I can sum it up in one word: library. As anyone I've spoken to in the last three weeks can tell you, the driving force of motivation to "just get through" comes as a final oral comprehensive exam this coming Tuesday, pass/fail, determining my fate as a grad student. So suffice it to say, a little nervousness has crept in. Yesterday was a particularly normal, not out of the ordinary day, except maybe the latter half which curtailed into this morning: work, class, work, lecture, library. As I lugged all the necessary study accoutrements into the 5x6 hole I’ve come to call home, I settled in for a couple of hours with breaks in between to chat with other folks who had come out of hibernation. A couple of hours even after that, past when most of the sane populace had headed home, I decided to look over material just one more outline. The next thing I knew, I was being awoken to the sound of the janitor, Greg, whom I’m well acquainted with having worked at this library for over a year, knocking gently on the door. This is not an uncommon occurrence, and so he specifically has a moratorium on the length that he lets people “power-nap” before he wakes them up. In my case, it had been two hours. So I finally trudged out of the library at approximately 5:13AM, 23 and ½ hours after I had begun the day prior.
The next hash mark waiting to be accomplished in my planner included a site visit to Big River Zinc at 7:00AM out in Illinois, so I hurriedly put my things together and set out. Boy do I miss the days of field trips to the zoo and candy factory. Instead, as a class we inspected the occupational hazards of zinc smelting. The highlight of entire trip was when we got to peer through the sulfuric acid vats and sniff the fumes in their primary purification cell. Sure beats watching cotton candy being spun and taking pictures with the llamas, let me tell ya…
Never so glad to be at home for an hour before the start of my next class, I’m more relieved than anything that my main complaints consist of not getting enough sleep and getting stressed out about a mere test. I realize the absurdity of it all when I see how other people make their living. But hopefully with enough optimism and an educational “notch” on my belt, I can do my part to ease their trials a bit too.
Sunday drives are always fun and relaxing, especially if you get to view a part of the city you've never seen before. I think the 2 mile stretch of what we endearingly term "the graffiti wall" is pretty amazing. I took some pics forShow and Tell
As much as severe school anxiety has begun to set in and the long hours of preparing for exams has become agitatingly monotonous, I am surprised to find that I actually enjoy my Social Responsibility course that I alluded to in a prior post. The second 8-5 class met today in the actual neighborhood that we are involved with. It was also the second time that I found myself tearing up during the middle of lecture.
Yes, praxis theory and action is something that I'm well familiar with having gone to a Lutheran college, but to actually see it in place, to almost taste it on tip of the tongue; that is new and unexplored territory. We saw time tested Christian ideology and faith based practice intermingle almost seamlessly into modern day intervention. Moreover, the pieces where frays are still evident, we use trial and error to mend. Most of all, there was this dichotomy of emotion that I really try to balance. On one side was the tremendous hope for humanity, that with enough love we can revitalize a neighborhood, but even more importantly a general morale of the people. However, on the other side I saw the enormity of it all, the depths of caverns that we will never reach, not in our lifetime, and not in our childrens' children. Just the unfairness of it all spoke verbosely and loudly. To grow up in a first world country is such a gift that I take for granted every day, while people in Peru or South America or Southeast Asia are forced to deal with injustices such as choosing between their health and being able to put a meal on the table for their families. But even more so detrimental to the ego is that because of our richness of resources and international prowess, we ENFORCE these circumstances in certain situations; ie, our discussion of a Missouri based lead smelting company in Peru that has remedied it's practices in the US according to EPA standards, but continues to adversely impose known hazardous compounds onto Peruvian populations. It's a ghastly, horrendous business practice that is entirely too common, and honestly makes me sick to my stomach that we let such things come about. Our consciences are alleviated when we put that extra 88 cents into the jar at the grocery store for needy children, but how often do we think where our clothing is made, and under what conditions? I don't seek a solution where this none, and I know progress and education are being put forth at valiant effort, but with this enlightenment also comes great guilt. With continued effort, maybe the balance between hope and guilt will finally settle to a medium.
I've been thinking a lot lately about timing. There's a good time for starting relationships, for schooling, moving, and a number of potentially life-altering scenarios. It's funny then, that a lot of these decisions are based on nothing more than a whim, a feeling, that indiciates either the timing is "right or not". Sometimes everything miraculously falls into place, and for that one solitary moment in time contentment seems almost plausible. But in contrast, there are those much more common occurences when the overly dramatic inner child really really wants to throw a fitful tantrum because the world feels like it is collapsing around me. I suppose if I were to truly choose, I would assume the stance of neither/nor. Metaphorically speaking, all the balls are still up in the air, but haven't yet made the decision to either remain there or fall to the ground. I guess that's what a lot of life is-- waiting... And with that, I'll just have to wait until I feel like writing about my next thought of the moment.
If I didn't believe it before, I am a convert now; the U.S. government takes their military seriously. So I had my general physical today as part of the process for applying to be a commissioned Healthcare administrator or Environmental Health officer (in essence I'd be delegating from behind a desk all day, don't conjure up any scary images of warfare/combat and such). However, everyone who enlists in the Navy, Marines, Coast Guard, and Army, including Reserves must pass the same physical requirements and be at one standard, it's only fair. Apparently this is easy for some but not for others. Of the only other officer-to-be there today, everyone else had gone through some kind of boot camp already (I won't have to do this).
They had us meet at the downtown office at promptly 0500 this morning, after a 24 hour fast. Every fifteen minutes we were either shuffled to take a lab test, sampled or interviewed. The medical questionnaire was ten pages long, 10-point Helvitica font. Swabs, body fat composition, innumerable diseases and THOROUGH examinations were done. As a side note, I found out that I have little depth perception. Good thing I don't want to fly a plane or anything. By the middle of the day I was so drained (literally; they had taken about a pint of blood for further sampling) that I seriously felt faint.
Thankfully I passed all the physical requirements (well, barely passed the vision test...) and was scooted to talk to multiple Lieutenants and Captains, assessing my real desire to do this. I was completely honest, that I'm not 100% sure that this is what I want, but who really is? At least I'm not doing it out of lack of other options. But the more I thought about it, even ten hours later as I was just getting out of the building, it seems like a perfect fit. There's structure, I get to work in the Healthcare industry, job stability, great pay and benefits, the list really could go on. But for today, I'm going to focus on maintaining the will to stay conscious for a bit longer and maybe wait on pursuing future goals until tomorrow.
Someone once told me that the first indicator of how delapidated a neighorhood is by the number of pawn shops and bars per square mile. That being said, I was quite leary of the fact that upon entering the Ville, a supposed historic site of downtown St. Louis, I was nearly blinded by the sight of a monstrosity of a pawn shop adjacent to a butcher shop and a bar. I don't normally spend my Sunday mornings driving around in search of areas where indoor furniture on the lawn and one room shacks is the norm; however, this was part of an assignment for my Social Responsibility and the Public Health Professional course (more on this later).
Street after street of filthy, ransacked bricks and lumbar that aspired to be housing and twenty minutes of my time later, I was beginning to get a bit dejected that this was where I am going to be spending my weekends for the next month and a half. People in this community apparently didn't care that they are the derelicts society, instead they choose to sit on their porches blowing unidentified smoke into the breeze and bludgeon their own destinies with crimes against one another.
But then, as I turned the corner down Saint Ferdinand Avenue, I saw it. The face of God, of truth and of light, whatever most aptly describes inspiration. The church stands on one whole side of the street and is bold and bright, in deep contrast to the darkened remains of the rest of the neighborhood. With all the negligence in regard to their own homes, the upkeep of this place of worship was humbling even in comparison churches to churches in upscale areas. This brought an unsuspecting smile to my face, the prospect that though unforsaken in appearance, these people still must have joy in their hearts.
In some ways, that church is much like the pawn shop I saw when I entered the Ville. For many, with money comes hope, and for others, it is the idea of God. It also made me quite ashamed of my eager conclusion about the people there, the marginalized community that still clings to a thread of hope through divinity. I think that this will be a truly worthwhile experience to work with members of this neighborhood and maybe find that in the end, what inspires them is exactly what inspires me.
Few people can make a five month incarceration into a positive thing. However, there are always exceptions to every rule, skewed outliers in any population. Coming out "reformed", stock prices doubling over a bi-annual period (in profit of approx. 480 million), getting adequate time to ponder existence, write a daily memoir and increase her physical well-being doesn't sound all that bad. Not that I am a proponent to lying to federal prosecutors; I just realize that it takes a certain kind of introspection to not come out of a situation like this heavy-hearted. I guess if your creative abilities allow you to build a four story découpage birdhouse out of two pinecones, you can sail effortly through something like, say... prison.
This may have been the funniest thing I've heard in weeks... As some fellow classmates and I were sitting around after a particularly long lecture, deliberating on when we should meet next week to prepare for our case presentation, one of us realized that it's officially spring break, though none of us were observing it. Yussuf, who is originally from Ghana or Ethiopia (I can't remember) stated quite definitively in response to our complaints about being burdened by workload-- "there's no spring break for me, I'm from the jungle!"
There's always a song that I can identify with my mood at a current time, that I can listen to 100 times over because it so accurately describes a feeling, a nuance... something I can't myself depict poetically, so I rely on the creativity of others. To reminisce a bit from of all sources, cheesy early 90's music---Yes, that's right, 4 Non-Blondes
~~It's the heart, afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance. It's the dream, afraid of waking, that never takes a chance. It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give. And the soul, afraid of dying, that never learns to live. ~~
