I'm currently back in school, taking some upper level history courses: Absolution and Enlightenment in the 18th Century, World History from the 1600s, and Modern Russian History (modern meaning from the late 1800s to present day). I had a very clear vision for myself regarding these courses; the plan all along was to take some history prerequisites in order to apply to a local graduate school, with the eventual goal of earning a masters degree in history.
And then, I actually took some history courses and figured out, it's not at all what I really want to do. And that, my friends, is the most ultimately frustrating aspect of this little experiment. I've put in hours preparing to go back to school, researching various graduate programs, jumping through flaming hoops covered in red tape to engage in the long, arduous process of "getting back into school". I've spent more money than I had in tuition, books, and gas for classes that I now know, won't lead anywhere but just a bit further into student loan debt.
I have a very specific degree already, in Emergency Administration and Planning. It wasn't my first plan, just the last in a series of "what I want to be when I grow up" plans. When I first entered college, over 10 years ago (eep!), I was undeclared and just "takin' my basics". Within a year or so, though, I had decided to become a psychology major. The material was interesting, but I started to realize that unless I wanted to go on to graduate school, a bachelor's degree in psychology wasn't all that marketable, so I ventured on. I spent exactly 4 hours as an education major before I realized I had made a terrible mistake. Incidentally, that four hours cost me over $1,000.00 in tuition fees due to that college's withdrawal police. (I never went there again after that, on principle.) After that, I floundered for a bit before deciding to go back into psychology, since I had the highest concentration of hours in that. After another semester of psychology, I came back to the realization that it was truly pointless for me to continue on, knowing that at that point, I had no desire to pursue graduate school. I was truly lost.
It was at that point that fate intervened through two events. A long-time friend of mine had been telling me about a degree he was involved in, that he was really excited about and Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. The degree he was studying was Emergency Administration and Planning, or in other words, disaster management along the lines of what FEMA and the American Red cross engage in. I was inspired. I thought--now that's something I could get passionate about. And so, feeling as though fate were behind the wheel, I enrolled in the degree as well, and within eighteen months, I was a newly minted grad with a crisp new diploma.
It wasn't a bad choice, as it turned out. I got a job with a wonderful little private consulting firm and really fell in with a great boss and coworker. (I did say it was a "small" firm!) Then my son happened. And he really became my true passion. I always knew I wanted to stay home with my babies, even though many people near to me thought I would go crazy at home, I didn't. I don't. I really love my job, much more than I or many others thought I would. I've given my two week notice a time or two, but my bosses don't accept resignations :) Thankfully, I would never leave this particular job.
But, within a few years, my little ones will be in school, and I know I'm meant for more. They'll have a job to do and so will I.
The only question is... what? I'm not sure I want to go back into emergency planning - many of the jobs require a level of commitment travel-wise that I am unwilling to give, now that I have children. Plus, although I did love my old job, I wasn't in love with the work, and I'd like to know what that feels like - to be in love with your work. I suppose I already do know that feeling, because it's one I experience often with my kiddos. Still, I'd like a personal purpose as well, that extends beyond my role as wife and mother. It was nice to have that feeling of personal accomplishment outside of the home and in all frankness, it was nice to have a paycheck, too.
Because I have a deep love of Celtic history, language, and music, I thought history was a natural choice. Friends have told me I'd be a great teacher; and I believed them. With faith, I stepped out onto a path that almost from the first moment, I realized was altogether wrong. People have asked me how I can be so sure that history isn't for me, and it's incredibly hard to articulate. The material isn't what I envisioned and it really doesn't touch upon the aspects of history I find most fascinating - the little day to day details within another peoples' lives. The foods, the music, the plebian concerns. My history classes have been more politically-based, broad strokes, and I'm interested in the fine details. Also, I've realized that I'm resentful of the time away from my kids--that's a big indication to me that I'm in the wrong place, because if it was a true passion, it wouldn't feel this intrusive. I've just made a mistake, and I know it. It's been a blow, but I'm determined that there is a lesson to be learned and that these classes will benefit me in some way, regardless.
So, I'm on the edge of a precipice. I'm looking out over the land and I see infinite possibilities. The paths below are rough, rocky, and although I can't see it yet, one has been carved especially for me. Now I've got to get off this mountain and find out which one that is.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
At the Bottom of a Coffee Cup
I was looking for a pair of tweezers--an essential tool in the ever-more futile battle against unwanted facial hair, and I suspected I may find some in the coffee cup which has become a receptacle for my pens, pencils, and as it turns out... other things.
In an effort to be expedient (as any other mother of two little ones will appreciate) I dumped the coffee cup out on my desk. What I found, instead of the tweezers, was infinitely more fascinating. Here's a photo of things as they lay:
First of all, I found the tweezers, so score! But then I started thumbing through the rest of my pile...
Baby nail scissors: You can never have too many and these are the absolute best: Safety First. Chad and I have both accidentally clipped the kids' nails a little too close to the quick.
A myriad of hair accessories for the multitude of hair I currently possess: These range from a barrette, a ponytail holder, and a small alligator clip for the half-up look. Examining these more closely, I remember the time when every day, I work a ponytail holder to work. I think about how ridiculous I look in a ponytail. It just doesn't suit my face at all. The barrette comes in more handy these days. I can't decide whether or not I want to be a woman "with bangs", so instead of committing one way or another, I occasionally barrette them back and pretend I'm bangsless. And yes, I've just invented the word bangsless. And you loved it. Or maybe I didn't invent it, but still, you loved it.
Moving on, we find a few more pedestrian items. A random pen cap. Ah yes, the ever-elusive "cap o' the pens". Where IS it's mate, exactly? Probably in the same place as the other half of my son's socks.
Another small black pen, but this has a story. This small. black. pen. goes to a little notebook. The little notebook was a gift from the University of North Carolina in Greensboro, included as a small welcome gift for attending their graduate school orientation. A graduate school I did not attend. In a state I moved out of shortly after. Just a small. black. pen. A relative blip on the radar of my life.
One small plastic "rock", which is not a rock at all. I believe this belongs with a collection of animals Lennon received from a grandparent, along with an assortment of plastic trees, plastic cows, and plastic fenceline. I should probably give that back to him, but I sort of love it hanging out in my coffee cup. Makes me think of the Christmas morning Lennon opened that particular toy, and played animals on the farm all morning, which Chad and I lounged on the couch, enjoying our little family of three (at the time). He was two, not talking much just yet, but communicated perfectly with us. He was so excited to receive all of his gifts, and we had never had a better Christmas to date. Whoever said "'tis better to give than to receive" must have been a parent, because there is no greater joy than watching your child open a gift.
The crotchet hook. It mocks me. I became very interested in crochet during the long, lazy winters we spent in Wisconsin. One can only watch so much football and eat so many frito pies, before seeking out a greater calling. Mine was crochet. Some may knit, but me? I prefer a piece that could unravel with one swift yank; it makes me feel as though I'm living dangerously. Chad and I are now the proud owners of thick, woolen scarves, which we will never use here in Texas. I also have two half-heartedly started baby blankets... for my three year old son, who is not quite a baby anymore.
Your standard lip gloss and paper clip.
One brown button. I'll have to do something cool with that. Maybe I'll use it as the centerpiece for a hairbow for my 8 month old daughter. You know, for when she has hair. It's a cool, brass button that I think came off a pair of jeans from my "skinny" phase. Button fell off and jeans don't fit, so repurpose we shall.
One silver, heart-shaped bookmark. This was a wedding favor from my sister-in-law's bridal luncheon, almost 10 years ago. there are many fond memories attached to this bookmark. My sister-in-law is one of my favorite people, so thinking of that day always makes me smile. I also think about where the bridal luncheon was held, Le Madelaine, one of my favorite restaurants. French food? Who doesn't like it? And bookmarks make me think of books, who are by far, my very best companions in this journey of life, the only exception being my husband and children. And besides, bookmarks are just sort of cool.
A cream colored shell, collected from the shore of the Atlantic ocean. Lennon was 18 months old, and it was his first trip to the beach. His first sand castle, his first pail, and his first walk in the water with his daddy. One amazing trip; one unforgettable moment in our lives, filled with promise and hope and sunshine and laughs.
All at the bottom of a coffee cup.
In an effort to be expedient (as any other mother of two little ones will appreciate) I dumped the coffee cup out on my desk. What I found, instead of the tweezers, was infinitely more fascinating. Here's a photo of things as they lay:
First of all, I found the tweezers, so score! But then I started thumbing through the rest of my pile...
Baby nail scissors: You can never have too many and these are the absolute best: Safety First. Chad and I have both accidentally clipped the kids' nails a little too close to the quick.
A myriad of hair accessories for the multitude of hair I currently possess: These range from a barrette, a ponytail holder, and a small alligator clip for the half-up look. Examining these more closely, I remember the time when every day, I work a ponytail holder to work. I think about how ridiculous I look in a ponytail. It just doesn't suit my face at all. The barrette comes in more handy these days. I can't decide whether or not I want to be a woman "with bangs", so instead of committing one way or another, I occasionally barrette them back and pretend I'm bangsless. And yes, I've just invented the word bangsless. And you loved it. Or maybe I didn't invent it, but still, you loved it.
Moving on, we find a few more pedestrian items. A random pen cap. Ah yes, the ever-elusive "cap o' the pens". Where IS it's mate, exactly? Probably in the same place as the other half of my son's socks.
Another small black pen, but this has a story. This small. black. pen. goes to a little notebook. The little notebook was a gift from the University of North Carolina in Greensboro, included as a small welcome gift for attending their graduate school orientation. A graduate school I did not attend. In a state I moved out of shortly after. Just a small. black. pen. A relative blip on the radar of my life.
One small plastic "rock", which is not a rock at all. I believe this belongs with a collection of animals Lennon received from a grandparent, along with an assortment of plastic trees, plastic cows, and plastic fenceline. I should probably give that back to him, but I sort of love it hanging out in my coffee cup. Makes me think of the Christmas morning Lennon opened that particular toy, and played animals on the farm all morning, which Chad and I lounged on the couch, enjoying our little family of three (at the time). He was two, not talking much just yet, but communicated perfectly with us. He was so excited to receive all of his gifts, and we had never had a better Christmas to date. Whoever said "'tis better to give than to receive" must have been a parent, because there is no greater joy than watching your child open a gift.
The crotchet hook. It mocks me. I became very interested in crochet during the long, lazy winters we spent in Wisconsin. One can only watch so much football and eat so many frito pies, before seeking out a greater calling. Mine was crochet. Some may knit, but me? I prefer a piece that could unravel with one swift yank; it makes me feel as though I'm living dangerously. Chad and I are now the proud owners of thick, woolen scarves, which we will never use here in Texas. I also have two half-heartedly started baby blankets... for my three year old son, who is not quite a baby anymore.
Your standard lip gloss and paper clip.
One brown button. I'll have to do something cool with that. Maybe I'll use it as the centerpiece for a hairbow for my 8 month old daughter. You know, for when she has hair. It's a cool, brass button that I think came off a pair of jeans from my "skinny" phase. Button fell off and jeans don't fit, so repurpose we shall.
One silver, heart-shaped bookmark. This was a wedding favor from my sister-in-law's bridal luncheon, almost 10 years ago. there are many fond memories attached to this bookmark. My sister-in-law is one of my favorite people, so thinking of that day always makes me smile. I also think about where the bridal luncheon was held, Le Madelaine, one of my favorite restaurants. French food? Who doesn't like it? And bookmarks make me think of books, who are by far, my very best companions in this journey of life, the only exception being my husband and children. And besides, bookmarks are just sort of cool.
A cream colored shell, collected from the shore of the Atlantic ocean. Lennon was 18 months old, and it was his first trip to the beach. His first sand castle, his first pail, and his first walk in the water with his daddy. One amazing trip; one unforgettable moment in our lives, filled with promise and hope and sunshine and laughs.
All at the bottom of a coffee cup.
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