Confessions of an Early Shirley

Today, I fell down one of those topical rabbit holes that mobile internet has made it so easy to get into.  For some strange reason, I got to reading that rash of articles from a couple of years ago about chronically late people.  I'm not going to list every single thing I read - you can Google the topic and see it all.  There are happy pieces about habitually late people being optimistic and seeing the "big pictures" and not-so-happy pieces giving them very unkind labels.  There was a recurring theme among both types, however: allegedly, late people hate arriving early.  According to the pro-lateness articles, it's because showing up early and then having nothing to do but wait is inefficient.  According to the anti-lateness articles, it's because they're too self-conscious to face the prospect of waiting alone or having to make small talk.

Anyone who knows me personally, or has read my blog or watched my videos, knows I am the complete opposite.  I *love* showing up early.  This is why:

1. I Am Pessimistic

Everything is going to take longer than Google Maps says it will, or than my friends/family say it will, or than my own lived experience says it will.  If I give myself the exact 20 minutes it actually takes to drive to work, there will be a wreck on the way to work, or my tire will explode, or Cthulu will rise out of Lake Lanier and take out the bridge next to the Methodist church.  

2. I Struggle With Transitions

I cannot just walk in somewhere and get going.  I need to make sure I'm as ready as possible, which includes knowing the space and seeing faces as they arrive so I know exactly whom is around and what is happening.  I need time to mentally rehearse what is about to happen so I can plan for snappy comebacks or well-timed Napoleon Dynamite quotes.

3. I Am Introverted To A Fault

Getting to work or class early means I can start in on work.  I can get more done uninterrupted and the appearance of being hunched over a laptop or a task sends a socially-acceptable LEAVE ME ALONE message.  My ideal world is one in which I'm completely by myself about 75% of the time because...

4. I Am Selfish, Egotistical and Fragile (aka Getting Really Real)

Don't get me wrong - I have friends and family members that I very much enjoy talking to and spending time with.  But being around people, especially people who are close to me, means the possibility of doing something wrong and having it pointed out to me.  And of course, the world falls apart if I make a mistake.  Even when I'm alone, I deride myself endlessly if I do something like trip on level ground ("Thank GOD no one was around to see that, you miserable excuse for a human!")  So I prefer to be alone because then I don't have to worry about other voices joining that one.  As Elliot Reid once said in Scrubs, "I'm gonna tell them that I am the most perfect doctor ever who never needs anyone's help with anything!"  This is a goal both healthy and attainable.  Being early to everything supports this persona - "I am so together.  Be impressed with me."

So the next time your smug early friend posts one of those "OMG late ppl r so annoying!" articles on Facebook, link them to this post and be like, "Well, at least I have self-esteem!"

Refining My Process

So I presented chapters one and two to my committee here a while back and it was not good.  Crashed and burned.   Wiped out on the asphalt.  Belly flopped in front of the hot lifeguard.  Belched mid-solo.  Obviously I was disappointed - there's one year and lots of tuition money I'll never get back - but my major professor and I figured out a plan of action and I'm putting the finishing touches on my new literature review.

Right now this minute, I'm using an altered version of the Pomodoro Technique.  I have my outline and literature review open in one window and this blog post open in the other.  I work on my review for 15 minutes, then I come over here and write for fun for 15 minutes.  After a couple of hours, I take a longer break.  This technique is the first of several changes I made to my writing process once I got into graduate school...

1. Pomodoro Technique - I cannot marathon my way through something nonstop.  My brain needs to point itself elsewhere for a while.  To a point, Pomodoro helps me because 15 minutes is about as much time as I can spend writing before going dry, and then on the other side is about as long as I can goof off before I start wanting to change tasks.  After too long, though, I can't do either thing anymore and I have to go run or dance around or watch TV.

2. Source Comparison - I remember my embattled 11th grade literature teacher making us go through certain steps in writing our research papers.  Among these was an assignment to gather all of our sources on index cards, bibliographical information on one side, a brief summary of its contents or quotes we might wish to use on the other.  At the time, I thought it was the dumbest, most arbitrary thing ever.  I forgot about it once the class was over and didn't use it again...until I had to write my first lit review.  Instead of index cards, I use a table in MS Word.  Bibliographical information goes in one column, then the next is a summary of what it says and any quotes I see or relevant points I want to remember.  Doing this a reasonable amount of time before the paper is due makes it a million times easier to think of what to write, organize my thoughts, and cite my sources.  Dr. Kerley, you were right.  I'm sorry about that vocab test in which I refused to write the letter "e."

3. Idea Maps - Once I've gathered sources and given them time to simmer, I print out the aforementioned MS Word tables so I can spread them out and see them all.  I look for commonalities or categories, i.e. "Hey, these 10 writers all talked about difficulty-level bias," and start grouping the sources based on those emerging categories.  Then I take those categories and see if they can be grouped at all, whereupon I do a concept map.

Makeup sponge added to cover a little saltiness in my center bubble.

The actual writing is easier to do on a word processor, but these prewriting stages are easier to do by hand because I can freely use space, I can color-code just by grabbing a different pen...all of this helps my brain percolate and remember the thoughts so that when I sit down to write, I struggle a lot less for words.  7th grade Study Skills teacher Ms. Taylor, you were right.  I'm sorry about spending inordinate amounts of time drawing pretend mendhi on my arm when I was supposed to be outlining.

4. Writing with Sources - In undergrad, when I would write a draft, I would spit out the prose and just write [SOURCE] when I hit a spot where I knew I would require an in-text citation or [QUOTE] when I hit something that I knew I had read a quote about and wanted to come back later and write/cite it properly.  I did these things so that if I was on a roll, I could continue writing prose uninterrupted.  Sometimes whole paragraphs would be nothing but 

WRITE A GOOD CONCLUSION HERE

I would finish the draft, give it a day, then go back through and fill in the gaps.  I would have to go through and dig all those sources and articles back up for the in-text work, sift through them for the quotes, and look at them again for the "Works Cited" page (I was an MLA baby in undergrad).  Once I got into grad school and needed more and more sources, it finally dawned on me that this was so stupidly inefficient.  Also, because I was now writing on drier topics and tended to do more stylistic editing on-the-spot, my prose was no longer a big gush, but rather a steady trickle which would not suffer from the occasional interruption in order to complete the in-text citation and references listing.  So I finally learned to do that.  As soon as I allude to a source in my writing, I go to my printed-out table of references and spit out the in-text citation, then scroll down to the references list and add the full citation there.  I've also quit giving myself the HEY WRITE THIS PART LATER because...

5. The Death of the Length Requirement - In On Writing Well, Dr. Zinsser reminds us to say what we need to say and then shut up.  I had to read that book in high school and ended up really liking it (it beats Elements of Style on the readability scale by about eight zillion points), but I scoffed at that section because, "Dude, they give us minimum lengths in high school.  I don't get to shut up when I want to."  The same was true in undergrad; the English faculty even set down a rule my freshman year saying that if they got a paper that was under the required length, they wouldn't read it.  I imagine the intent was to push us to pick topics with sufficient meat to sustain 10-12 pages, or to pursue enough credible sources.  We did neither; we stretched like we were training for Cirque du Soleil.  We were redundant, verbose, and generally ridiculous.  The lingering fear of the Dread Runt Paper was part of why my first set of chapters failed so spectacularly.  But a glance at the dissertations in UGA's music library reveals the fact that when it comes to this kind of work, quality beats quantity by 1000%.  There were dissertations on a single piece of music that were thick enough to act as a booster seat for a short driver.  There were dissertations on whole populations that were skinny enough to fan myself with (including one titled "Female Band Teachers in the State of Georgia."  *snerk*)

For this round of chapters, I'm taking a new approach.  I'm not looking at page numbers, I'm not counting sources, and I'm not worrying about it being pretty.  I'm saying what I need to say, I'm putting in citations as I go, and then I am shutting up.  We'll see where that takes me.

I have now completed 9 Pomodoros of work, or 2.25 hours of writing.  I am writing this paragraph during my 9th Pomodoro of "rest."  After this, I'm going to take my big break and go run outside in the sunshine, then I'll return and do however many Pomodoros until it's done.  Pray for me.

Temporary Vagrancy: Living with ICU

This post is a novel.  You have been warned.  I'm also warning you that the internet says the singular "they" is ok.

Recently, I have had occasion to spend a lot of time at a hospital, maintaining vigil over an ICU patient.  Every hospital has different facilities of course, but unless you're a hoity-toity fancy-pants who can afford one of those hotelesque "recovery centers," chances are those hospital facilities do not include overnight accommodations for the ICU patient's family representative or caretaker.

The hospital I was at was one such place.  Like most hospitals, there are spots where, while sleeping overnight isn't exactly encouraged (as this would probably attract genuine vagrants), it also isn't prohibited.  Sometimes, you are far from home and cannot afford a hotel.  Sometimes, the procedure that put your patient in ICU to begin with went sideways and you have to be nearby for legal/proxy reasons or want to be for filial ones.  Sometimes you have been there since 4:00 AM and your patient didn't get stable until 1:00 AM and to try to drive home at that point would invite fate to put you in ICU right next to your person.  So you're staying.  For a small dose (lol medical puns) of each of these reasons, I stayed for a few days.  And as I am wont to do as a woman some of my teachers described as "curious" (right after "female" and "arguably literate"), I learned things.

Sleep is a Battlefield
Become a Marine when it comes to sleeping: adapt and overcome.  You will probably have a couple of options for sleeping locales and they will all be terrible.  I labored under the delusion that I could pick a spot and remain relatively undisturbed through the night...but ICU families are often in states of emergency, consumed by nerves and fear and can't help but chatter, move around and try to make each other laugh to alleviate the weight of dread.

Your brain says this to you.  Your heart says things like, "No but seriously I was here first, do you not see me?  Do you not see me laying here very obviously trying to sleep?  Do you not see the greasy hair and puffy eyes and pit stains that suggest I've been here multiple nights?  OPEN YOUR STUPID EYES AND SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTHS.  I hope you step on a Lego barefoot."

You learn that the loud families are first-nighters and recall that you were loud and nervous and antsy your first night, too.  And then you learn that the quiet families are expecting or experiencing profound loss right there next to you while you read your Cracked articles on your iPod, after which point your heart stops complaining so much.

Beep boop
ICU makes sounds.  As it turns out, some of what TV shows you happens when a patient has a heart irregularity is accurate.  And by "some", I mean, "the pitch, timbre and occasionally the meanings of various sounds a heart monitor makes."  I heard my patient's monitor make a specific sound and immediately heard a TV doctor in my brain say, "She's in V. Tach!" with panic.  I looked up and, sure enough, a little red box appeared in the corner of the monitor which read "V. Tach."

What did not happen next was an influx of doctors and nurses with shock paddles shouting "CLEAR!!" and "PUSH 5 MILLIGRAMS EPI STAT!!!!" at each other and a mentor/authority figure looking at an underling with contempt.  What did happen next was that the sound stopped after three seconds and the nurse didn't even look up from the computer.

Being in ICU during the day made me familiar with many monitor alarms - I came to learn the specific ones for V. Tach (entry knowledge, as it were), regular Tachycardia, blood pressure spikes or drops, rhythmic errors (lol i'm a music teacher) and mechanical problems like an ECG lead popping off.  These usually warranted only a brief glance from the nurses or doctors to see if they resolved themselves, which they almost always did.  I heard other patterns from neighboring patients' monitors, but since my patient never triggered them, I don't know what they mean.  I also never heard the famous "flatline", the popularly-supposed sound of which might be a TV myth anyway - doesn't seem like a good idea to me to make it known to neighboring patients and families that someone's heart has up and stopped.

Vocal tones from ICU also stand out to me.  By and large, ICU doctors and nurses are the picture of composure.  They remain positive during periods of progress or stability, calm and matter-of-fact during problems or crises.  Some choose to remain dry and almost standoffish at all times, probably so that they don't alarm the patient with a change of affect if something goes awry.  There was one exception: when someone was being awakened from anesthesia or long-term sedation.  I realize that it's a delicate situation, that surgery is a big deal and the sooner we can ascertain a patient's well-being, the better...but I am at a loss to describe how funny it is when in the middle of this highly professional and efficient environment, someone starts yelling, "HEY THERE!  CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR TOES FOR ME?  WIGGLE YOUR TOES.  WIGGLE YOUR TOES."  [pause, calm instructions to nurses]  "CAN YOU TELL ME YOUR NAME?  WHAT'S YOUR NAME?  SAY AGAIN?  GOOD.  WIGGLE YOUR TOES."

Et cetera.  My patient took to wiggling their toes at each command in solidarity.

Feed Me, Seymour
I abandoned vanity in favor of resource optimization when it came to food.  The first couple of days, I was too emotional to eat much and required reminders from family.  After that, family members put together a care package for me with some of my preferred foods so I didn't have to keep spending money in the cafeteria.  The vending area included microwaves and sporks, so I took my cans of soup and bags of veggies in there and sat on the floor in the corner of the room.

5 star

Why the floor of the vending area and not just taking my stuff to a hallway bench or whatever?  Well, I asked for my favorite soups and stuff.  I did not ask for microwaveable dishes.  So I ate and microwaved my soup in portions in a coffee cup I stole from the closest waiting room and I didn't feel like walking all the way to and from the vending area and the nearest seating area just to rewarm the next 3/4 cup of soup.  The veggies I just ate with my hands like a slow loris.

New Friends
I am always fascinated by temporary communities.  When you're only spending a few days with a group of people, but you're around them all day long, you start to form a mini-society.  It has happened to me three times this summer: once in New York at IB Music training, once in College Park at AP Music Theory Training, and with the ICU families.  We compared patient stories, shared strategies for diet, sleep and hygiene, watched each other's stuff when someone needed to run to the bathroom or cafeteria, and prayed.  Oh the praying.  This hospital, like most, had a chapel onsite, but I'm pretty sure God's mail pile from ICU waiting was several feet higher than that from the chapel.

I mentioned above that some nurses and doctors preferred to keep a professional distance, which I completely understand.  There were a few, though, who were comfortable getting personal and were truly Godsends in my time of need.  Even though what my patient experienced was not really unique and certainly not cause for alarm for any of them, these doctors and nurses could tell how afraid I was due to my ignorance and inexperience and they took the time to learn my name, to explain things to me so that I could understand, to map out their plan As and Bs (particularly once word got out that I'm a teacher), and to give me tasks when they could so that I could feel useful.  I kept a running list of all of their names and wrote them all glowing praise on my feedback card.

Three Days to Orient
I read about (and then heard about on an episode of Bones) a study wherein people were given special eyewear that made them see upside down.  At first, they stumbled around all confused, but after three days, their brains adjusted and they saw the world right side up with the eyewear on.  After a week or so, the eyewear was taken away and their unadorned eyes once again saw everything upside down.  Three days later, all sorted again.

The day of my patient's procedure and subsequent admission to ICU, a couple of things happened that, while perfectly treatable and not emergencies, extended my patient's stay in ICU and deviated from the original planned timeline and procedure for recovery.

What the surgeon said to me (edited for privacy): "This organ is still having a little problem functioning on its own, so we're going to use this mechanical device to supplement it and let it rest a while.  This happens sometimes - the organ's been through a lot and it just needs time to adjust.  But we accomplished what we set out to accomplish with this surgery!"  This was delivered in a calm and positive tone of voice.

What I heard: "This vital organ is broken.  Death is imminent."

I had already cried twice at the reality of my patient having the procedure to begin with; this news set me off again, as did the sight of them in ICU for the first time with so many IVs and tubes.  For the rest of the night, it was like I had a hormone imbalance...
Sister: "You want to go get a bag of chips?"
Me: *10 minutes of abject weeping*

A day later, I had briefly left the hospital to do some things at home and get some rest while another family member stayed with my patient.  I had been asleep about an hour when the family member called saying the repaired organ encountered another quite common, quite treatable issue, but one I had never really heard of or knew anything about.  At this news, I rushed back in a state of hysterics.

What the doctor said to me: "This organ is having this small problem.  We're fixing it with this drug, and we have another solution if the drug doesn't work."

What I heard: "This organ is having myriad problems.  It will never work normally again.  Your patient will be an invalid, if indeed they survive the night."

More random crying jags.
Family member: Hey look, Clay Aiken is on TV.
Me: *grabs 8 tissues to absorb all the tears*

But by the third day, things were shifting.  The first problem resolved itself, but the second one returned a couple of times during the third day.  I felt less fear each time, finding it nearly routine by day's end.  That night, I again went home while a family member stayed with the patient.

Family member called the next morning to tell me that the problem persisted and they were moving ahead with the slightly more drastic, but also more effective, Plan B.  I took the phone call in stride, drove back calmly and, as a result of the ICU folks running ahead of schedule, arrived after Plan B had already been implemented successfully.  My patient was alert, happy, and continuing to net progress...which, in fact, they had been doing all along, but I was too blinded by ignorance and terror at the time to notice.  Three days for an upside down world to become right side up.

Epilogue
My patient is now home and recovering well.  Family and friends have rallied around them, sending food and gifts and helping with tasks...my patient has a great tribe.  It was an emotional way to end the summer, but it beats sitting around my house feeling guilty for not being more productive leading up to pre-planning.  Because as we all know, everything that happens to everybody is ultimately about me.

Basic

In my day-to-day interaction with the world, both in person and online, I feel a vague, weak-to-moderate pressure to eschew the wildly popular in favor of the unique, quirky, whatever.  Both "hipster" and "basic" (yielded as an insult) have faded out of contemporary parlance, which I think is indicative of the dissolution of both ideas; they remain only as the occasional raised eyebrow when someone admits to liking Taylor Swift.

In some areas, I exhibit an aversion to the wildly popular and have done so my entire life.  I suppose an armchair psychologist would say that I behaved that way as a child out of disliking being bossed around (don't tell me what to read/watch/buy) and preemptively rejecting the customs of other social groups rather than face the possibility of trying to assimilate and failing.  As an adult, the former remains a strong driver of my actions, whereas the latter has changed into just being too busy to consume popular stuff and not wanting to suffer the shame of being the last person in the Milky Way Galaxy to watch Frozen.  Which I have not done.  Nor have I read or watched the Harry Potter series, gotten anything embroidered with my monogram, joined Twitter or Instagram, enrolled in CrossFit...I'm getting along just fine without them and at this point, it would probably just look pathetic.

But in other areas, I am purely basic - in the 2012 sense of the word.  Where my more interesting friends are cooking healthy and intricate meals, contemplating deep theological questions, traveling, throwing themselves behind causes (their resolve I admire, whether I agree with the cause or not), I am over here captivated by the most asinine things.  At this level of adherence, I would call myself a nerd, except that moniker is usually reserved for narrower and more intellectual objects of affection than these.  I am unabashedly enthusiastic about...

1. Pizza

I have the appetite of a frat boy.  We have pizza once a week here at Casa de Dubs and that's me showing restraint.  I do have standards when it comes to pizza, but not in the same way my foodie friends do.  Spare me some deconstructed flatbread exotic cheese blowtorch-cooked Pinterest science fair entry...I require regular crust, normal sauce that involves tomatoes, mozzarella and pepperoni.  I'll allow some variations on that theme, but those are required components.  And if your rendition of those components is substandard and unpalatable, like restaurants in which pizza is not the staple of their offerings or Little Caesars, I take it personally.  Even Dominos and Pizza Hut are borderline.  But Papa Johns?  Mellow Mushroom?  Atlas Pizza here in Gainesville?  Marco's?  GET IN MAH FACE.

2. Laying out

I hear you: skin cancer, radiation, you're-of-irish-descent-and-can't-tan, etc.  Except no, I can't hear you over my Pandora 90s station, sorry.  I had one summer where I spent enough time in the sun and had the right combination of sunscreen-moderated exposure, unscreened-exposure and nonexposure to achieve a tan, but otherwise I don't spend enough time outside to really tan anyway.  My spirituality friends talk about balance of elements and how important a healthy amount of exposure to the sun is for gaining energy and whatnot...while I don't necessarily subscribe to those beliefs, I do feel good after a little time relaxing in the sun.  That feeling could be biological or sociological in nature (probably a combination of both).  In any event, I love the feeling of laying down, listening to music or chatting with a friend and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.  It's like a massage from God.  Speaking of which...

3. Pedicures/Massages at my local day spa

I have tried manicures before, have even done acrylics twice, but they never last longer than a week because I play and type too aggressively.  So all of my nail-related pampering has to go to my feet.  I try to be frugal, so I don't go to high-end spas or massage therapists...but I also don't want my cuticles cut all the way up to my ankle or my shoulder knots treated with all the finesse of a toddler making Play-Doh pancakes, so I don't go to the cheap places either.  There's a middle-of-the-road place right near my house that does a decent job of both.  Yeah, the massages and their attendant "aromatherapy" are probably placebos and the sugar scrub isn't really doing that much to my skin besides scratching it, but the employees bring me hot tea and I can pretend I'm a pop star.  I am winning at segues today because...

4. Pop music

I have had BIG FEELINGS about this ever since undergrad.  For the most part, the professional musicians I have worked with are comfortable with a wide range of musical genres.  The woman with a doctorate in piano performance enjoys bluegrass too.  The man with a doctorate in music history can give you all the knowledge about the Notre Dame school as well as the Beatles.  But every once and again, I meet some pompous blowhard who wants to roll their eyes at my ringtone ("Beautiful Life" by Ace of Base.)  Liking the new Demi Lovato song does not undo my accomplishments.  I can rock out to the "Deadpool Rap" and then perform pitch class analysis on the Macedonian folk song my Cantique girls are singing.  Even within the scope of vernacular music, my tastes are pretty vanilla.  Sorry, friends who are into shoegazer indie, jazz-funk fusion, minimalist rock...I'm struggling to stay awake and wishing this was *NSync.

5. YouTube

I have a few YouTube subscriptions that are friends of mine.  But for the most part, I subscribe to at least one channel in each of the major YouTube categories, including gaming, comedy, music and vloggers.  I will happily watch Markiplier fail at Happy Wheels and scream about it or Jenna Marbles tell me what she thinks about during bubble baths because it's funny.  Makeup videos are interesting because I can see what all those ridiculously expensive things they sell at Sephora look like when used and because I just like to look at pretty things.  I get a little flak from a small number of people over this, and let's just say this small number of people come from a demographic with which I often have to agree-to-disagree.

6. Looking at sports

I say "looking at" rather than "watching" because I cannot be bothered to learn enough about the sports beyond what actions result in points.  As one of my former students put it, "Get the thing to the other side of the thing!"  I rarely watch an entire game, but I like seeing strong, skilled people do athletic things, especially if running is involved.  In 2014, when the US made it to the knockout stage in the FIFA World Cup (had to Google/Wikipedia that information, as all I could remember offhand was that it was fairly recent and we were good at soccer for a minute), I would put the soccer games on TV and run on my treadmill while watching the game.  There's a psychological component, I guess..."If I keep running, the man on TV will keep running and maybe score a goal!"  It was perfect because any given sporting event will hold my attention for between 30 minutes and an hour and that's how long I was running.  These days, I usually look at sports while eating and at food (via the Food Network TV at Planet Fitness) while exercising.  Life is weird.

Are there areas of your own life in which you are unabashedly basic?  Sound off in the comments here or on the Facebook link I'm going to post as soon as I finish composing this sentence!

First Worldiest Problem: In ABD Limbo

So I finished coursework for my doctorate last summer.  During the fall, I was still caught up in studying for the second sitting of my history prelim, then for my orals, then in trying to spit out the first draft of my proposal.  Even though I wasn't in a regularly-meeting class anymore, I still had daily tasks and roughly regular goals to meet.

But now.

I feel like I was strapped to a rocket (enrolling at UGA for the first time), got lit up and shot into the sky (getting my Master's), endured bone-crushing g-forces and face-melting heat (getting through comps) and now I have escaped the atmosphere, my rocket has burned out and I am just floating around in space.  Just be lookin' at satellites 'n junk.  My major professor is fantastic - he's been attentive, responsive and helpful.  But every dissertation is different, and while there are certain procedural steps that happen in a certain order, there's no template to follow, and no set timeline to adhere to except the 5-year deadline for completion.  He can't tell me exactly what to write because (1) he done writ his dissertation and (2) neither one of us really knows the final shape of this thing yet.  It's going to take some poking around by both of us, like we're trying to map out trails on a previously unmapped patch of forest.  I'm running around with my compass, checking out every possible route and he's behind me, occasionally pointing out better routes or telling me not to touch the poison ivy.

That metaphor is a bit labored, but I stand by it.

When I passed orals, he warned me that some students "want to play hurry-up" and end up with submissions that don't pass, which wastes everyone's time and the student's tuition money.  I'm guessing he (rightly) saw that tendency in me.  There are still some questions we have to address before I can submit another revision...I mean, I guess I could submit another revision anyway, but I know some problems or holes would still be there.  But the forces in me that want to do things as correctly as possible, to follow procedure and cultural expectations, to make a good impression on my major professor...these are, for the time being, managing to override the part of me that wants to check things off my to-do list (dishes, laundry, terminal degree).  I'm only about 4 months into my ABD status, but the fear of missing that 5-year deadline is already starting to creep up.  If that happens, I have to re-take comps and do all of this all over again.  Some of my committee members have thrown the word "retire" around, so if I had to re-do this, it might be with a whole different Doc Squad.  These dudes are like a hyper-intelligent, hyper-talented set of favorite uncles and I am NOT interested in replacing them.

There was a time when this whole process felt like a vague future supposition, the way your kindergarten self said you were going to be a cop, singer and dinosaur when you grew up.  In undergrad, I would talk about getting a doctorate with about the same level of commitment...I figured I probably could do it, but couldn't really see that far into the future over the immediacy of trying to memorize Dr. J's 10 Characteristics of Impressionism or not accidentally belch while trying to support the tone during one of Dr. R's voice lessons.  Now I am actually here and it is the weirdest, most wonderful thing.  I am equal parts gratified by the feeling of accomplishment in having made it to this point and PETRIFIED about the possibility of not making it any farther.  Of blowing the game-winning touchdown.  Of suffering a laryngeal spasm during the "money note" of the finale.  Of suffering a power outage during the final boss.

Of having to take that history prelim a third time.  I may just throw myself off the roof of the Hugh if that happens.

Much Ado about The Mundane II: 30 Eve Edition

I wrote the first Much Ado about The Mundane from a different place in my life.  I was still in my first teaching job (holla, Heritage Crusaders!), I was toying around with fitness but hadn't quite found my thing yet, and was somewhere in the vicinity of either still waiting on or having just gotten confirmation that a new employment opportunity I sorely wanted was not going to happen.  I've been watching a lot of YouTube morning routine videos lately and felt both an inclination to make one myself and a more pragmatic realization that in video form, it will be interesting to exactly zero people.  When a famous YouTuber does it, the fanbase gets to watch the YouTuber do normal people things and listen to their funny narration.  But my "audience" watches me do normal people things (or, what passes for normal in my universe) all the time, so the best I can do is the narration.  Which is much more easily accomplished on the blog.  Therefore, I give you the sequel to Much Ado about The Mundane.

Morning Routine, 2016 Edition
1. Begin stirring awake about 15 minutes before your alarm is set to go off because between teaching, helping with Saturday rehearsals/events/whatevers and church on Sundays, you now get a wake-up call from nature.
2. Do not spend this extra time starting your morning activities earlier to build in margin.  Browse BuzzFeed instead.
3. When your alarm does sound ("Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke), get mad because it interrupted your quiz that will tell you which Django Unchained character is your spirit animal.
4. Stagger toward the kitchen to get your cup of coffee.  If you or someone else in your household remembered to pre-set the coffee so that it's already going, today will be a good day.  If not, fires will be set and heads will roll and wi-fi networks will give the little exclamation point that means "limited access."  If you thought those were not equally distressing scenarios then YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, MAN.
5. Take your cup of coffee and set it on the edge of your bathtub and start the shower.
**Sidebar: let me speak for a moment to the magic of Shower Coffee.  When you're trying to wake up with just a shower, the warm water makes you sleepier...until you step out of the bathroom and get that shock of cold air from the hallway, which at 6:15 AM feels like knives.  When you're trying to wake up with just coffee, the juxtaposition of the warm coffee in your tummy and the less warm environment gives you jitters and shivers.  But put the two together, sipping your coffee as you shower, and you leave that shower warmed up, alert and certain that today, you'll only say unkind words when the other drivers really deserve it.**
6. While the shower water warms up, make your apparel adjustments and spray your hair with dry shampoo for the fifth straight day because the powdered-wig look is the pinnacle of sexy.  Twist that irresistible mane up in a clip, slide your shower cap over it and go test the water.
7. OMG STILL COLD.  Twist the cold knob back a little.
8. IS THIS COMING FROM MY FREEZER?  Twist the cold knob back a little.
9. THIS IS APPROACHING ABSOLUTE ZERO.  Twist the cold knob back a little.
10. I JUST SCALDED THE SKIN OFF MY FINGERS.  Tap the cold knob from the other direction as though you're trying to get its attention.  The water is now the appropriate temperature.
11. Wash what needs washing, pausing periodically for Moments of Appreciation.  The scent of your soap, a sip of Shower Coffee, the lines of tile grout up toward the top of the shower that aren't yellow...these are things to savor.
12. Finish up, dry off, dress, and consider cooking yourself breakfast.
13. LOL, JK, inhale a chocolate-chip protein bar.
14. Put on your makeup, mugging and talking to your mirror like you're a beauty guru using Sephora's finest rather than whatever you could find at the Publix when you were out getting hummus and tampons.
15. Brush your teeth, gather your 80 billion things because you decided to stop carrying around giant purses that just accumulate straw wrappers and old receipts, and tune your car radio to The Bert Show as you head to work.

Attacking the To-Do List
1. Make the To-Do List on your official To-Do Clipboard as you go through your morning classes/rehearsals.
2. Once planning time arrives and it's time to cross things off that list, discover that you or your student leaders have already completed one of the things.
3. Reward yourself by spending 30 minutes playing the accompaniment to whichever piece you're currently teaching that you like the best.
4. Or finding a karaoke track to the big showstopper from the musical you're helping teach, mess with it in Audacity to make it a key amenable to Alto IIs and perform it to your empty chairs.  Dealer's choice there.
5. Realize that you just frittered away half your planning time.  Now you must PRIORITIZE.
6. Apply numbers to your list in order of their due dates.  1 will be the thing that needs to be ready in half an hour, 2 is the thing that needs to be done by the end of the day, etc.
7. Hastily and haphazardly work on the things that have to happen today.
8. Amend the definition of "things that have to happen today."
9. Realize that, under your new definition, you only have one thing left for today.
10. Make a student do it.
11. Reward yourself for delegating and for providing additional leadership opportunities to your indentured servant advanced student by getting a bag of Doritos from the vending machine.
12. Give a Dorito to the student.
13. LOL JK you bulldozed through them in record time.  You should have Vined that.

Checking Your Teacher Mail
1. Consider whether checking your teacher mail is really necessary because it's, like, all the way over there at the office.
2. Consider making a student do it.
3. Realize that sometimes you get things in your mailbox like IEPs or disciplinary stuff that your student can't have access to, so the student can't do it.
4. GROAN SIGH WHINE KICK THE PODIUM
5. Begin to make the journey to the office.
6. Get distracted by the super fun music coming from your friend's classroom.
7. Refocus, continue making your way to the office.
8. Fix your posture and smile winningly when you cross paths with someone higher on the totem pole than you.
9. Get distracted by the fact that another teacher posted your concert dates on his door.  Like, almost weep for joy openly right there in the middle of the hallway.
10. Make it to the office, only to be stopped by the office lady (we all have one) who reminds you about the 7 or 8 things you're required to do that you haven't done yet.
11. Do not argue with the office lady because you know in your heart that her job trumps yours in stress and complexity, largely because part of it is babysitting you.
12. Arrive at your mailbox to find it empty.
13. Make the "no mail is good mail" joke for the 100th day in a row because it is COMEDY GOLD.
14. Drop by the teacher workroom on the way back to see if anybody brought donuts.
15. Nobody brought donuts.  Grab some sugar packets to down in front of the kids in order to disgust and amuse them.

Welp, I made myself laugh.  Mission accomplished!