What We Are Built To Do (Part 2)

I have been reflecting a lot about being here in Lansing, and transitioning to my second year as a PhD student. It has been over a year now that we've been here, and one of the thoughts I've had the most is that if this were a job I took, I'd be starting to look for another one. I used to joke about my 14-18 month itch, that after a time at any job, I'd start to get antsy and start cruising the job postings. Or I'd daydream more and more about finding a nice quiet job in the country. Then eventually, I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and I'd actually find another job. Between 2009 and 2014 I worked at four different nonprofit organizations. I was the poster-girl for nonprofit churn.

Where I build things

Even before I became the poster girl for churn I already was starting this habit. I think it's normal for most people in their 20s to have several different jobs. But I remember many of my peers started to settle in as we closed in on our 30s and then by our early 30s they seemed to have landed on something. I thought I did, until I realized that I was extremely unhappy. I try not to regret the job jumping and hunting I did for so long, and try to remember that all of that professional experience really did help me to get here. I admit that I do wish sometimes I had gotten to this point sooner, but then I think that there would be a possibility that I would have treated this like just another jobby-job and would have jumped. Maybe now that I'm closing in on my 40s is the only time I could have finally stayed put in something.  So I try to make myself feel better by reminding myself that some of the potential future faculty positions I will be looking for once I finish will insist on me having certain experience in the field. I can happily say I have lots of that.

So here I've been for 14 months, right about the time that I should be getting antsy and start looking for job postings. Right when I would start daydreaming about finding a nice little job in the country. Right about the time when I would start to get so anxious about what I was doing with my life that the only remedy was to find another job to give me stimulation and distraction from those anxious feelings. Yet, I don't have any desire to leave. I don't really have to go looking for stimulation because I am constantly being challenged, I'm learning, and I'm getting to explore so many new ideas and let them play out through my writing. Right now, this is what I am built to do.

Here is my post about what we are built to do from back in January.

Little By Little

We turned a major corner this weekend on the bathroom remodel. Actually, Kevin did all the work while I did homework. I did help put the tub back in place, but that didn't take very long. Without saying too much more now, I'll provide here a photo collage with commentary of what went down:

Getting ready to move the tub. Moving the tub. Looking at the where the tub was.

Anyway, as I alluded to, we (I use the universal we here) lifted the tub out, and then replaced all the rotting subfloor that was underneath it. Our friend Jason came over to help, which was a huge plus.

There are some things I didn't want to know about my house. But I found them out when we moved the tub and undid the plumbing. And then I cleaned 65 years worth of disgusting from inside our pipes.

Here is the floor at the drain end of the tub. You can see where it is all rotted out, not to mention weird insulation that was placed underneath the tub. Pretty crumbly, and dusty and well, just overall gross.

Removing old floor and prepping for new floor

Here's where we put the tub while working on the floor -- and... New Floor! (well, sub-floor, but so important!

Running Funk Gets a Lift

We had to stop and take a running selfie

I've been in a little bit of a running funk lately, like I've lost my mojo for it. It could be the week after week of the same schedule, and feeling a little like I've plateaued. I am still forcing myself to run, however, because I realized today that the goal is drawing nearer a lot faster than I expected. I keep thinking I have two months left until the 1/2 marathon, but nope, it's just about a month away. Yikes! I know I'll be fine (I think??) but sometimes my central governor gets the best of me. (If you haven't heard of the central governor, take a listen to this RadioLab podcast, start it around 11:30 minutes). This morning, however, I went for a run with my friend Heather. She is a bonafide runner, someone who has been running for a long time, has done marathons, and said to a group of us once, "If I don't go running, bad things happen" which is code for running adds the sanity and balance into life. There are days when I am running and I feel awesome. Lately, I haven't been feeling awesome. Today, however, I felt awesome. It could have been that Heather and I were gabbing away, still maintaining a steady pace. Or that we stumbled upon an actual race that was happening and took some of their water. Or the scenery helped us make it just past 7 miles. Whatever it was, I was very happy to feel really good again about running, and having Heather as a friend to share this with me this morning was the icing on top of the cake. (Mmmmm cake).

A $200+ Book

Last fall, my supervisor for my assistantship and I worked together on writing a chapter for a book. It was an incredibly interesting process for me, having never written with someone else on an academic level. I've written a lot of grants with people, and I totally have that down, but writing a book chapter?? Especially on a subject matter I know nothing about? Jim and I started by talking and talking and talking. I'm not completely sure if he intuited that I am an auditory learner, or if he just prefers talking through ideas, but whatever the case, it worked for me. I remember many times meeting with him over coffee to talk about how we were going to tackle this. And then I had to start writing. After only knowing him a couple of months I had to send him an email saying that I wrote a lot but basically I think it's crap and I've been overthinking the entire thing. He responded with a "you're doing great" and "you're not the only one to over-think these things." Who knew academia could also be kind and forgiving? When Jim added in his sections, I then took it back and started copy editing. And as I read it I remember thinking, "these words sound familiar..." which means that a lot of what I wrote didn't completely get deleted! He kept it in, which was very exciting for me. (Unlike what I would do sometimes with grants, delete and rewrite). I learned a lot about international higher education through this process, and I'm very excited to share that the book has been published. And it's really expensive. Must be a Euro thing. Here's the website for the publisher and the book details so you can see what exactly we did.

Brown Rice

Brown rice. I eat it now.

Growing up I ate rice almost every day. It was the side dish I could rely on. Say we were having chili for dinner. White rice wasn't just on the side, the chili was spooned on top of it. Or let's say we were having some kind of chicken dish, with vegetables. White rice on the side. Better yet, a roast with potatoes. White rice on the side. There were rare moments that I did not eat rice at dinner. When I went to college my mom gave me a rice cooker. Receiving a rice cooker as a gift from your mother is a shared experience of many of my Asian friends. What I didn't know about rice until I got to college, however, is that it also came in brown. I know! You might be laughing. But really, my only touchpoint for rice was white sticky rice. Bought in 20 or 50 pound bags. I will admit that one time I was spending the night at my friend's house when I was in middle school, and during dinner there was rice. I remember thinking, "Oh! something familiar!" and I kept a lookout for the shoyu (that would be soy sauce). But the shoyu never arrived at the table, and in its place was a pat of butter and salt. I was obviously perplexed. Also, the rice kind of slipped around on itself. Not sticky at all. And it came from a box!!

So, enter my undergrad experience and I'm walking through the cafeteria line and there it is. A big cooked bin of brown rice. And I think, "does it taste different? Looks unnatural." Again, I know! So weird. I have to laugh about this now. These days I have to sneak in my white rice every once in a while because apparently brown rice is better for you (and more natural?). And we pretty much only buy brown rice these days. Even though it takes like, an extra 25 minutes to cook. But every once in a while I can make the case for white rice and oh, I am so happy to gobble it up with just a drop or two of shoyu and some nori.

Group Work (Blech)

I learned something new last week about my core classes. My professor for my policy class shared with my cohort that the syllabus for our class was part of an already established set of instructions, activities, and learning outcomes that she was not a part in creating. That she was not a part of its creation is obvious since she joined the HALE faculty in 2013 (I think it was 2013). What struck me, however, was the detail of how certain lessons needed to be designed. The specific example of this is group work. Apparently there were a certain number of "group work" assignments for my core classes. I pretty much cringe when I see group work on a syllabus. I start to get a little tightening in my chest and I have a hard time breathing when I think about writing as a group. Fortunately, I have been quite lucky the last year to be in a group with some pretty good people. It does make group work somewhat less painful, but still it falls into the category of most hated things. Also fortunately, my professor for my policy class shares this certain distaste for group work. So she's devised a brilliant way to adhere to the group work assignment and still make it somewhat independent work. So, as she went through the syllabus and I saw group work, and then she unpacked the assignment, my breathing became more even, and my fists unclenched. If I'm going to write a crappy paper, I'd rather just know that I was the only one who wrote it. Unfortunately, I am taking a course in a completely different college (Human Resources and Labor Relations) and this course also requires a group work project. We had a meeting today to discuss our project presentation, and the only thing I can say is that I can't wait for it to be over.

PWE

Hi! I'm a 1998 Ford Ranger!

I learned to drive on a small Toyota truck. It was light blue, and was the most stripped down model you could buy with a four speed manual transmission and no overdrive. It only had one rearview mirror on the driver's side. With this truck I learned the art of the clutch, and am surprised that my mom (who did most of my driver's education while holding on tightly to the passenger door and leaning into the center of the car) lived through this experience. I remember one time my dad and I drove to downtown Portland and parked the truck on the street. I don't remember why we were there, but I do remember on the way back to find the truck we couldn't remember what street we had parked it on. That's when my dad jokingly said, "Pee-wee where are you? We lost you!" And I laughed, and then realized why my dad said that once we found the truck: the license plate started with PWE. Thereafter, the little blue truck was Peewee. I will admit here, that I love driving a truck. Maybe it's just the nostalgia I have for having learned to drive on one. I also have nostalgia for Volkswagen Vanagons for a similar reason. I also learned to be a better driver with a Vanagon because there's nothing like driving a barn door with a gear shift that is two and a half feet long to give you a lesson on space. I digress. So yes, I love driving a truck.

Making the second dump-run

As Kevin and I tear out our bathroom (and scheme about the kitchen remodel) we have come to realize that a truck would be a really nice thing to have. Especially considering that we had a pile of rubble sitting under our carport for over two weeks. And we had to buy plywood and sheetrock. So... we got a truck. Bought a truck. And now I have to admit that this is the first American made car I have ever owned. It's an old truck, and it was a fairly cheap truck. But it has so far done the job and it feels really great to be driving a truck around. (And if you're wondering, yes, we still have the Honda. We are a two car family, which I have mixed feelings about but whatever, I live in the Midwest now and I guess that's just how we do it here).