Putting Things Into Place

Look at this choice light fixture. It has
two others that match. It will be replaced. But
the bookshelf is done!

It's been a little over a week since we moved into our new house, and things are finding their places. Kevin and I may have a lot of things (trinkets, tchotchkes, knickknacks) but they all have their special place. When we moved from Seattle I shouldn't have been surprised that our one bedroom apartment filled a three bedroom house. Everything in its place! Now in our new home we are finding new places for all of our things. And this is something I really love doing. Even though right now I'm tired of unpacking boxes, the process of arranging and finding the little spaces for everything is really exciting for me. When I was a kid I used to rearrange my bedroom a lot - I remember my mom would come down the hall to my bedroom, having not seen me in a couple of hours, and then find all of my bedroom furniture in the middle of the room as I rearranged everything and found a new place for it. This attribute of mine also helped me when I was a visual merchandiser for a few years. It was a pretty interesting job, and I do miss it sometimes. It was a great way to be creative, and I never thought I could get paid to make spaces pretty. The new house in Groesbeck is getting closer to having all of its rooms situated. Next up, some cosmetic remodeling.

Three Years and One Year

Every year I make a number from the traditional
wedding anniversary material for Kevin. (Paper for 1,
cotton for 2, etc.) We joked about what I'll have
to do when we get to porcelain.

Yesterday Kevin and I celebrated our three year anniversary. We celebrated by going to one of our favorite local pubs, eating chicken sandwiches, then coming home and splitting an aged beer that we bought right after we got married. (This type of beer betters with age, and it was delicious). As we had dinner, we chatted about where we are now, and both of us agreed that we never thought when we got married that we'd be home owners in Lansing, Michigan. Three years ago I maybe thought we'd be home owners, but not in Seattle, maybe up north of Seattle in the Skagit Valley, or out on the Olympic Peninsula. Never in a million years did I think I'd end up in the Midwest. But here we are! One year ago we were packing and preparing for our drive east. We were living with boxes in the living room of our one bedroom apartment, and combing through closets and getting rid of things. Now, we live with boxes in our new house. In Michigan. As the saying goes here in the Mitten State (sorry Wisconsin, you don't look like a mitten like Michigan does), "Home is where the hand is."

Something Something Nonprofit Something

A week ago, I went to Chicago to attend a small conference put on by the Nonprofit Academic Centers Council, otherwise known as NACC by those who are familiar. It is a constituency of centers, colleges, and schools associated with institutes of higher education. Basically, these are the places that are connected to the community by educating future nonprofit professionals and by partnering with nonprofit organizations. Sounds boring, I know. But this was my former life before coming to Michigan and enrolling in the MSU HALE program. Over the last year while at MSU I have had to couch my conversations about what I am interested in researching within language used by those in higher education, so I say things like "the role of faculty in professional education programs" or "how the university is connected to civil society through its academic programming." All of these are more broad (and sometimes watered-down) versions of the very specific nature of what I am interested in. At the NACC conference, I was able to be surrounded by people who know exactly what I am interested in, know the lingo, and are all for more research about it. What we share is not just a common interest, but a shared experience in trying to communicate what it is exactly we study and research.

Needless to say, it was so refreshing! And reviving! I have been waffling a bit about staying connected to this community and area of research. I have been so steeped in my environment of higher ed in HALE, that at times it seemed too difficult to try to connect my interests to the slightly different world at MSU. But upon returning to Lansing, I knew that I must stay connected. Not just because this community gets what I am doing, but also because these are really good, smart people. And they ask a lot of really good questions and are not afraid to discuss their own legitimacy and whether or not what they do is relevant. These were the conversations that were happening at this conference, sometimes tense, sometimes funny, and always filled with respect for ideas and a deep interest in discourse.

The Move

The big empty room, waiting to be filled (that's my
sister-in-law there in the backyard, I'm so glad they got
to see the house before they left for Seattle!)

Things have been busy here in Lansing and beyond. I was in Chicago last week for a conference with some of my old peeps in the nonprofit world. More on that in another post. When I returned, Kevin and I were ready to host my brother-in-law and sister-in-law because they are driving across the country to move to Seattle. They are leaving Boston, and moving on to the Emerald City. (I don't blame them!) In tow is their lovely cat Pigeon, who I absolutely adore. The only shame is that I am allergic to cats, but she seemed to settle into our house nicely, until it was time to put her back into her carry-on case and drive west.

Once they were gone, Kevin and I began packing again, putting away all of the last things into boxes, and getting ready to move it to the new house. We picked up the truck on Sunday morning, and moved until almost 10pm. Fortunately, a friend came over to help move the really heavy items (ahem, all of Kevin's welding stuff and table saw, etc. etc. and maybe some of my heavy items too...) We only moved about a mile and a half north of where we were living before, but the change in scenery is quite amazing. Our first night here, in complete exhaustion, I whispered to Kevin, "it's so quiet here." I think I'm going to like this new neighborhood.

Mosquito-Ville

My cartoon version of
all of my mosquito bites.

I've never been certain whether mosquitos love me or hate me. On the one hand, they could hate me because they insist on biting me all the time. On the other, they could love me, something about my smell, my being that they find irresistible. Either way, I am that person that gets about 3x more bites than the average person. It's been this way my whole life. It's kind of a bummer. I was walking from the parking lot on campus to the building where I work, a 3 minute walk. I got inside with three bites on my hands. MY HANDS. I've often said to others when we're outside, "Hey, just stand next to me and you won't get any mosquito bites because they'll come to me."

When I was a kid and we would visit my family in Maui, at the end of the day my brother and cousins would count our mosquito bites. I would always win. (Being the youngest cousin at the time, it was the only thing I ever won). Then there were the times I went to Ecuador to visit Kevin's folks, and my ankles swelled up. It's just the way it goes with me, even with deet I still get some bites (although not as badly). In the last few years, Kevin came to realize how badly I get eaten up by mosquitos and he bought me a little heat pen. It's supposed to neutralize the venom from the bite. Apparently mosquito bites are sensitive to heat, so when you slowly put heat on a bite, it makes the itch go away. Alas, it does make the itch go away and provides some relief, but it doesn't make the giant red mountain range on my legs disappear.

Things Learned from Running

The awesome GPS map I get
after I run

I went for my longest run this week, 6 miles. I haven't run 6 miles without stopping since I was 18. Seriously. And now, as an adult, and starting a routine of running about 4 times a week, I've come to notice and learn a lot of things. Here's what I've learned so far:

1) Rest days are important. When I first started jogging I was doing it almost every day. I was having a hard time upping my mileage, but then I realized "Maybe I need to rest?" And yep, I can now up my mileage. I just wasn't giving myself time to recover.

2) Slow and steady. I am a slow runner. And I increase my distance very slowly. And that's okay with me.

3) It's the little things that encourage me. On one run, I had a woman give me a thumbs up, another woman say "keep going!", lots of smiles from other runners, and a little girl running down the side walk too and she looked at me and said, "We're running here!!" THAT made me get through the final mile.

4) I run like T-Rex. Like T-Rex treading water, and a head like an open trap-door. I AM working on my form. But T-Rex is basically how I run. T-Rex treading water.

5) The first 100 meters is the worst part.

6) I've gotten to know my new neighborhood really well, because that is where I run, in the Groesbeck neighborhood. I also know all of the little cracks and bumps in the sidewalks. Which is also why I've learned that running in the road is better.

7) GPS watches make everything better. I was using my phone for a long time, and it was strapped to my arm. And I was also listening to podcasts while I ran. But then it began to get cumbersome, and my ear-puds kept falling out (sweat) and the cords were swinging all around. So, I invested in a GPS watch made for running. (Thanks random 20% off coupon from REI!) It is awesome. And now, I can listen to my breathing, let my thoughts fly, and let my watch do all the tracking.

8) The last mile is the worst part.

9) Running in the morning is not my friend. But I will continue to try to make this a time to run because once school starts and the days get shorter in the fall, I am afraid I won't be as eager to run in the afternoon. I'll also have the excuse of too much work to do.

10) If I don't think too much about it, I can do it.

Lansing, MI - Where Dreams Come True

Here's our house! Coincidentally, I've always wanted
to own a home with a red door.

I never thought I would be saying this, or rather, writing this, but we are buying a house. Yes, Kevin and I buying a house. I've waited to write this post because of my own anxiety during the whole process. And it's been a process. (I won't go into detail about the jerk we were working with at a certain bank here in Lansing to get a home loan. But he was a jerk. Fortunately, we found another woman and she' been awesome). Next Monday, on July 13th, we close! Wow! I never thought I would be buying a house, much less in Lansing, MI.

When I first moved here, it wasn't that I was trying to find things about the place to like (well, maybe I was a little) but I was also trying to discover the little wonderful things about living in Michigan. After several months (and a lot of snow) I remember taking the plane back to Lansing from a trip in the spring, and I actually couldn't wait to get back. I've come to really like my little town here. I've settled in, you could say. The other thing that is really great about this part of the country is that it's so reasonable to live here. Most of my adult life I've lived in Seattle, which means that I've always lived in a city that was too expensive for me. I admit, it just felt normal. But now that I'm here, I realize, "Wow, not every place is crazy expensive." And, it's actually better to buy a house here - we'll be paying less per month as home buyers than as renters. Kind of awesome. So the packing has begun, and we sign the paperwork next Monday. Good thing I found a list of things to do when we moved to Lansing. I just updated that list to, "Moving to MY house."

Procrasti-What??

My summer class is finally over. And I mean FINALLY. The last class was last Thursday, and although I had a final paper to turn in, my very reasonable professor told the class that we could turn it in on Sunday. It is my nature to turn things in on time, and I had every intention of turning this paper in on the actual syllabus due date, which was Thursday July 2nd. But I just couldn't bring myself to complete it by Thursday. I worked on it during the weekend before, and I reworked it on the day before, and then had every intention of going home after that class and finishing it.. but I didn't. So I woke up on Friday, July 3rd, and worked on it some more. I spent about 3 hours on it, and I could feel myself getting closer... but I just couldn't do it. I don't know what came over me, and as I shared this sentiment with Kevin, he commented on my procrastination. I was kind of taken aback, and I thought, "Procrastination? I never do that! I'm just a little stuck or something. I'm working through some ideas." But alas, he was right in his assessment. I was procrastinating to the max. The problem with this, of course, is that I often become apathetic the closer I get to a due date and the less I have finished. I didn't get completely apathetic about this paper, but I did kind of cut it off at the end. Rather abruptly. You know when you wrap a present for someone, and the wrapping paper is super awesome, sparkly, colorful, wrapped really well? And then you think, I should put a bow on this, but all you have is an old shoelace? That's basically how I finished off my paper.
 

Movement Part 3 - Perfection

Inside pages of Many Small Boxes book

I am obsessed with squares. And boxes. I have been for years. Each of these shapes symbolizes certain things for me. Of course, the box symbolizes how I can contain things, my emotions, my feelings, my personal perspective and beliefs. If you were to ask me “how I really feel” about something, I often make a decision about whether or not I open up one of my boxes to answer the question. The two-dimension aspect of the box then, is the square. And the square for me, symbolizes perfection. It is equal, it is the same on all four sides, it is right angles. It is perfection. It is a symbol at times of the divine, of the beyond, of the unreachable.

A painting during my obsession
with squares and rectangles

This shape began to pervade my life, and I would use the square in many ways. I thought about it when I felt off-balance, and I meditated on its shape when I was stressed out. In my artistic life, I began only to paint on square canvases, I painted shapes of squares and rectangles, and for several years I created books that were filled with grids. - (I’m going to open up one of my cardboard boxes here and tell you now how I really feel) - this obsession with squares didn’t just symbolize my obsession with being perfect, it was the manifestation of how I always felt. It wasn’t a symbol, it was who I was, always needing to be perfect. That is why I have boxes to keep everything contained, everything perfect, and all the messy stuff is tucked away. So then I can just focus on my beautiful square and become… paralyzed.

My view of my tattoo

Of course, the rigidness of being perfect still surrounds me, but I have become much more forgiving and much more loving and accepting of myself. I can move more easily now. I can joke about how I like to stuff things down, and also accept that it is a knee-jerk reaction I have to box things up. (maybe I still box things up, just a little bit still when I’m afraid or stressed-out – I can’t say that being a doctoral student has supported my ability to go easy on myself and to move on). But I do have a reminder. A permanent reminder to be human, to be messy, to be complicated, to be me. To move. It’s printed on my arm so that when I see my blue square, I remember that I put that square there not to strive for being perfect, but to remind me that I don’t have to be.

Movement Part 2 - Many Small Boxes

Many years ago I spent time living
with a printmaker and bookbinder, and
it was just after my parents had moved and
my experience with so many cardboard
boxes. This book is the first piece
of artwork I created from this theme.

When I was 21, my parents moved from the city where I grew up in Oregon, to Spokane, Washington. It did not bother me too much, especially because I was already living on my own (or at least as much as a 21 year old does). I remember being excited and anxious for them, but both of those feelings were also mixed with a knowing that this is what they just needed to do. They needed to move on. There was one thing that really struck me though, amidst all the planning and packing of moving a life lived in one city for almost 30 years. It was all the boxes. So many boxes. I became obsessed with boxes and what they held – all of a family’s belongings packed up in tidy boxes, labeled, and taped shut. It felt so simple, and so easy, and also made our “things” so much less than the value we placed on them. I was surprised at the potential of placing something into a cardboard box and suddenly how it ceased to matter for me.

I probably shouldn't have been surprised, because this is in large part how I like to live my life. I am a compartmentalist, and I like to have boundaries. Clear boundaries. Tidy boxes. When I live outside of those boundaries I feel vulnerable, I cry a lot, I fear I hurt the feelings of those close to me. So I tend to keep things in boxes. Many small boxes, labeled, and taped shut. But then too much time goes by and I can't keep all these boxes shut and contained, and then they open, all of them at once and then, well, (see above sentences) I start experiencing the world through my “feelers” my emotive and inconsistent selves. This is the irony – that emotion is movement. That the whole point of emotion is to MOVE, to have motion. And I often insist on keeping these things inside my many small boxes. Labeled. Taped shut.

I have gotten better about this over the years. And I know I will continue to. And maybe someday when I’m old and gray, I will write a blog post titled, “Movement, Part 17 – In Memoriam, My Many Small Boxes.” For now, I’ll try to peak inside my boxes every once in a while so they don't pop open all at once, and it doesn't turn into a frenzy of cardboard, sharpie pens, and shipping tape, aka, my messy emotions.

Movement Part 1 - Weather Systems

The weather in Michigan moves. Having grown up in Oregon, and then living most of my adult life in Seattle, being here has made me more aware of how little the weather changed in the NW. This could also be due to where my NW cities are situated. But I can’t help but think about how much change happens in one 24-hour period here. And then over the span of a week, there can be a 15-20 degree difference.

My sister-in-law's NC clean-out

I mention all of this because it has made me think more about movement – about how things change, and whether that change happens rapidly or slowly. Or maybe it’s only our perception of how quickly things can change. In the last couple of weeks I have also been reminded of the concept of former lives. My “former life” feels so far away, like another person’s life, like a young woman I could talk to now and reassure her that today, in the future, things are going really well.

Kevin’s sister mentioned this to me in an email, as she recapped a recent trip she took to North Carolina to, in a way, attend to her former life there. After eight years, she finally went back to get things that were left in a house she used to own and bring them back to Seattle. She wrote, “…it was almost like I was sorting through the life and things of someone else. Part of me wished that I could have gone back to myself of 2007 and shown her even just a glimpse of what her life would be like in 2015.” I share this sentiment.

Look at this super cute
cabinet Kevin brought
back to Lansing from NC

So much in my life has changed, and sometimes very rapidly. But when things aren’t changing quickly enough it feels like the weather in Seattle – rain for days, for months. I am more cognizant and in some ways, grateful for how rapidly the weather system moves here. Really moves. It is a good reminder that things are shifting, and I appreciate the metaphor of movement to a drizzle, humidity, a thunderstorm, and a sun break that clears everything out.