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.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
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."
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."
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
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.
Monday, September 3, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Bonnaroo 2012
Bonnaroo was amazing.
I left on Monday, June 4 and spent two nights in Virginia before leaving with a group of four friends to drive
to Manchester, Tennessee. After much traffic and many jokes about The South, we arrived in Bonnaroo
traffic and entered the festival grounds without (much) hassle. We set up camp alongside forty other people
in our "groop," toured some of the grounds with our veteran leader, and waited for the music to begin.
On Thursday, nine of us set out to venture into Centeroo, where we got lunch and soon got separated. Some
of us took a nap. I'm not sure what others did. After some independent exploring, I went to see EMA. After
EMA, I went to see Mariachi El Bronx. The members of this band had a previous band, The Bronx, before
they decided to start a mariachi band "as a joke." Their mariachi band is now more popular than the original.
Next, I went to see Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., stuck around for a bit of White Denim, and then went to see
Marina Orchestra. Marina Orchestra was probably my favorite set of Thursday. They're within the "world"
genre, but I don't know what that means, so I would classify them as folk+dance+fun and say they're a bit
similar to Sixpence None the Richer, as far as style/sound. I then saw a bit of Phantogram and stuck around
for MiMosa - an EDM/dubstep group with a good light show, but not much else.
On Friday, the same group of nine made a more distinct effort to have a meeting plan throughout the day.
I went off on my own early in the day because I wanted to see Katie Herzig (look up her song, Hologram),
who did a performance/interview on the tiny little Solar Stage within Planet Roo. After that, I went to catch
the end of Tune-Yards and stuck around for Two Door Cinema Club, which was one of the bands I was
most excited to see. I then headed to the main stage to meet back up with the group and see The Avett
Brothers, Rodrigo y Gabriela and C.U.B.A, and Radiohead. In doing so, I missed seeing Key and Peele,
as well as Ludacris, but being close to the front for these three acts was well worth it. The Avett Brothers
were good, but a little rough, probably because they were most likely hung over from the CMAs in
Nashville that had taken place a day or two earlier. Rodrigo y Gabriela were AMAZING. And Radiohead
was so much more mind-blowing than I ever could have expected. Afterwards, most of us headed to see
Major Lazer and Flying Lotus, but I ended up going back early to go to sleep.
On Saturday, I headed out to see Das Racist, who were not very good live. After, instead of going to see
Blind Pilot, I stuck around to see Battles, which was a terrific decision. Battles is tied with Radiohead as my
favorite set of Bonnaroo 2012. Afterwards, I explored a bit until going to see half of Childish Gambino's
set, before going to see all of Mogwai's set. During this time, a older hippie gentleman noticed my pins on
my camera case strap and gave me one from his box of buttons to add to my collection. On it, it says:
"The United States of Bonnaroo." Mogwai announced that they would be doing signings after their
performance, so I stuck around for that. Two boys and I were the first people to find guitarist, Stuart
Braithwaite, and I provided my sharpie for Stuart's signings. After he signed my bandanna, I followed him
to see if he would be joined by his band members (and because he still had my sharpie). After waiting for
a bit, I decided I wanted to head to Red Hot Chili Peppers, so I got his attention and told him that he could
keep my sharpie if I could get a picture with him. He agreed to the picture, but told me that he did not want
my pen to do signings. I was hesitant, but left. Two seconds later, he caught up with me and admitted that
he did need my sharpie because he was getting mobbed and no one had a pen. As I handed it to him, I said
I told him so and he gave me a hug in thanks. On the way to RHCC, I saw a bit of Dispatch. I got close
enough to RHCC to take a few pictures, but was exhausted, so I walked through the crowd to find a place
to sit. I sat next to a hippie woman, who also noticed my pins and asked if we could trade one. She had
many Mumford & Sons pins and gave me her favorite. I told her about Frankie Muniz and gave her my
Kingsfoil pin. We also talked about the older hippie gentleman with the box of pins, who she had met last
year. After getting trampled on too much during RHCC, I found a safe place to sit and passed out until I was
woken by the sounds of 80,000 people stampeding out of the main stage area after RHCC's set. Later, I
met up with what was left of the group. We tried to see Superjam, but could not get close enough for it to
be worth it, especially once Skrillex started. I watched a bit of Skrillex's set, but was too far away and
amongst not enough people to truly appreciate it, so I walked back to our campsite and went to sleep to the
soothing sounds of dubstep after I spent ten minutes killing the colony of ants that decided to enter my tent.
On Sunday, I woke up in puddles. Annoyed, I spread out a plastic tablecloth under one of our canopies,
dragged out my mostly-dry sleeping bag, and tried to sleep more. On Sunday, I took it easy because I knew
I wanted to be awake enough to appreciate Phish in their fullest. The first set I saw was Stooges Brass Band,
followed by half of War on Drug's set and half of The Antlers' set. On my way to see one of Kenny Rogers'
songs, I cut through Planet Roo and passed the Solar Stage, where I ran into one of my good friends and
watched a bit of Blind Pilot with him. After being unsuccessful at meeting up with him all weekend, it was a
delightful surprise. I then stopped by to see Kenny Rogers and walked by Ben Folds Five on my way to get
a good spot for Bon Iver and Phish. Bon Iver was incredible and Justin Vernon repeatedly mentioned how
in awe he was of having the opportunity to open for Phish. Phish was also great, although their set was slightly
heavy for my tastes, especially in comparison to the lighter set of fun songs they performed in Hershey.
My favorite part of Phish was how clear it was that Trey Anastasio was having a great deal of fun and that
he was amazed how passionately the Bonnaroo crowd cheered for them. After Phish, I exited Centeroo
through the main entrance so that I could walk under the Bonnaroo arch for the first time. Back at the
campsite, four of us reflected upon all of this great music and spent some quality time together. I then went
to sleep in one of our cars, as my slightly damp sleeping bag had since turned into my very saturated sleeping
bag.
On Monday, we packed up the rest of our campsite, did a bit of sanctioned looting, and headed back to
Virginia. In Chattanooga, we stopped at Bojangle's for lunch and made even more jokes about The South.
At Bojangle's, I ran into another friend from back home in Pennsylvania, which was likewise astounding.
Although it seemed like we were making good time at first, it ended up taking us FOREVER to get back to
Virginia, where I was greeted by being yelled at to immediately take a shower.
I left on Monday, June 4 and spent two nights in Virginia before leaving with a group of four friends to drive
to Manchester, Tennessee. After much traffic and many jokes about The South, we arrived in Bonnaroo
traffic and entered the festival grounds without (much) hassle. We set up camp alongside forty other people
in our "groop," toured some of the grounds with our veteran leader, and waited for the music to begin.
On Thursday, nine of us set out to venture into Centeroo, where we got lunch and soon got separated. Some
of us took a nap. I'm not sure what others did. After some independent exploring, I went to see EMA. After
EMA, I went to see Mariachi El Bronx. The members of this band had a previous band, The Bronx, before
they decided to start a mariachi band "as a joke." Their mariachi band is now more popular than the original.
Next, I went to see Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., stuck around for a bit of White Denim, and then went to see
Marina Orchestra. Marina Orchestra was probably my favorite set of Thursday. They're within the "world"
genre, but I don't know what that means, so I would classify them as folk+dance+fun and say they're a bit
similar to Sixpence None the Richer, as far as style/sound. I then saw a bit of Phantogram and stuck around
for MiMosa - an EDM/dubstep group with a good light show, but not much else.
On Friday, the same group of nine made a more distinct effort to have a meeting plan throughout the day.
I went off on my own early in the day because I wanted to see Katie Herzig (look up her song, Hologram),
who did a performance/interview on the tiny little Solar Stage within Planet Roo. After that, I went to catch
the end of Tune-Yards and stuck around for Two Door Cinema Club, which was one of the bands I was
most excited to see. I then headed to the main stage to meet back up with the group and see The Avett
Brothers, Rodrigo y Gabriela and C.U.B.A, and Radiohead. In doing so, I missed seeing Key and Peele,
as well as Ludacris, but being close to the front for these three acts was well worth it. The Avett Brothers
were good, but a little rough, probably because they were most likely hung over from the CMAs in
Nashville that had taken place a day or two earlier. Rodrigo y Gabriela were AMAZING. And Radiohead
was so much more mind-blowing than I ever could have expected. Afterwards, most of us headed to see
Major Lazer and Flying Lotus, but I ended up going back early to go to sleep.
On Saturday, I headed out to see Das Racist, who were not very good live. After, instead of going to see
Blind Pilot, I stuck around to see Battles, which was a terrific decision. Battles is tied with Radiohead as my
favorite set of Bonnaroo 2012. Afterwards, I explored a bit until going to see half of Childish Gambino's
set, before going to see all of Mogwai's set. During this time, a older hippie gentleman noticed my pins on
my camera case strap and gave me one from his box of buttons to add to my collection. On it, it says:
"The United States of Bonnaroo." Mogwai announced that they would be doing signings after their
performance, so I stuck around for that. Two boys and I were the first people to find guitarist, Stuart
Braithwaite, and I provided my sharpie for Stuart's signings. After he signed my bandanna, I followed him
to see if he would be joined by his band members (and because he still had my sharpie). After waiting for
a bit, I decided I wanted to head to Red Hot Chili Peppers, so I got his attention and told him that he could
keep my sharpie if I could get a picture with him. He agreed to the picture, but told me that he did not want
my pen to do signings. I was hesitant, but left. Two seconds later, he caught up with me and admitted that
he did need my sharpie because he was getting mobbed and no one had a pen. As I handed it to him, I said
I told him so and he gave me a hug in thanks. On the way to RHCC, I saw a bit of Dispatch. I got close
enough to RHCC to take a few pictures, but was exhausted, so I walked through the crowd to find a place
to sit. I sat next to a hippie woman, who also noticed my pins and asked if we could trade one. She had
many Mumford & Sons pins and gave me her favorite. I told her about Frankie Muniz and gave her my
Kingsfoil pin. We also talked about the older hippie gentleman with the box of pins, who she had met last
year. After getting trampled on too much during RHCC, I found a safe place to sit and passed out until I was
woken by the sounds of 80,000 people stampeding out of the main stage area after RHCC's set. Later, I
met up with what was left of the group. We tried to see Superjam, but could not get close enough for it to
be worth it, especially once Skrillex started. I watched a bit of Skrillex's set, but was too far away and
amongst not enough people to truly appreciate it, so I walked back to our campsite and went to sleep to the
soothing sounds of dubstep after I spent ten minutes killing the colony of ants that decided to enter my tent.
On Sunday, I woke up in puddles. Annoyed, I spread out a plastic tablecloth under one of our canopies,
dragged out my mostly-dry sleeping bag, and tried to sleep more. On Sunday, I took it easy because I knew
I wanted to be awake enough to appreciate Phish in their fullest. The first set I saw was Stooges Brass Band,
followed by half of War on Drug's set and half of The Antlers' set. On my way to see one of Kenny Rogers'
songs, I cut through Planet Roo and passed the Solar Stage, where I ran into one of my good friends and
watched a bit of Blind Pilot with him. After being unsuccessful at meeting up with him all weekend, it was a
delightful surprise. I then stopped by to see Kenny Rogers and walked by Ben Folds Five on my way to get
a good spot for Bon Iver and Phish. Bon Iver was incredible and Justin Vernon repeatedly mentioned how
in awe he was of having the opportunity to open for Phish. Phish was also great, although their set was slightly
heavy for my tastes, especially in comparison to the lighter set of fun songs they performed in Hershey.
My favorite part of Phish was how clear it was that Trey Anastasio was having a great deal of fun and that
he was amazed how passionately the Bonnaroo crowd cheered for them. After Phish, I exited Centeroo
through the main entrance so that I could walk under the Bonnaroo arch for the first time. Back at the
campsite, four of us reflected upon all of this great music and spent some quality time together. I then went
to sleep in one of our cars, as my slightly damp sleeping bag had since turned into my very saturated sleeping
bag.
On Monday, we packed up the rest of our campsite, did a bit of sanctioned looting, and headed back to
Virginia. In Chattanooga, we stopped at Bojangle's for lunch and made even more jokes about The South.
At Bojangle's, I ran into another friend from back home in Pennsylvania, which was likewise astounding.
Although it seemed like we were making good time at first, it ended up taking us FOREVER to get back to
Virginia, where I was greeted by being yelled at to immediately take a shower.
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