Happy New year!!!!
My advisor either does not know that writing in all capitols means screaming in an email or she's just a complete curmudgeon. I'll go with the later. I really want to confront her on the matter. Some have said no, watch your politics, actually most have said that but, Emory, God bless his heart, Said hell yes stick it to her. She has made my semester a living nightmare. She did this to her student last year as well. I definitely do not want to be like her when I grow up. AT ALL.
Emory and I have never spent a New years together. We've been dating for 3 years. Its a combo of me not going out because of my son and this year he had to go back home while I stayed with my family. Its fucked up. Next year we will spend our first new year together. 2011....
Jaden was cute today.
He mentioned he wanted to be a pet store worker or a toy maker.
We had champaign for the new year and he was all to happy to have a few sips. I was drinking mine and he said, " Down the Hatch and The last drinks a dozy." He's hilarious.
He stayed up until midnight.. not surprised this kid lives at night. I am grateful. I am so glad he is not a morning baby. The kid that wake you up at like 6 am and want to play.
Before bed he insisted on doing home chores, to prolong his bedtime no doubt. But he did clean. He picked up trash in the living room, did the dishes, and swept under the kitchen table. I had to let him do it, it was amazing.
He played surgeon on my back and told me I was "infected". He said I needed to stay in bed all day tomorrow.
Before bed he wanted to stay up a little longer. I told him NO. So he makes this cheesy smile and bats his eyes. I crack up laughing because about one month ago when we were at our neighbors house and he wanted to stay longer and was begging me my neighbor said,
"Jaden is you smile like this and bat your eyelashes she will never say no!"
I can't belive he actually remembered this and applied it at the perfect moment."
I still haven't checked my grades from last semester. I really don't care.
acne is still atrocious
I am going to try to pay more attention to my son in the new year and put him before school even if school acts like a fucking heartless tyrant.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
DEC 30
It's almost the end of a decade and I entered the decade in the 9th grade and came out with a 5 year old.
Grad school is the home of an incessant amount of meetings. I have never felt more violated. Well actually I have... the day of my son's birth for one... but anyways. I am currently in the midst of planning a meeting with 6 other people. The only times available are Monday 5-6 and Wednesday from 5-7. HMMMMMM
Why might this not work for a women with a child????
Let me count the ways.
Last semester the same situation happened with the same group of people. All involved were very accommodating and let my son come along to the meeting. It's just not fun bringing your personal life around to be viewed for an hour. I don't care how well behaved he is...which he always is.. I'd still not have to subject him to that idleness and black hole effect of grad school.
I had to bring my son to class several times during the year in undergrad. I had one Prof say, " I have never seen more well behaved children then the ones that come to school with their mothers." He is right. These kids learn very early about the stifling, monotonous ways of American Education. It will not surprise me either way if my son does or does not have a "Fidgeting" problem when he enters school. I was labeled as a fidget. One of my proudest labels.
Parents do know their children. My father has never pressured me into anything except sports. Even that was not really pressure. He just got so excited about it, never missed a game. It was hard not to respond to this manly affection. He was never overjoyed about my psychology career. Just happy I was advancing. He was hinted at my true passion several times. A passion I refuse to accept or act upon: writing. I mentioned journalism school several times during my undergrad but I never listened to him. My father has had creative dreams all his life. He was always working several jobs and adding ADD (undiagnosed) to the mix provides several ideas discarded due to middle class balance phenomenon. My father is running from being poor and striving to not only gain wealth but prove worthy of wealth. An American Curse. This balance between rich and poor provides for a time consuming bout with work and spending savings on things to make your children more marketable like snobby private schools, and dreams of Olympic greatness.
Today he mentioned a book. He doesn't read alot. I think he prefers to be active, expelling energy. Anyways he mentions this book, some read about fire fighting that he couldn't put down. My dad has been a fire fighter for some 30 odd years. It doesn't surprise me that he was so interested in it. He says, " I want you to turn this book into a screen play" I am always overjoyed when my father mentions my writing career but usually he mentions things that he wants me to help him develop or write. This time he just mentions me. I told him out of pride that I didn't know anything about fire fighting and that I would try to write a draft and then send to him to make more "accurate." Later I went to grab the book from his room. It was signed by the author with a message,
BOB
The adventures of your career as a firefighter will stay with you long after you retire. It is a special brotherhood. You will find yourself in the pages of this book.
You will find yourself in the pages.... My dad was asking me to write about him, in some crazy indirect way. That meant alot to me.
After putting a quarter in, wishing for a red gumball, but getting a blue one.......
Jaden: Mommy, why didn't I get the red gumball. I wanted the red gumball.
Mommy: Jaden. Some things we can not explain. Make it a goal to get the red gumball.
Jaden: Yeah, Imma get the red gumball.
Grad school is the home of an incessant amount of meetings. I have never felt more violated. Well actually I have... the day of my son's birth for one... but anyways. I am currently in the midst of planning a meeting with 6 other people. The only times available are Monday 5-6 and Wednesday from 5-7. HMMMMMM
Why might this not work for a women with a child????
Let me count the ways.
Last semester the same situation happened with the same group of people. All involved were very accommodating and let my son come along to the meeting. It's just not fun bringing your personal life around to be viewed for an hour. I don't care how well behaved he is...which he always is.. I'd still not have to subject him to that idleness and black hole effect of grad school.
I had to bring my son to class several times during the year in undergrad. I had one Prof say, " I have never seen more well behaved children then the ones that come to school with their mothers." He is right. These kids learn very early about the stifling, monotonous ways of American Education. It will not surprise me either way if my son does or does not have a "Fidgeting" problem when he enters school. I was labeled as a fidget. One of my proudest labels.
Parents do know their children. My father has never pressured me into anything except sports. Even that was not really pressure. He just got so excited about it, never missed a game. It was hard not to respond to this manly affection. He was never overjoyed about my psychology career. Just happy I was advancing. He was hinted at my true passion several times. A passion I refuse to accept or act upon: writing. I mentioned journalism school several times during my undergrad but I never listened to him. My father has had creative dreams all his life. He was always working several jobs and adding ADD (undiagnosed) to the mix provides several ideas discarded due to middle class balance phenomenon. My father is running from being poor and striving to not only gain wealth but prove worthy of wealth. An American Curse. This balance between rich and poor provides for a time consuming bout with work and spending savings on things to make your children more marketable like snobby private schools, and dreams of Olympic greatness.
Today he mentioned a book. He doesn't read alot. I think he prefers to be active, expelling energy. Anyways he mentions this book, some read about fire fighting that he couldn't put down. My dad has been a fire fighter for some 30 odd years. It doesn't surprise me that he was so interested in it. He says, " I want you to turn this book into a screen play" I am always overjoyed when my father mentions my writing career but usually he mentions things that he wants me to help him develop or write. This time he just mentions me. I told him out of pride that I didn't know anything about fire fighting and that I would try to write a draft and then send to him to make more "accurate." Later I went to grab the book from his room. It was signed by the author with a message,
BOB
The adventures of your career as a firefighter will stay with you long after you retire. It is a special brotherhood. You will find yourself in the pages of this book.
You will find yourself in the pages.... My dad was asking me to write about him, in some crazy indirect way. That meant alot to me.
After putting a quarter in, wishing for a red gumball, but getting a blue one.......
Jaden: Mommy, why didn't I get the red gumball. I wanted the red gumball.
Mommy: Jaden. Some things we can not explain. Make it a goal to get the red gumball.
Jaden: Yeah, Imma get the red gumball.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
No motivation
I almost did not write today. I am tired.
I am visiting home for the holidays and resting but I have returned to the stress of my 4 generation household. With my son and I home there is 4 generations: He, I, my mother and her mother. For the first 4 years of my sons life and my first 4 years as a parent I endured this situation. I know that in America we are pushed toward independence and individualism and other cultures are more collectivist and village-esque. All of these people, while they do help immensely drive me insane.
My grandmother is in a wheel chair and does not leave the house. She is cared for by my mother. Our downstairs bathroom has had a huge potty chair with hand rails on it since my son was born. Potty training him with this was interesting and now he's learned to do a sort of gymnastics move when using the bathroom. He grasps the handle bars on each side and hoists himself in the air, balancing his weight on his arms and aiming at the same time. He's quite strong really.
My grandmother has lost control of so much in her life. She still has her sanity. My mother's sanity, as her caregiver, is questionable. I think with my crisis pregnancy my mother lost a lot. I think she lost optimism, idealism and a little happiness. Things changed forever with this event. She no longer was raising the family from her mind. I am not sure what my mothers dreams were and are. We don't communicate very well. I do think that she wanted the idealistic American family. I think this might have been one of her dreams, to raise a good, accomplished family. I think I shattered this dream and perhaps a PhD is redemption.
I am visiting home for the holidays and resting but I have returned to the stress of my 4 generation household. With my son and I home there is 4 generations: He, I, my mother and her mother. For the first 4 years of my sons life and my first 4 years as a parent I endured this situation. I know that in America we are pushed toward independence and individualism and other cultures are more collectivist and village-esque. All of these people, while they do help immensely drive me insane.
My grandmother is in a wheel chair and does not leave the house. She is cared for by my mother. Our downstairs bathroom has had a huge potty chair with hand rails on it since my son was born. Potty training him with this was interesting and now he's learned to do a sort of gymnastics move when using the bathroom. He grasps the handle bars on each side and hoists himself in the air, balancing his weight on his arms and aiming at the same time. He's quite strong really.
My grandmother has lost control of so much in her life. She still has her sanity. My mother's sanity, as her caregiver, is questionable. I think with my crisis pregnancy my mother lost a lot. I think she lost optimism, idealism and a little happiness. Things changed forever with this event. She no longer was raising the family from her mind. I am not sure what my mothers dreams were and are. We don't communicate very well. I do think that she wanted the idealistic American family. I think this might have been one of her dreams, to raise a good, accomplished family. I think I shattered this dream and perhaps a PhD is redemption.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Resolution
My name is Maria. I love reading and I love writing. I think I am a down-to-Earth person and I believe in ghosts.
When I was 18 I became pregnant with my son, who is now 5. I am currently enrolled full time in a PhD program for Psychology.
For the new year I hope to chronicle this experience every day. A conversation of sorts.
My status, this minute, coming out of my first semester is grim. I have seriously considered dropping out. Academia is not at all what I had expected. Not that I expected much. I was never looking for a place in the exclusive pool of information that forms in the higher education institutions in America. What I was seeking was respect. Plain and simple.
I wanted the highest degree possible so I could build a crystal stair, actually not a crystal stair but at least a stair with out splinters or loose boards. I wanted to make promises to my son I knew I could keep and I wanted my mom and dad to be proud. I fear I shamed them so much with my crisis pregnancy.
I currently am depressed, grad school has completely wasted my soul. I see no women in my immediate program with Phd's and children. My acne is atrocious. My son did not bathe for a whole week last month. My mother would kill me. I cried for a while when I realized this. Then I cried some more when I realized it had took me so long to realize.
I am going back to school in a few weeks for my second semester. I am trying to find myself amidst this mess.
When I was 18 I became pregnant with my son, who is now 5. I am currently enrolled full time in a PhD program for Psychology.
For the new year I hope to chronicle this experience every day. A conversation of sorts.
My status, this minute, coming out of my first semester is grim. I have seriously considered dropping out. Academia is not at all what I had expected. Not that I expected much. I was never looking for a place in the exclusive pool of information that forms in the higher education institutions in America. What I was seeking was respect. Plain and simple.
I wanted the highest degree possible so I could build a crystal stair, actually not a crystal stair but at least a stair with out splinters or loose boards. I wanted to make promises to my son I knew I could keep and I wanted my mom and dad to be proud. I fear I shamed them so much with my crisis pregnancy.
I currently am depressed, grad school has completely wasted my soul. I see no women in my immediate program with Phd's and children. My acne is atrocious. My son did not bathe for a whole week last month. My mother would kill me. I cried for a while when I realized this. Then I cried some more when I realized it had took me so long to realize.
I am going back to school in a few weeks for my second semester. I am trying to find myself amidst this mess.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)