Grad School Grumblings

Me, as a cute "dark" girl...or Ruby Gloom, one of the two

      My fourth packet was due on Monday (and was mailed on Friday).  I only have one packet of my MFA life left.  Why has every other semester dragged and this one flew by?  It doesn’t seem fair.  I’m hoping I don’t have too much to change this time around, since I my mother sacrificed around fifteen hours of her life listening to me read the entire thing out loud, helping me nitpick pretty much every single word.
    Though I suppose I can’t feel too bad, since she was stretched out on my bed in a leisurely fashion while I was at my small, cramped desk made even more cramped by the fact that I had my notebook for this novel in front of me with notes I wanted to ask her about each chapter.
    I’ve worked really hard on this novel, for a really long time, and fuuuck it’s still not done.  I have twelve chapters in my thesis, and six that aren’t, though only two and a half of those are written (but all roughly plotted out).  I know that the two chapters I had when I came to the program are way better now than they were then, and I can feel that my writing in general has improved.
    But I’m a little nervous.  I’m nervous about the class I have to teach based on my critical thesis.  I hate to have everyone in the room looking at me, and the introduction I did for my former mentor last residency was pretty nerve-wracking.  I’m worried that I’ll get up there and suddenly everything I was going to say will sound stupid, or that someone will ask a question I don’t know the answer to.  But I’m also nervous because one of the teachers is teaching a class that’s almost the same as mine.
    I’m also nervous about the reading, for mostly just the people-looking-at-me-and-no-one-else reason.  I also feel like, even though it’s ridiculous, my mentor is just being really nice when he says he likes my thesis and that it’s strong.  It’s so ridiculous, but this is how ingrained my low self-esteem is.  I also might invite my high school teacher, who kind of revived my love of reading and writing.  I had her junior and senior year, and I actually took two English classes my senior year.  She was so nice, doing stuff like letting me know in advance that I got accepted into the AP English class, so I could plan my schedule accordingly, and writing college recommendations and the like.  She even had these like Academy-Award type things at the end of the year our senior year, so everybody got superlatives.  It was so cute, in Honors English I got the Cover Girl award, because I always made a point to find what I considered awesome cover pictures for my papers, and in AP English my friend and I got the Statler and Waldorf award, because we always talked shit about our pretentious classmates...oops. >_< We’re Facebook friends now (which obviously means we’re bffs irl), and she’s a world-class nerd which is fabulous, and nothing less than what I expected.  So I’m thinking it would be cool to invite her, but it’ll also add some pressure.
    Aside from the nerves, I’m also just sad.  I’ll be able to see my friends in the semester below me in the winter, and the ones below them next summer, but this residency will be the last one where I see my same-semester friends together, probably ever.  I had a totally high school moment where I realized that we’re all going to go off and live our lives in the separate corners of the country where we live, and our little bubble is going to pop, and it’s really bumming me out.  I like my little grad school community the way it is, and I kind of wish it was a three, or even four year program.  Of course, that would mean a lot of people couldn’t do it, myself most likely included.  But it just feels so safe and scholarly and special on this quaint campus with its rustic dorm buildings and Dracula main hall, and I don’t want to go into the big, scary world without everyone I’ve met here.  Of course I already do, and it makes me happy but also mad that Eddie lives near me.  Eddie, who told me he circled the two appearances my name makes on the schedule.  To drive home my resentment about it, supposedly.  More like he’s bursting at the man-seam thinking about being able to baldly ogle me, but what do I know.
    Thus I continue to read the last few books of the semester, and already begin to think about the books I need for residency.  I’m only taking five classes, and they are:
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY: THE THIN LINE SEPARATING LAUGHTER AND PAIN
GROUNDING THE READER: BEGINNINGS IN YA NOVELS
APPLICABILITY: WHAT MAKES SCIENCE FICTION HUMAN
GROWN-UPS RUIN EVERYTHING…DON'T THEY?
ACT YOUR AGE
     I very well may audit more if I feel up to it, though.  I’m also being super traditionally-feminine and getting my hair done right before residency, as well as waxing my legs for the first time >_< We’ll see how that goes.  Then, on one of the days I don’t have class scheduled, I’m gonna go get my nails done and this cool-sounding massage that’s supposed to drain all your excess water. O.o We’ll see how that goes, too.  I also have dresses for all my public appearances, which is rare for me.  I wear a dress to graduation and nothing resembling a dress for pretty much the entire rest of my life, unless it’s a cosplay situation.  But I’m going to be the cutest little “dark” girl (Eddie’s adjective, one that apparently applies to both of us...here's how I feel about that) anyone’s ever seen. :)
    I can do this, I know it.  All of it.  I’ve started a new thing lately, when there’s something I don’t want to do coming up (namely these things, but a few closer things that have passed), and I just think “Eventually *insert event* will be over, and I’ll still be alive.  Eventually, there will be no need for me to be anxious, because it will have happened and been fine.”  It usually works, but it’s late, and I get emotional when it’s late.

Rough Week

    So the *Eddie* situation continues to be both weird and delightful, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today.  Ok, I might mention it once or twice, but it’s not the focus.
    I’ve said before that I work at an after school program, and I think I’ve said that the three sites of the program located in my town all combine into one site for vacation weeks.  This past week was a vacation week, so we were all at that one school.  I was put with either kindergartners or first-graders, so I was happy.  I like little kids a lot better than big kids.
    On Wednesday, it rained.  I also had a doctor’s appointment in the morning, and so didn’t have work until one.  I was asked at the last minute to bring my laptop so the kids could watch a movie, which in retrospect I should have said no to.  Nothing happened, but it could have, and then I’d have to pay for it all myself.
    We have a nonverbal kid at our site, and he comes to vacation times.  I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but during February vacation he bit the director of another site, and he’s continued to bite since.  Off the top of my head, he’s bitten my director twice, me twice, and another student once.
    On Wednesday, I caught him trying to wrap the curtain drawstrings around his neck while the movie was on.  There is no way to make that not sound creepy.  So I went over, unwrapped it, and led him back to his iPad.  He did it again almost as soon as I sat down, so I did the same thing, only this time I stood about a foot behind him for a few minutes.  After about ten minutes of me sitting down, he does it again.  So I go over, unwrap him, lead him back to his iPad, and stand a foot behind him again.  He turns around and tries to head butt me.  I see it coming, since he does get violent when he’s told he can’t do something, and I catch his head before it makes contact.  He thrusts out of my grip and right into my chest...where he bites my boob.  It felt like a fucking hole puncher.  It hurt.  I told my director, while I’m still in the throes of trying to restrain him, that he bit me, and she comes over with a staff from another site and they take over.  She tells me to go see if there’s a mark, and there is.  A dark purple mark.  By the time I show her, it’s slightly less dark, but the skin is broken.
    The other director working at the time called his mother to come get him, which is standard procedure, and which my director only does half the time.  The mother comes and he goes home.  I’m given a Band-Aid and that’s it.  When I got home, understandably, my parents were pissed.  And it made me feel better that I wasn’t the only one.  I would’ve said no, but it pissed me off that no one asked me if I wanted to go home.  Or if I wanted a break, which I would have taken.  I wrote a letter to the Program Administrator saying that after all these incidents, the program knew or should have known that this child was a physical threat to both staff and students, and I can’t work with him any longer.  I had a doctor’s appointment for the bite at eleven in the morning on Thursday, and they gave me antibiotics.  The other two directors asked about me, but when I saw my director after coming back from the doctor to make double sure they didn’t need me to continue working, she didn’t really say anything to me.  I gave her a copy of the letter I wrote to the administrator, and later on she texted me that she’s sorry I feel that way about her program, and she wishes she could do something, but all our programs have to be inclusive.
    Well that’s nice, and I understand that, but when a kid starts to be violent, it’s different.  Come to find out, the administrator didn’t know it was the third time this child bit me, which either means she’s behind in checking the paperwork or my director didn’t fill out the incident reports she told me she was.  I didn’t answer my boss at all because I don’t want to get into an argument about with her, I just don’t want to be bitten again.  I wasn’t told it might happen when I was hired (because it wasn’t happening yet), but since it’s not stopping, something needs to be done about it, and she doesn’t seem to feel like doing anything aside from suggesting (not even insisting) that he not come to the program the day after an incident happens.  It floored me when he wasn’t removed from the program after he bit another child.  I can sort of see why staff might be expected to take injuries in stride, but a kid?  Parents leave their children with us expecting us to keep them safe, and if he’s dangerous, which he is, we’re not keeping them safe.  Every day he’s there and no one gets hurt, all we are is lucky.  He bit the child because he doesn’t like loud noises (though he makes plenty of them himself), and she is an Autistic child whose soothing noises and general speech are at a raised level, and she was being too loud.  The other times he’s bitten are when he is generally freaking out, which happens because he was told not to do something, like go into the kitchen area of the cafeteria where my program is set up.  Or not hang himself from the curtain drawstrings.  We are sadists, I tell you, wanting children not to do things that could be harmful for them!
    I’m getting transferred to another one of the sites in my town, and I start there on Monday (I had yesterday off anyway).  The director of this site was actually the one most concerned about my general well-being, which was nice, and cast my director in a very bad light in comparison.  My one mention of *Eddie* in this post will be that when I told him what happened, he said, “Jeez, that kid should be put down.”  And he doesn’t have feelings for me. >_< Riiiiight.  I know he was joking, but it’s kind of like, I can’t fucking believe he’s still in the program.  Inclusion at the expense of others’ physical well-being isn’t helping anyone.  I guess when his mother came she was all, “We don’t bite people...you don’t even understand what I’m saying, do you?”  If she legitimately thinks that, she shouldn’t be leaving him with a group of people who are not certified teachers, and only one of whom has specific special needs training and experience.  There’s also an after school program at his school, which is about forty minutes away from my town, but you gotta do what you gotta do.  The administrator also told me before that his family makes too much money to qualify for a one-on-one paid for by us, which means she had this conversation with them and they just decided he didn’t need a one-on-one.  Even before the biting, he definitely did.  I can’t fathom that level of not giving a fuck.  My brother is nowhere near that severe, and my parents declined to put him in after school because they didn’t think it was fair to make a bunch of “young kids” (their words, not mine) take care of him.  So my mom stayed home and my dad worked a shit ton.  This kid’s mom is a teacher, so maybe she just needs to go get him when her bell rings instead of doing whatever she does afterward, or maybe she needs to make the forty minute trek to his school.
    The administrator said she’s meeting with his parents next week, and my dad said not to be surprised if I get a call at the end of the week saying he’s out of the program and asking me if I’ll go back to my old site.  I’ll say yes, unless this week goes swimmingly, because I already miss my kids.  I’m kind of glad I didn’t know exactly how it was all going to go down the last time I saw them, because it would have been so hard to say good-bye, especially to my favorites.  Which means it’s going to be so hard when I have to get a full-time job.  Ugh.  But I also think I might not get any such call, and nothing at all might change.  My director is kind of a wimp when it comes to asserting herself with parents, so if she’s at the meeting I feel like no real changes will be made.  I do feel bad, because aside from the kids I genuinely love, I like my co-workers, and we had a rhythm going, but I can’t continue to put myself at risk, and it’s not what I signed up for.
    I hope that, no matter what happens, things settle soon.  I still have to see my director (now my former director) every Tuesday when I do data entry for the administrator, and I hope to God she’s not weird about everything.  This whole thing drove my anxiety through the roof, not only because he bit me but because my skin broke, and I have thing about people touching me especially in private spots, and what if it had been a kid on the receiving end of that?  What if one of my sweeties had gone up to him, as they sometimes do, and he freaked out and did this to one of them?  That’s why I don’t think he should be allowed to come anymore, because inclusion works, but only up to a point.  I don’t think having him in the program is worth the risk to the other kids, and yes, to the staff.

Weird Mood

My awesome, fuzzy Iron Man cake

    I’m 26 years old.  Ten years ago I got my license.  Eight years ago I graduated from high school.  Eight years ago I moved out of my parents’ house, and seven years ago I moved back in.  I’ve come a long way since then, but as cliche as it sounds, who I became in high school is still a large part of who I am.
    I’m no longer full of unfounded angst against my parents (now I know exactly where it comes from).  I think most of my problem then was that I was angry.  I’m still not thrilled with everything, but I’ve learned to channel it in a more positive way.
    I actually own clothes, and sometimes buy clothes I have no need for.  This definitely stems from wearing a uniform for four years.  Who I am is very much reflected in what I wear, which now consists mostly of t-shirts, but when I first bought clothes consisted almost exclusively of corset-y type things.  I looked good, maybe I should invest in some more.  You know, the fake but still hot ones Hot Topic has.  Nothing that will crack my ribs, don’t worry.
    I’m still a metal head, and I still love to read and write.  I’m still very loyal to my friends, and I’m still tough to deal with when I feel betrayed.  I tamped that feeling down for a long time, but I’ve been embracing it lately.
    I’ve had a weird week.  My birthday (on Monday) was good and low-key, just the way I like it.  But my ex-boyfriend (yeah, the horrible one) emailed me to say Happy Birthday.  I don’t like it, but he’s emailed me several times, and has been nothing but nice, but I’m still on edge when it happens.  And you know what?  It’s petty and lame, but *Eddie* didn’t say Happy Birthday.  I sent him a picture of my awesome cake (pictured above), and he said it was cool.  That was Sunday.  Not a fucking peep since then.  I don’t know why I didn’t expect this, because if a situation can be upside down, my life will make it so.
    For some reason it reminded me of my high school boyfriend, who I stayed friends with after we broke up.  He hasn’t really talked to me since he got a new girlfriend, which is a bummer because the one in between me and the new one was totally cool with us being friends, and in fact was kind of friends with me herself.  I really don’t wish this new girl any ill will, and I’m in no way trying to steal her boyfriend from her, but if he’s been honest with her, and I hope he has, she might think I’m bad news.  We definitely hooked up after we broke up and when I had a new boyfriend.  And a second new boyfriend.  We broke up when I was nineteen and we didn’t stop occasionally hooking up until I was almost twenty-one.  Oops.
    Anyway.  Things deteriorated, obviously, and ended kind of badly, but he genuinely loved me.  We started out as very different people, but for some reason that didn’t matter.  If I met a guy now who told me my music was crap and he’d show me real music, I’d give him the finger and that would be that.  But he said it, and I decided to listen to him, and it’s a good thing, too, because that “real” music was metal, which as I’ve said is a big part of who I am now.
    In the second (and last) summer we lived together, he and his parents had switched rooms, and now our rooms were connected by french doors (which stayed closed before).  Things were obviously dicey, but he still tried to be nice to me.  He could tell I was miserable, and really unhappy with the way things were.  I went back to school that September, but all that summer I was working two jobs, and had hardly any free time.  When he wasn’t being nice to me, he was doing stuff he had to make up for later, like being up late drinking with his friends when I had work in the morning.  This wouldn’t be so bad, except that they were in the next room with all the lights on, and they would come into my room and bug me.
    There was this one song, from The Les Claypool Frog Brigade’s album Purple Onion (both that band and Primus are good shit) called “David Makalaster.”  For some reason that song was really soothing to me, and it helped me fall asleep.  On nights when he wasn’t trying to keep me up, and even some of those nights, he would play it for me to help me fall asleep.  I remember every once in a while he’d sit next to me and stroke my hair while I fell asleep.  That song makes me feel really nostalgic when I hear it, and it’s kind of a bummer that no one since has lived up to that really simple act of lulling me to sleep.
    Which brings me back to why I’m annoyed with *Eddie*.  He damn well knew it was my birthday, and one time a book Les Claypool wrote (South of the Pumphouse) came up, and I said it was written by him.
    “What?” he said.  I asked if he knew who that was, and when he said yes I smiled.  I haven’t read the book, though I want to, and him knowing who that was made me see a little bit of that one way my old boyfriend could show me he loved me. *Eddie* has also been to Bonnaroo before, and so has my old boyfriend.  He’s also kind of squishy like my old boyfriend, whereas two of the three since have been sickly thin, and one had an oddly hard beer belly.  The squishiness makes me feel comfortable.
    So why is this random memory bubbling up, and why is *Eddie* making me feel this weird mish-mash of PG feelings and X-rated feelings, but he can’t fucking say Happy Birthday and my asshole of an ex can?