From The Influence List to Fractals to Nihilism

Recently, while downsizing some of my belongings and memory items collected over the past 10+ years, I came across the program from my high school graduation. The 17 students who participated in the ceremony each had two pages in the program: one for a brief auto-biography and one for a submission from one's parents. As a high schooler, I believed strongly in what I called "The Influence List." It was originally a book idea and I had started some preliminary work on the project at one point. The basic premise was this: everyone and everything has an influence on your life, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. It's like an interpersonal version of the butterfly effect, where a small change across the globe can have a significant effect on local weather. The brief auto-biography I submitted for my high school graduation program was a miniature verstion of "The Influence List."

I took a moment to pause and read this page...

I highlighted the particularly salient influences of an algebra professor at Penn State York, HOBY Leadership Seminar, a Bible class at Lancaster Bible Colleg, a Spanish class at Harrisburg Area Community College York, and everyone and everything: "In addition to the people, programs, and classes mentioned above, I also value everyone I've ever known and everything I've ever done because each person and thing I've experienced has influenced me in some way or become a part of who I am today. I honestly feel that everyone I know has made me who I am. Whether I have known you for basically forever or only for a moment, I appreciate you for what you have shown me, taught me, or made me understand."

...and I was struck by the fact that this specific area of my personal philosophy has shifted quite a bit, but I'm jumping ahead.

Toward the end of my first year of college, I dated a guy who was really into fractals. He liked them for the math and science side of them and I grew to like them for the aesthetic aspect. I also liked them because fractals are everywhere. Lightning bolts, rivers and deltas, trees and ferns, and our circulatory and nervous systems. Everywhere. I took this piece of information and added it to the memory network where "The Influence List" was stored and created a new belief: not only did everyone and everything have influence, everything was connected. Fractals remained an interest; I later purchased the book, Design in Nature, which proposes a new principle of physics to better-explain fractals; in early 2015, I got a circle fractal as my first tattoo; and at some point during summer 2016, I explained my fractal tattoo to a friend as being representative of my spiritual belief that everything is connected.

In January, I went to see the new Resident Evil movie. The combination of the closing scene plus situational stressors at the time prompted a bit of an existential crisis for me. I drove home with a dark cloud of thought: nothing matters, nothing matters, nothing matters. As I neared home, I broke through the other side of that cloud: nothing matters and that's good because the only things that matter are the things that I choose to matter. The situational stressors became insignificant. The only things that matter are what I make matter.

Two months later, during a bike ride, I was thinking about upcoming life changes and opportunities in light of recent let downs and frustrations. I decided that no one's opinion matters but my own and I can do what I want and create my own happiness. I also decided that life could be going poorly and I could use the fact that nothing matters to create a positive emotion and, conversely, that life could be going well and there would be no pressure to be 100% happy 100% of the time. Only I am master of my fate and emotions. There is always choice and it is always mine.

Wikipedia defines nihilism  as "a philosophical doctrine that suggests the lack of belief in one or more reputedly meaningful aspects of life; most commonly, nihilism is presented in the form of existential nihilism, which argues that is life without objective meaning, purpose, or intrinsic value."

Life is without objective meaning. Nothing matters except for what I choose to make matter.
Life is without objective purpose. Nothing matters except for what I choose to make matter.
Life is without intrinsic value. If we take "life" to mean the day to day experience of living: nothing matters except for what I choose to make matter. If we take "life" to mean human life, that is where I am not a nihilist.

Wikipedia defines existential humanism as, broadly, the human struggle for self-knowledge and self-responsibility. Kierkegaard says that the best use of our choice "is to live a fully human life rooted in a personal search for values rather than an external code. Nothing matters except for what I choose to make matter. Sartre says that value is self-created. Nothing matters except for what I choose to make matter.

My beliefs around "The Influence List" and fractals still remain, but they are now expanded MY the belief that these things only matter to me because I choose to make them matter. That's the crux of it: CHOICE. Maybe choice is what is fully human, maybe choice is what gives us soul; what allows us to influence and be influenced by others, to see connections in nature, and to create meaning in our own lives. 

Ironman 70.3 Augusta Race Report

HIGHLIGHTS

Water temperature of 78 degrees...no wetsuit!
First river swim!
Longest no-wetsuit open water swim!
First armadillo sighting!
First catfish farm sighting!
Successfully drank enough water on bike!
Broke the ultimate rule of race day...twice!
Longest run ever!
First half marathon!
Discovered an allergy!
Made fun of tired volunteers! 
FIRST HALF IRONMAN! 



Last Training Block (4 weeks)

2 Weeks Overreach

For overreach, I had little to no idea of what I was doing or how I would feel. I was told it would be fatiguing, obviously, but figuring out how much fatigue was too much fatigue was one giant experiment. I decided to stick to the training plan and back off if needed. I did skip one day of lifting sometime during overreach and replaced jump squats with regular squats to reduce impact on my knees. 

On September 10th, the last day of overreach, I was scheduled to do a long brick (35-40 mile bike and 7-8 mile run). I made plans to do this workout in a different county, since I had ridden pretty much every road I wanted to ride in my home county over the past few months. I met up with a cycling buddy for a beautiful 35 miles ride and planned to run at least 7 miles afterwards. I bonked really, really hard on the run and ended up getting in about 5.5 miles before calling it quits, knowing I did not want to go into my two weeks of taper over-fatigued. Lessons learned from this tough brick were that I needed better sleep the night before, needed to hydrate more on the bike, needed to eat more before the bike and during the bike, and that I needed to train more for running in high temperatures. 

2 Weeks Taper

Taper was also an experiment. I was told that "things would come together during taper." After an active recovery day on September 11th with some pretty significant fatigue and frustration from the tough brick the day before, I felt pretty good on week one of taper and stuck to the training plan. During a short brick on September 17th, I had some shortness of breath, which I attributed to damp air. During week two of taper, I felt terrible. I felt fatigued and grumpy and also had shortness of breath and high heart rate during cardio workouts that week. PMS is a cruel mistress, my friends. I also suspect that my body may have preferred a shorter taper block, but who knows. I think it was a combination of work stress, life stress, PMS, immune release following a deep tissue massage, and cardio withdrawal. During this time, I read an article about the mental exhaustion of taper and found it to be very true. Doubts start to creep in because, if you're not ready, it's too late. I slept a lot, stuck to the training plan, began increasing my calorie intake on Thursday, prepped pasta for carb-loading, packed on Thursday evening, went to bed early on Friday, and woke up early on Saturday to travel to Georgia. 

Pre-race Saturday

I left home around 4:45am and arrived in Augusta shortly before 9:00am. I was grumpy and crampy. Mom and dad arrived shortly after and we went together to a very well-organized and busy athlete check-in. Ironman 70.3 Augusta is one of the largest, if not the largest Ironman 70.3 races in the world; capped at 3500 participants. We attended mandatory athlete briefing at 10:00am and then drove a few miles down the road to the transition area. I met up with some triathlete friends from Tennessee before going for a short warm-up ride around town. Still dealing with grumpy-cramps, I instantly felt better as soon as I clipped in and started pedaling. I rode for about 30 minutes and maintained a low heartrate. I returned to the transition area, left my bike on its designated rack space, and walked through transition to get a sense of my rack location for swim-bike and bike-run transitions. I let air out of my tires in anticipation of temperature change throughout the rest of the day. Someone who raced Ironman Chattanooga the same day said he heard a lot of tires popping on Saturday due to the high temperature. After bike check-in, we returned to the hotel and met up with my friends from Tennessee who had traveled to spectate and went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. Then it was back to the hotel to repack for race day and go to bed early. The sofa bed had a hole at the foot of it, so I warned mom that I would move to their bed if I fell through the mattress frame during the night. I slept peacefully without incident. 

Race Day

I woke up around 4:15am, packed some breakfast (2 hard boiled eggs and a bagel), and left with mom and dad around 5:00am. We parked near transition so that I could go in for body marking and transition set-up. A volunteer wrote my race number on both of my arms and my age on my left calf, which mom said looked more like 85 than 25. I thought it looked like 05. I set up my transition area and double checked my supplies, mentally picturing T1 and T2. The official announcement was made that the water temperature in the Savannah River was a toasty 78 degrees, so no wetsuits. I ate my two eggs and we walked back to the car to find parking closer to the swim start. I released some tension from feeling overwhelmed by crying for a few minutes and ate my bagel. We parked near swim start and had a nice restroom and coffee provided by St. Paul's Episcopal Church. The first racers were in the water at 7:30am and I had an hour and fourteen minutes to wait before my wave began. I stretched, went to the restroom, changed my tampon, and got in line with my wave at 8:30am. 

Swim

My wave started at 8:44am. I got to the front of the line so that I could go to the end of the dock toward the center of the river and left-most side of the swim area, in order to be in the strongest current area. Walking across the slippery floating dock was scarier than the swim itself, other than the bundles of prickly seaweed that whacked me in the face and draped across my throat and threatened to choke me. I saw a few leaves that looked like fishes. Or maybe they were fishes. I got water in my nose once, which has happened during a few recent open water swims. Afterwards, it takes me a few breaths to get back into rhythm. I stuck to my alternating breathing pattern and did not work too hard. Thanks, current! At one point, I saw a pair of face-up floating feet looking very dead and was quite startled until I realized she was doing a lazy backstroke. So, thanks, lady, for giving me a small heart attack. I went to the left of one channel buoy in order to avoid hitting it head-on. Swim exits are probably my least favorite part of open water swims, second only to anxious thoughts about vicious aquatic creatures. The last few meters feel the slowest and continuing to swim while not knowing how shallow it will become or how quickly is very disorienting. I made it out, there were no strippers because there were no wetsuits, and I saw mom and dad at swim exit.

Time: 32:54

Pace: 1:42/m

Division rank: 39

T1

After a long jog to my bicycle, I greeted Leo Lady by calling her "beautiful bicycle." My transition neighbor thought I meant her bicycle and I did not correct her. I put gels, bloks, and a tampon in my pocket and picked up my bagels with peanut butter to put in my other pocket. An ant colony had set up camp in one of the bagel baggies, so I left that one and took the other. I ate a handful of trail mix and grabbed my bike off the rack. 

Time: 5:52

Bike

I saw my parents on bike out and settled in to take it easy for the first portion before any climbing.During the first few miles, I saw my first armadillo roadkill. I learned that I had never learned where armadillos live naturally. I felt good and stable and kept a nice pace and a low RPE for the first 15 or so miles and continued feeling good through mile 30 or so. It was neat to be a part of a group of thousands of cyclists with 6 bike-lengths between. Cyclists as far as the eye could see; the biggest non-drafting group ride ever. The rid was well-supported by volunteers and law enforcement officers, which made the miles fun. I saw one "wreck" during a climb: a woman laying in the lane with two others stopped to help. I suspect either poor gearing and/or overlapped wheels. I saw a catfish farm at one point. And I leapfrogged a nice gentleman named Todd a few times. I would catch him on climbs and he would catch me on descents. At aid station 1, I threw away my empty water bottle and grabbed a new water bottle while riding. At aid station 2, I stopped for a moment and grabbed a citrus gel, a new water, and a bottle of Gatorade Endurance. I had been training with regular Gatorade, but not the endurance formula, so I broke the ultimate rule of racing by trying something new. It worked out fine. Around mile 35, my feet started burning really bad. I have either gotten taller and/or my posture has changed since I've started lifting and I need to invest in a full bike fit in the near-future. I considered stopping to stretch and was given encouragement by a guy with a fancy bike said "I know" when I told him my feet were burning. I figured if fancy-bike-guy's feet are also burning and he's continuing on, so can I. I decided to stop at aid station 3 to stretch and have a potty/tampon break. I ate my bagel before aid station 3 and that helped, as well. At aid station 3, I racked my bike, peed and changed my tampon, stretched for a few minutes, refreshed my water and dumped one bottle on my head and face, and picked up a pack of citrus bloks. I biked the rest of the way feeling pretty good, passed Todd one last time at bike in, and saw my parents again. 

Time: 3:32:06

Pace: 15.84 mph

Division Rank: 43

T2

I jogged back to my rack spot; racked my bike; and put on fresh socks, my running shoes, my hat, and my race belt. I jogged to a volunteer to get sprayed with sunscreen before heading out. As I ran up to him, my brain said "sunscreen, please," but what came out of my mouth was complete gibberish. He stared at me blankly as I tried again: "I can't even talk. Can I have some sunscreen?" I didn't wait long enough to have him spray my back well and did end up getting some burn during the run. 

Time: 5:38

Run

I saw my parents at run out and was immediately cooking in the direct sun. I planned to run 15 minute intervals and walk 1 minute intervals and rapidly realized this was far too ambitious. I heard a girl say she was doing 4/1 intervals and I decided to do 5/1 intervals after triple-checking my math to make sure I could still finish under my goal of 7:30:00. The first 2-mile stretch of the run was a long straightaway with zero shade. I bonked pretty hard around mile 2.5, stopped to cry for a moment, recommitted to 5/1 intervals, got into a rhythm, and quickly hit 4 miles. I saw mom and dad 3 times during the run, drank water at every aid station and dumped water on my upper body. I ran or walked extra as I was able to or needed to. I peed around mile 5.5 and rejoiced that I was well-hydrated. At some point, I started carrying a cup for ice to keep me cool and for extra hydration between aid stations. I wish I would have taken a bottle with me to carry to maintain more hydration between aid stations. Around mile 8, I hollered to a nearby volunteer if his volunteer-friend who was lounging in the shade was tired. Around mile 10.5, I ate the citrus Clif Shot I had grabbed at an aid station on the bike route and discovered that I was allergic to one of the ingredients. Trying something new during the race worked for me once, but a second time was apparently pushing my luck. It was a mild reaction, just inflammation on the roof of my mouth, which I've had before from certain barbecue sauces. I wouldn't have minded so much if that flavor wasn't SO delicious. I drank some Coke and some Red Bull at some point. Around mile 11.8, I cried as I passed nearby the finish area, feeling surreal pride for my body and willpower. I considered stopping for a second pee break, but only had a short distance remaining. I rand my last 0.5 hard while crying, crossed the finish line, and cry-hugged the volunteer who placed the finisher medal around my neck. 

Time: 3:01:40

Pace: 13:52/mi

Division rank: 43

Overall Time: 7:18:10

Division Rank: 43 out of 59

Gender Rank: 624 out of ???

Overall Rank: 1810 out of 2568

Now What?

Who knows. One thing I do know is that no one warned me about the emotional fall-out following the end of a season. My training plan, workouts, and calorie intake have been a huge priority since February. Mental preparation began even before that, with registering for the race and training for and running a 10k in January. The end of this season has felt like the end of a relationship. 

In the immediate future, I will be racing a Sprint distance triathlon with my mom this upcoming Sunday, which will be her longest triathlon to date, as well as her first open water swim competition. 

I'm mostly recovered and went for a nice ride this morning. I have some lingering pain and tightness in my right ankle, which is likely related to overuse from the race. 

On October 15th, I'll be doing the 40-mile White Squirrel Cycling Classic, which I thought was considered a race, but is not. I may ride it like a race. 

For next year...I'm fairly undecided. I'm open to doing another 70.3, likely Augusta again. I will definitely continue racing Sprint and Olympic distances, probably forever. I would like to upgrade my wheels and get some aero bars. It will soon be time for new running shoes. I've played around with the idea of testing out a cyclocross race here or there. And maybe I'll be totally crazy and do a 144.6 in the next year or two. Who knows. 

Gains and Goals: An Update

Three years and seventeen days after my first triathlon race (09/02/2013), it is time for a physical health and wellness update. I was reading through old posts a month ago and stumbled upon the original physical health and wellness post (09/06/2013), which I re-posted to Facebook because I thought it was hilarious compared to where I am currently.

Three previous blog posts may or may not be referenced throughout this update. These are:
Physical Health and Wellness           09/06/2013
Living Clean                                       12/16/2013
Gains and Goals: The Plan               01/06/2014

In order to review the past three plus years of my physical health and wellness journey, I pieced together a timeline of major milestones and events, which I hope is mostly comprehensive.

May 2012.........................Graduated college; farewell, BC! Began biking to/from work on my mom's old Huffy mountain bike
July 20, 2012....................New bike day! Surly Pacer
August 2012.....................Moved to TN for grad school at ETSU
September 2012................Began participating in local group rides, watched current boyfriend participate in a 70.3 Ironman
November 2012................Started running!
Summer 2013...................Lived in Virginia with current boyfriend and ran/biked maybe four times
August 2013.....................Back to TN for grad school
September 2, 2013............First sprint triathlon: Barberito's Sprint at Warrior's Path
April 2014........................First metric century ride (100 km/62 mi): Jacob Francisco Memorial Century
May 2014..........................First official 5k event: Thirsty Orange; graduated grad school; good riddance, ETSU!
June 6, 2014.....................Moved to beautiful Western NC; geography of my soul
June 9, 2014.....................Started work as a mental health and substance use counselor
Summer 2014...................Kept up some with biking and running, but adjusting to full-time work took a toll
October 2014....................Second official 5k event: Color Me Rad
April 18, 2015..................Second metric century ride: Jacob Francisco Memorial Century
May 25, 2015...................First organized ride with mom and dad: Ride for Hospice (13 miles)
May 29, 2015...................New bike day! DeVinci Leo
June 2015.........................First imperial century ride (100 mi): Fletcher Flyer
August 9, 2015.................First Olympic distance triathlon: Lake Logan
August 15, 2015...............New shoe day!
August 22, 2015...............Registered for Ramseur Lake Olympic triathlon
September 19, 2015.........Second Olympic distance triathlon: Ramseur Lake
October 18, 2015..............Rode to Waterrock Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway
November 1, 2015............Pumpkin Peddler Costume Bike Ride
November 15, 2015..........Ordered a Share the Road custom license plate: RL#5
November 27, 2015..........Ordered a Garmin Forerunner 290xt
January 2016.....................Registered for August 70.3 and other triathlons, first official 10k event: Hot Cocoa 10k
February 2016...................Started the official 70.3 training plan: lift, swim, bike, run
April 10, 2016...................Second organized ride with mom and dad: Gears and Steers (25 miles)
April 16, 2016...................Third metric century ride: Jacob Francisco Memorial Century
June 5, 2016......................Second imperial century ride: Fletcher Flyer
July 24, 2016.....................First triathlon event of the season, with mom! You Go Girl Puroclean mini triathlon (250 yd, 10 mi, 2.5 mi)
August 7, 2016..................Third Olympic distance triathlon: Lake Logan (19 minutes faster than 2015!)
August 27, 2016................Sprinternational distance triathlon: Watauga Lake (1000 m, 35 km, 8 km)

...and here we are, kiddos.

Less than one week to August 70.3 Ironman. Last Saturday, September 10th, was my last major training workout prior to beginning two weeks of taper. That long bike/run brick was really difficult and did not help my confidence very much before going into my taper. I recently read a post about how taper can be just as mentally and emotionally exhausting as heavy load training weeks because now it's all over. There's nothing to do but maintain, rest, and trust your body. There's no cramming for a test here. You're either ready or you're not. There's nothing to do but wait. My pre-test mantras were always "Do your best" and "Go with your gut." Those probably apply here, as well.

Tonight, I re-read over my athlete guide and some advice from triathlon friends. I drafted a weekend schedule (travel, arrive, athlete check-in, athlete briefing, easy warm-up/stretch ride, bike check-in, etc.) and drafted a packing list divided into sections (swim start, transition one, transition two, post-race).

For now, I am sitting with the anticipation for the athletic event. I'm ready. I'll do my best. I can't cram; all I can do is rest, mentally prepare, and eat as much as I can Friday and Saturday. (a not-so-hidden perk of endurance racing: pastaaaaaaaaaa). The anticipation of the chaos of the event (approximately 3500 participants!) is the most stressful part at this point.



Looking ahead, I have a deep tissue massage scheduled for Tuesday after my race.

And, because I'm crazy, I will be "racing" (pacing) a Sprint distance triathlon with my mom on October 1 and participating in my first official road race (40 miles) on October 15.



Hang onto your hats, I've lost my mind.

On Being an Empath

On Being an Empath

According to Google, an empath is: "(chiefly in science fiction) a person with the paranormal ability to apprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual."

To me, an empath simply is a person with an especially strong sense of empathy and emotion in general. I identify as an empath and a number of my friends do as well. Based on what I know about MBTI personality types, empaths tend to score high in the areas of intuition and feeling, as opposed to sensing and thinking, respectively.

For me, being an empath impacts my emotions, relationships, and life in a number of ways. Sentimentality in regards to people, places, and things; emotional investment in work; and emotional sensitivity in relationships. In the past, I have thought of these characteristics as separate personality traits or quirks, but more recently, I have come to conceptualize all of these aspects as falling under the umbrella of my identity as an empath.

Sentimentality for People
I miss people. A lot. I miss people that probably haven't given me a second thought. I miss people who I have known only briefly or met only once, or even only know online through mutual friends. Perhaps missing is not the right word. I believe that everyone has impacted my life in some way and have intended to write extensively on this topic because of it's significance in my life. With this belief, and with my empath personality, I feel a deep emotional connection to everyone I know or have known. This is incredibly clear to me through how I write about my interactions with others and in the vivid memories I have of people, even of the briefest connections. I miss people I knew from my first job, I miss people I knew in high school, I miss people from college, I miss people from grad school, I miss others I have known more briefly, and someday I will miss you too.

Sentimentality for Places
I have multiple places I call home, for different reasons. Each place I identify as home was formative in some way. I feel a tug when I visit these places and I become homesick when I leave them. I was homesick after after a recent visit to where I went to grad school. I became homesick after spending a lot of time thinking about where I grew up. I will become homesick next month. after I visit where I went to college. Places are tied to experiences and experiences are tied to emotions.

Sentimentality for Things
Similar to people and places, things are also tied to experiences, which are tied to emotions. I also carry the hoarder gene, which makes this worse.

Emotional Investment in Work
I believe that empaths are more likely to work in helping professions, such as counseling, nursing, social work, and so on. In helping professions, helpers are likely to take work home with them because of emotional investment in their work. As an empath, this is even more likely. Anyone in a helping profession will tell you about the importance of self-care and preventing burnout. I believe that burnout is even more likely for those who identify as empaths.

Emotional Sensitivity in Relationships
The main trait of an empath is sensing the emotions of others with intensity. For empaths in relationships, this can cause strain because the empath deeply feels his or her partner's emotions and can get stuck in them with his or her partner. You're sad? I'm sad. I'm not only sad that you're sad, I'm also sad because I truly feel that you're sad. Sometimes, both people in a relationship identify as empaths, which makes this process even more continuous. You're sad? I'm sad because you're sad AND I'm sad because I truly feel that you're sad AND now you're more sad because you truly feel that I'm sad. And so forth.



These can be the difficulties of being an empath, but they are also the blessings of it. I am deeply thankful for the people I have known, the places I have been, and the things I have had. I am deeply thankful for the people I know, the places I am, and the things I have. I love my job. I love building connections with clients at my job. I love being invested in clients at my job. And, even though dating an empath can complicate both of our feelings, it also greatly increases our communication skills and overall understanding of one another.



Would I trade being an empath if I could? No.

Would you?

Geography of My Soul

Some of my friends know that my favorite color is more than my favorite color; it is the color of my soul. I am drawn to it in any context - clothing, household items, paint, anything.

Recently, I have discovered the geography of my soul, although it seems this has been knowledge beyond my awareness for quite sometime.





When I was about ten, my family and I vacationed in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. We explored Dollywood, attended The Dixie Stampede, and went horseback riding. After returning home to PA after this trip, I told my mom that I wanted to go to college in that area because of the mountains.

When I was about fifteen, my family and I vacationed in Bayse, Virginia. We hiked, toured the Blue Ridge Parkway, and discovered that Virginia has stations sold beer. Haha. After returning home to PA after this trip, I told my mom that I wanted to go to college in that area because of the mountains.

I did attend college within that second set of mountains, about an hour south of Bayse. That was home for three years.

When looking into graduate schools, I chose a school in a more southern part of that same mountain region and called East Tennessee home for two more years.

Now, having recently moved to western North Carolina for my first job as a working professional, I have realized that I have wandered back to the mountains of Pigeon Forge and that these mountains are the geography of my soul.



During college, surrounded by farmland, I always remembered that I was in the valley. I went for drives often enough to always be reminded of the mountains. I could see the tops of them after a short stroll.

During graduate school, it was much easier to forget about the mountains. There was a less distinct valley and the tops were not noticeable. I really only remembered when I commuted on the highway or biked.



Now, it is impossible to forget. I can see mountains from my house in every direction. I see mountains in every direction no matter where I go.

I felt drawn to these mountains as a child and I was right.

Blending Roles and The Art of Practice

I grew up with roles being defined by the notion of "multiple hats." I had my daughter hat, my sister hat, my student hat, my friend hat, and so on. As I got older, my hat closet expanded. I had my employee hat, my coworker hat, my tutor hat, my roommate hat, my researcher hat, my band member hat. Graduate school has added even more hats. My primary hats now include a counselor hat, an instructor hat, a peer hat, a group leader hat, a friend hat, a supervisor hat, and an interviewer hat.

Last semester, it began to appear that this hat metaphor was lacking. This semester, this realization has become increasingly clear.

Last semester, as I began my clinical internship as a counselor, my counselor role and friend role began to compete. I remember visiting home for a weekend and spending time with one of my best friends. As she told me about an area of personal growth she was working through and she asked for my input, I told her that I was having a weird experience of disconnect, where I knew what my counselor brain would say, but my friend brain was unsure whether or not it agreed with my counselor brain. My friend asked to hear what my counselor brain would say in order to evaluate if it matched with her perception of my friend brain. She said that it did. Maybe my hats were not so separate after all.

Also last semester, I remember a meeting my assistant and I had with one of our residents regarding some expressions of discontent. After the meeting, while my assistant and I were processing, he made a comment that he could imagine that my interaction with this resident was similar to my interactions with my client. I agreed. Maybe my hats were not so separate after all.



There is a concept in social work called "the art of practice" or "the art of social work." What this means to me is that social work programs can teach theory and intervention all day long until professors are blue in the face and students are asleep in their seats, but the ability to be in the room, to be fully present with a client, and to find one's own style of practice simply cannot be taught. In my opinion, this is a major philosophical reason behind the emphasis on internship experience in social work programs. Up until recently, "the art of social work" did not mean much more to me than learning to be comfortable being myself with clients to the extent that it is relevant and therapeutically helpful.



This semester, my hats have begun to blend even more.

Two weeks ago, I was given the opportunity to teach a personal development class. Being close in age to the students in my class (and younger than quite a few) made it feel natural to interact as a peer. This peer hat was in competition with my instructor hat. I had had a similar experience during my first semester of graduate school when some of my supervisees were younger than me, but I had since grown accustomed to emphasizing my supervisor hat over my peer hat. Taking on this instructor role reminded me of this.

Recently, my internship supervisor and I have been talking about the benefits of taking more time to establish rapport before jumping into problem-solving and coping strategies and goal-setting. We have discussed how integrating friend-like conversations into the first few sessions with clients can be extremely beneficial to long-term effectiveness because of having a strong therapeutic alliance. I have since been experimenting with bringing more of my friend hat into the room when I am wearing my counselor hat.



All of my current primary roles are similar in terms of leadership and empathy: counselor, instructor, peer, group leader, friend, supervisor, coworker, and interviewer. The hat metaphor is lacking in that there are no times when I need only one of these roles. There is a great deal of overlap and many recent experiences have warranted a blending of roles, such as instructor (with aspects of peer, counselor, group leader, and friend), counselor (with aspects of friend, peer, interviewer, and instructor), and supervisor (with aspects of counselor, peer, group leader, and friend). There is no one role that does not warrant the use of portions of other roles. The hat metaphor is limiting because it precludes us from this blending. If there is one hat on my head, how can there be room for pieces of other roles? There does not need to be conflict between roles. There is no need to leave certain roles at the door when stepping into a certain other role.



This is the art of practice. This is the art of blending roles. This is the art of blurring the lines between professional self and personal self. This is the art of developing an integrated sense of whole self.



-

Gains and Goals: The Plan

I consider this part three of a blog series about fitness, with the first being Physical Health and Wellness and the second being Living Clean.





Today was my first day of working out in six days. Over my two weeks of Christmas break, I had run a few times and spun once while at home and had run, hiked, and spun while at the beach. All things considered, I took it fairly easy and slept a lot because the last two weeks of the semester had taken a lot out of me and had convinced me that I had mono.

I returned to school four days ago and did not work out due to being on call and feeling obligated to always be available to provide assistance at the drop of a hat. The past four days, I had been feeling fairly subdued, but attributed this to the cold weather, being on call, and transitioning to being back at school. In regards to living clean, I bought a great deal of fresh fruit, yogurt, and eggs three days ago and have been subsisting off of smoothies, hard boiled eggs, cheese, lettuce, and chocolate milk. Again, being a picky eater serves me well in that I am entirely satisfied with a diet of little variety. Also three days ago, I did eat a few cookies at game night, but did not binge-snack nearly as much as I had previously. I reinforced this thought with the thought to only eat the junk food that I pay for. I believe that framing this in a financial way will support the commitment. And, since I don't buy junk food, the commitment should be upheld.

Today, prior to going to the gym, I wrote out a draft weekly workout schedule, with 1-2 long bike rides, 1 swim, 1 yoga class, 2 runs, maybe 1 spin class, and 1 rest day; in addition to floor (sit-ups, lifting, etc.) every day.

Today, I went to the gym and rode the stationary bike for an hour, which was seventeen miles. As I sat on the bike, listening to Ratatat and Deadmau5, in the zone, and considering doing a brick and running after spinning, I had the following thought:

Two years ago, I did nearly nothing physical and now here I am spinning and planning to run a mile after an hour of biking, after having made a weekly workout schedule with one rest day. What has happened to me??!

The short answer is that I've become awesome. I mean...

No, honestly, I don't really have an answer. All I know is that life is great. Cardio is my drug of choice, in addition to my newest obsession of smoothies.

After I got home from the gym, I ate right away (lettuce, eggs, and cheese! and chocolate milk!) to counteract my blood sugar crash and showered later. As I listened to electro-swing on Pandora, dried my hair, and danced around my apartment, I was again reminded that my subdued mood was not due to the reasons listed above. Instead, as I very well should have known, I was missing my cardio high.



So, kids, here's the plan:

Sunday: Yoga and floor
Monday: Spin class OR long bike ride with the group and floor
Tuesday: Run and floor
Wednesday: Rest and floor
Thursday: Swim and floor
Friday: Run and floor
Saturday: Long bike ride with friends and floor

Listen to electro-swing every day.

Eat well.

Live clean.

Living Clean

From Holy Spokes! by Rob Coppolillo:

STAYING FIT

So you did your first race - congrats! Well, did you like it? I trust you survived with all your limbs

in tact and you got a good night's rest after the race. Ready for another one, maybe in a week or

a month, or two?

Chances are you'll want to improve a bit, so start riding more and getting comfortable with the

speed and physical demands. Bike racing asks a lot of your bod, so you'll need to be focused on

your diet, staying hydrated, and sleeping well (seven to nine hours a night) consistently - not just

the night before your races.

Competition develops great habits that will follow you through life. If you're paying attention, it

teaches you a bunch about your body, mind, and self. To get the most out of your racing, you'll

need to eat wholesome, clean food. You can still indulge once in a while (or a few times a week if

you're a weakling like me!), but in general, you need lean proteins like salmon and chicken, healthy

fats like olive oil, and complex carbohydrates like brown rice and whole-grain breads. Combine

those with some training, be in bed by 10pm, and you're good to go.

_______________________________________________________________________________

I read this while I was home for Thanksgiving. On the seven-hour drive back to school, which ended

up being a ten-hour trip due to stopping for dinner and driving with heavy traffic, I reflected upon

this portion of Holy Spokes! in relation to my own journey to better health and fitness.

I thought about my first event, a sprint triathlon on September 2, and how nothing has ever tasted as

good as that fruit did after I crossed the finish line and settled my heart rate. I thought about my second

event, a bookend duathlon (run-bike-run) on November 10, and how I binged on bananas after the

second 5k run made me question every ounce of willpower I had. I thought about friends of mine who

have had similar recent journeys: religiously commuting to work via bike, entering the world of cyclocross,

going to spin classes, going for walks.

I thought about my own personal progress of struggling to bike a mile and a half and giving up after

three blocks of running to being able to bike 28 miles with a 15mph average and run 3 miles with an

11-minute mile average. I thought about where I continue to struggle. I thought about additional areas

for improvement, especially in light of the book excerpt above.

As I thought about all of this during my ten-hour trip, I experienced a significant cognitive shift. It was

so significant that I could feel it throughout my body.

I need to live clean in more areas of my life.

No more soda. Minimal sugar. Only enough wheat products to keep my love of pasta and bread satisfied.

Sleeping well. Eating fresh. Daily workouts. More water. More fruit. More of what is good for me.

I got back to school, went to the grocery store the very next day, and did incredibly well for a few days.

That weekend, I realized a significant area of struggle for me continues to be willpower. Living alone and

being responsible for purchasing all of my food allows me to eliminate junk food and most sources of sugar

from my diet through simple avoidance. The struggle arises when I am in other environments (friend's

homes, office, etc.) where junk food is available and offered. This is where my willpower fails.

And herein lies my new goal: to bolster my willpower in order to resist junk food in any environment.

I'm proud of my gains. I'm proud of how I feel.

I want to make more gains and feel more proud. I want to continue to feel better and feel more proud.

In addition to increasing willpower, living clean will incorporate other aspects, such as taking more time for

me to become better. Less Reddit, more reading. Less drama, more quality time with quality friends. Less

television, more art.

Fewer excuses, more commitment.

For me, health and fitness is not about getting skinny or going further. It used to be and a part of it still is,

but this mindset has only gotten me so far. I believe that my recent wall in regards to running is largely

related to impatience, which I believe stems from this mindset.

I simply want to be better, in all ways.

To paraphrase Holy Spokes!:

To get the most out of life, LIVE CLEAN.

In the future, I will write about how I want everyone to be better.

In Memoriam

While visiting my alma mater a few weekends ago for Homecoming, I visited the library, as I had spent 4-6 hours per week there as a circulation desk assistant through my student work study program. While visiting with one of the full-time staff members, she told me that another full-time staff member had passed away over the summer. He was diagnosed with cancer in April and died in June. We reminisced that he was not a fighter.

Last weekend, I was reading through old blogs to review unresolved topics and I found a post that mentioned him and the positive impact he had on me during my college career. And so, this blog is my memorial to him.

------------------------------------

When I was first hired to work at the library, I chose to work two nights per week so that my job would not interrupt my days and I would be able to utilize this time to complete assignments for the following days. My supervisor would be the reference librarian, RT, as he worked the evening shift. I was warned by a coworker that he was "somewhat difficult to get along with" and so I entered my job with this preconception in mind. Other students told me that they found RT intimidating, thought he was always grumpy, and so on. I quickly learned that these preconceptions were misconceptions.

When taking a smoke break, he would tell me that I was in charge in a playful tone, sometimes adding a comment about not letting the kids get rowdy.

On the rare occasion I went into the library when I was not working, he would smile and wave to me from across the large sitting area.

He would sometimes find me writing on this very site during my shift and we would talk about my chosen topic.

Other students who also knew the real RT would agree with me about his sweet nature and vast knowledge for the world of reference librarian-ing.

During one of my shifts during the next to last week of the Fall semester of my senior year, he found me making a variety of origami creations. This interaction struck me so much that I wrote about it in a blog that I published on December 6, 2011. That semester was particularly difficult for me. My emotionally abusive fiance-at-the-time was so controlling to the point that I believed that I hated my roommates, I discovered that he was a pathological liar in October, I had to work to rebuild friendships that had been damaged due to this unhealthy relationship, and I was taking 21.5 credits. In my post from December 6, 2011, I wrote about learning to be able to establish genuine empathic connections with others without being exploited (as had occurred with my ex-fiance). Two particular interactions on the same day (December 5, 2011) had prompted this lesson, the second of which was with RT, as mentioned above. I was making origami creations (modular boxes, kangaroos, elephants, and so on) and RT came to tell me that he was going outside for a smoke break. He commented on my origami and told me a story about a previous student worker who made hundreds of tiny paper cranes and placed them throughout the library as he re-shelved books. RT said that he probably still had at least one somewhere in his desk and that he liked mine before going outside. While he was outside, I finished making another one (I forget what it was), which I gave to him to keep after he came back inside. He smiled the biggest smile I had ever seen from him. My heart swelled. After that interaction, in addition to another interaction earlier that same day, I realized that I was still capable of establishing genuine empathic connections with others without being exploited.

RT was such an important part of my college career that I wrote him a thank you card when I graduated the following May. I told him that I enjoyed the brief conversations we had had over those three years and that I appreciated the connection we had, evidenced by brief interactions like smiling and waving from across the large sitting area.

------------------------------------

What breaks my heart and makes me elated at the same time is that my origami creation and my thank you card were found in his desk when it was cleaned out after he passed away.

RT, you already know that you meant a lot to me, but I wish I could tell you again.

Long Distance Relationships

I met my first serious boyfriend in late January of my first year of college. He was the cousin of a friend of mine from back home, so we struck up a conversation via Facebook, then email, and later texting and calling. We met for the first time when I went home for Spring Break in March and spent time together again in April when I went home for Easter. I went home for a day and a half in May after finals, before taking him along to attend Commencement. I remember he slept most of the way there and back. I was home for the summer. I worked a lot and later helped my parents move into a much smaller home. He and I did not see each other much over the summer. He and I did not talk much over the summer. We went to Ocean City for a night with some friends, but that was too chaotic for my then strict planner-personality. My last hurrah of the summer was a local music festival and that was the tipping point for some reason. I remember laying awake at my friend's house thinking about how tired I was from the relationship. I broke up with him a few days later before returning to school. I called, he didn't answer, and I left a message. I emailed him with more specific thoughts. His first reply was in-depth and meaningful. His last reply was one sentence of incoherent nonsense.

I met my fiancé in May during the summer between my second and third (and last) years of college. I worked a lot at the same convenience store job and he was a regular customer. We dated over the summer and became engaged at some point in time. I returned to school in August and he visited probably more than every other weekend. The truth came out over Homecoming weekend in October and it was over.

I met my most recent boyfriend in April of my last year of college. My car's battery had died and AAA recommended getting it fully recharged at Advance Auto Parts. It took him longer than it should have to uninstall my battery and we discovered that we both attended the same college. I later realized that he visited my freshman residence hall frequently to visit his girlfriend at the time. We had our first date three days later. We were exclusive about a month later. In May, I returned home for another summer and I visited him occasionally. He built me a bike. I spent the last weekend in July with him before moving even further away for graduate school. I visited him about once a month and we spent Christmas break together in bed with the most terrible fevers you can imagine. I lived with him the following summer and we both worked too much and exercised too little. We went to Bonnaroo. I returned to graduate school in early August and he visited shortly after, following a huge fight. I reached a tipping point, prompted by the realization that I was happier being back at school than I had been, on average, all summer. We broke up.



I've spent the past two and a half months in a great deal of self-reflection about relationships: my patterns, what I've experienced, what I want, and so on. I have no conclusive answers. One aspect of patterns that I have noticed is that the significant majority of my intimate relationship experience occurred within three different long distance relationships. With my first boyfriend, we started as a LDR and ended up being emotionally further apart when I lived locally. With my fiancé, we started as local and then transitioned to a LDR, which is when the unhealthy enmeshment really started to show its face. And with my most recent boyfriend, we were briefly local and then in a LDR for an entire year before living together for a summer and then going back to a LDR for a short time. Three different timelines, but three relationships that were primarily LD. At this point in time, the only real conclusion I have reached is that I have no idea what I'm doing. What I mean by this is that I have no first-hand archetype or schema for a healthy, local relationship. In fact, I have only bits and pieces of a first-hand archetype for a healthy LDR.

There is only one way to rationalize this panicky feeling of having zero reliable knowledge.

No one knows what they're doing.

There's no archetype. There's no schema. This is a big reason that I am passionately opposed to creating a list of ideal traits to look for in a partner. People don't work that way. People are not simply a list of traits. There is so much more complexity that occurs through the interaction of two or more traits. Even more than that, an objective list of my traits is insufficient in predicting how I may interact with Person A, an introvert, versus Person B, an extrovert. Social interactions are not predictable like those of chemicals. Social interactions are a messy experiment with zero controlled conditions.







That's all for now, kids. I don't have a more uplifting conclusion just yet.

Physical Health and Wellness

Four years to nineteen months too late, I am now prepared to write about the physical health pillar for my undergraduate reflective writing assignment. During college, other than getting enough sleep and maybe eating some fruit every once in a while, I really did not care. I was relatively sedentary, but that worked for me. My diet was not as atrocious as the average college student, I walked a lot on a daily basis, and job-related duties provided some strength workouts. Oh yeah, and there was that one semester of ultimate frisbee for my physical activity credit. Needless to say, writing reflectively about my physical health, my goals for it, and how it had changed during college was a pretty difficult task for me, in spite of my love for reflective writing.

But I'm ready now.

As addressed above, I was not very active during college. Earlier in my life, I had been an active soccer player - from peewee league at age four to the oldest sector of the recreational youth league when I was sixteen. Throughout those years, I also participated in a gym co-op group for homeschoolers, so I played a lot of kickball and capture the flag, as well as other more traditional sports like basketball, soccer, handball, and so on. I also swam in pools over the summers and swam in the ocean almost every other year. Somewhere along the way - probably when I stopped running and started playing only goalie in my soccer league and definitely when I no longer played soccer - I got chubby and fairly out of shape. I grew to hate running and avoided it whenever possible. I tried playing tennis during the summer, but I also grew to hate the heat and I regularly used this as an excuse. I also started to dislike the competitive nature of most physical activity - even though I enjoyed competition in and of itself, I hated losing. Later on, thanks to the job I had during high school and college summers, I gained some muscle from stocking shelves and taking out the trash. I considered myself relatively strong.

Then I began biking. It started as a necessity that I did not take seriously. During the late summer of 2011, I biked to work a few times (on my mom's ill-fitted mountain bike), which was about a 3 mile round trip. A mile and a half in one direction was a struggle. I have always enjoyed biking. I biked a lot on my culdesac when I was much younger (prior to age six) and biked a few times on the local rail trail. I even had every intention of biking during my freshman year of college, but my mountain bike sat outside for eight months and instead died from an irreparable rust infection. Even so, I did not bike more after that.

That is, until the May 2012, immediately after I graduated from college. My boyfriend at the time was super into bikes and training for a Half Ironman and he encouraged me to be active and advised me to start with biking. So, I went back home, dug out my mom's ill-fitted mountain bike, and started riding on a fairly daily basis. I was back at my job working close to thirty hours per week, so I would ride in the mornings before work or ride to and from work. I started with three miles for a few weeks. My mom got worried because I slept all the time, but clearly, my body was not used to this unbearable amount of physical exertion. I started to do four or five miles, then six. Around the end of June, I visited my boyfriend and received the Surly Pacer road bike he had put together for me. I kept riding six miles on a regular basis.

On August 1, I moved for graduate school and began conquering ridiculous hills. I bonked SO many times. I biked eight miles nearly every afternoon and I could clearly remember when a mile and a half seemed impossible. Once classes started, I was fortunately able to keep up with my biking because the first semester of graduate school was incredibly easy. Toward the end of September, I found a weekly group ride to participate in and I did my first twenty mile ride. I was spent. Sometime in October, I got my SPD clipless pedals and shoes to match. Not accustomed to being attached to my bike, I fell on my first few rides with clipless, did one group ride without falling, and then fell a few more times. That, in combination with the increasingly cold weather, I quit biking. I was mad at my bike - she had betrayed me and let me fall. It was less about the falling and more about the feeling of incompetency. I was not a cyclist and I never would be a cyclist.

Over the winter, thanks to some encouragement from those close to me, I spun every once in a while at the gym. And then I started running. I may never understand what possessed me to try to run, but I will always be glad that it did, whatever it was. Sometime during the middle of the previous summer, I had attempted to run and barely made it a quarter of a mile before turning around, feeling extremely discouraged at how unfit I still was. Since then, I have learned that morning runs are not my thing. Anyway, I ran during the winter months, starting with a mile or a little more and sometimes running more than two and almost three. One day, at the gym, I ran a solid three miles on the indoor track. How far I had come!

After getting back into my routine for spring semester, I rejoined the weekly group rides. The first twenty mile ride of that season kicked my butt. How much progress I had lost! Thankfully, it was easily regained, thanks primarily, in my opinion, to the fact that I maintained my cardio health and some of my endurance by running. My boyfriend, still interested in the sport of traithlon in spite of his Half Ironman DNF, encouraged me to consider doing a sprint triathlon. I held it as a theoretical goal, but never really took it seriously. One of my last group rides of the semester was twenty-six miles, my longest bike ride up to that point. Twenty-six miles!

Over the summer, I lost a lot of progress and ran or biked only occasionally. I did some long rides and had some good runs, but was frustrated with the backsliding of progress I experienced.

On August 1, I again moved for graduate school and quickly got back into a routine of running about five times per week and doing some long bike rides with new biking friends. Then my parents visited and my mom showed me this cool booklet she got of activities to do in the surrounding area. Under the section for sports and competitions... under the section for September... there it was...

Sprint Triathlon.

I quickly grabbed my computer and tried to find details about this event - when and where it was, how much it costed, and if I could register. The only information I found was for 2012. Disappointed, I gave up. On August 27, I contacted a woman I knew through the group rides to ask if she knew anything about the event. She pointed me to the event website for the 2013 Sprint Triathlon and I registered immediately.

I registered on August 27. The event was on September 2. A mere six days away. What had I done?

The next day was my first ride of the semester with the weekly group, due to the previous weeks being cancelled due to rain. I was the only female and most likely the youngest. All the boys wanted to do the twenty-eight mile loop, so I tagged along. I struggled through the most incredibly painful foot cramp I had ever had and forced my willpower to not let me bonk on the long, steep hills. It was an excruciatingly taxing ride, but I managed to achieve a 15 mph average pace. I was frustrated and again felt like I would never be a cyclist, but I was also encouraged and felt that I would always cycle. The boys also offered some good advice on preparing for the triathlon, as far as when to rest and when to warm up.

The following day, I went to the gym to estimate how terrible of a swimmer I was. The swim portion of the triathlon was listed as 250 meters, so I swam two sets of 250 meters, the first in five and a half minutes and the second in six minutes. I stayed in the pool for forty-five minutes - getting used to my new goggles and practicing different strokes and breathing rhythms.

On Friday, I was spent, I had been planning to do a short run that evening, but I had wasted far too much of my energy in the pool. I also took Saturday off, although both days were filled with a fair amount of hiking. On Saturday night, I got a sore throat. Now I would have to do my first triathlon sick! On Sunday, I biked for thirty minutes to loosen my muscles in preparation for the following morning. I got my race packet that evening, went to the park where the event would be held, and studied the routes as much as possible. The lake for the swim route looked disgusting, the bike route was hilly, and the running route seemed extremely long.

I will write fully about the experience of triathlon as a whole at a later time, but for now, I just want to talk about the fact that I did it. With the listed distances of a 250 meter swim, an 8 mile bike ride, and a 4 kilometer run, I was estimating my finishing time as an hour an a half without transitions. After the race, the participants discovered that the actual distances were closer to a 400 meter swim, an 8 mile bike ride, and a 5 kilometer run. Including transitions, I finished at an hour and twenty-three minutes (1:23:09, to be exact) - third in my age group and sixty-fifth overall.



And I still remember when biking three miles took me nearly thirty minutes.

Spring 2013 Classes

Internship
Wednesdays and Thursdays 8:00-4:00

I'm getting to do more independent case management (i.e., leading intake sessions with parents) and
am applying practice skills (i.e., clinical questioning and activities like the social network grid) in one
on one settings with the students at the alternative school who I help with college applications and
preparation. I'm going to start applying practice skills (i.e., structure activities) in group settings through
the life skills classes of college/career readiness and social skills.


Seminar
Mondays 1:30-3:30

We talk about our internships and make sure we're meeting our learning objectives. It's usually more
of an unstructured venting session, which I have mixed feelings about. I think students should be able
to have a safe place to vent, but I also think they should be respectful of others' time and patience.
Reflexivity, right?


Research I
Mondays 4:00-6:50

We're doing a group project, the workload of which is fairly equal to (or less than) the workload of
the individual project I did in Quantitative Methods at Bridgewater. Our topic is how level of prejudice
toward immigrants predicts views on current/proposed immigration legislation. Our control variables
include SES, religious affiliation, political opinions, and active voter status. I have very low expectations
for how much we will be taught and even lower expectations for how much I will learn (you know,
since this is all old-hat to me). So we have that project, which includes a normal research paper (lit
review, methods, results, discussion), plus one test and two discussion boards throughout the semester.


Foundation Practice II
Mondays 7:00-9:50

We're doing a group project, which is actually pretty interesting. We had to pick a community (ours is
International Students at ETSU) and we have to assess this community (similar to a psychosocial
assessment of an individual) for our first paper and then we have to develop a plan to meet an identified
need or solve an identified problem for our second paper. That's it, plus weekly quizzes.


Psychopathology
Tuesdays 4:00-6:50

My expectations were too high for this class. I need to catch up on the reading because I think that's
the only way I'll get anything out of the course. Class consists of lectures and lectures consist of:
relevant information, story, story, story, story, story, relevant information, story, story, story. We have
two tests and two papers and I think that's it. I could be wrong.


HBSE II
Tuesdays 7:00-9:50

This is the second theory course in the program and is about macro theory, similar to how the second
foundation practice class is about macro practice, whereas the first of these classes were about micro
theory and micro practice, respectively. We watch a movie every night, which is a good change of
pace from lecture, lecture, silly discussion, lecture, lecture. We have weekly response papers, a book
report on The Working Poor, a reflection paper on the activity at playspent.org, a paper about
privilege, and a paper about theory. This sounds like disproportionately more work now that I think
about it.


RD Job
Things are good, so long as I keep focusing on the interpersonal aspects and worry less about the
bureaucracy aspects (i.e., paperwork).


Bell Choir/Church
Good, good. Went to a church sponsored dinner last night, which was actually really good.


ETSU
I'm making efforts to become more integrated here through becoming more invested in ETSU. For
example, I'm making a deliberate effort to attend baseball games this semester. Next year, I want to
join Buccaneer Brass. More about integration/investment in a future blog.


Other
I'M GOING TO BE PUBLISHED. My honors project research, Solidarity and Its Mechanisms, for
which I received a grad school scholarship from Alpha Chi Honor Society, was chosen to be included
in the Alpha Chi Recorder, which is their annual publication of undergraduate research. I worked with
the editor over the past few weeks to get my 15,000+ word original paper down to 5,049, including
the abstract, headings, and references. It will be published sometime in April and will be available
online. "Each author will be mailed a few copies."

Naïveté and Self-Advocacy

I've learned an important lesson during the past few weeks. It turns out that I started graduate school
with a severe misconception of what it would be like. And no, I'm not talking about the general aura
that was promoted by numerous people, as well as society in general - "Graduate school will be great!
You'll love every course! Because no gen-eds!" - false, false, false, SO false.

I started graduate school assuming (gasp!) that every program would have its act together, that there
would be zero room for flexibility or individuality in terms of courses and experience, and that I could
just sit back and get my degree after giving four semesters of my time.

A little over a month ago, it became very clear that A) this assumption was false (surprise, surprise)
and B) I was likely to get screwed over by my program if I kept believing this assumption and did not
speak up for myself. In response to this, I got my act together and made a list of people to consult with
in order from low to high. I was not going to sit idly by and get looked over and forgotten by the
administrators of my program. It was time to make myself known.

Did I complain? Not really. I voiced my concerns and my disapproval of the situation. I explained that
I have high expectations for myself and I intend to hold my program to the same standards of excellence.
I hounded and followed-up and, a week ago, things were finally taken care of.

In the meantime, I have been considering what direction I want to take for my electives. For example,
there was the possibility of pursuing an emphasis on school social work and possibly earning an additional
certification. OR, there was the possibility of pursuing an emphasis on clinical issues that would be
relevant to the college student population. There was also the possibility of taking winter and summer
courses. OR, there was the possibility of only taking courses within the year so that they would be paid
for by my job. There was also the possibility of taking winter and summer courses to lighten my load during
the next year. OR, there was the possibility of taking winter and summer courses in order to make room
for additional courses during the next year.

I decided that, while I do want as many learning experiences during graduate school as possible, I also
want these learning experiences to not be paid for out of my own pocket. And that's not to mention the
frustrating possibility that additional courses do not always provide additional learning experiences (the
reason I hate institutionalized learning).

So, what have I learned?

While graduate school is simply a series of hoops to jump through, this does not mean that these hoops
are concretely established in a cookie cutter fashion. I am glad for this because I believe that education
should be able to be individualized as much as possible. However, I was surprised because graduate
school accreditation (in my case, the CSWE) is portrayed as an all-powerful outside source that dictates
what courses I can and must take, so I expected that all autonomy would be stripped from me. And this
is a really dumb assumption to have made, especially considering that my program preaches autonomy
and self-determination all day, every day. Perhaps that is why I was especially frustrated: because I felt
I was being treated in conflict with the values of my program.

What else have I learned? My program is not in conflict with the values of autonomy and self-determination,
but it is up to me to advocate for myself in order to secure opportunities to express both of these values
within my own education.





Blah blah blah. I hope that made sense.

Grad School

So, grad school is weird. Not really. Kind of. Let's back up and start with something I know.



I moved on July 31st. The most time-consuming part of moving in was getting my furniture in a
configuration that I was happy with. Now that classes have started, I realize that I am unaccustomed
to not having my desk next to my bed and I have considered rearranging things to make that possible,
but I'm going to test this out for a few more weeks before I decide for sure.

My first room is L-shaped. The bottom of the L is the living/desk section with my couch, two tables,
desk, two desk chairs, and set of filing drawers. The top of the L is the storage/exercise section with
a giant bookshelf, and an extra wardrobe. Here lives my bike and yoga mat, as well as piano books
and extra school supplies. In the nook of the L is my bathroom. I am in love with my shower head.
It's the little things.

My second room is through a doorway halfway up the top of the L. The top half of this room is my
kitchen with full refrigerator, stove/oven, sink, and my own microwave and toaster oven. There's
also another table which is home to my crock pot and various dry food items. Next to my refrigerator
in the far corner of the room is a door which connects to my building's office. The bottom half of this
room is my bedroom with a wardrobe, chair, bed, and two bookshelves.



Training for my assistantship as the Resident Director for Davis Apartments started on August 1st.
There isn't much to say about that, other than the amount of time spent in training was far greater than
the amount of work I felt had been completed. Then all of the Resident Advisors arrived and it was
more of the same, other than social activity being more organized and mandated.

Move-in was surprisingly smooth, most likely because all of my staff (one ARD and five RAs) are all
returners and know what they're doing. I like them a lot.

Student Affairs and the Department of Housing and Residence Life are interesting. So far, I like it.
I can't say for sure, but I think I am more fit for the job of RD than I would have been for the job of
RA, so it's probably a good thing that I was never an RA during college, as that may have tainted my
opinion of Res Life and made me not apply for this job.

And then suddenly, after feeling like classes were ages in the future and feeling like that feeling was
a very recent feeling, classes started.



Classes started last Monday, August 27. I have a seminar and two classes on Monday, a class on Tuesday,
and field experience on Wednesdays and Thursdays, in addition to eight weekly staff meetings and an
online course. I don't feel too busy yet, but that may be because I had no classes today and because most
of those staff meetings won't start until tomorrow. Anyways, so far, so good, I guess. Motivation has been
extremely difficult to find, but I think that's because I've been in my own head too much lately.

For example, I was thinking about how it would have been nice to get my BSW and then only have one
additional year (...well, a summer and a year) for my MSW instead of two. But that means I would not
have been able to go to college where I did, which means I would not have met the people I did, which
means I would not have made the friends that I did, and so on.

Also, grad school is weird. Yeah, it is. Don't get me wrong, I like my classes well enough, but I think I miss
general education courses. And that feels weird. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I miss having
a variety of Sociology, Psychology, and Social Work courses. That makes more sense.

I like feeding myself, though. A lot. I love cooking eggs and making yogurt and fresh fruit parfaits and
toast! I like my toaster oven. And pasta. And I used my crock pot last week and it was awesome.





So, aside from feeling braindead and having trouble remembering everything, having trouble finding and
maintaining motivation, and being sad in general from having to cope with such a large transition (and also
focusing on the wrong things), things are alright.

Except for the fact that doing a load of laundry will cost $3.

Changes

Not even earth can hold us
Not even life controls us
Not even the ground can keep us down
The memories in my head
Are just as real the time we spent
You always be close to me
My friend
This is not the end

(The Bravery - This is Not the End)




I'm biking. My ride today made me realize that I have an excruciatingly long way to go before I can
honestly consider myself a biker, but I'm biking. I biked a bit last summer and started again on May 23.
I started on my hand-me-down Huffy mountain bike that was far too small for me and moved on to my
mom's probably-Huffy mountain bike that was a somewhat better fit. Since July 18, I now have my
custom/hand-built road bike. Surly frame and white-taped drop handlebars. That's about all I know.
Clearly I am not a biker. Regardless, she is beautiful and I am very much in love. Tomorrow, I will get
a saddle pouch to carry my phone so that I can track my rides/climbs/speeds on Strava. Since May 23,
I've lost twenty pounds and, although still disappointingly low, my cardio endurance has dramatically
increased.

I'm back where I belong, at least temporarily. On Tuesday, I complete my move to my semi-permanent
home in Tennessee. Pretty much my entire life is in my car right now, save my computer, my bike, my
phone, and basic necessities to last me for two and a half days.

What I really need is to know my new mailing address. I can't order textbooks without it.

Yesterday was my last day (foreva'!) at the part-time job I'd had since September 2008. The part-time
job. Already is it no longer mine. One of my customers bought me a lottery ticket as a going-away present.
My customers. Still they are mine.

I'm no longer a pot-stirrer. I think. Maybe. I'm not quite sure yet. I began to suspect that I had out-grown
this characteristic when, in spite of having a personal opinion in regards to Chick-fil-a vs. Boston, I had no
desire to make it semi-public information (via Facebook). Well, I had some desire, but I had no desire to
endure/respond to any responses it would inspire. So it went unsaid by me. Maybe I only want to be a
silent pot-stirrer. I guess that's what I've always like most about pot-stirring, anyways. Watching.

I'm working on crying less. It's an experiment.

I'll be in charge of lots of students starting shortly. It sounds like the residence hall that I will be overseeing
houses most of the summer students, so my responsibilities may start earlier than they will in other halls.
Someone once told me that housing buildings at colleges are residence halls, not dorms, because dorms
are housing buildings at jails and prisons. They're still dorms to me. Sorry not sorry.

I may or may not be becoming more and more of an anarchist. I attended an Exploring Liberty seminar
about a month ago and quickly realized that I was probably much more radical than most of the other
students. I'm not going to go into details at this point in time, but I am not (yet?) a full-time anarchist. Rather,
the idea of political implosion and temporary anarchy is becoming more and more appealing.

I'm very much in love.