Juliana's first day of grad school

welcome to your life

Today was my first day of orientation as a new graduate student. Right away it felt like my first day of kindergarten (although I never technically had one of those). Nice smiling ladies were stationed every hundred feet to make sure I didn’t get lost. Volunteers wearing neon green t-shirts holding yellow balloons led us to the bathrooms. Teachers passed out papers. We saw a video, ate sack lunches, and took potty breaks. I met lots of new students. Everyone said “welcome welcome welcome.”

Today I learned about (potentially) the next six years of my life. But when the scholarly administrators began beaming PowerPoint outlines and curriculum overviews onto my callow brow, it seeped into my heart, stirred within me, and I finally started to feel oriented.

I AM EXCITED. I AM IN THE RIGHT PLACE. THIS IS GOING TO KICK ASS.

how to get off sesame street

I am officially off my butt. I am officially broker than ever before. I didn’t even know it. Damn the automatic bill-pay that forgot about. I pray for a miracle. But I realize that the miracle is probably simply that I have two working legs and two working arms and eyes and ears and a brain and I should be using these miracles to employ myself gainfully. So the t.v. is off today. The newspaper has been purchased. The classifieds have been perused. Still, I pray for more miracle than that. God usually doesn’t give grace in big whopping heaps. He usually gives it in little portions so that I keep asking for more. I wanted a miracle in the mail. I wanted to find a mysterious check for three thousand dollars. I opened the mail and, viola, Papa-Bank had sent me a crisp, green, twenty-dollar bill. That won’t cover my overdraft fee, my bills, or my rent, but it will get me enough gas and vegetables for a couple of weeks. It will provide a few quarters to photocopy my resume and a few stamps to mail out applications. God, so practical, so demanding, so smart. Dang it.

future dissertations on sesame street

September 13, 2005 KVCR 2:45 p.m.

Even Sesame Street. I’ve always known that there is something about this classic children’s show that was smarter than just about anything I’ve ever seen. Maybe it’s because the producers have a goal that almost no other show aspires to anymore: To create positive models and stimulation at a level children can understand. I’ve been watching Sesame Street for as long as I can remember. I still love it. Maybe my attention span is still limited to about 3 minutes. But there’s something truthful about Sesame Street’s “educational” programming.

Today, Sesame Street started cleaning up from “the hurricane.” A strong wind blew Big Bird’s nest to pieces. Big Bird was pretty depressed, and the next piece was a song about it being okay to cry. Adults cry sometimes, after all, so if it’s okay for them, it must be okay for kids too. But of course, the adults on Sesame Street pulled together and started rebuilding the nest, and offered Big Bird a place to stay for the time being, and of course give him plenty of Bird’s Nest Stew.

Then Cookie Monster sang a song about friends and what friends are all about (someone you would give your last cookie to). Ernie and Elmo sang about sharing. Then Grover and Rosita talked about love for 15 seconds.

We transition to some counting. Famous opera singer, Rene Fleming, sings and counts to an adaptation from Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro. Forward, one two three four five, backwards five four three two one. Then five sheep with accordions accompany, baa baa baa baa baa, backwards, baa baa baa baa baa. Then five pigs, five bananas, and crazy animals soften the blow of baby’s exposure to opera?

Back to the hurricane response on Sesame Street. Baby bear draws a picture of his experience. Four pairs of eyes in the dark (because it was dark), momma bear, daddy bear, baby bear, and Goldilocks who stayed with them during the storm. Baby bear explains that “drawing always makes me feel better.” Then they help Big Bird find a new place to take his daily nap. “Just because the hurricane changed some things, doesn’t mean you can’t do things you normally do.”

But they don’t linger, exclusively, on the dealing with tragedy. They digress to other topics and skits, too. And then revisit Sesame Street again, because it will be a long time before Big Bird’s nest is all fixed. Big Bird decides he’d like to draw a picture, too. He draws a picture of his nest, his home before the hurricane messes everything up.

Then another film clip, “Painting is kind of like talking. I can paint anything.” And another, “When we came home, I wanted to draw a picture… Here it is: My day.” After Big Bird talks about his picture and his feelings, Elmo’s World concludes the episode with the theme “Drawing.”

Future Art Therapists, take note.

i'm a girl. sometimes i just cry.

so monday was labor day, and i had spent three nights at a church retreat up in the moutains under the pressure to make friends, make art, sit still and listen to other people, and sing other people's songs about God and breathing and stuff. it was a really fun weekend. i had a really good time. let's be clear about this.

i made friends with some really cool people.
i made some art that i'm pretty proud of.
i learned and became encouraged from other people's words.
i sang songs and even really meant some of it.

let's just say that after three nights in a cabin, and the fourth day of being around a lot of people during a very compact, intense, socially rigorous weekend, i was tired. tired of everything. over it. really really ready to just go home.

and so close to the end, so close i could taste the sweet silence of my own bedroom only a few hours away.

and all i wanted was a pen. i was sitting in the last group event, just trying to be nice and fill out the feedback-survey they gave us. i just wanted a pen so i could do what was asked of me and then mentally check out. and one of the few people i hadn't yet met offered me a pen with a queer smirk on his face. so i said, what's wrong with it and he just said, it's not mine. and i said, questioningly, there's no gimmick or what? and he said, just take it.

and i clicked it and it sent a fair bolt of electricity into my thumb.

i gave it back. no, i threw it back.
refused all subsequent pen-lenders
and then mentally checked out.

and then i started to cry.

i guess i felt betrayed. duped. used. i don't know... uncared for.
i didn't want my betrayer to see me cry, though.
i knew it was a joke. i knew he meant no harm. i knew it wasn't that big of a deal.
ha ha funny.

but i couldn't stop. i cried and cried. tears poured down my face.
two, three, no, four more times before i finally got off that mountain the tears flooded back.
because my own nerves had already been pulsing, needed no more prodding. the trick-pen had kicked up the avalanche of emotions, rushing everything toward the climax of overwhelm.

juliana, are you okay?
juliana, what's wrong?
well, see, i needed a pen, and...