmer and Fried who seemed so exciting or challenging or intellectually demanding at the time and in many other ways now are even more challenging and demanding to my intellect. I tried to consider if I would ever want to pick up the books again would I be able to read or exist in a mental space with these words again? When I took my leave of absence, it hurt to see the graduate program books. It reminded me of the fun I could be having had I gotten my act together. Had I not let work stress get to me in the ways it did. Had I felt that I had more agency in my own life and destiny. The truth is, I had that power I just didn’t utilize it, didn’t know how to wield it properly. Because of external challenges at work I started to get muddled in why the program was good for me, why having my intellect and having to academically read material and respond was good for me. I judge a book by my ability to pick it up again, its why I’ve read Dune and the Right Stuff every year since I was nine years old, and still to this day cannot get through Pride and Prejudice or basically any of Dickens writing to save my life. What I realized in my leave of absence is not only did I want to pick these books up again; they were calling to me to read and re-read to test, to question and study. I know that these books are going to be well used and reviewed in the upcoming years.

Work stress played a major part in my failings of being a good student in the GPE, what drives me crazy is that although I think I was asking for help from other superiors or Human Resources I wasn’t asking in the right way. I’ve always been kind of a slacker, I procrastinate, I delay, but that coupled with having to think long and hard about the questions the GPE brings up:

“What I’m doing… is it valid?”

“How I do what I do…am I being effective?”

“What road blocks are standing in my way from being my best self?”

These questions were so tied to the stress and anxiety of “work” that my brain felt like it would just shut down. It was like a poorly implemented protection mechanism, trying to help me fail up towards my goals of higher education. I distinctly remember sitting in my home office working on the summer papers and feeling sick with dread about thinking about these questions. I call it feeling pinched, but now I see it was real anxiety almost to the point of panic attacks. I don’t remember anything like that happening in my undergraduate career.

I lived in that environment for three years. I survived in that environment; I made friends, had laughter and found my sense of self through it. What I realize now is that all that pain and struggle gave me my Stance. I always knew I was a process learner, I’m tactile and have to be shown and experience my learning, I just wish it hadn’t been at the expense of parts of my sanity for the past few years. More and more I read Fried’s statement of “Their stance makes them unafraid of losing control.” As a mantra. A rule to follow. The concept of being able to hold my ground, an educational Litany Against Fear.  And now, three years later the landscape of my position at Earlham is totally different. I have a new supervisor, one who not only gets what I want to do, but she knows how to ask me to be my best. Tolerates the bit of crazy fun I bring to the table but also creates the space for me to really utilize and hone my craft of Help Desk support. I’ve always seen my future as being positioned in a more client-based position. If I ever decided to a PhD program, I think I would want to study the concept of resiliency in technology education and training. I am able to do what I do day to day, in helping someone with an issue or learning a new software system, or fixing a hardware concern because I’m able to exist in a space of doubt. It doesn’t bother me that I don’t know all the answers. I take the unexpected as something to be proud of. Khalil Gibran has a phrase that states: “Say not ‘I have found the truth’ say instead ‘I have found a truth’.” That phrase has been a guiding star in my education and life. I want to be the person Fried talks about on in his book, he states “passionate people are the ones who make a difference in our lives.” (p. 17) Indeed he later states something very true for me with regard to technology: “the act of teaching has more to do with the preparing a learner to be an eager seeker of new skills than the nailing down pertinent data.” (p. 25) He speaks later about an educator with a naturalness in her teaching style, “the blend of realism, humility, and humanity- that allowed her to make a powerful connection with these kids.” (p. 157) I’ve always loved that concept. That my attitude, the way that I orient my life around technology and education is not so much a choice, be it career or life or interest but instead it flows out of a place deeper than that.

Going forward, I hope I’m able to remember how much of a gift this learning was, the challenge of learning in an environment with other people with similar interests. I don’t even think that College offered me that, to study, test and examine the process of Education. I know that the GPE has prepared me with the skills necessary to move forward, to create the learning community around me that I need, want and desire to make real. It means a lot to me the help I’ve obtained along the way, and the knowledge that there is a entire group of people in this world that although we may have different thoughts on education and how it should be managed and used by our learners;

We’re all struggling with the same questions, and we’re all in this together.

“I think all of us carry…

“I think all of us carry some damage with us all the time… and I think that the fact that we’ve survived and become adults is testament to this… it just requires that occasionally I have to turn a light switch on and off a few hundred times before I go to bed.”

Said at dinner with friends.

Sometimes, I get crafty:

A number of years ago, I bought a book at a art gallery in London. Contained within were a series of quips, quotes, and funny questions to ponder. Over the years the book as fallen apart. I’ve always wanted to put a few of these in frames:

I finally did.

Lost in the Wilds of Academia

It’s a wilderness out there. The rivers of Philosophy, the roots of History, the blinking hidden blue sky of Religion, the tree trunks of English and a path that’s carved over and through the boulders of Facts. In the middle of this forest sits a girl dressed in blue at a desk.

If I had to describe my job in poetic terms, this is how I would start. Academia is a forest. It seemed like that when I was a student. It’s changed for me now, I use to be a consumer of education. I was a student. I use to devour history books, debate english verse, and study Hebrew texts as easily as I now restart computers, set up email on a smart phone, or instruct a patron to use the scanner. There was a simplicity in my learning then. The moments of “ah-ha” inspiration or banging my head against the desk after reading about Russian history. The late night study sessions and sleeping with your textbook under your pillow for good luck.

These are the things I remember from being a student.

Now I’m a student again. About to finish an Action Research project to graduate with a Masters of Education. I’ve been a student on and off for three years. Ever since I came back to my Alma mater in November of 2008 and quickly realized that my brain was going soft. Like a flan in a cupboard. Who knew the brain is a a muscle that needs exercise? My psychology professor most likely. Alas, they forget to tell you this in the Senior Disorientation. Little details about adult life they forget to make you aware of.

I think being an adult takes all of us by surprise. It seems to be a moment, a sudden realization that I am not what I was. When I was a undergraduate, knowledge seemed to come from nowhere. It was present within every classroom, conversation and moment on my campus. Now, I have to work at knowledge. I have to take the time out of my day to experience it.

“Perplexity is the beginning of knowledge.” -Khalil Gibran

Now I ask questions, I understand that what my education trained me for was to go deeper. To drill down to the truth of the matter. It doesn’t mean that it happens every time, in every conversation but it could be there.

So, dig deep friends.

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