I have been so extremely underused these past few weeks. You would think that with all this free time, I would be halfway done with writing my book, have all my laundry and that of my neighbors done, and have my sock drawer organized, but alas, 'tis not the case.
Other than waiting by the phone for my boss to call and tell me my paperwork went through, I have pretty much been sleeping. I have the cordless phone next to my bed just in case my boss calls, though, so I'm doing my part. I am continually amazed at the bureaucracy of our government. See, that's why I'm waiting, b/c I work for the government. Technically, I couldn't stay on b/c technically I had the same job number as the person I was covering for, so technically I had to be off until the person I was covering for next actually was on leave. Well, that was technically two weeks ago (when he had his surgery). Now no one is doing his job. And so while I technically can't be working, they are still technically paying me. I'm not joking. They have yet to take me off payroll, or to change my permissions so I can still log on to the government system and have access to that information. That's our government. All those technicalities.
So with all this time on my hands, I've been thinking about my future. I have been accepted to a Masters program in Northern Ireland. I had deferred enrolment to this year, so now the course begins in October. I feel I would really enjoy the subject matter, and that it would definitely broaden my horizons, but my ultimate goal is to go to law school.
As I was thinking about the course my life may take, I remembered when I was studying in Dublin three years ago, and met a nun from Ethiopia. She was taking the course and staying at a local order and had been travelling around for some time. There was also a priest in the class, who I did not know was a priest until a little ways into the course. When I realized people who lived life in their faith could really live a life, I started to think that maybe that was the life for me. I love doing service work, travelling, learning, sharing. Last night when I was thinking again about this, I thought, "I love my life, except for the men part". The men in my life are always causing me undue drama and heartache, and if I could live a life without that, maybe then my heart would be fulfilled. Then I had to really think, years from now, will I be happy laying in my bed alone? The cynical part of me thought that's a very real possibility with or without living in the order. Even if I were to find someone and get married, who knows how long it will last. Who knows if it will be happy.
I remember watching a newsmagazine story about a movie star from the 50s who gave it all up to become a nun. She said that the first seven years were hard. SEVEN YEARS! Goodness me, it seems most people could get used to anything after seven years. She had a fiancee at the time she went into the order, and he never married and goes to visit her every week. I thought that was the saddest thing ever. It made me think that maybe that wasn't her calling...
So I want to be a lawyer and possibly a nun. That led me to ask "can a nun be a lawyer?" I've been told the answer is yes. Whether or not becoming a nun is the right path for me is a question not so easily answered.
Created as a daily update of my time volunteering in Belfast, Northern Ireland with pages from other trips to Ireland and England. Now a journal of my travels through life.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Sunday morning
It's 5 a.m. and the newspaper is not here yet. The newspaper is usually here right after bedtime! What, is he sleeping in today or something? I've got my mind set on getting that paper before I go to sleep and at this rate, I'll be watching the sun rise.
Never mind that I, myself, never got up this early in my paper route days. Oh no, a girl needs her beauty sleep, you know? Yeah, I was lucky if I got 'em out before school started. You know, punctuality just isn't my thing. After years of trying to fit into that whole "on time" box, I've finally come to terms with the fact that I'm not that kind of person. I have great ideas and work hard, don't get me wrong, but if I had to punch a time clock, I'd be late ten out of ten times.
And dissatisfaction - nope, can't deal with it. I can't just grin and bear things. If I'm not 100% behind something, I'm not doing it. When I was working at a clothing store, each employee had to meet a certain quota for store credit card applications. I refused to solicit them. I always made my sales goals by a mile, because I believed in the clothes, but these credit cards - no way. You can only use them at that store, they have outrageously high finance rates and even just applying puts that mark on your credit report. Other employees had no shame and would solicit the cards to people who didn't speak English, seriously learning disabled individuals, anyone whose hand they could shove a pen into.
When I worked for a community action agency who cared less about the people it served and more about getting more publicity - I stayed on for the money, following advice from employment agencies and family and friends. I hated it, didn't agree with the principles, but forced myself to go every day. This is when my body took over and said, "listen, bitch, we ain't going in today". First, I fell and was on disability for several months. After months of physical therapy and drugs, I forced myself to go back to work. A few weeks later, I was in the hospital with a fast heart rate. After I was released, I forced myself to go back. Then in the mornings, I started to have these odd symptoms like chattering teeth, chest pains and could not physically go to work. This was the onset of my anxiety. I learned a good, hard lesson from that that I won't soon forget.
So when I was chatting online to Ronan today and he carried on with his typical b.s., I knew I had enough. I was no longer 100% behind a relationship with him, and I could not go back. Not for anything. I know what the right decision for me is, but if, for some reason, I go against it, for whatever reason, my body will catch up with me and let me know that it's not right. I'm not going to let that happen for a boy. Not again. Finally I realize that the most important person in my life is me.
Never mind that I, myself, never got up this early in my paper route days. Oh no, a girl needs her beauty sleep, you know? Yeah, I was lucky if I got 'em out before school started. You know, punctuality just isn't my thing. After years of trying to fit into that whole "on time" box, I've finally come to terms with the fact that I'm not that kind of person. I have great ideas and work hard, don't get me wrong, but if I had to punch a time clock, I'd be late ten out of ten times.
And dissatisfaction - nope, can't deal with it. I can't just grin and bear things. If I'm not 100% behind something, I'm not doing it. When I was working at a clothing store, each employee had to meet a certain quota for store credit card applications. I refused to solicit them. I always made my sales goals by a mile, because I believed in the clothes, but these credit cards - no way. You can only use them at that store, they have outrageously high finance rates and even just applying puts that mark on your credit report. Other employees had no shame and would solicit the cards to people who didn't speak English, seriously learning disabled individuals, anyone whose hand they could shove a pen into.
When I worked for a community action agency who cared less about the people it served and more about getting more publicity - I stayed on for the money, following advice from employment agencies and family and friends. I hated it, didn't agree with the principles, but forced myself to go every day. This is when my body took over and said, "listen, bitch, we ain't going in today". First, I fell and was on disability for several months. After months of physical therapy and drugs, I forced myself to go back to work. A few weeks later, I was in the hospital with a fast heart rate. After I was released, I forced myself to go back. Then in the mornings, I started to have these odd symptoms like chattering teeth, chest pains and could not physically go to work. This was the onset of my anxiety. I learned a good, hard lesson from that that I won't soon forget.
So when I was chatting online to Ronan today and he carried on with his typical b.s., I knew I had enough. I was no longer 100% behind a relationship with him, and I could not go back. Not for anything. I know what the right decision for me is, but if, for some reason, I go against it, for whatever reason, my body will catch up with me and let me know that it's not right. I'm not going to let that happen for a boy. Not again. Finally I realize that the most important person in my life is me.
Red headed pain
From CNN.com
Redheaded Women Have a Unique Ability
Blondes may have more fun, but redheaded women have a special quality that is as unique as their hair color. They have an innate ability to tolerate more pain than other people.
In studies on "redhead" mice, which actually have blonde fur but carry a similar gene to the one that causes red hair in humans, scientists from the Human Genetics Unit in Edinburgh, Scotland were able to target the pain-reducing mechanism. These red-haired mice have a similar ability as human female redheads to withstand higher pain thresholds compared with other mice and require less anesthetic to block out certain kinds of pain.
Read more
Redheaded Women Have a Unique Ability
Blondes may have more fun, but redheaded women have a special quality that is as unique as their hair color. They have an innate ability to tolerate more pain than other people.
In studies on "redhead" mice, which actually have blonde fur but carry a similar gene to the one that causes red hair in humans, scientists from the Human Genetics Unit in Edinburgh, Scotland were able to target the pain-reducing mechanism. These red-haired mice have a similar ability as human female redheads to withstand higher pain thresholds compared with other mice and require less anesthetic to block out certain kinds of pain.
Read more
There's more than one answer
MSNBC.com
Many evacuees go to black churches for help
Some Katrina victims frustrated with bureaucracy of government, charities
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9276824/
Many evacuees go to black churches for help
Some Katrina victims frustrated with bureaucracy of government, charities
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9276824/
It's only usless 'til you use it
From The Hammond Times Newspaper
A word (a day) to the not-so-wise
This story ran on nwitimes.com on Sunday, January 19, 2003 12:22 AM CST
GREEK TO ME with Michael Raysses
Come the new year, a man's thoughts turn to, well, the new year. Thus, the calendar that I buy to mark time's passage is important to me, beyond making sure I am aware of the date. My calendar must reflect who I am and my relationship to time. (I know you're thinking: "Hey, Mike, it's just a calendar!")
But nothing is as easy as it used to be, so the prospect of picking out a calendar looms large. I don't want just a calendar on the wall above my desk; that would be too impersonal. I want something that climbs down off the wall, sits itself down next to my computer and communicates with me directly. I want a daily calendar; the kind I used to see in old movies -- pages flying off in a mad whirl to indicate the passage of time. Daily calendars, however, aren't what they used to be.
A trip to the bookstore revealed numerous daily calendars, each one dedicated to a specific topic or motif. There were daily calendars for the Civil War, ones with daily Bible quotes. Some were humorous ("The 365 Stupidest Things Ever Said"), while others were more topical. There was an entire calendar dedicated to quotes from our current president titled "They Misunderestimated Me." Sometimes daily calendars overlap, and the good money says that of the aforementioned 365 stupidest things ever said, George W. is good for at least three solid months.
There also are daily calendars that seek to inspire ("Achieve Your Daily Dreams"), as well as those that prey on our deepest fears ("The Worst Case Scenario Daily Calendar"). And just when I had an idea for the perfect hybrid daily calendar for a dysfunctional society ("Achieve Your Daily Worst Case Scenario"), I saw my future, or at least the next 365 days worth in "All in a Word-a-Day" calendar.
"A Word-a-Day" calendar defines a different word for you every day. The good ones give you some insight into the roots of the word, how it evolved and its various uses. Being a writer, you'd think that would be a natural choice. But it runs much deeper than that.
As a kid, I read Marvel comic books. And although Captain America and Spider-Man captivated me, the superhero I most identified with was one of the original X-Men. His name was Beast. Now Beast was short and solid and strong, but the thing that drew me to him was the way he spoke. He had this amazing vocabulary. He would say things like "My pedal extremities are humongous." (Translation: I have big feet.) And though it meant he was on a different wavelength from those around him, it also distinguished him.
So deep was my connection to Beast that I took to talking like him for a while. It wasn't long before my third-grade teacher was sending notes home to my mom, asking her where I was learning so many words that no one else seemed to know the meaning of. And what trauma had I suffered that I was speaking so affectedly?
Years after I quit reading comic books, my dad was working around the house one day. He had his toolbox out; in it was a huge set of socket wrenches of all sizes. I pulled an odd-sized one out and asked him why he owned it. What purpose could a 13/16th-inch socket ever serve? He said something that stuck with me: He told me that particular socket was useless until the moment when he needed it. Then it became invaluable.
From that day on, that's how I saw words -- like sockets for a wrench. And I wanted a socket for every possible occasion. Nothing feels as good as wanting to describe something, to capture its essence, then to reach into some dark corner of your mind and pull out a word, clamp it onto the page, knowing you've achieved a snug fit.
There is one danger in conducting a love affair with words: Your affinity for them may blind you when it comes to using them effectively. And that in a feverish frisson, you will slather your writing with luxuriant terms and expressions, committing solecism after solecism, inviting jeremiads from those unwilling to overlook your literary peccadilloes. The underlying ratiocinations for this will forever remain a mystery to me. (Translation: A word a day can lead a writer astray, which isn't Greek to me.)
E-mail Michael Raysses at Majikrat@Earthlink.net.
A word (a day) to the not-so-wise
This story ran on nwitimes.com on Sunday, January 19, 2003 12:22 AM CST
GREEK TO ME with Michael Raysses
Come the new year, a man's thoughts turn to, well, the new year. Thus, the calendar that I buy to mark time's passage is important to me, beyond making sure I am aware of the date. My calendar must reflect who I am and my relationship to time. (I know you're thinking: "Hey, Mike, it's just a calendar!")
But nothing is as easy as it used to be, so the prospect of picking out a calendar looms large. I don't want just a calendar on the wall above my desk; that would be too impersonal. I want something that climbs down off the wall, sits itself down next to my computer and communicates with me directly. I want a daily calendar; the kind I used to see in old movies -- pages flying off in a mad whirl to indicate the passage of time. Daily calendars, however, aren't what they used to be.
A trip to the bookstore revealed numerous daily calendars, each one dedicated to a specific topic or motif. There were daily calendars for the Civil War, ones with daily Bible quotes. Some were humorous ("The 365 Stupidest Things Ever Said"), while others were more topical. There was an entire calendar dedicated to quotes from our current president titled "They Misunderestimated Me." Sometimes daily calendars overlap, and the good money says that of the aforementioned 365 stupidest things ever said, George W. is good for at least three solid months.
There also are daily calendars that seek to inspire ("Achieve Your Daily Dreams"), as well as those that prey on our deepest fears ("The Worst Case Scenario Daily Calendar"). And just when I had an idea for the perfect hybrid daily calendar for a dysfunctional society ("Achieve Your Daily Worst Case Scenario"), I saw my future, or at least the next 365 days worth in "All in a Word-a-Day" calendar.
"A Word-a-Day" calendar defines a different word for you every day. The good ones give you some insight into the roots of the word, how it evolved and its various uses. Being a writer, you'd think that would be a natural choice. But it runs much deeper than that.
As a kid, I read Marvel comic books. And although Captain America and Spider-Man captivated me, the superhero I most identified with was one of the original X-Men. His name was Beast. Now Beast was short and solid and strong, but the thing that drew me to him was the way he spoke. He had this amazing vocabulary. He would say things like "My pedal extremities are humongous." (Translation: I have big feet.) And though it meant he was on a different wavelength from those around him, it also distinguished him.
So deep was my connection to Beast that I took to talking like him for a while. It wasn't long before my third-grade teacher was sending notes home to my mom, asking her where I was learning so many words that no one else seemed to know the meaning of. And what trauma had I suffered that I was speaking so affectedly?
Years after I quit reading comic books, my dad was working around the house one day. He had his toolbox out; in it was a huge set of socket wrenches of all sizes. I pulled an odd-sized one out and asked him why he owned it. What purpose could a 13/16th-inch socket ever serve? He said something that stuck with me: He told me that particular socket was useless until the moment when he needed it. Then it became invaluable.
From that day on, that's how I saw words -- like sockets for a wrench. And I wanted a socket for every possible occasion. Nothing feels as good as wanting to describe something, to capture its essence, then to reach into some dark corner of your mind and pull out a word, clamp it onto the page, knowing you've achieved a snug fit.
There is one danger in conducting a love affair with words: Your affinity for them may blind you when it comes to using them effectively. And that in a feverish frisson, you will slather your writing with luxuriant terms and expressions, committing solecism after solecism, inviting jeremiads from those unwilling to overlook your literary peccadilloes. The underlying ratiocinations for this will forever remain a mystery to me. (Translation: A word a day can lead a writer astray, which isn't Greek to me.)
E-mail Michael Raysses at Majikrat@Earthlink.net.
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