Change Is Hard

Another challenging commute into Ann Arbor this morning.  The worst roads turned out to be the first three, all back roads getting me out of my country home to civilization and more highly used highways.  After that it was mostly clear sailing, which got me into AA, where the roads are just wet, much too early for class.

My mantra during the first ten miles, as I inched my way on snow covered and icy roads was “Stay in your rut and don’t touch the brakes.”  Which, as I thought about it after I was safely on open pavement, might be my mantra to get through this final semester.

My friend’s husband, the one on life support, died this weekend.  Thirty-five, two kids and a wife.  I try to remember things that occured in my life when I was ten, and it’s hard to remember much of anything.  Of course the most traumatic thing that happened to me that year was that we moved to a new town and I had to make all new friends.  I guess if my Dad had died I’d remember the event, but I wonder how much the kids will remember about their Dad forty years from now.  Will they remember the fun things they did with him?  Will they remember his humor?  The little everyday things he did for them?  Or will he be a shadowy image buried deep behind a lifetime of other memories?  Will they remember his voice?  How he laughed?  What he sounded like when he said he loved them?  I hope so.

So.  A reality check.  Much as my heart breaks over losing my own Dad, especially the way we lost him, I am so lucky to have had him for forty-eight years.  In the beginning when people told me I was lucky to have the memories I got angry.   I didn’t want memories, I wanted HIM.  But over time I have begun to realize what a gift those memories are.  And to have so many years of memories is an even greater gift.   It’s something I wish I could give to those two young children over on the other side of the state.

You’d be seventy-eight today, Dad.  Happy birthday, and thanks for all those memories.  Love you.

I wonder if there is something called a “last semester syndrome” where the student (me) realizes that it would be hard to totally fail the last semester and hence gives up the momentum and begins to coast?  Is this typical for second year grad students who are getting through the last semester prior to graduation?  Does everyone feel this way?  Or am I finally rebelling?  Against what?  Even knowing that I have two presentations next week I can’t seem to find the motivation to prepare.  I guess I could wing them.  But they could be so much better if I spent a tiny bit of time organizing my thoughts.  Instead I’m watching the Super Bowl and napping between commercials.  Now that’s just so not productive!

What’s up?  I am still in school.  I have three classes, an internship and a job.  I have homework due next week, and in fact I have two presentations to make.  And what did I do today?  Absolutely nothing.  I spent the morning debating a trip to Ann Arbor amid dire predictions of massive amounts of snow.  Seemed I couldn’t start anything else until I made that decision.  The decision was made for me when the event I planned on attending was canceled due to the snow.  That should have freed me up for any one of my numerous projects.  Instead Katie and I went back to bed.

Getting up at 1 in the afternoon..yes one in the afternoon, well rested, I should have been raring to go on something.  But I spent the afternoon knitting.  And putting away things.  And thinking about what I should be working on.  And thinking about the family whose Dad is dying.  And sometimes just thinking.  I started one load of laundry but didn’t finish it.  Got the vacuum out but didn’t run it.  Moved my books around.  And around again.  But didn’t open any of them.  Opened my email and then an attachment from a group member, meaning to read it and edit.  But couldn’t read it.

So I have apparently learned the fine art of accomplishing nothing.  Remind me of this day when I complain I have too much to do.  I could use today to get ahead which would make the rest of the semester easier.  But that would require me to actually do something.  Which I can’t seem to do.

I received bad news today.  A friend’s husband had gall bladder surgery late last week.  He handled the surgery well, but collapsed the next day and never regained consciousness.  He’s on life support and the family is gathering in preparation of taking him off  support over the weekend.  He’s 35, with two children.  Thirty-Five is pretty darn young to lose everything.  Ten and twelve years old is too darn young to lose a Dad. 

I’m holding them in my heart.  Even though you don’t know them, if you could do that too it would be a good thing.

Well, I’m certain I’m back in Michigan now.  Temperatures outside have gone from the balmy thirties to windy single digits that feel like subzero.  The wind started at midnight, waking both me and Katie.  She barked.  I groaned.  The power to our home went out at 1:00 a.m., causing flickering lights and clunking noises.  Katie barked.  I groaned.

Having to be at school by 9 this morning I got out of bed in the freezing cold, found a flashlight, checked the time (5:06 a.m.) and decided no school was worth going outside in the howling wind and went back to bed.  At 7:00 I woke and recognized that the house was colder and that there was heat in Ann Arbor.  So I struggled into my freezing jeans, ate some raisin bread, packed a suitcase in case I decided to stay in Ann Arbor overnight and headed out.

The windshield washer fluid wouldn’t flow out of the wipers, and soon I had trouble seeing, so I stopped along the way, grabbed the windshield washer bottle and began to douse the windshield.  All of the fluid immediately flew back into my face, the wind not allowing any to reach the windshield.  Sputtering I got back in the car and drove the rest of the way to Ann Arbor, squinting through the mire accumulating and obscuring my vision.

In class, listening to our guest lecturer all I could taste was windshield fluid.  It doesn’t taste good.  During a break I washed my face, but the taste, or memory of it, remains.  Now I’m at work, trying to be pleasant when I feel scruffy from lack of shower and sleep.  So far patrons don’t seem to notice.

Lesson learned:  I am glad I am not a pioneer without running water and electricity every day!

This is one of the pieces I didn’t have time to finish while at the water color pouring workshop in Tucson.  It’s a pot with bogenvilla spilling out of it.  The concept is to draw the image, then pour paint over the image, mask off some of the light shades, then pour again.  At this point it probably has about four pours.  All the paintings look great with the masking on, but when it comes off you can be disappointed because the colors are lighter, as the masking gets covered over again and again with paint.  I had this and one other which is at a similar point shipped home.  The teacher says I need at least one more pour (I think I did two more after this picture) and then I can scrub off the mask and see what’s there.  I don’t know if I want to know! 

My flight home from Tucson was long and in some ways eventful. The twenty minute flight from Tucson to Phoenix ended up almost an hour, causing me to sprint in Phoenix to catch the flight to Detroit. I was the last person on the jetway, the door slamming behind me. My seat, against the window, was next to a very large man who slept splayed out the whole trip. By the time we got to Detroit I could barely move my neck and right shoulder. Waiting for my luggage, which I knew hadn’t made it onto my plane, my back ached and I was starving as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. By 8 p.m. it was obvious, even to the US Air representative, that my luggage was not there and she finally allowed me to fill out the paperwork. I arrived at my Aunt’s house in Ann Arbor after 9, with nothing but my backpack, computer and books. Luckily she had a toothbrush for me!

So this morning I sit at the UGLI (Undergrad library) to catch up on homework. But I miss Tucson. A lot. Warm skies, beautiful colors, relaxed atmosphere. The painting class was wonderful, though I don’t know that I am that good at it. I took some pictures of work in process that I will put up when I get home. The concept is to put your drawing on the paper and then pour watercolor over the page, letting it mix where it will, then mask sections and pour again, with increasing amounts of pigment in the paint. Artists skilled in pouring can do the entire picture with pouring. Sometimes they add a bit of enhancement or highlight or detail after they take off the mask. I am not skilled, and was disappointed in my first piece, but learned a great deal from it. Wish I had time to continue the experiment. I have two more pieces in stages of development and I’d like to start another now that I get more of what’s going on with the whole process.

So enough about a wonderful vacation weekend. Time to get down to work and figure out what in the world this html code is doing so that I have a chance of doing a bit of it by myself without help come the midterm.

But oh…how I miss the southwest.

Hello world, from sunny Tucson. It’s January and the sky is blue, the mountains purple, the air is warm, and I am spending three days at a water color workshop. What fun!  There is something about sunshine glinting off of red tile roofs that makes my heart sing.

Tomorrow is day three of our three day workshop, lots still to do. Even though it’s been a lot of work it has been so much fun. Though we went to bed by 9 last night, asleep from sheer exhaustion we’re trying to stay up till at least 10 tonight! We’re in class from 9 till 4 every day so there hasn’t been time (or energy) to explore further here. That’s a shame as it looks beautiful!

Sunday I fly home…a long flight I’m sure. I’ve been working on my web design homework, though to be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing. Mostly it’s working, but I’m just copying what the book says to do. I don’t have a clue why any of it is done the way it is. So I have a lot of studying to do before the midterm! That worries me, but I guess I’ll worry about it when I get home.

Meanwhile, what a treat to be in the sunny, warm southwest spending entire days painting. I am so lucky!

Another exciting commute into Ann Arbor this morning.  Recognizing that two inches of snow would significantly slow the early morning trip, I set out at 6:30 a.m.  I needed to be at work when the library opened at 9:00, and you’d think that there was plenty of time.  Not so.  The combination of snow and the morning rush hour turned both the side streets and US 23 to stop and go the entire way.  Never driving above 30 miles an hour made the normally one hour trip turn into over 90 minutes.  It was touch and go whether I’d make the 8:12 bus, the one that gets me downtown by 8:45. 

I made the bus, barely, but only because it was running late.  And the further we got along the route the later we became.  Arriving in downtown Ann Arbor at 8:55 I got off one stop earlier than normal so I could sprint through slush filled streets to make it to work by 8:59.  One small goal for the day accomplished, arriving at work and to public desk as we were opening.

Tomorrow after class I fly to Tuscon.  I don’t think there is snow there, and I am glad.  I am staying with a friend and attending a three day water color “pouring” class.  It’s irresponsible to be leaving town during the semester, but I remember how short life is, so I’m cutting loose and going to enjoy a warm weekend.  I’ll be back Sunday. 

By then I hope all this snow has melted.  I know, foolish hope, but I can dream, can’t I?