What I've been missing

The end of my master's degree is looming near. I have three courses to go. This week marked the start of these three courses. In all of them there is an extensive amount of reading, which I am afraid that I will not finish. I just have to plug away, one page at a time.

With the end of my degree near, I feel it necessary to apply for every library job in sight, hoping that I would at least get a callback. Every library in sight simply means those that cater to my interests: Interlibrary loan or possibly Serials, or more unrealistically: Systems. There are a couple of information literacy gigs thrown in there for good measure. This yearning to find something new also stems from the inevitable fear of being laid off from my current job (although I'm told it wouldn't happen).

In many ways, I would be happy just staying where I am, however, something tells me I should probably move on, if nothing more than for a little more financial security. On the other hand, I don't wan to make so much money that I forget what life is all about. I have been hit on so many sides lately about my childhood and the things I held dear then. Sometimes I wonder these days who I am and what my greater purpose is. I don't recognize myself.

Part of me feels like I am just under too much pressure/stress and that is why I don't feel like my normal self--I just don't know.

For one of my course assignments a few quarters back, I had to write a grant. I ended up writing a grant for a storyteller to come to our library. The grant was based on the actual possiblity that we might at least get partial funding for our library to have said storyteller. By the Grace of the man upstairs and the collaborative efforts of many on campus, the storytellers came last week (Monday to be exact).

The storyteller the library selected held a workshop in the afternoon which I attended. We talked about 'what's in a story'. In this reflection, he had each of us close our eyes and picture our childhood bedrooms, and to choose one object from that room that could be or have a 'story' affiliated with it. People around the room mentioned baseball gloves, boomboxes, etc. He ended up calling on me... the only thing I could think of from my room was my HUGE rock collection.

I told the story of how I would go down to the creek and pick up interesting rocks, and that one time I dragged a huge rock back to the house simply because it had a piece of mica in it. It then made me think of the creek behind my father's house and how we had an area that we called the 'Peninsula', where we would go to simply hang out and play. I remember writing many childish poems down there, and the way the clay formed the walls of the creek. Apparently when I was talking, I said the word creek like 'crick' and he was surprised to learn that I was from WNY.

The point is (yes, I have a point) that I am realizing how mundane my life has come and how much I miss nature, how much I miss the creek and the waterfall. I miss spending hours by myself looking for rocks that would seemingly mean nothing to someone else. It depresses me that the nearest thing I have to a creek right now is the erie canal.. and yes it's beautiful--but... there's just something about the uncommercialized nature I guess.

I especially want Scianna to have the same kind of experiences. I want her to go out and be able to come back covered head to toe in mud and to have a special place of solitude that is brimming with the noise of nature instead of a technology filled house and television.

Thanks be to Dad (& Mom too) for choosing Hickman, and working his (and her) ass off to make it possible, to give me these fond memories. The countless bikerides and the journeys down suicide hill and trekking up rice hill road. May I have the same gumption and stamina to make Scianna's live as adventure filled as my parents made it for me as a kid!

I had the good fortune of meeting up with my buddy Rachael from when I was in highschool today. She has two beautiful daughters. Rachael is so graceful and peaceful looking, so calm and collected. I know that appearances can be deceiving, but I know that I am far too stressed for my own good and for the good of my 'family'. Rachael reminded me today how important the simple things in life are. I forget so often--all the time. Her first daughter is four, so after we finished our meal, Scianna and Hailey climbed under the table in Denny's and were giggling and laughing up a storm. It was such a sweet and beautiful sound. We were even able to get a picture of the two of them smiling! An unusual feat because Scianna rarely holds still for pictures anymore!