SUMMER'S LAST GASP

In less than two weeks, I will be charged with teaching another round of college students the insights associated with professional journalism and television production.  I find myself in a bizarre place in my head.

At first when the summer hit, I couldn't get used to not going to work.  I know, I know.. boo hoo poor me.. but seriously.  When you've spent your entire adult life living from deadline to deadline and suddenly you have none, it is freakish.  Here I couldn't wait to relax and unwind, but I found myself feeling strangely lost and quite surprised at feeling that way.  What on earth was happening?  Well, I asked around and apparently it happens to all first-time professors who once worked in "the real world."  We have to find different motivations for getting out of bed in the morning other than having to be at work by a certain time.  Interesting.  I guess it's one thing to have two or three weeks off in an extended vacation and another thing entirely when the time away is more like three months.

I learned something about myself in this summer experience.  For all the times I've complained about being overworked, overly busy, and obviously stressed out, I found out I'm actually happier when I'm productive.. perhaps not to the point of hysterics, but a nice steady pace of things to do.  And so.  By early-to-mid July, I rolled up my sleeves and started knocking out little projects here and there.  You know, all those things you mean to get to but never seem to have the time.  That said, I also gave myself the license to truly unwind mentally and physically.  It took some getting used to, but I eventually adjusted.  I still had a grad school class to contend with, but the pacing was much slower than the usual semester.  It simply paled in comparison.

And now, here I am, happily adjusted to not working.  I'm content.  I'm sleeping well and I feel good.  But here we are.  Suddenly, it's time to work again.  My mind and body are fighting me.

Honestly, though.  I can't stand listening to myself whine.  Somebody please shut me up, hand me a textbook, and tell me to put a lid on it.  This is hardly a problem.  I'm simply experiencing the last gasp of summer break.

I must, however, pose the question.  How can the "fall semester" be starting when it's still 105 degrees outside?  It may be fall on the books but it most certainly does not feel like fall outside.  But that's another topic for another day...

CITY WORKERS ATTACK

My trash can magically reappeared.  ???  While my neighbors aren't exactly Einstein clones, I didn't take them to be raving lunatics.  This is so bizarre!  Who steals nasty ole trash cans?  And then returns them?  Well, fine.  At least I don't have to go buy another one.  And let's face it.  It's a trash can.  It's hardly a family heirloom.

I'm wondering if the magical reappearance has something to do with the city workers and their big noisy machines chewing up my yard last week.  These long yellow tubes are being plugged into everybody's front lawn up and down the street.  I believe AT&T is putting in fiber optics.  Woop-tee-doo.  I'm still not going to order their service.  Lay alllllll the lines you want, boys. I distinctly remember AT&T's rotten customer service from past experiences and no amount of fancy wires is going to change my mind.  I suppose it could be the cable company.  But I'm not dealing with them either.  Hooray for non-AT&T cell phones and satellite TV.  Now could you please fill all these ugly holes?  I know you've got a job to do, but you're wasting your time here.  And my poor grass.  Please don't leave me with a yard of DIRT like last summer.

But I will say... if those workers had something to do with my trash can reappearing, then I salute them.  Now.  If only they could get their buddies with the city to come pick up the big pile of broken limbs that's been sitting near the curb since our rash of storms and tornadoes several months ago.  That would be quite welcome.  I'm not sure why it's taking the city so long to pick up the brush pile.  I suppose they're fully occupied with digging holes.

But hey.  At least I have my trash can back.

THIEF

Someone stole my trash can.  WHO DOES THAT?  So irritated.  Harumph.

INSOMNIA

There are some nights when I feel like I'll miss out on something if I go to bed too early.  I can't explain it.  I no longer live in a big city mecca hubbub of activity.  I live in a small town that shuts down way before midnight.  What exactly would I be missing?  Nothing.  I'm missing absolutely nothing.  And then I hit a second wind right after midnight because of all the crazy shifts I used to work in a former life as a broadcast journalist slash TV producer slash manager of a 24 hour operation.  The night owl comes alive and then I never seem to get tired.  And then I wind up sleeping in too late the next morning.  And then I'm dragging around all day in a fog.  And OH it feels so good to get a healthy, nourishing night's sleep and wake up feeling refreshed and energized.  Do I want that or don't I?  What is going on in my head?  When will I ever get to the point that I can sleep like normal people?  Will I ever?

BLAH BLAH TWITTER BLAH

I've had a Twitter account for awhile.  I used it a lot more when I worked in the broadcast journalism industry.  It just seemed to fit that role well.  As in, "we're working on a tip from (someone) regarding (such-and-so).." etc.  But now that I've left the industry for academia, I feel a bit lost with my Twitter account.  I'm not sure what to do with it.  I feel like all my Tweets are just stupid.  Granted, it's a fun way to network... especially when someone supercool decides to follow me... but beyond that, I'm not sure what to say.  I find myself retweeting lots of goofball things I get from other people.  Yes, I am capable of originality and creativity, but sarcasm doesn't always translate well in 140 characters or less.  It makes me feel so BORING.  Am I boring?  Oh dear.  Maybe I am and I've just been in denial all this time, thinking I was an interesting person with clever things to say.  Now I don't know what to think.  And how could something like Twitter make me second guess my entire personality?  That's absurd.  Or is it?  I think I need to go in another room and cry now.  Okay not really.  Maybe I'm a supercool person who isn't thinking clearly because it's 3p and I'm just realizing I didn't get lunch and I'm starving.  Yeah.  Stupid Twitter.

CIRCADIAN RHYTHMS (OR LACK THEREOF)

On this, the Memorial Day holiday, I should be a mindful, patriotic American citizen and center my thoughts on the many lives lost serving in the US Armed Forces.  But no.

Instead, I'm dwelling on sleep... or to be more precise... the lack thereof.  I feel like my eyes are open too wide and my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets.  My stomach is a little tight and jittery.  My mouth is dry and cottony.  I have a slight, dull headache in the center of my forehead.  I'm subconsciously grinding my teeth.  I can't hold a thought for more than a few seconds.  In other words, it's that horrid feeling we get from staying up all night only to see the bright, sun-filled sky of the new day before us.  And why am I suffering so?  Here's what's really dumb about it.  I did it to myself.  Deliberately.  I made myself stay up all night.  I'll explain.

Since the end of the spring semester (I am, after all,  both a professor and a graduate student), I've allowed myself to catch up on rest as my body called for it.  No alarm.  No agenda.  Very few obligations on the calendar.  I was mentally taxed and I took several days to sleep lots and lots to let my body fully recover and rest up.

Now, you see, here's where it gets insane.

I spent five miserable years working on overnights at one of the prestigious 24-hour cable news networks only to find myself worn out, depressed, and a tad psychotic.  I absolutely despised working the graveyard shift.  HATED it.  It was so hard on me.  So I left that job to be away from the glamour shift of the living dead.  And now that I'm free to sleep however and whenever I want, my body goes back to those stupid hateful hours.  WHICH MAKES NO SENSE.  It's completely idiotic but there were nights this past week where I found myself staying up until 4a or 5a only to sleep well after noon.  There was one day I woke up at 530pm.  That's not an exaggeration.  I just slept the entire day away.  I woke up with my head pounding to the tune of a migrane.  I thought it was going to blow up.

And so, you see, my thinking is that by NOT going to bed at 5a, I'll make myself stay up and go to sleep at a normal hour tonight and wake up at a normal hour tomorrow morning.  In theory.  Nevermind, I'll be completely useless today.  I ought to not operate heavy machinery but somebody's got to mow the lawn.  I promise not to fire up the grill.  I'm sure that would end badly.  Any cookout feast will have to involve me imposing on somebody else.

I got this idea by remembering how I addressed jet lag a couple of years ago when I flew to Greece.  I arrived in Athens at their 10am.  And while I would've loved to get some shuteye, instead I went to a darling sidewalk cafe in Plaka and had an amazing lunch.  I followed that with a trek up to the Acropolis.  I followed that by getting all cleaned up and cute and having dinner at the rooftop restaurant of a gorgeous historic hotel in Constitution Square.  There was a view of the Parthenon lit up beautifully against the night sky.  It was an absolutely magical day that kicked off an incredible three week vacation.  And if I had gone in my hotel room and crawled in bed when I first got off the plane, it would have never happened.

So today will be my domestic jet lag day in hopes of resetting my body clock.  I must find ways to make the day equally adventurous even if I am on this side of the pond.  I won't be climbing the Citadel of Athens but perhaps I can start today's adventure with a nice, long bike ride.  I wonder if sleep deprivation triggers vertigo.  Ugh my eyeballs.  Did I mention they feel like they're going to fall out of my head?

HUH?

I'm SO busy.. I just.. I can't.. Where do I.. How does that.. How can I..  I give up.  Raising the white flag. This is my brain going SPLAT!

GRAD SCHOOL

So I'd like to keep my new job as a professor. And even though I spent 19 years in the TV news business, I still must get my master's degree in order to remain a broadcast journalism professor.  Three evenings a week, I drive 50 miles one way to take graduate level classes for my Journalism, M.A.  I've done this since last summer and must continue to do it until this coming December in order to graduate.

But I have to say.  This semester is just about too much for my wee brain to handle.  I've got to write two very involved research papers and put together a huge presentation on propaganda in the presidential elections from 1976-2000 (all at the same time) in addition to a bunch of other work and oh yeah, I have a job.  A job I like.  And I want to keep.  Did I mention that already?  I believe I did.  Sigh.

And as if juggling a full time professor's job and 9 hours of grad school isn't hard enough, I'm determined to keep my 4.0 average.  So I have to do all of this perfectly.  With the exception of first and second grade, I've never had a 4.0, or straight As or whatever.  Don't get me wrong, I was a dedicated student.  But you could see from my transcripts which classes I cared about and which ones I believed were useless and stupid.  I'm trying to be a grown up now and not play such games.  But I want my 4.0 intact.  And over these next four weeks remaining in the semester, I just might drive myself insane trying to do it.

Dear everybody in my life, I apologize now for being crazy for the next four weeks.  Thank you and I hope we're still friends by the time May 13th gets here.

Oh dear.  May 13th.  I just realized.  That is Friday the 13th.  Whew. This semester ends on a Friday the 13th.  That's quite an omen.  This could be interesting.

AEAEAEAEAEAEAEAE

Because of all the rain we've had the past several weekends, I haven't been able to do any yard work.  With my busy weekday schedule, if it doesn't get done on Saturday or Sunday, it has to wait for the following weekend.  Problem was, the last three weekends were either rainy or I was out of town.  Needless to say, there was a jungle where my yard once was.  Birds and squirrels and bunny rabbits were frolicking in the foot-tall grass while the neighbors grumbled about THAT house on the block.  It was truly embarrassing.

So hooray.  Yesterday comes and it's bright and sunny.  Not a cloud in the sky.  I put on my not-so-cute jeans, a t-shirt, and lawn gloves, trotted out to the lawn building, pulled out the lawnmower and started to go.

The backyard was first.  It had no grass.  It was all those weeds with little purple flowers and the weird Dr. Seuss shaped leaves, kind of like little tiny topiaries.  The chain link fence surrounding the yard still had piles of leaves from the fall.  I know, I know... but please.  It was the backyard for crying out loud.  And honestly, the yard could use the compost.  I tried to mow the leaves but many of them were still wet and sticking together.  Yuck.  Still, anything I did was an improvement.

Then it was off to the front yard.  The grass was so high in places, the lawnmower almost died.  I'm not kidding.  I had to lift the mower up several times to keep it from choking on the tall grass.  The clipping piles turned into rows of 6" mounds all over the place.  Still, it's great to have such a bright, green yard freshly mowed.  And I love the smell of fresh cut grass, once I get past the sneezing.  I was so psyched, I decided to tackle the shaggy looking hedges.

I remember watching my mom using electric hedge trimmers when I was a child.  It looked so easy.  Swipe, swipe, back-and-forth, and the bushes are so clean and pretty with the perfect shape.  Oh, Momma.  I had no idea how much trouble it is.  I thought the big clipper scissor things were a lot of work.  Oh no.  I got everything hooked up and decided to start with the smaller shrubs near the porch.  Aeaeaeaeaeaeaeae!  The vibrations were crazy!  I managed to get the top trimmed and even - which took much longer than I thought it would - then the sides, then the front.  Wow.  I needed a little break.

Then it was time to tackle the big hedge under the front window.  On and on it went.  The sun moved from it's white-light early afternoon position to the deeper yellow-light late afternoon position.  And still, I was no where near finished.  My arms cramped.  The fatigue hit.  But I couldn't stop until it was all done, otherwise, the bushes would look really stupid!  A little longer, a little longer.  I finally got the top even - at least it was even enough.  The front was a little lopsided so that had to be corrected.  And corrected.  And corrected.  The sides were easier but I could barely hold the stupid trimmers by this time and it was beginning to show with odd little gaps and uneven spots.  AAAAAA would it ever end?  I kept it up until I could not hold those things any longer.

My arms are now rubber.  It's a day later and they're still rubber.  Anything that requires me raising my arms is now impossible for me.  Somewhere, somehow, my arm bones melted.  I'm now Gumby.  Who knew that having perfectly shaped bushes would be so physically burdensome.

So now, I say to my neighbors, I promise to do better about keeping up the mowing.  But please.  The bushes are going to grow all over the place.  Because I no longer have functioning arms.  They've melted into useless appendages.  I'm only able to type by propping my arms on the desk and letting my hands and fingers do all the work.  It's my sacrifice for the neighborhood eyeballs and critical opinions.  You may now fuss at my neighbor across the street who has no grass in their front yard because that's where they park their cars.  NICE.  It is, after all, small town Arkansas.  Have I mentioned the old toilet in the yard two houses down?

PAGE REDUX

I think I've finally got this page the way I want it.  At least the title is much better.  And the look is very ME.  Now if I can just make the content interesting...  haha

TRAFFIC

Don't you hate it when you're in the car.  And you have to pee.  And it's raining.  And you're running late.  And you're stuck in traffic.  And the car in front of you is a stinkmobile polluting every molecule of air around you.  And it's raining.  And you have to pee.  And you're running late.  And the car in front of you is a stinkmobile.  And you're stuck in traffic.  And it's raining.  And you're stuck in traffic.  And you have to pee.  And there's  a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y  n-o-t-h-i-n-g  you can do about it.  And it's raining.

PROCRASTINATION

Whyyyyy do I always put things off until the last minute?  I would elaborate but I think I'll wait and do it later.  Okay, okay... stop booing.  A pitiful attempt at humor.  Sometimes the energy of throwing something together in the final moments adds an element of immediacy and drama.  I used to be frustrated in college (as an undergrad) when I'd start a paper early and get it done in advance only to wind up with a mediocre grade.  And my throw-it-together-at-the-last-minute paper would score really high.  WHAT kind of motivation is THAT?  Same thing with projects at work or presentations.  I'm regularly rewarded for behaving badly, therefore, I continue to do it and waller in guilt for acting irresponsible or childish.  But most of the time, I manage to make deadline even when I keep putting whatever-it-is off.  Of course, now that I have that in black-and-white (or in this case, sage green), I've hexed myself and I'll miss deadline on something really important coming up.  -sigh-  But will that stop me from procrastinating? Oh. Probably not. Ask me later.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Okay.  I just started this page because I was told I ought to consider doing the blogging thing.  So here I am.  Now, uh... I have to run to an appointment so I can't spend a lot of time making this look really cool or plugging in my bio information and such.  But before I go, I just have to say, coming up with a name for this page had me stumped.  And now I think it's kind of stupid.  "'Normal' is overrated..."  That makes me sound like a tard when I was going for witty and self-deprecating.  FAIL.  And I haven't figured out how to change it yet so it must remain for awhile.  Blech.  I'm hoping my creativity and cleverness will make a return appearance so I can fix that.  But, I must run.  I'm always late for things.  Now is no exception. Sigh. Once again, I'll be slinking into the chiropractor's office 10 minutes late.  The receptionists will whisper about me behind the desk, assuming I can't hear them whining about my lack of punctuality, when in fact I CAN HEAR THEM JUST FINE.  Harumph.  Receptionists.