Life in the Middle Lane

Last week I got an email from someone who found me from reading Cosmopolitan Urbanist. I don’t know if he found the blog, then found me on LinkedIn or he found me on LinkedIn and clicked through to the blog. I guess for the purposes of this story, it doesn’t matter.

He found me, read my resume, and emailed me asking for help.  He’s a MPA student from UGA, and he’s looking for an internship. And in this economy, getting an internship is like being the new kid at school. The upperclassmen always win. Hell, I’ve even found myself looking at internships. (grumble, grumble, spit).  Apparently, something in my writing or my resume, or maybe just our common experience as MPAers made him think I’d be able to help him. HA!

We finally set up a call for today. He wanted to know how I got my internships (my resume is riddled with them). I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to tell him. I mean, it’s hard to tell someone, “I got the job because I knew someone who knew someone who introduced me and then I badgered them into hiring me.” Or, “Sometimes people assume that I know more (and have more experience) than I actually do, because I happen to be in the right places at the right time, then I get the chance to prove myself.” But it’s true. My professional life is a series of coincidences, with me talking my way into good situations, without a plan, a business card or a resume handy. I just show up, and good things happen.

I think that’s why I haven’t been able to find something really great in Atlanta. I don’t know where I need to be, (or I do, but I don’t have the guts to ACTUALLY SHOW UP.) I don’t know who I need to talk to (or I do, but I feel that I’m bugging them all the time. I don’t know what I need to say (because I don’t want to sound stupid, or worse, desperate). Sending out cover letters, emails, and the ordinary run of the mill job search stuff just isn’t working for me. This summer, I’ve realized that ordinary cover letters will get you an ordinary job. And I’m too…much… to have an ordinary job.

I asked the kid today what would be his ideal internship. And like I figured, it’s not something that you find in the yellow pages. So I didn’t tell him to scour indeed.com, idealist, or opportunityknocks like I have been doing all summer.  I told him about a fellowship that I knew he could apply for (along with 100’s of other MPAers).  But I told him to hang out in the alumni and career services office at UGA, and connect with alums that are working in Atlanta in his interest area. I told him to brush up on his association memberships (and GO TO MEETINGS and talk to people).  I told him to call everyone he knows that is currently working, and tell them what he’s looking for. I even gave him the names of some of my favorite Atlanta organizations, with instructions to call and ask for informational interviews.  Then I told him to call me back in a couple of weeks and tell me what he’s learned. (What can I say, I liked the kid and I want to help him.)

Over the course of the conversation, it slipped out that I’m unemployed (oops, did you know that?). And he flipped the switch on me by asking me what I’m looking for? Hmmm. Ideally, I’d like to work with a non-profit or community organization doing grassroots community development work. I want to develop programming for community building, volunteerism, arts and business related stuff, do some strategic long-term community planning/visioning, and also be able to talk to people about living their best lives. I want to keep one foot in the MPA waters, while also dipping my toes in the ministerial pool.

I didn’t tell the kid that because I just figured it out when my fingers typed it.  But he knows me from the blog, so he knows what I think about. And he gave me the names of a couple of organizations to stalk and they are right up my alley.  And he totally turned me on to following companies on LinkedIn, where I’ve already found a few people that I should know (and located my people who already knows them)

Who knows, maybe by (hopefully) helping this kid land a gig, I help myself to one too.

AKA: In which I consider whether college is a waste of time (and rant just a little bit)

Some people, I’m sure, slide out of their mother’s womb knowing what they want to be when they grow up.  Others, likewise, by age 3 or 4 have discovered a talent that has family members nodding and saying, “that child is destined to be a musician or an artist or a pro sports player or a stoner.” Maybe a few of us made the decision at 10 or 12 to be a doctor or lawyer or a business women that wears suits and high heels and makeup and tells people what to do.

What? Don’t  judge me! I wanted to be all those things.

My logic went a little like this: A. I’m smart B. Doctors are smart C. Doctors make a lot of money D. I want to make a lot of money. Conclusion: I’ll become a doctor.  That is, until I slashed my finger open one day while making lunch for my siblings, and nearly swooned at the sight of my own blood. Being a doctor was CLEARLY out.

I immediately latched on to another, slightly more realistic dream. Again, my logic  A. I have the gift of gab and I love to argue. B. Lawyers talk a lot and have to argue cases. C. Lawyers make a lot of money D. I want to make a lot of money. Conclusion: I’ll be a lawyer. I stuck with that dream until I clerked for a DA during an internship, and a judge for another. I just couldn’t come to terms with maybe accidentally one day sending an innocent person to jail. And civil law literally put me to sleep. Yes, Me asleep, snoring and drooling in the courtroom.

Maybe you, like me got all the way to high school without really knowing what you wanted to do with your life. Maybe you found it hard to conceptualize how to transform a love or skill in writing, or reading, chemistry, history or trigonometry or art into a career.  Especially when one is smart.

When one is smart, one goes to college, period. (At least that’s what “they” say.)

Maybe you aren’t “smart” so you didn’t go to college.  You stay at home and work at the grocery store, or the mall, or maybe you get a job working for your mother’s friend’s dad. Or maybe you have a skill that you’ve picked up over the years that people will pay you for. Or you join the military.

For a second, let’s imagine that you took your smart self to college the way I did. Still not knowing what you wanted to do with your life.

Maybe you, like me, pick a major because it sounds good to the parents. International Business/French, anyone? That is, until you actually get in a French class and BOMB it. Or maybe you select Political Science because you can always decide to go to law school later, right? Until you realize that Poli Sci is just as boring as that civil law internship. Or organic chemistry forces you to reconsider that pre-med major.

Maybe you are an artist or a writer at heart, but “everyone” knows that majoring in Art or Design or Creative Writing or English won’t make you rich.

Maybe you follow your heart and major in English anyway.

Or maybe you discover that you really like some other discipline like Sociology, History, Anthropology or Theology. You decide to major in that and see how it goes.

Or maybe you learned to turn that love of parabolas into a major in Economics. Which later turns into a job in a think tank, or a finance agency or some other economics place.

Maybe you really, really, really are going to be a doctor, lawyer or PhD of something and this BA is just step one. You slosh through, learning the basics, marching steadily towards your destiny.

Then

You graduate, still not knowing what you want to do. You get a job as a teacher or in a bank or as someone’s assistant. And you whine and complain and are miserable. Or Not.

Or

You write your book of short stories, poetry, or the next American novel.  Maybe you hole yourself up in your apartment (or your parents’ basement) and paint your heart out. Riches and Fame ensue. Or not.

Or

College helped you figure out what you are good at.  Maybe it’s leading a group, maybe it’s facilitation, maybe it’s bringing out the best in people—things you would never of found on your own.  Maybe you really want to make the world a better place. You still don’t know how to turn those skills/desires into a career, but you’ve got a start. And you did leave college with some transferable skills and a degree. For some jobs, that piece of paper is enough to get your foot in the door. For a while, you work doing something you kinda hate, getting “valuable” experience (and growing your bank account, hopefully) biding your time before you break out of your cube and do something that you really enjoy.

Or maybe you just say fuck it, and leave college Kanye West style. You discover the internet, and decide to be a marketing guru. Or you learn HTML and become a web designer. Or you self-study something else and find that you’re good at XYZ and convince someone to pay you to do that without a degree. Or you go home and get a job at the mall, grocery store or with your brother’s girlfriend’s mom. Or you go to technical school and become a car mechanic or a plumber.  Or you join the military.

Or you go study abroad in France because you are DETERMINED to learn French. You like it there and NEVER COME BACK. Wine and baguettes, anyone?

Maybe college isn’t right for you. Maybe it is.

Maybe college is the place that focuses you so that you can figure out how to transform your talents/skills into a career.

Maybe college is the lightbulb that illuminated quickly and clearly what you’re life’s path is.

Maybe college is just another 3-5 years of school, and at the end you graduate still completely clueless. Or you graduate, knowing you’ve got 8+ more years of schooling ahead of you.

You know what?  You get to CHOOSE.

You can choose to go to college or not.

You can choose make a successful life for yourself with or without a degree. Or not. [And you CAN be successful without a degree.]

If you go to college- you can choose to major in something that makes lots of money or not. And may or may not make you miserable.

If you go to college- you can choose to major in a liberal art that doesn’t immediately translate into big bucks or not.

You can graduate and end up in a dead end job or unemployed or not.

You can graduate and do that THING that will make your life worth living. Or not.

You can graduate and continue to figure out what you want to do with your life.

You can graduate, get a job, follow the rules and have a stable traditional career. Or get laid off. Or not.

You can be whiny, complain-y, entitled, and bored, all while you sit on your ass.  All while you do ANY of the other things above.

Or not.

You CHOOSE.

College isn’t the Matrix. Choosing the red or green pill won’t change your life like magic (in most cases). But YOU can change your life like magic. So don’t blame college. Don’t blame your parents. Don’t blame your weed-head roommate. If you didn’t get what you wanted out of college, blame yourself. Clearly you didn’t make the right decision

So now you work your ass off, using what you’ve got. There’s still time for fame, riches and success.

By now we all know about the ridiculously stupid email that Harvard Law student Stephanie Grace sent out to a few fellow students that has since taken over the interwebs.  Just in case you haven’t heard, she posits that African American people might be intellectually inferior to white people, wrote it in a email and sent it to some friends. Like I said, ridiculously stupid.  She is an example of someone who could use some black friends and a lesson in electronic media 101, imo.

If you google search, you’ll find a boatload of articles/blog poses on the subject, here I’ve chosen two of my faves. I’ve chosen them because they are smartly written and bunches of comments that add to the discussion. These articles also provide links to other articles, if you choose to read further.

Here’s an article of all the reasons S. Grace is a fool from a white feminist point of view and here’s a article from a black male point of view. Be sure to stick around for the comments on each, as they are invaluable.

[changing the subject with zero transition]

If you haven’t had a chance to click over to Cosmopolitan Urbanist lately, I’ve been writing there too. YAY! Since I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about homeless people, that’s the topic of the series I’ve been writing over there. Check it out.

Homeless In the City

My Friend, The Homeless Lady

Where Do the Homeless Go In the Winter

AND last but not least for your reading and listening pleasure,

Larry King interviews newly out Christian entertainer Jennifer Knapp, uber-conservative Ted Haggard, Pastor Bob Botsford of the Horizon Church, and some other gay people.  The topic of discussion? Being Gay and Christian.

I decided to include this I get so frustrated by the visceral hatred being spouted by supposed Christians.  One of the reasons that I’m going to Divinity School is to add more modern sensible voices to the Christian debate. I’m sick of the the Church excluding people for stuff that Jesus wouldn’ t have cared about. (video via Autostraddle- if you’re gay and/or a woman you should be reading them, fyi)

AKA: In which I come clean about something very important.

In January, I wrote a very vague post about something that I was doing but wasn’t ready to talk about. Later I tweeted about having really great news but not being able to talk about it until I told the GF and my mom.

At this point, I’ve told everyone (and I do mean everyone) IRL that truly needed to know. I mean, there are some things that some people just should not learn from reading this blog.

So now I’m ready to tell you.

In January (with 2 weeks to application deadline) I decided to apply to Divinity School. Yeah, I know I said I was done with school for a while, yeah I know I JUST finished MPA school. Yeah, I know I curse like a sailor and talk crap about the church. Yes, I know, I know, I know. And I’m sure in the lead up before I leave the cube and return to the academy, you’ll know all the answers to these questions and more.

But now, the beginning.

Completing the seminary application form was a life changing experience. I went through about 20 iterations of my application essay. I struggled over which aspects of my personality and experiences where most important for the Candler admissions committee. I contemplated telling them how I really felt about the church and how I hoped to change it. I added and deleted and added again, sections about blending the MPA and MDiv, my undergraduate experience, and my work experience. I even wrote a section about Gen Y. I had 4 friends (graduates and current divinity students) read my essay. The GF and I LIVED and BREATHED my Candler essay for weeks. I went back and forth over my purpose in attending Divinity School, and second guessed whether it was the right thing to do.

In the end, I decided to put my best foot forward, tell them as much about myself and my personal spirituality as possible (even linking to my blogs), push the submit button, and leave it in the hands of the Divine.  I decided that if I got in, it was meant to be. And if I didn’t get it, so be it.  Then I tried (unsuccessfully) not to obsess about it.

If you happen to read my bio on Brazen, you’ll see that years ago [it desperately needs to be updated], I said that I would study Religion if I didn’t have to work for a living. Well, I’ve been working for a living for almost a year now, and I hate every minute of it.  I decided to screw what I’m supposed to do, and concentrate of creating a life that would make me happy to live it.

I’ve been an amateur theologian and wisdom dispenser my entire life.  My childhood was spent memorizing bible verses, attending revivals and getting my PK friends into trouble. I was THE CHURCH GIRL.  And back then I hated it because I wanted to be like everyone else. 

By high school and college, I was the person people came to with their problems. I was still Church Girl but I was slowly learning to filter out all the church BS and help people in a practical way.

Today, my religious background is an undeniable part of who I am.  Biblical literature and religious trivia is one of the few things that I get truly geeky about. I could write a book (and I just might) on everything that I think is wrong with Christianity and all that I think the western world could learn from other world religions.  Sitting in a Systemic Theology class at Candler almost had me wet my pants in excitement. Reading Candler’s course catalog nearly had me in a dead faint.

I’ve spent the past 10 years trying to figure out who I am and how I want to spend my time. I found my purpose for helping people while working with citizens in local government, MPA school introduced me to urban problems like housing and community development and gave me the technical background to be effective in those areas, and seminary will nurture the caring and compassionate part of my personality that I will need to tackle the “people-side” some of those and other large social problems.  Each step I make gets me just a little bit closer, like I’m making increasingly smaller concentric circles. 

Each experience, even my current job, adds something to my professional toolbox and gives me the opportunity to learn something about myself, the world I live in, and my place in the mix.

I’m excited to say that Candler decided that my love of social justice and my decidedly untraditional brand of spirituality is a good fit for their program. Last week I sent them my deposit.

It’s official. I’ll be attending Emory University’s Candler School of Theology in the Fall.

Over the past month, my awesome life coach, Jenny Ferry, and I have been working on being present in my life. As the end of an era approaches, I am to take advantage of my classmates and other friends and love them and be with them while we are all in Chapel Hill. 

Tonight, a group of us got together and had Indian food. 

Not just normal Indian food.  One of us found this Indian lady who cooks every Wednesday at her house.  She doesn’t just cook; this woman stick’s her little Indian foot in it!  With an RSVP you can come to her house, eat in or take out dinner for $10 a person. 

We went in with tuberware, got a crazy amount of food, left and ate dinner (family-style) by the pool at our apartment complex. 

It was SO much fun. And the food was A-MAZING.

We ate, and talked about each other, our classmates, our professors.  As I am not a fan of small talk, I love intimate conversations about hopes, fears, concerns, life…. And tonight was that kind of conversation. 

 I love that every time I talk to my classmate friends I reveal parts of myself and learn new things about them.  I love our closeness, I love our easiness, I love our generosity with each other.  Even though we will be scattered across the country in a few weeks, and I will be soooooo far away from these crazies that I have come to love and admire, I KNOW that these are my life friends.  While our relationships will change with our geography, I have to beleive that we can remain a part of each other’s lives.  (otherwise I’ll go stark raving mad)

I love my ‘maties!

Friday night was the MPA picnic.  Officially, it is the last get together before graduation. Unofficially I expect to drink with my classmates every night between now and May 9th aka graduation day!!!!!

I hate the MPA picnic because is huge, everyone from administrators to faculty is invited and it is the one event where EVERYONE brings their kids and families. It happens way out in the country and it is OUTSIDE so I get eaten by mosquitoes.  Furthermore, I have to make nice with people that I really don’t like much.

I decide (at the very last minute) that I should go.  (I mean, it is the LAST official event). I figured it would be worth it since skits and stuff were planned where we get to make funny of each other. (I like to experience my 15 minutes of fame like everyone else.)

 I was horrendously late; fortunately, I didn’t miss the real festivities (just the food). 

After about an hour of small talk, finally we came to the reason for the gathering! The faculty gave our class our superlative awards.  I received the award for most likely to grow an electronic appendage.  (This is hilarious SINCE I DON’T EVEN HAVE A BLACKBERRY!!!! —-Can you tell I really want a smart phone???) I had no idea that anyone else had noticed the number of texts I send and receive, my in-class blogging, twittering and facebooking.  Or how I am always preaching to them about the power of the world wide web.

Remedial as it is, my phone, laptop or netbook are never far away, and I have been known to stop a conversation to check on my phone. Since I seem to be the most technologically advanced of all my classmates, I guess it is only fair that I am awarded for my self-promotion efforts.

Later my classmates and I introduced ourselves. (we’ve had to introduce ourselves 100’s of times over the past 2 years)  This time we introduced each other using the academic, professional, and personal information we have gathered about each other over the past 4 semesters.  I was introduced as the Social Media Queen (no surprise there).  The introduction went on to say that when I’m famous, I’m firing everyone.  This was cute and funny because in class whenever we talk about ethics and HR practices, I’m always quick to fire someone. I have ZERO patience for ethical lapses.  If someone knowingly breaks the rules, I believe they should be fired.  However, in HR and Ethics classes my classmates continue to be appalled at the speed with which I would fire someone.  All in all, I LOVED my introduction.

Shortly after the introductions, I left the picnic.  I figured I should leave before I realized how much I’m going to miss those crazy sons of bitches. I didn’t want to consider how empty my life will feel without them in it every day.  Seriously, I prayed for friends, then I was admitted into the MPA program and fell in love with 25 strangers.  Now it’s all over.

And I’m too cool to cry in front of them.

I recently went to a lecture on race relations.  As one of 3 people of color in the room, It was hard not feeling like a fly in the buttermilk.  On the other hand, I reminded myself that these required diversity lectures and race awareness stuff isn’t necessarily for me.  There for the 30+ white people who may or may not have very much experience dealing with people who do not look like them.

 I spent most of the lecture bouncing between unease, nonchalance, and boredom until nearly the end of the lecture.  As she wrapped up her speech, the lecturer asked the audience to talk among ourselves about the myriad policy implications of American race relations.  At first, I resigned myself to sit back and listen to what the white people had to say.  (I find that I can often learn more by listening than speaking).

 However, I love my classmates and I don’t want them going out into the world thinking and saying stupid stuff because one of the few examples of diversity in the classroom refused to get involved and speak up.  So I joined the conversation and asked them to look around the auditorium and see the 3 black students in the room.

 Be aware of white privilege: I reminded them that our building is full of pictures of old white men; that the university was built on racism and slavery; that we have only one professor of color on staff at MPA School.  I asked them to think about how it might feel to constantly be a minority in an environment that (based on the previous description) doesn’t seem to value people that look like you. I want them to go out in the world appreciating and seeking out diversity.

I told them what it was like to be me.  In both academic and workplace settings, I am often the only black person in the room.  I get a little excited that Old Navy commercials have black and white mannequins. And I smile when I see the same Pantene commercial with a white and black girl.  I’ve walked into interviews and seen the slightly shocked faces of interviewers. I can fairly assume that they weren’t expecting a black girl.  I told my classmates that sometimes I feel like the defender of all Black people, everywhere and that I sometimes feel that I should be careful of what I say because someone may attribute my attitude to all Black people.

 The virtue of white privilege is never having to think about race.  Every day something happens to remind me of my race.  Not in big overly racist ways.  It’s subtle. Like in class when someone says something about “gentrification” or “low-income neighborhoods”, and everyone turns and looks back at me.  Or when a class presenter shows a powerpoint presentation full of little poor black and brown kids, and smiling happy white kids.  Couldn’t find ONE happy brown kid, could ya?

That sh*t pisses me off.

Race is still an issue. It’s not something that we should or can ignore.

In the lecture, someone asked, Since Barack Obama was elected president, aren’t we now living in a post-racial world?

 *my thought bubble: Uhm, no.

The lecturer rightly asked what does post-racial mean.  The student said something about being colorblind. 

Colorblind? Really?  Is there something wrong with noticing someone’s race? I don’t think so.

Should we strive to be colorblind?  I think not. We should acknowledge race and move on!  Not seeing race is like not seeing the booger that someone has in their nose or the pimple in the middle of your forehead.  The more you try not to notice, the bigger and nastier it gets.

 Being colorblind suggests that we should overlook our differences.  I disagree.  I think we should embrace our differences. 

When I enter a new situation, I like to look around and find the person that is the least like me and befriend them. (I often find myself sitting and cutting up with the old white men or little Asian ladies). 

I love cities like Boston or Miami or San Francisco, where there are SO MANY different kinds of people.  I’m not just talking about racial diversity. I love it when I walk down the street and I can’t understand all the languages that are being spoken, or none of the restaurants that I see serve hamburgers and french fries, or when I people-watch and the fashion styles of the people that I see are “weird”.   Weird and different indicate that I’m going to learn something new.  Someone is going to broaden my horizons.  And that makes me happy.

Should we be colorblind? Hell NO! We shouldn’t fear or overlook the ways that we are all different.  We should appreciate and nurture those differences.  If we are to create something fresh and new and different, we should not ignore the ways our differences come together.

Checking my email makes my heart race a little bit. 

I have constant headaches. 

I often feel like I’m going to throw up. 

I sleep A LOT, wake up feeling tired, I feel tired ALL the time. 

I force myself not to skip my classes (and sometimes I am unsuccessful) 

The only time I feel like myself is when I’m in the pool or when I’m drunk. 

I hate my life right now, and that makes me sad. 

I graduate in 10 weeks, and I really want to enjoy the last of graduate school career at UNC.  Some of my classmates are out RIGHT NOW and I’m ignoring their text messages because I wouldn’t be good company. 

Why do I feel like a pile of cold crap? 

Because I am coming up on thesis deadlines and all my committee can say is how bad my paper is. I send them a draft and they email me back my drafts covered in the 21^st century version of red ink. I dread opening my gmail because at any moment they could be emailing me to tell me what a horrid writer I am. 

The thing of it is, I am falling out of love with my thesis. And I agree with them, it sucks ass.  

Why? 

My paper has no voice.  It sounds like every other piece of academic drivel that I’ve read over the years. The more I sanitize my paper the more they like it, and the more I hate it. Writing for an academic audience sucks the life out of me and my writing.  Writing for an academic audience is like have a deflated sex doll.  Boring. Dry. Lame. 

And I am none of those things. 

Writing this paper is almost enough to turn me off from a PhD. (almost but not quite) 

Don’t use first person. Yuck. Use the passive voice. Yuck.  Look at the language and formating of these other 600 articles and copy that. YUCK!!!!

There is no room in academia for innovation. If you do anything that’s not like everyone else, you must be doing something wrong. It makes me sad.

Can’t I be an academic who blogs instead of writing articles for stinky old journals that no one reads? Blogs are fun, they are accessible, and they give you bits of knowledge in bite size pieces. 

I think that the only that makes me feel better about my thesis is the idea of cutting it up and blogging it.  (Btw, I will be blogging my paper soon) 

My committee thinks my paper lacks analysis. They want me to compare means, and do a billion cross tabs, and perhaps do some correlations. 

I think my paper lacks thought.  I want to report what’s happening in the world, say whether it is good or bad and help make the world a better place. I want to write about what I think.  

Apparently that is unacceptable in academia.  If you can’t prove your solution empirically then it doesn’t exist. 

Fine. 

I’ll just blog about it.  It’ll be more likely to get to the people who need to see it anyway. 

I don’t have all the answers, and regardless of what my committee thinks; the SPSS data output doesn’t have all the answers either. And honestly, my brain, while it can’t run a regression, it is capable of taking a problem and coming up with possible solutions. 

I’m afraid that academia has its head so far up its OWN ass that it can’t see that it’s irrelevant.  You heard me ACADEMIA IS IRREVALENT!! The real world doesn’t run on theories. The real world needs people who can SOLVE PROBLEMS.  

 My MPA has taught me how to solve problems, and I am complete at a loss at why I have to write this stupid paper, not like I’m writing for actual people who may be able to use my information to improve life, but for stupid academics. 

It is a useless exercise.  One day I will go back to school and I’ll get my PhD.  But I swear, I’ll never be the kind of academic that pumps out journal articles.  Oh, I’ll publish.  Every day. On my freaking blog. (or whatever medium we’ll be using then)

Below is an email that I sent to the SO earlier today giving her the low down on how crappy my day was going.  Today, in a lot of ways, has been the final straw.  Today I completely lost my cool.

Ok, this morning I decided to sleep in, since I couldn’t think of anything pressing that I required that I be at school early.

So I woke about 8:30 and piddled around the house.

I was listening to NPR when I realized that I DO have somewhere I’m supposed to be and SHIT!!! I fucking completely forgot about it and am totally unprepared.

I have an 11am independent study discussion session and I haven’t a. done the readings or b. written my reaction to the reading (duh).

So I hauled ass to school (at this point it’s 10am) And go to the library to do the readings and the paper.  At 11:05 I finish and head to the meeting (late).  I take out a pen from my purse and realize that my water bottle wasn’t closed and has spilled all my crystal light water into my purse.

My purse– which has several articles for class, my lunch, my USB drive, my ipod, my camera, my phone, my gloves, scarf, hat, checkbooks, business cards, countless pens and receipts, my planner and idea notebook, among other odds and ends (All wet).

I leave class to try to salvage as much as I can.  All the electronics appear to be ok, except I accidently dropped my ipod on the bathroom floor, and I bent the casing, and chipped the glass.

Luckily I keep an exercise bag in my locker and can transfer all my stuff from my purse to the bag and continue my day.

Now I have a migraine and I just want to go home.
But I can’t because I have class at 2, a group project to finish, and class at 6 (where I have to present the group project).

fuck my life.

After I sent her the email, I spilled yogurt down the front of my clothes (yes, the clothes that I have to present in). And I found out that I got an average grade on another group project that I’ve spent HOURS and HOURS working on over the past week (at the detriment of other projects/responsibilities). I’m fucking pissed.

Then I took a walk and listened to a philosophers note on Man’s Search for Meaning. I listened to the MP3 and took some time to actually think about the way I’ve managed (and responded to) the events of today, the events of this week, the events of this semester, the events of this year. I asked myself if I’m managing them in a way that makes my life better and makes me feel happy.

Uhm, no

If I put 80% of the stuff that happens in my life in the context of the big picture that is MY LIFE, none of this shit matters.

Not my P(ass) that should have been an H(igh Pass), not the presentation that I have to give with yogurt on my shirt, not the fact that this morning none of my clothes wanted to fit and I feel fat, not the other stupid stuff that normally sends me over the edge….None of it really matters.

So, I take a deep breath and will myself to get it together.

My migraine hasn’t disappeared, but my perspective on the rest of the day had shifted.

None of this shit matters.

My family is healthy.

I have money in the bank.

My relationship is intact.

I’m GOING to graduate in May.

The job of my dreams is on the way.

Fuck everything else.

“Don’t you think you could be a successful student and get a job after graduation if you take 14 or better yet, 12 credits this semester?” she asked.

I struggled for, like, the 5th time in the past few weeks to explain to someone why I lied to myself again.

You see, I told myself in October, November, and December of last year (2008) that if I could just make it to the end of the semester, I would not do this thing, this thing that I am about to do, again.

You see, I’m about to take 16 credits.

And while I would have no problem eating crow and dropping a class if I get too overwhelmed or if one of them sucked, but based on the class titles, the descriptions, and the professors, I NEED to be in ALL these classes.  They complete my theme.

I get that 16 credits is a lot for graduate school, but if I could do it last semester, then I can do again this semester. Dammit!

But when I tried to explain the concept of my theme to my therapist today, she was making some hellafied faces at me.  Similar to the faces of all the other people over the past month who have heard about the marathon of classes that I’m taking this Spring.

My classmates, mostly, are barely taking enough classes to be full time and stare at me wide-eyed when I explain to them my hustle plan. And my faculty advisor, bless his heart, is so focused on getting my capstone (master’s thesis) completed that he may have a conniption fit if he finds out my class schedule. My girlfriend, if I complain one ioda, may push me down a flight of stairs and scream after me, “I TOLD YOU SOOOOOO!” Not because she’s evil, but because she has spend considerable breath telling me to drop something, anything, so that I don’t find myself burnt out and super stressed in April.

My mother, on the other hand, thinks I’m a genius and is so very proud. Her only concern is what we are doing for graduation. Are we having a dinner, throwing a party, sending out invitations?  For her, graduating isn’t an option. Passing my classes isn’t an option. She just assumes (rightly so) that everything that needs to get done will get done. And frankly, she doesn’t give two sh!ts how they get done. All she knows is, her oldest daughter is graduating with a Master’s degree on Mother’s Day and is going to be fabulously successful. And while I know that she really doesn’t understand the work that will go into accomplishing that goal, I love the fact that she just assumes it’s going to happen. She even wants to come to school to hear me defend my paper. (she’s so sweet).

But for everyone who isn’t my mother-those of ya’ll who are now thinking, “Why the hell does Monica HAVE to take 16 credits and what the hell is this theme she speaks of?”

Here is your answer.

I’m taking 16 credits because I am in school to learn and I believe that I have a duty to take advance of this time that I am taking for graduate school.  Why pay the tuition, and take the time off (when I could be working) to come to graduate school if I’m just going to pussyfoot around and half-ass it?

I’m taking 16 credits because I genuinely want to learn, and everything that I’m enrolled in sounds so COOL. And I would never forgive myself if I don’t soak up as much as I can from the professors that I am taking. One of my professors is one of the coolest men I know. He’s funny, brilliant, and he’s f-ing famous.

I ‘m taking 16 credits because at some point in the future, I’m going to go on interviews (or at least have to explain to someone what I’ve learned in graduate school), and having a wide breath of knowledge and some topics that I’ve dug a little deeper into sounds like a reasonable idea.

And that leads me to the idea of a theme.  A theme is a set of inter-related classes that paint a broader picture of a theory or policy or an application.

See, Fall 2008 also had a theme. The theme of last semester was Housing and Community Development.

Housing Policy was my favorite class. I learned how to develop affordable housing, I learned about new ideas and trends in affordable housing. I learned so much about the housing crisis and I am kicking myself right now for not posting more about it over the semester. I learned the policy (and economic) implications for developing affordable housing.  I also learned what the hell “affordable” means. I also learned that there are people who are poor enough that affordable housing isn’t affordable.

The class made me sad, it made me mad, some days it made me want to throw things.  But at the end of the day, it reminded me how much I love houses, homes and communities. It reignited my passion for housing. And gave me some tools that will help me to work in that area.

One other class that worked with my theme was Urban Revitalization.  While Housing Policy looked at mostly federal regulations, UR was all about neighborhoods.  Getting down to where people live, literally. UR made me think about housing and real estate as a neighborhood issue. To be successful as a housing advocate or developer, I have to have a workable relationship with the neighborhoods where I work. This class was the flip side of Housing Policy, and I’m glad I took them both together.

While these classes make up the bulk of my theme, I took the research from these two classes to write papers for other classes.  Basically I wrote 1 paper, and adapted it for the requirements of other classes. I think I used it 3 or 4 times.

This allowed me to dig deeper into a topic area, Inclusionary Zoning.  Basically, inclusionary zoning is a mechanism that local governments can use to create and sustain affordable housing.  And you, dear readers, are reading the words of an inclusionary zoning expert.  *** popping my collar****    I can talk about IZ from a legal point (constitutional and case law) from an economic point and a social policy point. I even worked on a project for a local organization that hopefully will spurn inclusionary zoning policies in my local community.

This spring semester, my theme is Real Estate Development and Social Entrepreneurship. AND my classes compliment my capstone and will provide the background for my dissertation. (Ya’ll knew I wanted to be Dr. Monica one day, right?)

My classes include New Urbanism and Sustainable Development, Real Estate Funding, Capital Budgeting, Policy Implications of the Creative Class, Intro to Social Entrepreneurship and some other stuff that they are making me take. See the theme?  NOW do you see why I have to leave my schedule intact?

I want to use these classes, especially New Urbanism class, and the Creative Class Policy class to build on my capstone research (which I realize that I haven’t really explained at all on this blog, maybe I’ll get to it next time) and set up my dissertation research. And the other classes, Budgeting, Real Estate Funding and Social Entrepreneurship, along with one class from the Fall, Non-Profit Law, will help me start my real estate development business.

Anyway, the point here is that there is a method to my madness. While I may want to die come April, when this is all over, I will have accomplished something significant.  I will have a body of work on topics that I care about and (hopefully) publishable articles, I will be clear candidate for the types of employment I want and I will already have the groundwork for my dissertation all set up for when that time comes. And oh yeah, I’ll be able to tell folks what I’ve been doing for the past 2 years.

So yeah, I may be crazy, but 16 credits and 5 months of super hard work doesn’t seem like that much when I think of where it will put me in the long run. And to answer my therapist’s question, no, it wouldn’t be the same with 12 credits. It would destroy my theme, and furthermore, what would I drop?!?!?!?

So I’m preparing to hunker down, and get it done. I’ll see you at the finish line.