Now reporting from Day 2 of the Real World. So far, I've slept until noon, done a load of dishes, eaten leftover party hummus, and grooved to my new A*teens CD. Graduation, schmaduation...I refuse to let The Man change me.
Speaking of graduation, it was Friday. I'm glad I attended the ceremony, but there was a shade of weirdness. Most of my grad friends were there, but we were all mixed in with the Richmond crowd, whom most of us didn't know. As a result, there was social awkwardness, no one was really into taking pictures, and all the people I cared to see were hurried. Us NoVA step-children had to eat and haul it back home before Friday rush hour hit, relatives got annoyed, and pregnant classmates went into labor.
But anyway, I crossed the stage, received another diploma substitute, and had my name butchered by a professor who has had me in class for the last year, despite that I spelled it phonetically on the card. My JMU booty shorts kept me warm with pride. And thus my academic era is closed until I am inevitably suckered back in for my doctorate.
While some chose to file back down south for the campus-wide ceremony next morning, I decided instead to have a good time. Justinne and Jason came in Friday for our 3/4(1817-B) reunion, which was just a great night. I'm glad they got to see me chill for awhile since Saturday I started on my usual neurotic trip as we transported a watermelon sculpture, spread sand over the patio, and filled an inflatable palm tree with beer.
I began to gain composure once I put on my tropical flip-flops and started drinking. The weather was lovely and clear, although it had been slated to storm. And even with a perimeter of nine tiki torches, no one set anything on fire. And within such ideal circumstances, it was a set of perfect moments, like:
*Justinne and I being dorks because we color-coordinated our umbrella straws to our malt beverages.
*Joy dissolving the entire kitchen into laughter by doing sordid things with frosting.
*Carson utilizing his engineer skills to hang the pinata; then smashing the hell out of it and spraying chocolate all over the lawn.
*Justin making a sweet and humbling toast to the newest "Mistress of Social Work, who will be there to tell us when we're all fucked up."
*Sharing a long overdue truth while watching the stars. And being able to laugh about it because we both already knew.
*Stepping back and watching my friends become each other's friends.
*And so as not to end on a saccharine note, joining in with Toby as we tried to spy on the hot neighbors.
Love and thanks to all of you who attended (or would have). But special props to Cynthia, Jason, Justinne, Mike, and Rob for baking quiche, rolling wieners, and lifting heavy things to help set up. But especially to my dad who helped with strategic decoration and my mom who helped to keep my dad at bay. And to both of them for funding graduate school, for without that, there would have been no reason to celebrate.
Apparently, they had a great weekend too because following the relief that we didn't destroy anything, they spotted Robert Duvall and a rainbow at Sunday dinner. Hopefully the latter is a sign that I will never again flood the house with papers and my obnoxious teenage angst.
Justinne left Monday morning, which was good because it was gradual weaning from being social. So just to make the most of it, we treated ourselves to Maggiano's and Mean Girls and being stupid by staying up until 5 o'clock in the morning. Love you, dumbitch :)
Ahh. So tomorrow I have my first post-graduate job interview. I admit, The Man does hold a special place in my heart. But we'll see what comes of all this. It feels weird not to be bookended by another school year and the terrain is uncertain. So I leave you with the apt words of Hans Falck. I think that he was chosen as our keynote speaker not because he has about 742 degrees and is an honored elder of the profession, but because he has an empathic clue about how it feels to be a graduate:
"Full of hope and a little worry about what happens next."
( 2:03 PM ) Meghan
Saturday, May 22, 2004
G-R-A-D-U-A-T-E-D!
You're a Speak & Spell!! You nerd, you. Just because you were disguised as a toy doesn't mean you weren't educational, you sneaky bastard.
Unofficially, yesterday was my last day of practicum. Really it was last Thursday, but I had to return my clown suit so they let me back in for awhile.
"Clown Gate" (as my co-workers started calling it) was a good experience. It was cool to be part of a community event because I don't often feel like I'm part of a community in this impersonal slot they call the Metro area. Most of the kids were awed by my balloon-twisting skills, save one or two, e.g., "THAT'S a dinosaur?" Apparently, I also look very cute in a clown costume, but not the kind of cute that would have aided me in hitting on the hot firefighters. Ah, well. By the end of the day, my hands hurt like a bitch. But on the positive, I improved on my form and stopped making the sword-balloon look like a phallic symbol plus accessories.
And so practicum ended on that loopy note, which I think helped to alleviate some of the sadness. I've completed two practica prior to this, but adoption was the only one I didn't want to leave. The others had more of a relief about them. It was nice for but a brief nine months to have warm co-workers, grateful clients, and duties I enjoyed. More often than not, I felt competent with what I was doing. And being treated as a colleague by veteran workers helped a lot. They told me I'm always welcome back because I'm part of the family now and I promised that I'd visit. Because even after all this time, I never was as good with termination.
My clients knew how to do it, though. Two of my kids gave me transitional objects to remember them by. One tried to get into the car with me as I was leaving. And even my adult clients left me voicemail, thanking me for taking the time to help them. I met a lot of people to learn from this time around.
My co-workers left me with two gifts--a Lisa Simpson bookmark and a picture frame, surrounded by a quote from Thoreau. Which really captures why it feels so hard to leave...they know me.
( 3:30 PM ) Meghan
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
I always had class.
It's been quite awhile since a real entry. So the events of the past couple of weeks I'll be recording in the next few entries. More digestible and all.
Last Tuesday night was my last class. Like my first day of grad school, it felt rather anti-climactic, except that I had my research presentation that day. I was flattered because several people were very much affected by it and one said that mine was the most interesting project. I feel, though, that the bulk of the credit should go to my subjects (for without them I had no study) and the topic. I've always believed that if you add puppies and kittens to anything, it doubles the notoriety. Dirt Devil and RCA--case in point.
So after the presentation, the rest of the night passed as normal. Two more classes and dinner with friends--it was oddly comfortable. Of course, now I'm leaving after comfort finally settled in. I had carved out my niche. Professors knew my name. I even earned a reputation with graphic design. And now, it's not just these two years ended, but my entire school career. I had just mastered (no pun intended) the student role and now I have to change jobs after 19 years. A little sad. Totally surreal.
I had to laugh, though, once I saw the complete retrospective. Kindergarten through eighth grade we received regular announcements over the PA from Sister Marie to keep the playground clean. "Please put your trash in the trash receptacles." And two weeks before school lets out at VCU, I get the following e-mail from the Dean in Richmond:
"This is a request to pay particular attention to cleaning up food, papers, etc. from the classrooms when your class is over."
Ha. Who would have ever believed that school would be so consistent?
Of all of grad school, I will most miss Dave's class wherein we learned group dynamics by throwing people to the sharks and used metaphors such as "like trying to nail Jell-o to the wall."
( 6:16 PM ) Meghan
