Is it really ten days past New Years?
I haven't even set a resolution yet. No family goal discussion over a plate of black-eyed peas, cabbage, yams, cornbread. Nope. We were unconventional this holiday season. But not necessarily in a bad way.
I started the holidays (well two weeks before) stupid sick. Sick-sick. Lost my voice, swollen throat, head in my pillow coughing until I couldn't breathe and staring at the ceiling asking God why sick. The kind of sick where apple juice drinking feels like heaven. It took me a week to get out of bed, about two weeks to fully get my voice back, and about three weeks to stop coughing, etc.
Out of 34 years of life, that was the only time I have lost my voice and let me tell you, for a girl who talks a lot and is proud of it--it was ALARMING. (I secretly prayed that when my voice came back I would sound like Anita Baker. No luck.)
Booo to being sick. Yay to only parents being sick and kids remaining healthy. For the first time in their lives I was quarantined from them. None of us was happy about that.
So once Christmas came, and went...me and E went on a "let's do everything we can't normally do during the year because being higher education students while homeschooling our kids is kicking our butts" binge.
We:
1. Caught up on last season's Dexter. (Don't judge us.)
2. Were total lazy bums for like three days.
3. Finally played grown-up Monopoly with the kids. (E got Boardwalk--I instantly wanted to quit.)
4. Drove to Cabazon (where I purchased for our family a yellow 7.25 qt. Le Cruset second-cut dutch oven) and got dates and old fashioned candy at Hadley's for good desert traveling measure.
5. I started reading Nella Larson; E finished The Hunger Games.
6. Finally got around to completing the beds we started in September for the kids. (But we didn't actually finish them--painting furniture is more time consuming than you believe. So now we're aiming at 'by February.')
7. Painted our front door red.
8. Painted my nightstand the best shade of yellow the eyes could ever see.
9. Cleaned my studio and I started (and just about finished) a painting.
10. Made tamales, four different types of cookies, sweet empanadas, gumbo, homemade applesauce, and vegan lemon bread. (This was mostly my handiwork.)
11. I started an embroidery project.
12. Pinky-swore we would do project 365 together. (Let's just say we haven't had an official start yet...)
13. Made baking rap music videos with our iPhones (while I was still sick and barely breathing w/o coughing and my voice was rather iffy), with me being lead rapper and the kids being my b-girl & b-boy. I'm not embarrassed to admit I used a whisk as a mic, shoulder-shrugged and threw it into the mixing bowl for effects. Nerds have swagger too.
14. The kids finished books. Yael-I can't even count...something like 4 or 5. Michael-1.5
15. Took the kids on a neighborhood photo/video shoot to play with their new cameras (still and video).
I know I'm leaving something off the list, but the bulk of it is there. We did a lot. It felt good. I'm sad it is over.
We had a sort of "running conversation" during this time about life pre-higher education. We kept looking at each other in wide-eyed confusion asking, "What did we do with ourselves before school?" Like really? Having time off from school really helps you realize how much time school takes. Well, once you realize how much "time" you have to do something like school, you realize how much time you waste doing stuff like T.V. couch-surfing, nose-picking, and other numb-brain things.
E has this year and then he is done with school. Forever. Me. Holy-smokes...I don't know how many more years of academia I have ahead of me. Nerdom will be my life well into my 40's--I suspect.
Which brings up something else.
I am officially a senior.
Senior-status people. *I just screamed that silently in my head and smiled*
AND--I maintained a 4.0 the total of 2011. If I had some music I would stand up and do a jig in the bed. But, it's just me and the whirl of the fan so I'll do the cabbage patch in my mind.
That feels really good.
But it is being overshadowed by obsession on my behalf. Two words:
Graduate School
I have been freaking out since Saturday, about 11 am to be exact. I have been obsessed for the past 70.5 hours.
I have called three programs, inquiring and asking questions.
I have surfed the web so much my eyes feel like ash rubbed over sandpaper.
I have stalked a blogger who is in a program I'm *thinking* about.
I have called E at work and balked, talked, cried at him over my *dilemma* for hours. And, I texted him while he was in class Saturday...totally freaking out and letting him know to call me the second he got break--over 3 texts. Bad wife.
I have talked to myself in the car, on the way to class, giving myself pep talks and rationalizing things out (this occurred last night).
I have rationalized that if I allow myself the indulgence of a graduate degree in fine arts I will never drive a new car to offset the money, and I will happily continue to drive my 12 year-old Honda and 7 year-old Hyundai for another 10 years, and not complain--unless they overheat, which always freaks me out. (Baggage from driving a Ford mustang for 3 years...not E's new, red mustang he bought months before I came into the picture..the 1985 one I brought when I was 19 that was 11 years old.)
I have asked my mother's opinion, and she knows nothing about higher education besides "don't go into debt over it." I don't think she even wants to talk to me about it again, because "I'm worrying too much," she says, and what's soon to follow is, "You getting on my nerves." I love that my mama keeps it real. (Though that means she is no help if I get all obssessive, which is generally the case.)
I have wrote a list of former professors to stalk for mentor-ship, reccomendations, begs and bribes to "please read this manuscript and be honest about how bad my writing sucks, so those choosing my graduate school life/future won't know how bad I really suck until it is too late, they have accepted me, and have bought into the idea that Kiandra Jimenez will one day be a really good book writer." (You heard it here first.)
I have maybe, sort-of invited myself or been invited to attend a day of residency in one of the programs I'm considering this coming June. (The details of the conversation are sketchy. I may or may not have been asking so many questions that that offer was the easiest, quickest way to get me off the phone.)
I have in a round-about way asked E to ask his mom to retire in 2013 so she can watch the kids while I maybe (if I get accepted) attend graduate school. (In my defense, she has been talking about retiring for a couple of years and has told me she will do anything to help me finish school. So divert your evil, judging eyes and stop popping your neck.)
I have read countless articles that say advanced degrees in the humanities are a waste of time, effort, passion, breath, air, eye-gazing, obsession, work, and anything else that requires human energy. In fact, they suggest that if you plan on going that route--don't reproduce because you are insanely stupid and the world deserves less of your kind, who might one day decide to do the same thing you were warned about doing: graduate degree in humanities or fine arts.
I have considered paying $775 to attend a 4-day workshop to get my manuscript in line. Not good when you are still paying off credit card debt. (Even if you have managed to pay off over half of your over 24k debt in 2 years through pure sacrifice, furloughs, state budget cuts, growing/hungry kids who insist that eating three meals and snacks a DAY are necessary for their growth/happiness---go team Jimenez!)
Can you feel the sigh coming? No?...hold on...
*shoulders fall*
So that is what the last 70.5 hours of my life has looked like.
That is what happens when a type "A" personality decides to go to fine arts graduate school for creative writing.
(Is that what happens when nerds rebel?)
Is it okay that I want to scream? Is it okay that I don't want to make no decisions about nothing? (How's that for double negatives?) Please tell me that is okay. It is totally fine with me if you lie to my internet face. In fact, I give anyone reading this blog permission to make the decision for me. Go ahead; I don't mind.
This week decisions are hard for me.
I'm afraid of living too much on the edge, being selfish and throwing my life away towards a bag of school debt, indentured servitude to Sallie Mae, and unfulfilled dreams of writing, quilting, reading, gardening, baking, and painting.
Besides world peace, my kids continually being all-around awesomeness, my husband continually being the kind of husband legends are written about, good health, new counter tops for my kitchen, a chalkboard door in my house, and one last conversation with my granma...I only want six things in life.
Six.
Writing--Quilting--Reading--Gardening--Baking--Painting
Can my life just be that? I don't think that is too much to ask. I'll even give up granite counter tops for something like Corian or large tiles. In fact, I'll even paint the chalkboard door myself. (Cheating, I'm going to have to do that anyway.) I won't give up the one last conversation with granma though. Or the kids, or E.
It's official. I have made the decision...I'm applying to MFA in Creative Writing Programs at the end of this year (for next year) and I will worry no longer. About that decision.
Now...how to prepare my manuscript? Damn decision-making.
My head and eyes hurt.
The end, Ki
P.s. To prove I'm still a nerd I worked in 2 appropriate uses of semicolons. Professor Johnston would be so proud. I did work in some dashes also, but those are easy stylistic choices. No cool nerd points for those.
P.p.s I'll stop being lazy and upload pictures soon. I have a boat-load of reading to do since I have spent the last 72.95 hours obessing over MFA programs.
