But heck, it sort of feels like it. I’m taking just two courses this summer, both what my program calls an FDIS, or Faculty Designed Independent Study. One study is on Chicago authors and the other is about issues facing women in prison. Cheery, yes.

I love FDIS courses. I’ve done two others now – one was back in the winter of 2006, for which I wrote a mammoth paper comparing the three versions of King Kong. The other involved writing and designing a newsletter. Both experiences were a lot of work, but also very freeing. In my old age, I’ve come to really relish working at my own pace, and without instruction or interruption. I’m a loner, Dottie, a rebel.

So, for me, this summer is a lighter load than if I had two, or even one regular weekly course. For the first time in a long time, I have time to really focus on myself a bit, and on my life outside of my academics.

Although all this academic work has paid off, I must say. In April I was inducted in Golden Key International Honour Society and in May I was invited to join Alpha Sigma Lambda, an honor society for adult students. What all this means is that I am in the top 10% of the University, and the top 10% of my program. I sort of hate tooting my own horn like this, but I can’t help but share the goodness. I’m really proud of myself. I mean, you should have seen my grades back at IU when I was a traditional student. Not good. Stinky, really.

But now I am seriously, almost fatally invested in my schoolwork. I live for my GPA. And I love to write, which is a huge component of my program – so, it’s like I have to do well. There’s just no other option.

Um, not that I’m putting any pressure on myself.

What to do with my summer vacation then? Well, a few weeks back, we put up new shelves in the living room:

and now I know where all of my books are! There were boxes in the garage, and piles in the bedroom, piles, piles everywhere and now they are sorted and organized. Woo! Now I can spend the summer reading stuff I forgot I had, as God intended.

For instance, I was happy to find a big old pile of Calvin & Hobbes collections in our mutual libraries. I’d forgotten I’d ever bought any, and apparently Darl had also been picking them up here and there in the years before we ever moved in together. I don’t remember acquiring most of them, so I suspect the majority are his, but I do recall riding my bike into downtown Hometown in the summer after eighth grade to go book shopping at City News Bookstore. I found The Essential Calvin & Hobbes on a sale table and spent a whole $10 or so on it. I’m not sure, but it may have been one of the first books I ever bought for myself. I’m happy I still have it.

With all this book organization, I had to find something to do with the multitude of duplicate books, old textbooks, and Tom Clancy novels we pruned out of the collection – enter Bookmooch! I love it I love it I love it! I’ve given away eight books for the sheer pleasure of giving and creating space for new books in my house.

Like the Better Homes & Gardens cookbooks from the 1950s that I just need to collect.

Ground meat, anyone?

What do I do about these headaches? Verapmil. Imitrex. A variety of pillows made out of a variety of materials in a variety of shapes. Food and substance restrictions. Visualization and relaxation techniques. Whining and crying.

Everything works to a degree, and where they leave off, I fall to that last one. Which I’m doing today.

Whine.
Cry.

But enough complaining, eh?

Little updates for you:

D: After two weeks off of work and isolated from the world, he’s finally on the mend. He returned to the office last Monday and is adjusting fairly well. Although who loves going back after two half-conscious weeks? Poor baby.

Extra Curricular: Friday 4/30 was my first concert with the AH Community Concert Band. I’m the lead (and at this performance) only bass clarinet. The concert was so very much fun. Anyone who has ever found themselves a part of something larger than themselves might know the wonderful feeling playing with a group; your voice blending and melding and sounding out on cue. I just love it. Now, I just need a replace my old, old horn…

Familial: Spent the day before Mum’s Day with my inimitable Momala. We had a great time doing what we love best: eating a good meal, finding out of the way little shops, going to Target. I had so much fun with my Mommasina and step-man Ant-Z. The good mood of the fabulous day help a whole truckload of a lot when, on the way home, I had to drive over the heavily constructed Chicago Skyway in one tiny lane made up of concrete barriers. I hate those things. It was a white-knuckle, hyperventilation sort of a thing. I made it through – and now I am One Tough Chick.

Physical: Spent Mum’s Day getting my bike ready for spring & summer – pumped up the tires, new seat, new mirror, contemplated new pedals (soon) and whether to use straps or clips (not yet). Rode around a little to get my bike-legs back, and I’m good to go. I hope to use it to excess as long as the good weather holds. Or maybe I’ll trade it in before the season is in full bloom. I really need a shorter frame for my shorter (five-two) frame.

What else have I been doing?

Best Taking Care of Me Lately:

Shows I Miss That I Probably Won’t Ever See Again:

My childhood.

]]> http://siamesemeg.com/2003/09/17/listing-again/feed/ 3 http://siamesemeg.com/2003/07/02/links-to-my-life/ http://siamesemeg.com/2003/07/02/links-to-my-life/#comments Wed, 02 Jul 2003 16:32:50 +0000 meg http://siamesemeg.com/wp/?p=37 It’s 10:33am, and already it’s been a long day.

But I’m not going to wallow, not me. I’m a happy person, positive and sunny, with a radiant smile for all I meet.

And I may or may not be delusional.

---

I don’t think that I slept very well last night, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember. I do know that I again turned off my alarm clock too soon, and therefore put myself on the 8:30 train, which is just too late. It was crowded, too, with suburban Sheeple heading downtown to Taste of Chicago, to, as Bob in HR puts it, “…eat $9 formed poo on a stick.” Because, that is the essence of Taste: eating junk food at crazy prices.

Oh, and clogging the streets surrounding my office building, while gaping at anything remotely different – the homeless, pigeons eating trash, the Hi Guy, a cute little fat girl in a tight Hello Kitty tee (me).

Tourism is a beautiful thing.

---

But, it’s good. It’s all good. Through lots of soul-searching, and some clinical work, I’m beginning to really believe that life is what I make it. My outlook is what I make it. And even hateful headlines cannot push me around. I am strong. I am me. I don’t need a gastric bypass to convince me of my worth. I don’t need to believe in histrionic, prejudiced news reports about “killer fat” when I know my blood pressure is low, my heart rate is great, and I can ride six miles on my bike without breathing hard. I can take good care of myself, I can be healthy, and love myself today, tomorrow, forever. Besides, I’m really damn attractive and I know of at least one man who can’t keep his hands off of me.

[end affirmation section]

---

Been doing lots of good reading these days. There is nothing quite like the pleasure of a good book. I remember buying a book as a gift for a man I was (sort of) dating, and his telling me that it had been high school since he’d read an entire book. We’re talking about fifteen years! I cannot imagine a life without books. The escape, the education, the joy. So, without further ado, here is a list of summer reads, to keep you busy after you finish that other book.

which has become a bible of sorts for me.

D leaves tonight for Florida and the WAC. He’s not competing this year, but he will be next year, I’ll wager. My hearts skips a beat at the thought of him pulling out of an inverted turn, into a hammerhead…not because I fear for his safety. No, if anything, aerobatics have made him a better pilot, a cautious, controlled, joyful one. It’s the idea of him doing exactly the thing he loves most that sends goosebumps down my arms. So, baby, get out there and fly. Have a wonderful time, darling. Oh, and bring me something!

I considered my choices and my desires: a Frosty from Wendy’s®, a jar of Jif® and a spoon, going home early from work since PretentiousBoss was out, adopting a dog over my lunch hour, or taking a long stroll down to the library.

Being the most practical, and best for the cardiovascular system, the library won out.

The Harold Washington Library Center is a truly unique and terrifying place. It is ten floors of pure biblio-goodness and reference material madness. Ten Floors! According to the HWLC history page, it “appeared in The Guinness Book of Records as the largest public library building in the world.” Goddam. And I’ve used the restrooms there! More than once!

For all its splendor, there is a dark side. It has ten floors! The first time I set my little country-girl foot in it, I was bone-shakingly, undeniably lost. If my life is actually a motion picture (and I have no doubt that it is – except for the curious lack of boom mikes), at this moment the camera came in from a high dolly shot, zooming down from the massive arched ceilings of the first-floor mezzanine to my shocked face and frozen form. The voice-over whispered ominously, “Megan…you’re not in Indiana anymore…” From that moment, I knew that conquering the HWLC meant conquering Chicago itself. To fall to such a nemesis would all but ensure my hasty retreat back to Hoosiers, cornfields, and the (entirely reasonably sized) two-story Hometown Public Library. I squared my shoulders and headed for the escalators.

Approximately two hours, and one body-cavity search later, I had a library card. I found the library staff as cold and unfeeling as their pots of KY Jelly®, but no matter; I was on my way. However, though I was still tingly with the thrill of obtaining my card (and perhaps from the cavity search), actually finding a book and checking it out would prove to be an even more daunting challenge. I studied the library guide the CavityClerk had grudgingly given me. It was mystifying. “AROPN – Floor 8?” Um. BSTOPN – Floor 4″ What? Whatever happened to “Biographies” “Non-Fiction” and even the controversial, yet seemingly necessary “YA Room?”

I may have left in tears that day, but I do believe I left with a book. (What book, I cannot tell you as the trauma has blotted out the memory. I’m sure it was a very good book.)

Since that panicked, lubricated day in May of 2001, I’ve visited the HWLC many a time. I’ve borrowed many books, CDs, videos, and even the occasional DVD. I’ve accrued and paid overdue fines. In the Thomas Hughes Children’s Library (most of the 2nd floor), I’ve rediscovered childhood favorites such as Susan Beth Pfeiffer and Betty Miles. I’ve found movies so rare I thought I’d only dreamed them (1980s Playing For Time) and so treasured as to make an entire holiday perfect (Disney’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow).

And yesterday, I was surprised and a little bit delighted to learn that my card had expired. I renewed my card and checked out my latest (Expecting Adam by Martha Beck and The MST3K Amazing Colossal Episode Guide), all the while grinning crazily at the glassy-eyed clerk. I’ve had my Chicago Public Library Card for two years. I can find anything at the HWLC.

Chicago, I’m one of yours.

I feel thirteen again, daylight brave, but hiding Helter Skelter deep in the magazine rack at night…trying to erase those white silhouettes from my mind, yet staring at them as soon as the sun comes up…

I’m back on a Manson kick, squeezing rare drops of new information from old and virgin sources alike; still trying to understand why. It was a coup of sorts to find Polanski’s autobio after all these years, but I can’t seem to focus. It scares me with its sense of normalcy.

To deflect my attention and ignore my fear, I’ve taken to researching that favorite dramedy of mine, M*A*S*H, which helped pull me through the illness. I’ve also found some insight from coming at Manson from another angle – irreverence. I’ll pick up The Long Hard Road Out of Hell tonight.

I get to spend every day and every night with my favorite man. I get to go out to dinner with him, make dinner for him, eat dinner he makes for me; I get to go to the movies, rent movies, go to the theater, see concerts, go to amusement parks, go swimming, go for walks, protest immoral wars with him; I get to touch, kiss, caress, cuddle, fondle, and hug this man any time I want to; I can have earth-shaking, heart-stopping, dirty, loving, passionate sex any time I wish.

And to top it all off, this guy is just as thrilled that he gets to do all of the above with me. I thrill him. He loves me. He is emotionally and physically available to me, and strives to be the best man he can be at all times, so that we can connect and communicate on the most healthy and honest levels. He is a wonder, and so am I.

Getting married is the most amazing thing I’ve ever done.