ah, grad school. as i was talking about with my roommate last night, it's such a bittersweet endeavor. while i'm thankful for the education and while i enjoy what i'm learning, school really takes a toll on about every aspect of your life.

ever since i've started, there have been numerous occurrences when i have arrived at work, looked down, and said to myself, "really, lyndsay? honestly, did a monkey dress you?" clothes don't match, underwear is on inside out, and flys are down. but you're just too tired to put a functional outfit together at 6 in the morning after staying up late to study.

today i decided to wear a skirt. i thought i had heard it was supposed to be warm outside, so i dug into the depths of summer wear, which was kept in a storage bin under my bed. it didn't take me long after i left my house to realize that it was not appropriate to wear a skirt today as i passed person after person decked out in winter coats on my walk to the train. maybe people didn't notice i was wearing a skirt, you may say. false. my legs are whiter than my dad's dance moves. i think i saw people squint as i walked by, as the sun reflected off my legs and sent sunbeams burning into corneas. feeling already ridiculous for being optimistic in my dress, i looked down only to remember that i haven't shaved my legs in ages. so now i'm an inappropriately dressed sasquatch roaming around the office hoping no one notices my long flowing leg locks.

anyways, i blame my lover, grad school.

in thinking about all the other ways grad school adversely affects your life, i've come up with a few slogans. t-shirts coming to a wal-mart near you:

grad school: making people fat and out of shape since 1920.

tuition: $5250

books: $300

gas to drive to observations: $80

permanent bags under your eyes: priceless

i may not have any friends left, but at least i'm smart!

grad students: giving insomniacs a run for their money for the past 100 years

agoraphobic? nah, just a grad student.

the ones that hold on

today i find myself thankful for a certain type of friend. it isn't the friend who calls regularly. and it isn't the friend that e-mails every day, writes on my facebook wall continuously, or texts me a hello. while i deeply appreciate these types of friends, i'm thankful for a different type of friend today.

today, i'm thankful for the friends that don't let you go, even when they probably should, by all rules of friendship. no matter how busy you get, and no matter how many letters you let go unanswered, they keep holding on to you as if to say, "i know you're busy. but i'm not letting you off the hook. i'm holding on, whether you deserve it or not." these friends are true jewels.

yesterday i got a letter from one of these friends. while i'm the one who is long overdue to write, she doesn't care. she writes me anyways to say hi. to say she cares. to check in. she holds on, even when i don't write back, even when i fail to call, and even when i don't inquire about her life nearly as much as i intend to.

it's these friends that are magical. and it's for these friends that, today and everyday, i am thankful.

my easter celebration

i'm celebrating easter in my own way this year. partially by choice, partially by circumstance. so far, it's been a very peaceful day, which has been great for my soul.

in lieu of easter morning plans, i decided to take a walk. 

my goal was to slow down from my normal legel pace and try really hard to notice things. i really believe that holiness is everywhere; we just need to be willing to see it. i saw a lot of things this morning that i had never noticed. and there were many sights i saw that i see everyday, but i saw them in a new way. 

first was my hallway. i just love how the sun spills in. 

here is my living room. lovely sun shining on joanna's tree. 

this is right outside my apartment. this wrought-iron handrail looks handmade. i had never noticed it.

this lamp head reminded me of the statue of liberty...

i had never noticed, but these oak park plaques are on every lamp post.

i wonder what these numbers on this dumpster mean?

someone dropped their hearts.

thank goodness for directions!

home. 

nebraskans: weird looking

i babysat last night. for four kids. all under age 9. 

not only did i get a large dose of birth control, but i had a pretty funny little exchange with julia, who is 4. she is the most articulate and snarky 4 year-old i've ever met. 

george, the oldest, asked where i went to college. i told him that i went to the U. of Nebraska.

and then this unfolded...

julia (looking at me intently): you look weird.

lyndsay (not knowing quite what to say): no i don't! i look just like you (sans snarky look). 

julia: all people from nebraska look weird.

lyndsay: have you ever BEEN to nebraska?

julia: no. but they do.

lyndsay: that's what i thought.

kids sure know how to perk the self-esteem. 

spare me

ah, bowling. the funniest things come across my desk sometimes. recently, there was a little nugget in the April BJ magazine. they quoted an open letter Norman Chad wrote to Barack Obama. it made me chuckle:

"I am disappointed that you just signed a $787 billion economic stimulus package that didn't include a dime for bowling. You want to put this country back on its feet? For starters, there ought to be a bowling center on every corner instead of a Starbucks."

shame on you, Obama. shame. on. you. how dare you put global warming and education before the first great american sport? and, according to Chad, you obviously lobbied to place a Starbucks on every corner. the american people don't need lattes! they need balls and cheese fries!

i thought better of you, Obama. where are your priorities? not in the alleys, that's for darn sure.

ja. ja ja jaded.

today i've been thinking about the science of dating. i can't help but wonder lately if, in the words of ani, "it's not fate, it's just circumstance."

sounds like the work of propinquity to me. not much more. not much less.

but maybe i'm just jaded.

i'm a bitch

today i got a little distracted from writing about psychological theory in the context of memoirs, so i perused some music on iTunes. i stumbled upon an iTunes essentials "90's One-Hit Wonders" playlist, and there it was in all its glory: bitch by meredith brooks.

i played the 30-second clip, and i was immediately transported back to a record store in tennessee. i had gone to visit my cousins at some point during my jr. high years, my aunt jan acting as a watchful chaperone. when aunt jan wasn't looking, i snatched the cassette single (yes, cassette, and yes, single) from the shelf, purchased it, and toted it around like a concealed weapon. 

when i got back home to iowa, i keep my naughty little cassette hidden on the top shelf of my closet under a box where i also kept pamphlets about "your first period" and "how to deal with depression." i would covertly pop the beauty that was "bitch" into my walkman and walk around the house listening to those naughty little dirges, unbeknownst to my parents. when my parents left the house, i would take my cassette down, put it in my boom box, and blare it so loudly that it shook the rafters. "i'm a BITCH, i'm a lover, i'm a child, i'm a mother, i'm a sinner, i'm a saint, i do not feel ashamed..." but i did feel ashamed. 

i still remember driving with my mom in denver, ia. when that song came on the radio. it was censored, naturally, as was customary in the 90's in rural iowa. "i can't believe any woman would ever sing that way about herself," she said, as my thoughts went to the cassette burning a hole in my closet shelf. but i did understand. i felt guilty for liking a song that my mom portrayed as being so horrible. but i knew deep down that the song wasn't about just being a "bitch." it was about being so many different things "all wrapped into one" and wanting someone, ANYONE, to accept all those things. it was a theme i could relate to (sans the "goddess on my knees" part)  during those awkward, rocky adolescent years.  

i don't know where that cassette is now. perhaps i burned in in fear of the wrath i would suffer if i ever left it laying around the house. but i'm thankful for having that song. it made me feel like someone understood. it made me feel like a rebel. it made me feel like i understood something my mother did not. "and i wouldn't have it any other way..."

culture of violence

this semester i'm taking the most intriguing class called "diversity in the classroom." each week i come away with swirling thoughts as i think about my beliefs, what shaped those beliefs, and the beliefs of our society in relation to culture and diversity. sometimes i come away angry: angry of the lessons i was taught, whether purposely or inadvertently, about people of different cultures, colors, religions, and the like. what i am thankful for is an education that has helped to me to create my own beliefs and decipher for myself what is true and good.

last week we talked about something that i just can't shake out of my head. in our discussion of African American history, we started talking about the culture of violence. unfortunately, a culture of violence is a perpetual cycle that is very difficult to break. for example, if a child witnesses his father being lynched, he is going to harbor that anger and take it out on others, which will be witnessed by his child, which will be mirrored and copied, etc. it's a cyclical pattern that, without education and intense intervention, will not stop.

in this discussion, we talked briefly about the taliban. in today's world, i think we are all, myself included, quick to say, this group of people is evil. period. end of story. the greater question that we need to be asking is WHY these people do the evil things they do. people do not just go around bullying others out of context. when you look at the history of the taliban, you find that almost all of the members of the taliban grew up in orphanages and/or refugee camps. they witnessed their parents being murdered. they never experienced stability, and they never had the foundation of a home, family, and education that so many of us take for granted. they have witnessed atrocities that are beyond our comprehension. in an effort to belong to something, they belong to the taliban who, in their mind, is fighting against that which stripped them of their lives.

does understanding this history condone their behavior? no. absolutely not. does it give it context and, perhaps, explain why they are angry? absolutely. enter a perpetual culture of violence.

what worries me about entering afghanistan and overtaking the taliban is that it will cause the disheartening destruction that inspired the current taliban members to join. if we go in, kill off kids' parents, displace families, and exude destructive forces, are we not fighting fire with fire? as we look at history, we can see that demonstrating violence will only perpetuate the cycle of that which we want to end. does something need to be done? yes. but our tactics have to be thoughtful and intentional if we truly want the violence to end.

while i do not have a solution, i do know this, as so wonderfully said by albert einstein: peace cannot be kept by force. it can only be achieved by understanding.

another blog in the pot-o-blogs

i've been debating on whether or not to start a new blog for awhile now. my livejournal account has collected dust, and while i contemplated reviving it, i realized that my livejournal represents a different time in my life, and to combine then in now would be awkward.

i'm not blogging again because i have intriguing, groundbreaking things to say. i don't. i want to start a blog because i want discourse. i want to share things that i think about and, because of my crazy schedule and other variables, i feel like i can't. and so they ferment inside of me, eventually fading away. even if no one reads this, it will help me to share, to analyze, and to sort out my thoughts, beliefs, and ideas. and if someone reads and takes something away along the way, all the better.

i'm calling this blog "coming up." the title is somewhat loaded, so let me explain. first of all, it refers to my thoughts and feelings coming up to the surface and being transferred into a reality outside of my mind. "coming up" also refers to my latest need to push myself to be more. by "coming up," i am stepping up to the plate of potential and taking swings that i am so often too scared to take. finally, "coming up" is a great poem by ani difranco, which talks about social inequities, life's busyness, and a whole mirage of other themes.

so, as difranco says, "I'm getting bold in my old age." I am coming up.