They call me Scrooge

I really don't hate Christmas the way some people think I do. My mom assumes that I'm just a "Scrooge" and tells everyone such, but the reality is that I'm seriously annoyed with all of the PRESSURE that comes with the holiday. (Annoyed and hate are different, right?)

Think about it.

Pressure to buy gifts, usually starting before Halloween with emails, commercials and crap stacked up at stores.
Pressure to plan the perfect meal, be sure you see everyone you're "supposed" to see that day, exchange gifts, and any other tradition your family may have.
Pressure to spend money that you may not have because "it's what you do" for Christmas. Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, Cyber Monday... isn't there a green somethingerother thrown in there now?! COME ON!!!
Pressure to play the part of a happy American who loves Christmas. Even in the worst of situations (like Wal-Mart).

And it's all so exhausting that by the end of Christmas day, you're lucky to make it to your own bed before planting face first and passing out for as many hours as you're allowed before you go back to work (which for a lot of us is the next day).

 

IT'S JUST TOO MUCH!!

We plan for months for a day that's JUST ANOTHER DAY that the media tells us we should treat differently. What's the difference in Christmas day, and a family dinner on Sunday? It shouldn't be a dang thing, but it is... because we're pressured to recognize a commercial holiday.
Guess what.
I'm learning to despise Christmas because of its expectations. The magic is gone.

More than anything, I'm annoyed that it's in my face for months at a time. TV movies, commercials, songs, ringing bells, red covering the stores, lights... everywhere! Why is this ONE HOLIDAY such a big friggin' deal?! We really have our priorities screwed up.

Anatomy confessions.

I have a confession.
I text my Anatomy teacher pretty regulary
 
Actually, anyone can. She gave out her number for that reason-- easier to answer questions by text than phone call or email these days. But she and I knew each other through the spa before I ever took the class. I chose her class because I knew her, not knowing a thing about her teaching style and just hoping for the best.
 
She was the best thing that could've happened to me for this course-- an angel sent from the Anatomy gods, obviously. I really lucked out because she's a fantastic teacher.
 
She text me earlier to tell me what my lecture final grade was. I told her I had been refreshing my screen (literally every minute) but appreciated it. I was actually worried about my lab final, but she said it would be tomorrow before those were graded. Then, at 10 p.m. tonight.... I got the text...
"Hey! Congrats! 93 on lab, 92 overall in the class!"
 

.....what. NU UH!!! I still don't know how I pulled that off-- I really was expecting it to be much worse. But sure enough, it's there in black and white.

I actually pulled off an A in this PAINFUL class.

A class some people have to take multiple times, mind you.


I am just beyond excited. One more final tomorrow morning at 8 (hey, might as well get it out of the way...) and I'm done for a WHOLE MONTH!!

Down

Today I am having a very hard time with my life-changing decision.
I know I said I was done listening to strangers, but it's hard to ignore a doctor who is closely related to the field I'm going into.
....who repeatedly asked me if I had checked the job outlook, and said I needed to go in "with eyes wide open." He was politely trying to tell me there were no jobs to be had for my field.

I tried to stay calm about it and play it off. But inside I was really, really hurt.  I don't make it a point to bring up this conversation-- it just happens, which is why I'm afraid that it's for a reason. Am I supposed to be taking something from these people who put down my dreams? Maybe it's a huge hint and I'm an idiot if I don't take it to heart. MAYBE, just like everything else I've experienced, it's not meant to be and I'm actually just wasting my time.
It breaks my heart to even think about.

I don't know what to do with the information I was given today. I sure wish someone/something had made a plan for my life like so many others seem to have. Or at least one that makes sense. It's completely self-loathing to say this, but I'm sick of being the strong person who is given things because they can handle them. Today is not a good day.

Why bother planning?

This semester has been hell. Aside from the grueling work, hours of homework, and testing on a bi-weekly basis, my home life has been strained financially and personally. I have literally been pulled in all directions with little to no resources to accommodate. Just when I say that I'm at the end of my rope, I'm shown yet another direction I can be pulled and I just keep adding to my collection of troubles. The only positive here is that I'm less than a month from the semester being over.

But seriously, just when I've got it all figured out I'm reminded that I have ZERO control over what happens next.

Guys, I try. I moved home so I could save money. I have little debt, but what I have I'd like to get rid of. I had big plans to pay off a credit card and save ALL KINDS of money so that when I was in school 40 hours a week and couldn't work, I'd be okay. And dammit if it wasn't a GOOD THING I moved home, or I'd be living in a cardboard box right now. None of what I planned has happened, aside from saving money that I now get to throw at doctors.

I started the week of Halloween being at my GI specialist (internist, whatever)... not once, but three times in a week. I was super sick and couldn't get any answers because I don't have insurance. He's doing the best he can without making me file bankruptcy. I'd love to know some answers, but all the testing he'd need to do would put me in serious trouble. We're guessing what could be wrong, hoping for the best. The bills have started coming in, and I have ANOTHER appointment with him again tomorrow. I'm still not feeling well, and it's only getting worse.

AND the poor kitty. She's scheduled for an ultrasound tomorrow because she has something going on with her lung. That's a big chunk o' money, but we need some answers on her too. If we don't test, we are literally clueless as to what's going on, and can't even begin to treat. The best case scenario is that it's something that can heal on its own. The worst case is that she needs surgery, which I can't afford. Plain and simple. I really, really need a break here... and I'd love for it to be in the form of a best case kitty scenario.

All the while, I watch my Christmas money slip through my fingers. I save some tips at work... because I feel like they're extra and need to be treated extra special. I had been saving for Christmas so that my credit card didn't have to be a part of this year's festivities.... but it just wasn't in the cards. WHY do I bother to plan?! It never works the way you need it to. I can't seem to get ahead. My dad says that's just how things are... that everyone deals with the same. I don't believe it, but I DO believe this is exactly why I'm going back to school.

One day, eventually, maybe, by a small miracle... I'd just like to make a plan and it actually follow through. I'm so aggravated.

Never tell strangers your dreams.

I've been really down on school in the past few weeks. Zero motivation to give a crap... it's a really bad deal. I'm just in the groove: school, homework, work, homework, sleep. I've kinda lost sight of what I'm doing and muddling through in hopes it will be over soon.

That update links to this story, I promise:

A few weeks ago, I had a client on my table who was a couple years older than me and in the same situation as myself. She had been to school but was considering going back if nothing else came about for her. Apparently the first time around she became an x-ray tech, but quit when she had kids and has only been able to find PRN work since. She was talking about how she had only worked one day in the past week, which clearly isn't enough to make a living. Granted, she chose to leave her full time position to stay home but she understood that and didn't regret it at all.

(side note: These jobs in particular are impossible to find. The school pumps out WAY TOO MANY x-ray students every year, and the job market is saturated.)

So now, this girl was thinking about going back to school for teaching. But she was at that point where she couldn't fathom going back AGAIN to change her career AGAIN. I was there once, too. I told her that eventually necessity might win over that dread. That's what happened to me.

She became interested in my story and asked what I was going back for. I told her and before I knew it, I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Since it's a field closely related to her own, she wanted to warn me that those jobs weren't readily available either. And that if I had done my research, I'd know the projection for it wasn't great. She cautioned that I should do some research, but wished me well. At the time, I appreciated it. I felt defeated, but I appreciated the honest words.

The more I thought about it, the more angry I got. She didn't mean to upset me-- she truly meant well. I was mad at myself for telling someone I didn't know what was going on in my life, where I was headed, and how I was getting there. It wasn't any of her business, and strangers will never support you in the way that your friends and family will. I was mad that I gave her the opportunity to upset me, even though she had no intention of doing so. And then I obtained clarity: These are all things I had researched before I took the plunge. I felt good about it then, and didn't have any reason to feel bad about it now. She probably thought she was helping. And who knows... maybe her opinions had some truth behind them. But I can't focus on that: I have to focus on what I think is best for me, based on the research I've done and where my life has taken me.

And just in case that wasn't enough, I was talking with a classmate today about her potentially changing her major from nursing to OTA. For old times' sake, I thought it would be nice to do the same research I did before... the same digging that lead me to this decision. Sure enough, I found good news! So yeah, Missouri isn't paid at or above average for the job, but the cost of living is cheaper here. And I'm not going to be greedy about this when I finish school-- I want my life back, and if I'm not making top dollar somewhere because I have sufficient time off, I'll be okay with that. The job is projected to grow way more than the average job in the next few years, giving me hope that there WILL be a job for me when I'm ready for one. All I can be is positive. All this has to be for a reason.

So the moral here is... don't tell complete strangers about your goals and dreams. They don't get it. They don't know what you've been through, and they'll never understand why you're taking the next step. They don't owe you positive statements and encouragement, and the info they give you may or may not be accurate.You might leave with bad thoughts in your head, leaving you to second-guess what you're doing. When you're in as far as me, you don't need to be second-guessing a thing.

It's my own fault, though.

I learned my lesson.

 

Back to my homework. 2.5 more years...

I was never that kid...

I just took my second algebra test for the semester and feel I did pretty well. I got 100% on the first one, which was a nice thing to see. I've never been very mathy, and the fact that I got an A out of last semester, and I'm pulling one halfway into intermediate algebra is refreshing. I was never the math kid... the one that people asked questions, or trusted to take notes from.

 

But last week... LAST WEEK... was awesome. There were a couple of people who had been absent a couple days and were a little lost in what we were doing. I heard the teacher talking to one of them and said something about a "really good note taker", and I immediately assumed she was talking about the paid note taker that was probably in another one of her classes.

Nope.

She walked up to ME and asked if it was okay to make copies of my notes. She laughed and said she had already promised them to someone and hoped I'd be okay with it.

 

My inner child BEAMED... I was finally THAT KID!! The one that the teacher noticed because of my hard work and ability to grasp what she was teaching. I tried to hide my smile as I showed her which pages were which, then she took my notebook and asked if anyone else wanted a copy. The guy behind me did. Two copies... my notes... weirrrrrrdd...

And to top it off, the kid behind me went on to ask me how to work a problem. Okay... that's definitely never happened before.

 

I guess it was just nice to finally be the kid in class who was doing well. That's never EVER been me in a math class. And the teacher sees that I'm trying really hard (mostly because I sit on the front row, but whatever). It's just a nice change. Halfway through this class and one more math class and I'll be done with math classes FOREVER AND EVER!

 

Here's to hoping I can hold on!!

Raw anger

I've been having a lot of anger lately. Unfortunately, that's something I struggle with a lot. The world isn't fair, and I have a hard time grasping that. Why are good people punished? Why aren't bad people held accountable? So yeah, it's hard for me.

As I was walking through the halls yesterday, I ran into one of the women I had interviewed with for a position at the college. She was one of many people I had "met with" about a job over the 5+ years I was looking for something. But instantly, I was mad. Like, hold myself back mad.

So this goes out to all the people who rejected me for a job when I desperately needed it:

 

A HUGE EFF YOU!!!

You are the reason that I am here, back in school, and living in a basement. It is because of you that I felt like I had no other option but to go back to school for the THIRD time. It is because of you that I get insanely jealous when I hear of someone getting a job like it was nothing-- no effort seems to be involved, yet I would cry over rejection but always try again because I was hopeful that someone would see me for what I was worth. Eff you.

I have been thisclose to losing my mind lately. There's a LOT going on between school, work, and my personal life. It's a very tedious project right now, my life. So do I think this situation will be for the better in the end? Hopefully. But sometimes you're allowed to be angry, especially when you were forced into something. And especially when you don't see others struggling in the same way. Today, I am angry. And I'm going to allow myself that.
After all, there's nothing desirable about devoting every spare second of your time to homework. But yet, here I am.

Self-inflicted anxiety

I may be totally MIA for a lot of weeks this semester.
I really didn't think I'd have this much studying to do in my Anatomy class because I've had it all before. But come to find out, I only had some of it and the rest of it is terrifying.
Also, the tests are brutal.
So I sit for hours and days at a time memorizing dumb stuff that will not translate into my future job.

Just playing their money game.

I can't begin to describe to you how terrified I am that I won't make it to the program. We went over this before: I usually don't get my way when it comes to my life desires and plans. Why would this be any different? If I don't make it next year, I'll have to wait an ENTIRE YEAR to apply again... and what in the world will I do with my time then?! Life is ticking away, and I'm sitting in a basement.

I clearly have some anxieties here, and for good reason. People are dropping like flies from my classes, which makes me super nervous. I don't want to be next.

In other news, I had my first math test today (finally in intermediate algebra) and got 100% on it. So that's good.. but still doesn't really count since I have to pass college algebra with a certain grade.

There's just too much at stake. I feel like I'm up against too much.
What was I thinking?!

Proceed with caution

So I'm in the middle of a massage yesterday and it hits me-- I'm crazy.
See, this is what happens when you have 60 minutes of silence. You're supposed to stay out of your head and be present with the client... blah, blah. Let's be real: You can't help but think.

About a month ago my mom asked me, without skipping a beat, what I'd do if I didn't get accepted into the program. It was as if she had no faith in me. The more upset I got, the more she'd word vomit and worsen the situation. It was terrible. I had to raise my voice before she'd be quiet. I had to show her just how upset I was before she knew she had messed up. You don't SAY THAT to someone in my situation!!

I mean, yeah, it's a possibility. Do I have a plan B? Nope. I told her the same thing: I don't have a backup plan, this plan HAS to work! I feel like I was led to this point... and hopefully it wasn't to be disappointed again. So I don't know what the answer is... if I mess up and don't get a required grade, or if I go through the grueling application process only to be denied. I don't know. But I don't want to think about it either. I don't have the time or resources to formulate a plan B.

But then my rational side takes over and the reality sets in: I may not be accepted. After all, every SINGLE plan I've ever made has failed. Everything I've grasped for has been swatted away from me... over and over. Original school plans, plans for life, wants, dreams... things that can't possibly fail. All have failed.  I can't imagine what will happen if this falls through too. I mean, SOMETHING has to work out for me eventually, right?

Even if I didn't get accepted next year, there's always the year after that... right? NO!! Because then I will be wasting a whole year of my life... doing God knows what... waiting on another chance to apply. Living in a basement. With absolutely no light at the end of my tunnel. That would be the end of me, that's for sure.
So I've decided I'm just crazy. I don't have "luck" like other people have luck. Things don't just "fall into place" for people like me. What was I thinking?!

The reality of things...

Disclaimer: This is about as real as it gets. If you're looking for fluff and humor, this probably isn't a read for you. Also, if you have a problem with me being REAL (and consider it negativity) you'd probably better move along.

Now.
*sigh*

I've had a bunch of smaller thoughts lately that are all related to one thing: the big picture. Some of you will relate, and the few who don't are a bunch of lucky bastards who have no idea what it means to be lost in your own life. We'll start when I was a kid:

If you had asked 10 year old Jana what she wanted to be when she grew up, she'd tell you that she wanted to be a teacher, or a doctor, or maybe a nurse. If you had asked what her life would look like, she quickly would've responded with, "I'll be married with some kids and live in a house and fix dinner every night for everyone."
I'm going to say something right now that I've only admitted to a few people in my life...

All I've really ever wanted to be is HAPPILY MARRIED.

After all, it's what I saw everyday. My parents are still together after 34 years of marriage, and while it hasn't been perfect (what marriage is?) they have set an example for me since I was young. It's how I thought things were supposed to be, and over time it was something I really wanted for myself.

Fast forward to my freshman year of high school, and I'd tell you I had decided on a new career: court reporting! Just like most girls in the Midwest, I wanted to be married by a young(er) age, get settled in my career, and start living my life. No later than 20, of course.

By my senior year of high school, my dream of the court reporting thing had been ripped from me but I still had my boyfriend! Yep... I was going to be okay anyway. We never really talked about marriage specifically, but I feel like we were both on the same page about it: Get through school so we can start our lives. That's how I envisioned it, at least. I was a little more realistic by this time and figured 21 would be a better age to get married. (WHY are we so obsessed with this as girls? Good grief.)
(Side note: I feel like I talk about this guy a lot. He was only in my life for a couple years but they were those crucial years... the ones that stick out in my mind the most. I'm not obsessed over him or the past, but it was a happier time in my life. Bear with me here.)

We all know how this story goes: went to college (for nothing), ended up single, worked some dead-end jobs, went back to school (massage), worked my ass off 60+ hours a week just to get by, *fast forward* Living in a basement.

The points I'm trying to make here are:
*Not everyone who earns a scholarship or finds a way to fund higher education gets it right the first time. In my case, I didn't know what to do with my free 2 years, so I'm pretty sure anything would've been the wrong path. And not everyone's family is able to give them the education they want. I worked full time the whole time I was in college getting the wrong degree just to pay for my car, insurance, phone, etc. Some people thought it was extreme that I lived at home as long as I did, but SHIT Y'ALL... I was doing the best I could. And my parents knew that.

*Not everyone gets to find the perfect mate and marry them when they're young. I used to play the "If I met someone today, I'd be ___ by the time I got married" game. Giving myself a year to date them, and another year to be engaged (Let's face it-- I plan on going overboard for a wedding). I set goals for myself from a young age on... 20, 21, 25... 28... SURELY I'll be married by 30!! Wrong. And this is the one that probably hurts the most. I can't believe I'm single (not married) at the age I am. Why exactly am I in this situation? The only answer I can come up with is that I'm not willing to get married to the wrong person for the sake of marriage. I don't even know how people do that. It's weird. I'd rather be single and responsible for myself that in a huge mess involving someone else and possibly kids.  If you are a person who met the RIGHT person at a young age and get to spend quality years with them, consider yourself very lucky. I've always been jealous of those people. It's becoming pretty apparent that I won't get a chance at a 50th wedding anniversary, which makes me sad and discouraged.

*Not everyone falls into their ideal job right out of high school/college. Men especially have it too easy. If they don't want to get a college education, they don't have to... and they will make MORE than I've ever made in a year. Good for them... but how unfair! I wouldn't be in this mess if I had a penis, plain and simple. I'd be working some manual labor job making a minimum of 40k a year and life would be grand.
...ok fine, I can't say that for sure. But it seems to work that way for a lot of them. For the kids that go to school and pick the right major the first time, props to you too. Maybe you had some extra guidance, or maybe you were just drawn to something and stuck with it. Again, I am jealous because I've floundered through life for years because of this one issue.

*If you're lucky enough to have the life you envisioned, then you're DAMN LUCKY! I didn't get that... not even close. And I am sad about it everyday. This wasn't the plan, and it definitely wasn't the order I wanted things to go in. I feel like my family is disappointed in me and the world thinks there's something wrong with me. I really don't feel like I was asking for a lot when I wanted a steady job I could stand and a family, whether that be a husband or kids included. And yes, I realize I'm not dead yet but time is ticking away.

They say that everything happens for a reason, in its own time. I don't always agree with that. Yes, I'm sure there's some logic behind all of this, but it's been a long, hard struggle and it doesn't even really make sense. Wanting realistic, normal things for your life isn't uncommon. I'm not weird for feeling this way.

The flip side of all of this is that some people have all that and still aren't happy. Maybe I'm going through all of this so that when it all falls into place, I'll have a better appreciation of it. Who knows.

Semester 2

Let's get one thing straight here: I am not a quitter.
In fact, I'm very hard on myself when I'm forced to give up on something I had originally planned on following through with. Like, brutal. Because I'm one of those people who likes to DO what they SAY... and I feel like a letdown to myself and everyone else when I have to go back on my word.

When I signed up for classes for this semester, I knew that I'd have a heavy schedule. Eleven credit hours on top of 30+ hours of work is hard, especially when you have an Anatomy class that will demand a lot of homework. But I was prepared... and I knew I'd figure it out like I always do. So on the first day, I went to that Anatomy class and realized it wasn't *exactly* what I was expecting... but that's okay, because it was close. However, the syllabus says 18-25 hours of work outside of class... and even if I figure that I'll be on the low end of that (I've had some of this before), that's still a part time job!

Ok, fine. Manageable. Later that afternoon was my Technical Science class, which is an equivalent to Physics that is yet another requirement to apply for this program.
If you're a gut-listener like myself, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that I had a very sick feeling when I walked in. Aside from the smell of dirty boy (the class before was all male, and this class was male, minus the 3 females that sat together), it was just bad energy. I had looked through the book and was seriously intimidated by it, but I knew that having a teacher for it would help a lot. I tried to ignore the overwhelming urge to barf everywhere as she walked in.

Wait. First let me explain that I took this class this semester because the math requirements were low enough that I'd be able to follow along. I didn't want to take it at the same time as college algebra (next semester) and I needed to be done by next semester.
Alright. We're caught up.

The teacher came in and immediately rubbed me the wrong way. She didn't speak a lot, and she really didn't act interested to be there. Some of the first words out of her mouth were, "If you haven't had Trig, you'll struggle in this class." UHHHHH.... excuse me?!? That's not what I was told!!
Frick.

Her teaching method was very passive. *scribble scribble, point to board* "Right?"
*scribble scribble* "You get that?"
There was no TEACHING involved. She even said that the book WASN'T a text book, but a reference book. Alright then, how in the hell am I supposed to learn this if you won't teach it? It was, perhaps, the longest 2 hours of my week. As soon as the class was dismissed, I went straight to the director of the program in desperation. I knew this wasn't going to work for me.... it was going to be above my head, and even if I tried to hold on something else was going to suffer.

So long story short, after a long-awaited email from an advisor who told me that this class would be offered in the summer, I dropped it. I'll have to take it next summer after I've had the college algebra and just hope that the teacher is different. I figure if it's the ONLY class I have to focus on I've got a better shot at passing it with the required grade than this semester.

So now I'm down to 2 classes and 7 credit hours. But ya know what? I feel a lot better. Anatomy takes up so much of my time as it is... I just know I would've failed the other class. This was for the best.

The only thing that stinks is waking up for an 8:00 Algebra class on T/Th. Bleh. Trying to keep my head in the game, though!

Summer's over...

Welp.

Back at it tomorrow.

The second semester full of prerequisite BS with specific grade requirements starts in the morning, 10:00 sharp.

I really haven't had the *best* summer. I worked a lot, and I was grumpy a lot. I vowed that I would never work 5 days at the spa again, even if it meant that I had to get a second job doing whatever for extra money. Basically, my entire summer was spent wishing for the next day off... and when that came, it went quickly because I was busy accomplishing things. I guess that's what most adults do, though.

So at the beginning of the month, I realized I had 18 days left of freedom and decided it was best if I just live willy nilly until school started. Because of that, the house hasn't been deep cleaned, laundry is kinda stacked everywhere, and my to-do list is painfully long. But I don't care. I needed that time.

I was really fine til I was getting my school things together today. I got some new supplies and figured it was a good time to organize my books. I took one look at my physics book, and I was instantly nauseated. I'm still sick. I'm TERRIFIED of that class... and when you add the 2 others I have, I'm basically green-gilled. I haven't felt well all night.

I don't have a ton of support surrounding me-- my mom might mean well, but what she says comes out in a very "I have minimal faith in you" way. The boyf doesn't know what to say, mainly because he's never been there. "You'll be fine" is what I get, but he doesn't know that. It's just to shut me up. And my best friend, who I would normally vent to, is in basic training and completely unattainable. So yeah... just me and my thoughts here.

But all I can do is try! Anatomy and lab followed by physics tomorrow, then intermediate algebra the next day. Repeat Wednesday. Here goes nothing.

See ya later...

I'm really sad tonight. I've been sad all day, actually.

 

I went to see a friend yesterday because she is leaving for the military... tomorrow.

 

I don't hand out the "best friend" title often because it usually results in disappointment and heartbreak. But this girl is pretty close. We're those people who don't have to live in the same town, or even talk everyday, but we can always pick up where we left off and we know more about each other than we probably should.

 

So I managed to get off work early yesterday and drove to Blue Springs where she lives. Her workplace had organized a going away party for her-- they're a really cool group of people. (She works in a vet clinic... usually animal people are the best kind of people anyway.) Some of us went to dinner beforehand, then everyone met up at this place called Sideline. SUCH a cool place-- 8 volleyball courts that you can rent out, complete with picnic tables and a concession stand. Simple concept, but really... I'm totally jealous we don't have something like that here in town.

 

The party ended at 11, so I had planned to stay with her. Woke up this morning and helped her pack away some things that needed to be stored while she was gone. I feel like I'm quite the pro at packing these days! I left a little before 1, assuming she had a lot to do today and didn't need me in her hair.

 

I gave her a hug and said I'd write when I could. That's the kicker-- we won't have her address til a couple weeks in. It's not like I can just drop her a text knowing that she'll get it and that I'll get a response. She will be unattainable for at least 2 weeks, and after that communication is by letter only. That's going to be hard. It just sucks when you feel like a big piece of your support system is gone, I guess.

 

Life is so ironic sometimes. She decided to do this at the same time I decided to go back to school. We're both doing these things because no matter how hard we worked, it just wasn't enough. We're both single and don't know if that'll ever change. She loves her job but needs a steady supplement. I had no idea what I wanted to do "when I grew up" and decided I had no other choice but to get more education. It just goes to show that life requires change, even when we're not totally comfortable with it, because we know that the outcome of it will be worth it. And seriously, this girl is fearless... she's lived about everywhere, and it never seems to bother her to pack up and move somewhere else. I know she will be fine, even in boot camp, because she's a strong person.

 

She won't be back for 7 months... I'm sure the time will fly, but that sounds like a long time right now. I'll sure miss our phone dates! Be safe, Amanda. See ya later!

The world keeps getting smaller.

We've got quite a few new employees working at the spa as of this summer. We tend to have surges of people leaving and new hires. And in all my years working there, I get a little worn out trying to get to know everyone only to have them leave. Being the Welcome Wagon just isn't for me anymore...

...that makes me sound really cranky. AT ANY RATE, there's a point to this.

 

One of the new nail techs/cosmetologists came up to me one day in the hallway. Said she had a question for me. I figured it had something to do with locating an item, or what to do with a client... blah, blah. I don't mind helping; I just know what to expect. She looked at me and smiled and said it sounded a little "stalker-ish", but wanted to know if I had lived at ### Dundee.

 

Why yes.... yes I did. Just a couple months ago, actually.

 

I looked at her a little shocked. She told me that SHE lived there now!!! She went to the water department, and the lady has a list of people that lived at the address before you... you probably aren't supposed to look at it, but everyone does. We all want to know who lived in the place we are now living in. And she saw my name!

 

I kind of felt like a jerk because I had never taken the time to get to know her. We talked, but just here and there. But she still knew who I was, and more importantly, wanted to share that she was living in my old apartment. And I was thrilled that it was someone I knew. This time in my life is quite an adjustment, and knowing someone who lives in my old place gives me a distant connection to it... it makes me feel content. You always wonder who will end up there after you, and if they'll treat it well. That was my HOME for 5 years... and now I know it has been handed down to a very sweet, deserving girl (and her boyfriend).

 

We would spend the next couple of days chatting when we could (matching up two schedules in that place is nearly impossible). She would ask me about little quirks, and I would tell her everything about the neighbor, his "help", and how she needed to keep the screen door locked at all times (he tends to let himself in). I asked about what the landlord had done since I left... man, I missed out! New shower unit, fixed the shelving underneath the sinks, shampooed the carpets. Anyway, it was nice to talk to her... share with her my little helpful hints and hear about her experiences. She's only been there for a couple weeks, so I'm sure I'll get to hear more.

 

And I like that. It'll be nice when she does. :)

"Why don't you just massage full time?"

When I was working at the spa part time, at a medical office full time, and looking for a different full time job (read: benefits, specified hours and an hourly rate) I got this question a lot. Why not just quit the 60 hour work week and work at the spa full time? After all, it's good money, right?

The answer was so loaded, I'd usually just tell people that I needed the benefits. That's not totally true, but definitely part of it. I've always wanted to express, in detail, why I never wanted to be in the position I'm in now. Do I regret it? Nope, because I might not be back in school if I hadn't done it. But we all know that things happen for a reason and all of this fell into place when it did because I was mentally unhealthy and on the verge of a breakdown. So while I'm thrilled to be "gainfully employed" and working 4-5 days a week, I'd still like to explain why working as a massage therapist on a full-time basis was never my dream.

1. It is financially unpredictable.
So yeah, I'm on the schedule 40 hours (sometimes more), but that doesn't mean the same thing it does to someone who makes $x.xx an hour. All it means to me is that I'm at the mercy of the public and THEIR bank accounts. I could have a full schedule and make enough, or I could have a spotty schedule and literally worry about how I'll pay the next month's bills. And when the economy isn't the greatest it's ever been, you literally don't know what the week will bring you. If people are broke that month, so are you. This job is ideal for someone who has a spouse or sig. other who works and brings home enough to keep the household stable. I've always been single and on my own, and it's just not consistent enough for someone like me.

2. I work when no one else does.
Being in the "service industry" means one thing: You have to be available to work when everyone else has the day off. Weekends? Every one of them. Holidays? All the time! That one Sunday a year to cater to Valentine's Day crowds? Yep. I don't get back-to-back days off, and I don't even remember what it's like to be off on a Saturday on a consistent basis. When you've been doing it for as many years as I have (6), you really start craving that normalcy of a 5-day, Monday thru Friday work week. What really grinds my gears is the holiday thing. Sorry, but I have a family too (even if they aren't a spouse and kids). And I don't see how a massage is an emergency on New Year's Day. We lucked out on the 4th this year-- she decided to close. Yes!! But that's not always the case, so you just hold your breath and hope to get out of working. They tell you when you're in school that you get to "set your own hours" because they want to make the career as appealing as possible. Truth is, that only works if you own your OWN BUSINESS, which doesn't seem to be incredibly profitable in the first place. Not in this area.

3. My body won't let me do this forever.
No matter where you work, you get paid based on productivity (if you will). Sometimes it's commission, sometimes it's hourly, sometimes it's by service. All spas are different, but if you're not rubbing on something naked, you're not making money. So naturally, you want to work. If I have a day that only one or two appointments land on my schedule, I'll eat Ramen for lunch knowing that I'm taking a hit that day. BUT this does not mean I want to be so loaded down with appointments that my joints don't work the next day. Most people don't realize how physically taxing the job really is! As of late, I had to write a formal letter stating what my limitations were per day. I just couldn't do it anymore. I was consistently being given more than my body could handle. If you don't say otherwise, they'll plop it right down on your schedule, assuming you're able to do it. My hips has been giving me hell (keeping Doc Limbaugh in business! Ha...), my feet are starting to bother me (runs in the family, although I hope mine is different) and my back is forever in knots. When I started, I was an overachiever. Now I just want to be able to come home and function enough to eat dinner and maybe fold a load of laundry. I can only handle so much before all I'm good for is 10 hours of sleep, and that's gotten old. Being "worked to death" has never felt so real as it does at the end of a 9 hour day when you've had 3 deep tissues.

4. I didn't want to be a statistic.
Did you know that the average burnout rate of a massage therapist is ONLY THREE YEARS?! So wait... lemme do the math..... carry the two.... that's not even long enough to pay of your student loan!!!! So now that I have doubled that number, I'm proud to say that I'm still in the game. I'm ashamed to admit, however, that my heart just isn't in it anymore. And this is what I wanted to avoid. When I came out of school I was fired up to do some massage-- I wanted to make a difference, one person at a time. I wanted to work in the medical field doing massage, helping people to overcome physical boundaries after injury or strain. That dream was quickly stomped upon when the first doctor who promised me a job completely turned his back on me, THEN I was forced to find out the hard way that us LMTs aren't welcome in the medical field because INSURANCE RARELY PAYS FOR IT. So naturally, no physical therapist is going to hire someone like me... no one will pay out of pocket for something like that.  *sigh* Crap, now what? I went to work at the spa I currently work in because I just needed to make some money. Plain and simple, I had gone to school and had a student loan to pay off, and if I wasn't doing it I was wasting all that education. And I quickly realized that this was the only place nearby that I'd ever work doing massage.... and my medical dream slipped away. That's enough to make anyone cranky. This isn't what I dreamed about as I was going through school, and it's certainly not where I thought I'd land. Doing "spa work" was never my thing: I don't like to fluff, or scrub, or rub stones on people. I like to get in there and DO STUFF when there's stuff to be done. But whaddaya know.... I'm here. And now that I do 5 full bodies (and then some) everyday, I feel as though I'm just a programmed machine. Back, legs, FLIP, legs, feet, arms, neck, done. Next! I never wanted to feel this way about massage, but I do... and I seriously doubt that'll change because I'll ALWAYS work in a spa. Land of "I just wanna relax." Doh. Now it's just time to move on.

5. It's time to be an adult. I'm way late on that.
To me, an adult is one who is independent. It's fine to ask for help every now and then, but an adult has it under control a good majority of the time. This includes carrying benefits that allow you to plan for the future. Yet again, this job is good for someone with a spouse that AT LEAST has some health insurance... because this job just doesn't offer it. I know, I know... "Obamacare" blah blah. I don't know what will happen with that. All I know is that I'm uninsured and have absolutely no retirement in place. I started hitting the panic button about that a few years ago.... imagine how I feel about it now. I have irrational fears about being hurt and not being able to afford the healthcare I need. What's worse is that if I break a limb, I'm out of work for 6+ weeks. Aside from roller skating, I've been pretty cautious about everything for years now. My body is literally my money maker. No pressure, right?


What I CAN say is that massage has been good to me. It has been a second job when I needed the extra money, and it has gotten me away from an awful job that was nearly the end of me. It has paid the bills *most* months and has allowed for me to go back to school while still working. I've met some really amazing people, both in the biz and on my table, and I've learned incredible things from them along the way. I can't say for sure that I'll stop doing it once I'm finished with school-- who knows, I might be there part time forever! But full time definitely isn't my gig. That's why I have to continue pushing through dumb math classes and fear a tough application process. I have to take this gamble or I may never be a real adult...

Kids at the spa...

When I started this blog, I told myself I wouldn't rant and rave about my current job. This blog is about how I'm moving forward in my life and the steps involved in that. But I just can't help myself after the day I've had. And ya know... it's my blog. I do what I want!!

 

I will never understand why a parent would bring their child to the spa for any type of service, much less a massage. We have this "Princess" package where a little girl (13 and under) gets an upper body massage (30 mins.) and a manicure. The package is $45....

Maybe I'm a tight ass, but that seems like a lot of money for a kid who probably doesn't even care about being there.

 

When I say kid, I mean young. Of course the 11-13 year olds are stoked to do something like this. But today, I had to massage a seven year old. Seven. Crazy enough, she's not the youngest that I've ever worked on (5, in case you wondered), but she was just as bad about attention span. She fidgeted, sighed, squirmed and refused to let me work on her more than any other kid I've ever had. She had the balls to tell me what they "usually" do when she gets a massage (this clearly isn't her first rodeo), and acted like nothing I did was really good enough. I was using the pressure of a feather, mind you, when she told me that "it hurt" as she stiffened into a ball. I was aggravated, but when I tried to work on her shoulders, she quickly shoved them into her ears and completely shut me out. That was it. I was 5 minutes from the time allotted, but I couldn't do it anymore. I left and let her get dressed.

 

I'm led to believe that parents do this because it's "cute".... they take pictures and make wretched cooing noises the whole time they're in the spa. The mother today, who is a regular client at the spa, keeps her distance. But I can't help but think this is nothing more than entertainment for her. MOST CHILDREN who are in the spa do not need the service they're getting. Yes, there are some kids who could genuinely benefit from bodywork. Those are the same kids who allow for it. The little girl today might've known why she was at the spa, but definitely didn't know how to receive massage in a beneficial way. THIS MAKES MY JOB EXTRA HARD.... I end up petting the kid for 30 minutes, fighting with them (silently, as I beg them to relax enough to let me work) the whole time because they really don't feel comfortable laying there in the first place. I've even had a child ask "Are we done yet?" about halfway through the massage. They just don't have the attention span for it, y'all. (One little girl cried when the nail tech came to get her for her pedicure-- she had no idea what she was doing, why she was there, or who this strange person was trying to walk her down the hallway. True story.)

 

And really, what kid gets their nails painted and doesn't smudge them within 15 minutes?

I just don't get it. I've never seen kids in the way most people do: I don't get all gushy over them, and I definitely don't understand spending money on them for crap they don't benefit from. Put that money toward the summer fund to send them to the pool or to a theme park. Or better yet, buy them an educational toy, or let them join a club they're interested in. I can't complain about the spa having business... however people want to spend their money is up to them. But this is just something I'll never understand. My mom wouldn't have done anything like that for me. Maybe I'm just bitter because of that. :)

Home is where your stuff is.

As I would tell people about my plan to move, they'd all say something to the effect of, "Ugh, really? I could never do that." Or "You're going to hate that after living by yourself for so long." And yeah, I would tend to agree with them because it's just human nature. Who wants to move in with their parents at the ripe age of.... well, my age doesn't matter here.

I had a complete meltdown the night I wrote my last rent check out. I kept asking myself what I had done... why did I think this was a good idea? I really thought that moving day would result in a lot of tears and resistance. I don't like change, and I don't like giving up my independence. I prepared myself for a month or better... moving day would be a very hard day for me.

But when it was all said and done, there were no tears. No anxiety attacks or even mood swings. I will admit that I got a little emotional the day I went back to clean. That probably had more to do with the build up than anything. It was that release of "it's finally over" that got to me. I took a deep breath and took one last look around. I made a lot of memories there:

* I made a lot of friends while living there. I also lost quite a few. (What they say about leaving the world with a few good friends is true.)

* I had two serious relationships-- oddly enough, the first couple months that I lived there, and the last month I lived there. I've been single a lot, y'all.

* I let my inner chef out. I cooked... a lot.

* I drank a lot of wine with a lot of good people in that living room.

* I was equally entertained and disgusted by my neighbor and his "help" (someone get that man someone decent!).

* I had a lot of scares: storms, the sound of gunshot in the middle of the night (two times), local happenings that made me uneasy to stay alone, and a construction crew that may or may not have placed a nail under my pillow just to be jerks.

* I dealt with a water heater exploding (and "babysitting a bucket" for a couple days), a light globe falling from the ceiling and shattering into three rooms, and an air conditioning drain flooding down the hallway. The place needed some updating.

* I went through rough times with family. Thank goodness they're stuck with me, or this story might be ending differently.

* I dealt with a terrible job that I hated, every single day. I whined about it a lot, and the truth is... it almost destroyed me. Most people didn't understand (or bother trying) but we'll just say that it's a good thing I got out when I did. I can't say for sure that I'd be here to talk about it otherwise.

* I decided that unless I did something different in my life, I'd live in that apartment forever.  Just spinning my wheels....

I opened the door, sobbing, and stepped outside. I turned around to lock the door, then put the key in the mailbox. I looked to my right and there were my "surprise" pumpkins.... yet again. I decided right then and there that they'd be coming with me. I wasn't going to let the next tenant mow over them, or even reap the benefits. I was instantly happier because I knew that I'd have every little thing from my apartment with me where I was going. Even the pumpkins would transplant with me.

It might sound materialistic, but I've just decided that HOME IS WHERE YOUR CRAP IS!! Nothing makes me feel more at home than my pictures... and my scrapbooks... and my cat. All of the things that I couldn't live without would be with me, and the rest would be in storage for later. The situation isn't perfect (we've talked about this before) but I can make do as long as I have my stuff. The stuff that makes up my life and makes me happy. Home is actually where you feel comfortable, but what makes me the most comfortable are the belongings that have made me.

The big move.

It's officially over. The move.
I moved.
Ta-da!!!

I can't say that I'm totally settled in, but I'm closer today than I was yesterday and I plan on making more progress later this week. I'm probably 90% there, if I had to be honest with myself.

The move itself was rough. Storms were in the forecast for the whole week, so I just rented a U-Haul. I don't have the best of luck when it comes to things, so this was just safer. And BY GOD, it was a good call! Thursday (the 30th) was the biggest moving day. It was the day I had my dad, mom and boyfriend to help. It was also the day we were placed under a tornado watch and had large storms headed straight for us. *sigh*

I got up at 7, got myself some breakfast and came to my parents' house to pick up my dad. We got the truck at 9, and just like clockwork, it started raining. The off and on thing would happen all day, with the biggest downpours hitting while we were at the storage unit... almost every time. At one point, all 4 of us were standing inside with all these boxes and furniture, just staring at the truck that was but a couple of feet away. What could you do? You just had to wait for it to let up. Did I mention that was the trip that the cat was being transported? Oh yeah, she was in the car. Talk about heart attack. The poor thing will never be the same. (She was even medicated for this special day.)

Roughly 12 hours after the huge undertaking (who knew I had that much crap?!), I gave up and went to bed. After all, I had to work the next morning. It was quite a day. Things in my life don't go as planned, but I think that's my hint to start being more flexible. And I was-- I made it work.

I really can't thank those who helped enough. Both of my parents were real troopers that day. My dad was still getting over a stomach bug from 3 days before, and my mom has never been much for manual labor (she tries... she's just very... girly). I told the boyfran we had it under control, but he showed up anyway. That was a huge life saver because he could lift heavy things with my dad. Yay. We needed him more than I realized. I took him to dinner later that week as repayment.
My parents? Meh, they do this all the time. My sister moves WAY more than I do. But I plan on cooking some good dinners to share with them. That counts for something, right?

I'm just glad that's over. And MAN, I need to start throwing things away! Nothing in this world can make a person crave minimalism more than moving. I really need to work on that.

The Week Has Arrived...

Welp.

It's here.

 

The semester is over, and I'm taking a break from packing my house to jot a little down. It's going to be a long, emotional week.

 

THE GOOD NEWS is that I got two A's and a B out of my classes-- SCORE! And yes, one of those A's was in Algebra. I'm not completely impressed, considering it was a review from about 15 years back, but I'm still kinda proud of it.

 

Kitty is looking quite concerned as I pack up boxes and stack them... she's pretty high-strung already, and any kind of change makes her a little crazy. Still not sure how I'm going to get her there without a mini stroke.

 

Back to packing I go. I'm marking boxes with a "B" when they're headed for the basement, and an "S" for storage. Quite organized, if you ask me.

 

This is the hardest part, because you don't know what to pack and what to leave til closer to time. Bleh.

Finals Week

So fortunately, my classes on campus have been pretty cool so far. I guess I should say the teachers have been cool-- is it because 99% of their class is 18 and they feel like they should go easy on us? Maybe. Who cares, though? It's benefitting me.

My algebra teacher, in particular, has been very helpful. She doesn't take crap off of the younglings, but you can tell she really wants us to get what she's teaching. She set up the class so that we would have TWO full days of review before her final. It's comprehensive, and that can be really intimidating when you haven't touched an inequality for three months. Most of the class showed up on the first review day, and she told us that the second was up to us and how comfortable we felt.

I really felt like it would be cocky for me to stay home the second review day. I mean, I'm in basic algebra for a reason. So I went to school at my usual time last Thursday.
I was one of four people that came.
In all honesty, I had most of my questions answered and felt okay with taking the final. But I just can't be too sure considering my history with the subject. So I took a few more notes and left a little early. But not before I had very disturbing flashbacks of middle and high school math classes.

One girl, who hadn't come to class for the first review day, was asking questions that made me nervous for her. She genuinely didn't get it. A lot of it. The teacher would ask her a simple question about a problem she was doing on the board, and her face would go blank.
....and then, it all came rushing back. That sinking feeling that no matter how hard you wanted to understand, you just couldn't. I spent many nights in tears as I stared at a book that just didn't explain it the way I needed it to. I would cry, and call my friends and ask questions, get aggravated with the whole process, and finally do the problems half-ass just so there was something on the paper. Most of my tests and homework came back looking like they had been stabbed repeatedly: red ink, everywhere.
And this girl... was me, 15 years ago. I couldn't help but get a stomach ache, because that was how my body responded to the stress of feeling helpless. I wanted to get up and hug her and tell her that I knew how she felt. But uh, this is college... we don't do that kinda stuff.

By the time I was getting ready to leave, the teacher was pounding her fist and a dry erase marker on the board. She was equally aggravated that the stuff she had been teaching ALL SEMESTER had made no impact on this girl. I'd imagine that would be hard to swallow, but it probably happens a lot too. I got up and left before it got worse, thankful that I had been able to follow along thus far and that I felt okay about the upcoming final. FINALLY... I'm not physically ill over a math class. This is the first (and quite possibly last) time that has ever happened.

I've got my bio final on Tuesday, and algebra on Thursday. I commented the other day that the semester had gone fast. I'm almost not ready for it to end, because that means I have to start taking even harder classes next semester. One semester closer to applying!!

Traditional vs. Non-Traditional Students

I've been meaning to write this for quite some time. I underestimated how tired I'd be between school and work, and this blog subject is TOTALLY reflecting that. Oopsie.

From the very beginning of the semester, I noticed a vast difference in myself and the students that appeared to be right out of high school. Vast. The difference? I'm paying for my education. Most of the younger kids there have an amazing scholarship (A+) and take for granted the amount they're saving on education.

I get it, though. I was there once. Looking back, I might've acted like some of them. I wasn't paying for it, so it wasn't as important for me to take it seriously. I got good grades and always did my assignments, but it was willy nilly. Of course, I was there learning about something I didn't originally plan for (see previous blogs), and I really didn't care for. And maybe that's what some of these kids are experiencing too.

On the first day of my human bio class, the teacher made us go around the room and tell about ourselves, including what our major was. I'll never forget what one girl said: "Um, well I want to be pre-med, so I'm not even sure if this school has anything for me." I about fell on the floor. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THEN?!?! Stop wasting your time!!  RUN, do NOT WALK to the nearest school that will be worth your while!!! ....of course, I said nothing. But I know that one day she will regret the time spent in this community college that does not, in fact, have anything she needs to become a doctor. A+ scholarship or not, you shouldn't waste time at a school, ever.  *clears throat* my sister *cough*

Then there's the kid that sleeps through algebra everyday. Every. Day.

I honestly think he gets stoned before class. I walk past him on the way to class every day, and he's always heading toward his car. Um, wrong way kid! But he came in and got chatty one morning before class. He asked what I was majoring in, because we were all airing our fears about upcoming math classes. He ACTUALLY told me that he was going into engineering, and that he had to pass EVERY SINGLE math class offered.

....shortly after, his head was on the desk and he was asleep. Somehow I don't think he gets what he's up against. Saying you want to be an engineer because it sounds cool won't actually get you through the program. And in case you were wondering, when it came time for our final review he proved he was totally lost in the class by the questions he asked. I'm in basic algebra. G'luck, kid.

I agree that college isn't for everyone. Part of me thinks that we shouldn't start college until our 20s-- live in the real world a couple years and let us decide that we don't want to be burger flippers forever and we'll go back with a TOTALLY different perspective.

I know it's true for me. This time around, it's totally different. I'm working in a profession that some turn into their lifetime career. So while I'm keeping my head in the game there, I'm being reminded everyday that I have to prove myself  in order to get where I'm going. I have to make specific grades to even be eligible for this program, and that requires work. I'm not afraid to ask questions a million times over if I have to, if it means I totally and completely understand something to pass a test. Most importantly, I'M PAYING FOR THIS. There will be a bill in the mail the second I graduate, so why would I want to waste a second of the experience?

(side note: Will I ever NOT have a student loan in this lifetime??)

 

I'm thankful for this third (and Lordy, please FINAL) chance to go back. I'm doing my best to make the most of it. I see it in a totally different light than the people right out of high school. Maybe one day they'll regret it, maybe they won't. I just know that it takes no time at all to differentiate between us in class.

Jana < Algebra

So one of my biggest (and most legitimate) fears of doing this is that I have to pass COLLEGE ALGEBRA. Not only do I have to pass it, I have to get a B or higher.

I still have nightmares about math classes growing up.

It just doesn't click for me. I made it to trig in high school and dropped the class after being lost on day 1. I didn't need it... not really sure why I signed up for it in the first place. But the point is, I've never done well in a math class before. Hand me the guidelines to a massive research paper, and BAM! Done. And with an easy A. But math? This shiz is for the birds.

As sad as it is, I started with Elementary Algebra this semester. I could've taken Intermediate because once upon a time I took a "Business Math" at the same college and it qualified me for it. But lezzbereal here.....
I would've been shooting myself in the foot.

I needed to start FROM THE BEGINNING, square one, where stuff is spelled out and familiar. I got through some Algebra classes in high school, but that was like, um... a bajillion years ago. Furreal. So Elementary it was, and I'm not regretting it one bit!!

This was my unit 2 test. Granted, you can see that the first couple problems weren't hard, but I STILL GOT AN A!! That's really all that matters. Oh, and out of the 100 points, 2 that I missed were a very stupid addition error. Der. So I'm proud of this, despite how simple it is to others.

I'm currently holding onto an A in this class, and our unit 3 test is this week. After that, we'll have a comprehensive final (yes, this makes me nervous). There aren't any requirements for this class... if I get a C, I'll still move on to the Intermediate. But I want to try REALLY hard to understand every little thing, hoping that it will spill over into the next semester, and the next.

So I just wanted to take a minute to brag. I know, for a fact, that there will be tears at some point next semester. I know that I won't always pull As from tests, but I had to celebrate the moment.

I'm actually doing okay in a math class. For once.