Garish Neon Sock Monstrosities

My younger sisters are both hilarious in different ways.  'lisha is genuinely funny and quite witty-- a very sharp tongue to say the least.  Val is also funny, but more in a slightly awkward, innocent kind of way.  I likely fall somewhere between currently.  I've given up on my bold, ever present sarcasm, but on occasion I'm somewhat humorous.  Both of them came to my immediate rescue today during a dreadfully boring Saturday class, for which I can't thank them enough.  One regaled me with a story regarding a patient asking for testing for diabetes because they slept with someone with an insulin pump who "didn't tell [them] they were infected" (yikes!!!), the other sent me text impressions of Gus Gus from Cinderella.  We also just had a great realization that none of us match our socks when we wear them, and we all have a bizarre affinity for garish neon sock monstrosities.  Ah, sisters.  I'm so lucky! 

Scheduling Tetris: Long Days, Short Nights

So, this is one of the many things I do in my life.  Volunteer scheduling.  In this case, I am scheduling about 150 volunteers across four different locations.  This image is only page 1 (of 3) of my scheduling tetris.  The process to complete this schedule happens three times per year (after making an impassioned plea to go from quarterly scheduling to trimesters last year).  It takes a month and a half to go from beginning to end on a schedule.  The color coding here indicates this is a draft from about a month into the process.  I changed the font so the names would not be identifiable, however, every line represents one person.  The grouping is in reference to the teams the volunteers work in.  There are now 21 different teams across the four sites that I am responsible for in terms of recruiting, hiring, scheduling, managing, and training.  Each of the teams is designed to maximize the diversity of the individual members to better serve clients but also improve the volunteer experience.  I also have to balance the number of students in training with more seasoned professionals, and new volunteers with ongoing volunteers.  There are three different types of volunteers with three different roles. 

Each volunteer indicates their open and preferred volunteer availability for the upcoming term.  Then I remove people who have indicated they are finishing, move the people who have requested to be moved, look at the availability of people who have been interviewed and ok'd and then place them on teams if their availability fits.  It is essentially a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, but the idea of scheduling "tetris" is amusing and keeps me sane.  The tetris concept is very useful when volunteers start making numerous requests to be moved back and forth or for special consideration or demand a slot and then quit three weeks into the term etc.  I am also responsible for finding substitute volunteers when someone can't come in.  Ha!  On 20 (paid) hours per week, that is a stretch at times to say the least.  Luckily, this type of scheduling has helped me practice my skills around organizing my own life.        

I sometimes get bogged down in my own frantic schedule, which leads to complaining and stress.  The stress is understandable, the complaining is annoying.  I got myself into all that I currently do: grad school, teaching, non-profit volunteer coordination, clinical work...and the list goes on.  The basic framework of my weeks looks like the calendar below.

I took a screenshot of it a couple of days ago, and I've already added an additional advising meeting, a volunteer interview, and another volunteer training.  I've also got 30 short papers to grade.  It doesn't show that I get up between 4:45-5am each morning or that I often stay in one of my offices until 7-8pm to read/write etc. before going home to read/write some more.  I had to stop trying to schedule a lunch and dinner time for myself because it was just taking up space on my calendar and not actually reinforcing taking a break.  I really appreciated the comments of a former professor this week when he said, "You can't do all of those things in one semester (prelim exams including oral defense and paper, dissertation proposal, internship applications, teach, work, see clients)."  I said, "Watch me."  His reply: "Maybe you can...but you shouldn't."  It made me think a bit.  

I now understand what they mean when they say some advisors don't know how to protect their students.  Well, part of it comes down to protecting myself.  I might be too good at scheduling tetris for my own good; I manage to line my blocks (tetriminos) up and create space before they pile too high.  So far, the fall hasn't started out with a downpour of s and z blocks, so I might make it.    

September 1st: Beginnings and Endings

September 1st.  What a day.  It's the beginning of a new month, the beginning more or less of the academic year, and it marks the end of my mother's life.  This is the 9th year since her death.  She has officially been dead half as long as she was alive in my lifetime.  In another 10 years, she will have been dead as long as she was alive in my life.

I've written about this before including how much it generally sucks to have a parent die when you are not yet an adult.  I'm not sure it is necessary to cover that ground again.  I can say, however, nearly a decade of constant awareness of her absence has provided some important perspective in my life.  Though I would much rather be able to have her presence and thoughts in person as well as the experience of continuing to share parts of my life with her, I have learned and grown on account of her death.

It is unfortunate that the US typically does not deal well with death.  We can dole it out to others for "just" causes and "defense" but we cannot aid others in attempts to ease their suffering, we rarely discuss the topic of death openly often only seeing it attached to media representations that glorify the act but not the experience and process of those involved like some twisted fable.  We use euphemisms such as "pass away/on", "departed" or we just don't talk about it period.  All of these things combine to make death in a person's life a typically sad, upsetting situation which it is to an extent.  I suspect that due to this approach to death, though, so much positive experience is lost.  It also makes it difficult to grieve in a way that fits people's specific needs.

I was rushing to get back to my life when my mother died.  I was 5 hours into a 10 hour drive when I got the call that I needed to come back.  I was ordered back, really, by my grandmother.  Then it was a death vigil for about 4 days.  I would take my sisters out to do something instead of sit in the depressing hospital waiting for her to die only to get a call to say, "you should come now, it will be soon."  So, we would stop whatever we were doing, herd into my mother's room and stand and stare.  After awhile I would shuffle my sisters into the family lounge again to wait.  We stayed in the hospital 24/7 until the 4th night.  I looked at my father and my aunt and said very calmly, "I'm taking the girls to Amy's [my cousin who lived in the city with the hospital] to sleep, shower, and eat.  Do not call me unless she is dead.  I am not bringing them back here to wait more."  I said goodbye to my mother briefly even though she was in a coma at that point, collected my little sisters, and went on our way.  I was sleeping but heard the phone ring.  It was pitch black, but I sat up and put my shoes on.  I was tying the second lace as my cousin came upstairs and said, "Rita, she's gone."  I went to the room my sisters were sleeping in, they had heard the phone ring too.  When I opened the door, they both stared at me looking terrified of the news I was bringing.  I said , "I'm sorry."  We all cried, I hugged them.  My cousin drove us to the hospital.  We all gathered in her room to say goodbye once more.  It was about 3:40am.  I don't remember what happened after that other than most of the nursing staff coming in and giving their condolences, some of them cried too.

The next day my brother and I met with the funeral director to plan the funeral.  I wrote the obituary, we chose her urn, the musical selections, and the memorial pamphlet.  There were three vans of memorial flowers people had sent the day of her funeral.  The local flower shop was wiped out, and the owner donated what was left having also known my mother.  Over 200 people came to the funeral.  They broadcast it over the speakers outside because not everyone could fit in the chapel.

Three days after she died, I came back to my apartment after making the drive and within 24 hours I started my sophomore year.  Some of it I regret, some of it I do not.

Despite her absence, and the profound loss involved, I know I am a better person because of her and her death. I approach everyday knowing that she believed in me, loved me, and respected me as a person. I fight for my rights and the rights of others because of her, especially those who need the most empathy and compassion because they are discarded by others. I use my healthy skepticism to question authority and ask questions other people are afraid to ask- because of my mother. I am a strong person, and so are my siblings; thanks Mom. I stay open in my mind and heart to people who are different from me because my mother taught me how to respect and honor those differences while building friendships. And I know how to manage my own pain and struggles through her life and death. I know how to take care of myself too and persevere when life is uncooperative in helping me meet my goals.    

I sometimes wonder if she would be disappointed in me.  I'm not sure exactly what would be cause for disappointment in what I've done since she died, but I wonder anyway.  I think questioning myself about it keeps me on my path and prevents me from giving up.  I'm not even sure it would be about "making her proud."  It's more like not squandering the love and effort she put into raising me based on the brief time we had together.  She literally risked her life, safety, and long-term happiness to help ensure I would succeed in life.  I'm going to define that success.  And when I make it happen, I'll know who to thank in large part...but that will only be a new beginning.        

Welcome to Space...

Top Hat is in a band.  They're actually fairly good, and I suspect if you like what they call "space rock" they are even better than good.  In anticipation of an upcoming show with the noise rock band Hammerhead, they had a space show.  A space show is essentially a show in a band's practice space.  It's also a good excuse to hangout in an industrial parking lot and drink beer.  The band actually rents the space Soul Asylum used back in the day...also a good excuse to drink beer in an industrial parking lot.

Last night's show went like this:
 

Pre-show beer/parking lot.  The bars on the windows create a nice, safe feeling.  As does the Somali discotheque next door, and the  "massage parlour" housed on the third floor of the adjacent building...classy.

Welcome to Space...

View upon entering the void.  When I asked if placing "Enjoy Coke" under photos of Guns N' Roses, Ozzy, and the Stones was intentional commentary, they assured me it was merely coincidence but a brilliant observation...

The adoring audience, in part, I couldn't get everyone in the shot.  People from 4 different states showed up.

2/4 of the band.

3/4 of the band, plus a brother-in-law

The man behind the synths.  He's going for a Keith Emerson setup, but the $90,000 Modular Moog will have to wait. 

The only band I know that uses a storyboard as musical notation.  I'm sure a cactus playing a sax is a profound representation of something.  And I'm sure that electrical outlet could use a few more things plugged into it.

It was a fun, sweltering time.  They get the test pressings of their forthcoming vinyl album this week.  A listening party is tentatively scheduled for the upcoming month, although I think it is likely to take place somewhere other than the vacuum of their space.     

My Weekend: A Pictorial Wishlist

This is how I intend to spend my next few days, all with a relaxed bliss:

Replace the rubrics and papers with a paperback, and all is well!

1) Literature and an adult beverage in a random bar at midday.  Check.  An interesting NPR read, and I would totally read a book in a bar with the author, although we would have to discuss the phrase "culture critic" at length.

 

I am slightly impressed by my own skill in taking this photo, however.  Simply gorgeous.

 

 2) Trees, sun, and lake(s).  Done.  While I would give almost anything to be visiting this particular spot, alas, the Big Horns are not my destination. 

 

3) Silence.  @$&% yeah!  I'm looking forward to possibly not speaking to/interacting with another human being for multiple hours at a time. 

4 != 4: Equality

And you can quote me on this: "Equality does not mean treating everybody the same. Equality means being flexible and responsive in appropriate ways that meet people's needs with respect, honor, and dignity." ~ Rita 2014

I use this quote and concept often, both when teaching multicultural counseling and engaging in the practice of counseling.  Sometimes people get stuck on the idea that equality means symmetry in balance.  For example, 4 = 4, end of story.  While this has merit in certain situations, it is very limiting.  Helping people move beyond that limited conceptualization and recognize that 1+3 = 4 and 2+2 = 4 are also valid, useful ways of obtaining an equivalent outcome of 4 is a challenging but valuable task.  Just as you can have two cups of water, a pint of water, or 32 tablespoons of water and still have the same amount, people can get their needs met in different and creative ways.  It is also about the quality of the diverse and creative ways needs are met.  Incomplete or partial combinations do not lead to an equal opportunity or outcome.  There is no rounding up or down in regard to equality.  It's all whole numbers.  

I think equal in terms of flexibility could easily be misconstrued as equal but separate, an unfortunate mistake.  In reality, it is quite the opposite.  Oftentimes, the attention to meeting the needs of diverse groups of people is done in an integrated and functional way such as universal design.  A person who does not use a wheelchair can use stairs or an escalator, yet someone who does use a wheelchair has little use for either.  A ramp, however, can be used by both in addition to people with strollers, walkers, canes, luggage etc.  Flexible, respectful, functional, equal.  

Conversely, sometimes when an inflexible, "uniform" approach to something is implemented it is not functional and is poorly conceived due to bias and privilege in the decision making process, such as "regulation" military hair styles in the U.S. 

Can you imagine what would happen if all mechanics treated every car issue the same, using only specs for an '89 Yugo, based on the belief that all cars are cars, and therefore the individual differences or between group differences were irrelevant in maintaining them?  Sure, it would be equal treatment and it would seem efficient...until a fuel injected car started having issues and no one could figure out what the hell a fuel injector was and why the carburetor was missing.  Or what an on-board computer does and why the check engine light wouldn't go off.  It's not to say that there aren't similarities between cars that would be transferable (changing a tire, having a steering wheel, an engine etc.).  But come on, really?   It isn't like they would then say, "Only cars that fit these specs/can be made to fit them are worth our attention!"  The entire concept is unreasonable and unsustainable.  Yet, that is what we do with people and groups of people.  

"But, Rita, people aren't cars and we can't be tailoring everything to everyone all the time!"  Yes, and when there are people involved and inequities persist, people get hurt.  That's a problem.  It's true we can't tailor everything, but that is not what I am advocating for.  This is where " flexible and responsive in appropriate ways" comes in.  There are limits to what can be done to address the specific needs of individuals and groups when balanced with everyone's needs.  Flexibility is requisite for all involved, and sometimes that means compromise.  And it also means get creative and be proactive.  Before something can be addressed, it has to be recognized.  Gaining recognition involves highlighting the concern and creating awareness.  Although there are often institutional and societal roadblocks to this flexibility and growth, it doesn't mean we get to be complacent or steeped in our own privilege and ignorance.  Achieving equality also involves being open to awareness, which seems to be where most people really struggle...somehow, it is inconceivable that two people can have different cultural backgrounds and needs while respecting and valuing those differences and sharing an understanding. 

Too many people are driving in other people's lanes without realizing that I can drive my car with all of its quirks and specific features, and you can drive your car too.  We don't have to drive the same car to safely share the road and arrive at the same destination. 
            

Bangs, Headbands, and Pancakes

     One of my favorite ways to start a day-- making excellent buttermilk blueberry pancakes from scratch.  I apparently also make excellent regular buttermilk pancakes according to popular opinion.  Blueberry anything is where it's at though; cheesecake, muffins, ice cream, pie...all delightful.  Generally, I am forcefully against photographing food, but these were not only highly palatable, they were aesthetically pleasing!

 

 When I was home last, I had the opportunity to make a copy of this, er, lovely, childhood photo.  I think I was 8 or 9 years-old.  One of my great-aunts died earlier this year.  As they were consolidating her belongings, they divided up the photos she had and gave them to whomever seemed appropriate.  This was especially nice for me as all of our family photos, among everything else, were destroyed in a forest fire in 2002.  That probably has something to do with my desire to collect photos, new and old.  

Never a real smile, it was always the patronizing "I hate you but have good manners" smile

I remember the headband, the bangs, and the dress.  I used to swim in the creek in that dress.  There were tiny pools 2-3 feet deep all over the place.  There was one little pool about a mile from home that I frequented.  I used to back float and stare at the sky and trees for extended periods of time, hours some days.  The sense of muffled silence the water covering my ears created was so relaxing and peaceful, so quite.  The water tends to be cold when you are at an elevation over a mile high, but I would float and spin until I felt warm as the breeze blew across the pond and my face.  I was always perplexed by that.  I would be freezing walking home, but if the wind blew or I ran, the air brushing against me felt like a warm blanket.  The air is distinctive back home.  The pine trees are very fragrant, and their resin seems to be unique in producing this.  I would float, listen, and breathe the fresh air.  If I stayed long enough, sometimes the trout in the creek would become accustomed to me, and I would feel and hear them flitting around me.  Their tails make a weird noise underwater like a bubbly splash.  Luckily I never had any water snakes slither by, that may have been the end of my swimming.  When it was time to go home or when my mom thought I should be home, our dog usually found me.  By found me I mean located me and then barreled into the creek for a swim too.  His name was Bog, and he was a border collie/German shepherd mix.  Highly intelligent, fiercely loyal, and unbelievably protective of us.  Also fond of water and car rides.  I miss him often; he died almost 10 years ago.  His name is a not so long but moderately funny story for another time.  Suffice it to say that he and the dress were an important part of fun times.  I would wear the dress again for sure.  The bangs, however, are something else entirely...