Sorting and Categorizing

Mom's room taunts me.

I'm working on a new strategy. The things that I know I'm keeping like photographs are just going in boxes and being stacked to the side. Whenever I look at them I get sucked in and don't get anywhere. I came across a family tree and history written by my paternal great-grandmother in 1920. That sucked me in and then got me working on a family tree website. Cool stuff, but it doesn't get her room cleared out.

There is a growing pile of yard sale items. Things I don't want, but somebody might. It's more than I'm willing to just give to Goodwill. It won't be yard sale weather for several months. I'll have time to put together plenty for that. Appliance Graveyard look out!

Then there are the things I'll try to unload on Ebay. This includes the porcelain eagle collection from the Crystal Cathedral. Mom loved them and I can't stand them. Their box is taking up a lot of space.

Yesterday I got out all the Christmas boxes that were temporarily in there. I also culled her and our Christmas ornaments. That helped.

Someday it will be done.

grad school?

Before mom got really bad off, I was in the graduate anthropology program at CSUN. I finally dropped out because I couldn't handle the workload, stress, etc. while working full time, and caring for mom. I remember telling my advisor I wouldn't be able to come back until after mom died. I was a sobbing mess - poor lady having to deal with me.

Now I'm thinking about going back to school, but switching programs. I love anthro, but I'm more of a dabbler/amateur/armchair anthro-wannabe. It is a road not traveled and it's not very practical to double back to that fork. I was having to take undergrad classes to be prepared for my grad classes.

I think the graduate program in Educational Psychology and Counseling with emphasis in development, learning, and instruction makes a lot more sense. Plus, I would actually use it every day.

I was at first just thinking about taking a class or two in psychology to help me deal with troubled students. Then as I looked at the program I thought it would be a good fit. I obviously have background and experience that will help me.

I think I'm officially on leave from CSUN and may be able to return and change programs without reapplying. The application deadline is in February, so I have time to figure it out.

I'm excited at the thought, but then I wonder am I crazy to take on something new. Maybe I need to relax for awhile. Well, if I do it it wouldn't start until the fall - almost a year from now.

interior decorating and crossroads

Today was the Santa Clarita Marathon. It made me sad not be in it, but also happy to know it's there when I'm ready. As far as being ready - I'm not. I'm not even ready to start getting ready.

Yesterday I walked the dogs about three miles and today about four. It was great to get out and just walk. I'd like to do a one mile walk before school, but so far I haven't. I'm still getting used to not being tied to the house.

I've decided I should try visualizing what I want - nothing crazy, really. For example, rather than thinking about what I want to do with our front living room - a process, I should think of how I want it to look when it's done. This may seem like the normal way to do it, but I've always thought of the process rather than the final product.

I want to try it with my future too. If I know what I want-what it will look like, then I can map how to get there. I mean stream of consciousness has its place of course, but in life you only get so many do overs and rewrites. I feel like I'm at a crossroad. I can keep going straight, but if I do I want it to be my choice not by default.

line, circle, spring

When I was in elementary school I learned about timelines. They are great for visualizing when something happened compared to other events. Time marches forward leaving events neatly along that straight line.

In one of my first anthropology courses I learned some societies think of time as a circle. How interesting. I couldn't see it. Time obviously is a one-way street. The past is getting farther and farther away as we move into the present always striding towards the future.

Funny thing about walking off into the unknown, you often pass a tree that looks oddly familiar. After awhile you notice you're following footprints that look a lot like your own. Finally, as I have now, you realize you're going in circles.

I've decided that the line and circle analogies should be melded into a coil, like a spring. Yes time circles. There is a cycle, a pattern that repeats. But there is also forward movement. Each circle winds atop the last. Sometimes the springlike coil of time is stretched and the turns seem farther apart. Sometimes each coil is pressed tight to the next and time seems to cycle while standing still. In a coil two places along the line can be far apart and yet lay right next to each other. Every Thanksgiving lies atop the last with a year coiling around between them. Each birth touches previous births, each first day of school, each first love, each marriage, each life, each death, coils of time bring them close together even when they are far apart.

In the last few years I've noticed that time isn't straight. I feel like a traveler that realizes the world isn't flat. I guess I am a traveler coiling my way through time.

personal vs private

It is always so tempting to whine when blogging. To pour out all the angst, the "poor me"s, and "why me"s. To vent and to wallow.

I do that a lot. Usually I erase it all rather than publish. Those whiny laments aren't for mass or even minor consumption. I certainly don't need coworkers or parents of students attending my pity parties.

I try to keep private thoughts offline and personal thoughts out of the public arena. But then why blog at all? Why keep a journal? I write therefor I am? If a blogger blogs and no one reads it does it really confirm the blogger's existence?

I guess I just need to vent and wallow from time to time. I am therefor I am. Whether anyone reads it or not. So to those of you that didn't get invited to the party, don't feel slighted. You're welcome to attend. Just don't expect it to be...anything.

Oh, and if a blogger doesn't blog it still exists. It's just too soon, or too late, or too big, or too small, or too painful, or too private, or too personal.

Going down with the ship

I feel like the captain going down with the ship. I can't stop it. Good thing I can swim.

Yesterday Mom told me she was scared. I didn't know how to respond except to say I was scared too. I called her minister. I should have been in touch with him more. I took her to church until it was too confusing and hard for her. Then I dropped the ball. I'm an atheist, but she isn't. Maybe his visit will be comforting.

I'm taking the day off today because going to work after her "scared" comment was torture yesterday. She is unintelligible most of the time. Those words were so clear.

commuting to work

Every morning as I walk to work I pass a white standard poodle of undetermined sex. It has a stereotypical cut and could easily fit in a Disney cartoon. Every day it barks at me and I'm surprised by its deep real dog voice. I always expect a cartoon yip.

A few houses past Monsieur Woof I start to hear the squawk of a large bird. I imagine it's a parrot doing alarm clock duty. I always think of Dee and Jim when I hear it.

I play a game of "read the headline" on my way to work. I read the newspapers lying on the driveways. The Signal has never been a journalistic masterpiece, but it is home. I can only read half of each headline because the papers are folded. The "rules" say I can't flip a paper over to see the rest of the headline so I try to imagine the other half. Yesterday I read Michael Jackson died from a drug overdose. Wow, that's news.

Just before the final turn I pass the house with flamingos. There is also a frog that quietly sits hoping for a kiss. This is just before the house with three Astro vans of varying vintage. Why?

On my way home from work I get a different perspective on the same route. There is a house that is always decorated to the extreme for the holidays. Now in August, month of nothing, the house is pretty plain. Today though the garage door was open and I could see Rudolph and his team flying in the corner champing at the bit for the day after Thanksgiving when they would once again headline.

As I walk passed Crazy Lady's house I cross my fingers that she is inside and not waiting to waylay any passing neighbor. I toy with feeling guilty for avoiding her and calling her Crazy Lady. Then I think of all the encounters I've had with her and cross my toes as well.

My own dogs bark as I approach my driveway. I stride to the door and sigh with relief that I'm finally done for another day.