This just in...

I passed my comps!!!!!

The news was delivered as follows:

Hey Sarah Beth:

Congratulations! You passed all sections of your exam and are now Master of your own domain. I will get the paperwork organized next week--I think that you need to sign a copy of the form.

Go have a drink.

Jeffrey Scraba

There it is, folks! What else is there to say? Not a lot! It's a feeling like I've never felt before. It's joy unencumbered! Those of you that drink, drink one for me! I am quite happy being "the Master" of my own domain. Teehee!

Freaky Friday!

Happy Halloween! I am really excited about the festivities this year! I am really excited about life in general these days. Tonight I am going to what promises to be a kick-ass throw-down at the Thompson-Clayton house (Like all that sexy hyphenation?). My friends who now live in Nashville will be there. People who I have wanted to meet for a long time will be there. People who have inspirational costumes will be there. People I want to get to know better will be there. Awesomeness will be afoot!

Still no word on how I did on the comps. My breath is bated, but my face is kinda starting to look a little blue.

And the award goes to...

I don't have cancer anymore! The grass is greener, the sky is bluer, and all is as it should be. Everything happens for a reason. I believe that deep down in my heart.

The next few years will include more check-ups than usual, but I will not have to go through cutting on my stuff for quite some time!!!

I don't even know what to say; I am just so happy. I am so very, very, very happy.

Test Day!

Ok, one more cup of coffee, and then I am off to the races! Well, I need to shower first, but then I am gone.

Thanks to everyone who has been calm while I have not.

I wish I could be cool and just do these things without pomp and circumstance. Someone said once that this is just a part of who I am. Sarah Beth freaks out. Maybe that won't always be true. I bet it will be. This energy is a lot of what makes me the me I am, right?

Worrying is an exercise in futility. I will drink my coffee, take my shower, and walk down the street to my test. I will pass and so will this.

Freak-Out pt. 5

This is it! Last day of the freak-out, y'all!

I am going to go to Memphis in just a few short minutes, going to have lunch with some lovely ladies, and going to relax tonight. I am thinking I may try to get to a meeting. I may also sit in my swank room and catch up on Dirty Sexy Money. Who knows?

I do know that I will be looking over my notes tonight. Said I wouldn't, but things change, ya dig?

Aaaahh! It's almost over!

I am so glad the freak-out is almost over. I am exhausted!

Freak-Out pt. 4

OK... Today is the last day of real studying. While I know that I will be doing some looking on Friday, this is the last day where I do it with any real sense of an agenda. I am meeting with a prof to talk about poetry today. I am so grateful for that. I have been reaching to the corners to just talk to people about this stuff. If anyone reading this has been in on the "just talk to me about it" sessions, I cannot thank you enough.

After averaging mid-semester grades, I made an offer to my students that must come have been inspired from the kindness being shown to me lately. I am giving them a 7-day window to turn in everything they might have missed. They get 7 days to bring up their faltering grades, and then the window closes. Think that was big-hearted of me? Well, I certainly do.

My insides are so coffee-stained. If you see me after Saturday, hug me. I know, I don't usually do that sort of thing but do it anyway. I usually know what I need, but I hardly ever seem to know how to ask for it. That knowing part of me is telling whoever is out there, "Give this girl a hug."

Freak-Out pt. 3

Yesterday I worked on an actual question that I had created which is supposed to look like the test I am going to take in just a few short days. After I was fnished looking at the answer, I turned it over to a lady I work with to get her feedback on what I had written. I think writing knowing that it is going to be read helps me write better. That is just a theory. I mean, I am pretty sure that someone reads what I read here, but I don't put as much effort into this as I do for my practice questions. Isn't that how it is supposed to be? Who knows?

I was also insanely busy yesterday, and I think that influences how I write. I only say that because I was talking with my friend Courtney yesterday, and we were talking about anxiety. I really think that I am pretty good with making my nerves work for me. I am starting to tell myself that I will go into that room on Sarurday, and I will force all of these jitters into my fingers and my brain. All that energy has to be good for something. Right?

Freak-Out pt. 2

Met with Liz last night and just talked about the stuff the questions will possibly cover. That has helped me feel more at ease. Psht. Ease is not the right word, but I guess that feeling is a goal somewhere in all of all this anxiety.

Realized too late that I taught the wrong thing yesterday. I didn't teach anything incorrectly. I taught the Wednesday thing on Monday. I guess their fear or their ignorance of the syllabus kept the kiddies from speaking out about it. Oh well. I think I can give the apostrophe talk as well as a killer prompt for in class writing all in the same class. Huzzah!

I must say that my coffee input is at grad school capacity once again. I realize that I had been missing that ridiculous flush of energy with an actual goal in mind. I am pretty sure after this MA thing is finally behind me, I am going to look into getting back into the conference thing. That is probably the coffee talking.

Freak-Out pt. 1

It's mostly just that I am freaking out and stuff. I am sitting here trying to analyze poetry. My stomach hurts and there doesn't seem to be enough coffee in this hemisphere.

I randomly chose a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and I have to tell you, I have no idea what it is about! What am I supposed to do??

Everyone keeps telling me that I will be fine, and I really want to believe them. I am also seeking distractions at every turn. I am a crazy person. Do not let me fool you. The things that are going on in my head right now are the makings of the next great work of creative non-fiction. For real, y'all.

Another trip to the vagina HQ

I went to the doctor for the latest roud of "poke around for cancer" tests. This time instead of going for a piece from each section, they decided to go for a large chunk that covered the entire cervix. Maybe that explains why I feel like I have been run through with a sword. That is what it feels like.

The doctor was actually nice this time around. He cracked a joke or two, asked about details he remembered, and let his intern do most of the work. Dr. Branch stood next to me and talked while the intern did the cutting. I would never let him know how nice it was just to have him there distracting me with questions. The shooting, burning pain was just more tolrable with another person there just talking to me.

Friends who call and text and visit are just the icing on this shit-cake. They really make it all seem so much less awful than it is. This time around it all feels worse, but my friends have stepped up that much more. They keep up with how I am and seem to pay attention to the ridiulous needs I have. Pain shared really is pain divided.

For the record, it still amazes me when boys do what boys say they will do. I doubt Brian will ever know just how much it meant to me when he came over Monday night. I knew all day that he wouldn't. I still think he was thinking of ways to get out of it. Maybe my feelings like that will pass with time. When he was there, standing there at my door, it just made me feel like I was worth it. I know, I sound like one of those snivelling females who seeks worth through the recognition of others. Well, it's true.

Getting ready for the exam while I work on healing. It will be here in less than two weeks. I am freaking out. I also doing what I do when I have things to do. I have cleaned my kitchen, organized recipe cards, watched too many shows on dvd, and cooked too many meals. Oh well.

Empty words to fill with meaning

Today and yesterday I had my students work on a paper topic that is mostly for me and mostly for them, even though they don't know it yet. I began the prompt for their in-class writing by talking about how language is loaded and meaning differs from one person to the next. We talked about the word "green" and how one person's green may not be the green of another person. I drew a bowl on the board, and we filled it with words that hint at what green is to them.

As I led them into what they were going to write, I erased all the green stuff, and I stood close to the board in order to hide what i was writing. I had written the word "patriotism" on the board. When I moved away, I was met with a collective sigh that just about broke my heart.

I asked them to write what they thought about this word, what is means to them, how they understand it. I have looked at the submissions from yesterday, and I can already see the trends. They are associating it with freedom and the military and nationalism.

Mostly, I am just crossing my fingers and hoping for something that stinks of insight from my second class. There are so many faces in these classes that just don't give a fuck about anything we are doing in this country.

I figure I have two options. I can either invest in the space program so that I might have a place to live when these people are in charge. Or... I can work my ass off trying to get through to at least one or two of them enough that they carry the message of activity and involvement to others. This choice is an exhausting one, and I know that is the path I choose for now.

How long before I give up? Will I be old before my time, with wrinkles of unrewarded effort, before I finally throw in the towel? Will I look back on these words and remember a time when I had fire? I hope these words will still ring true decades from now. I hope.

Parental Advisory

Mmmmmm.... mmmmmm...... ooooh........ yessssssss!!!

Oh, hello, um, hi. Sorry, I was just reliving yesterday's Indian food experience. My foray into the deep amazingness of Indian cuisine leaves me with a post-orgasmic glow that rivals the best bop I've ever had. Seriously. It was just that good.

Yesterday, I learned about the way I will be taking my comps exam as well as the general form the questions will take. It's not that I think I can't do it, it's just that I haven't ever taken such an important test. This determines so much, and I am extremely ready for this part of my life to be calmer.

I think Indian food may be the secret to world peace.

Pilgrimage!

Today I go to meet with the guy who is charge of my comps exam. I still can't get one of the profs to send me her syllabus. It irks me that she won't send it or even indicate that she has received my emails. It also irks me that I can find all of the ones I need, but I can't find hers.

I get to go to Memphis with two of my favorite people, and they are going to introduce me to the wonderful world of Indian food. I know I am going to love it, and I am super-stoked about being with the foodies on my virgin attempt.

Today the kiddies get to experience my joy and passion concerning subject/verb agreement. If they can just sit tight and deal with it, I am sure they will learn to love it as much as I do. Ok, they won't, but I will. My happiness is all I am really concerned about anyway. Ok, that isn't true either.

I am nervous about the meeting today. I am nervous about my test. Even though Liz tells me it isn't that hard, I feel like it will be. Ugh. This will all be over in just a few short weeks.

Friday steam

Kids these days... My students are fabulous one day and well, not fabulous the next day. Today they ran from one end of the spectrum to the other, and I am a little bit at a loss about how I feel about that. If they didn't need to learn, then they wouldn't need me. I like to be needed. Why, then, am I so frustrated when they need so much more than I could ever give them?

They needed proper high school educations. At what point do I throw in the towel and say that this is beyond my help? When did being dumb and uncaring become so frigging cool? When did the people who couldn't pass Algebra become the math teachers? The same can be said of the English teachers.

I want to go to the area high schools and talk not only to the kids but also to their teachers. The teachers need to get their heads out of their asses, quit complaining about how no one gets paid enough, and invest in the future of the world by actually educating its eventual adult population.

The all-important dollar sign just seems to play too much of a part. Today I seem to think it contributes to the declining educational status of high school students. That's all I am saying about that. For now...

My so-called post-modern life

Without a center or a real focus, I am walking in a direction I really don't understand. Do you ever feel like you are a part of something bigger? Something apart from yourself? Try as you might, you just can't see where you fit in the plan.

It sounds like I am looking for redemption, a purpose, a place to put my feet. Maybe that is true. With all of the scenarios and questions lately, I have begun to feel like my life is not my own. Maybe I am feeling my life for the first time, and this is what it feels like. Who knows?

"It's just where I am" seems to be the default response. I am in a state of being, but it is a being that changes. It isn't enough of a change to be movement, but isn't static from day to day, minute to minute, even the seconds lack similarity.

The pushing, the shoving, the warring within all leaves me exhausted. What am I fighting? What realization am I forcing myself to deny? To remain blind to? That certainly is how I feel in this moment of calm questioning.

Calm. I will look for it, but I will not be as frantic as I feel. I will slow down. I will continue to look for answers, but I will also wait and see if they come to me when I am silent and ready. I am not waiting on the cosmic fortune cookie, but I am waiting for the ghosts of old souls to whisper their secrets to my willing ear.