The Scamp Abroad

It never occurred to me how much I would miss a simple comfort food. Cheese and tortillas. I was lucky enough to get to have a quesadilla last night with real salsa and sour cream. While it is not the cure all for my moods and all the pain I’m carrying around, it was a nice comfort that reminded me of being home with my mama. It was the first time in almost a week that I actually ate something.For a few hours I ate food that tasted good, played silly games, and had a good time with my friends.

It’s not everything, but it’s a start.

One that I am extremely grateful for.

After the tough day yesterday, and let’s face it, a tough few weeks, March is finally upon us. I love this month for many reasons. March marks the end of winter, the end to the cold (well, maybe not here in Scotland, but certainly in California), it marks another year of my life completed, and for this March, it marks the end of the term here and the start of my self guided research. It means I am one step closer to being able to return to California and settle into the next phase of my life.

There is another reason to love this month, and that is Dr. Seuss. He was born on March 2nd, and every year in the States this day (or the closest school day to it) is Read Across American Day. Classrooms stop teaching for a few hours and students simply get to enjoy reading. At the school where my mom works she has members of the community, local celebrities and her children come to school and read their favorite children’s book to a class. This year I got to read my book over Skype. I thought the little future scholars would be more excited, but I think I enjoyed it more than they did. I read them one of my favorite versions of the three little pig.

I’m hoping the fun I had with that, along with the Dr. Seuss books I checked out to read later will distract me a little.

The one bright spot in all of this was I got an interview for the EdD program at Cal State Fullerton. I got into the program at the same time I got in here, and they were nice enough to let me defer for a year, but it is nice to know that they still think I am a valuable candidate. I am still very much excited about the work I have been doing for the last two years that will serve as my dissertation, and if nothing else, it gives me the validation that I seem to really crave right now that I matter. I have this problem of equating education with intelligence. When I first applied to the program here, and to the one at CSUF it was because I wanted people to recognize my intelligence. I am, if nothing else, a good student. Being a student has defined my identity since I was 5 years old. I’m not sure what to be if I am not in school. In the last few weeks I thought that I would apply for jobs in San Diego and go there once I was home. I thought that was what I wanted and what would make me happy. Now I think I owe it to myself to finish school and stay on the course that I had originally set for myself when I moved here. I don’t know if I will end up going to CSUF, or if I will get a job in San Diego. Right now, the only thing I am trying to focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and taking it one day at a time.

I wish I was a fortune teller. I wish I had a shiny crystal ball that I could look into that would tell me everything will be alright. I have a picture of the future in my head. I know what I want it to look like, I know what I want to be in it. A few months ago, I was sure that picture was becoming a reality. A few months ago, I had it all figured out. This week my hopes for the future fell apart. This week my crystal ball broke and now everything is dark and murky.

I am now about to be more honest than I ever have on here. I’m not doing it because I want attention, I am doing it because I think it is time that I let people in and ask for help.

For the last few months I have been sliding into a deep depression. I’m in a dark and twisty place. Very dark. I’m sure that my seven readers have noticed how negative these posts have gotten, and the people around me have realized how moody and hostile I have become. I’m stressed about finding a job, stressed about losing the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, stressed about my loans and my mother’s health. I’ve been racked with guilt about how selfish I was for coming on this adventure, for being so far from my mom in case something really bad happens, and for asking my better half to wait for me for a year. I’ve slowly been spiraling in thoughts of negativity and doom and gloom, and no matter how often I am reminded that I am not alone, I started to get resentful of those who love and care about me the most. I have prided myself on being strong and independent, for being able to take care of myself and any problem that life throws at me. I know now, after repeated failures that that just isn’t true.

This week I lost the one person I care about most in the world. I lost my heart. The problem is, I was so stuck in my depression that I didn’t see how much I had destroyed him. I am trying my best to respect his wishes, but it is killing me that he is not a part of my day and I can no longer share my life with him. It kills him that I won’t have his shoulder to cry on, or his texts and emails telling me things will get better and I am almost home. I have so many things that need to be said, but can’t say any of them. I want to work and rebuild toward our future, but as it stands, I don’t know if that can happen. Right now, that is all I want to happen. I hope he reads this, and if he does, I hope he knows that letting me into his life was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I hope that he doesn’t give up on me, and on us, even though I have given him no reason not to.

I have decided that I can no longer do this alone. I need help. I need someone to throw me a rope so I can climb out of the dark and twisty place.I no longer want to be defined by my depression. I consider myself to be the luckiest girl in the world though. I have family and friends that are doing their damnedest to help me. Some of them are doing it in the form of pulling away, to show me what that I need help before I ruin everything, and the rest of them are calling, texting, and chatting with me. They check up on me, keep my mind busy on happy thoughts, and make sure that I am not alone. The amount of support that I have gotten from the girls here is much more than I deserve, and for that I will be eternally grateful. The amount of love and support I have gotten from my friends and family at home is also much more than I deserve. Even though my mind is telling me that I ruined my future happiness and now have to be alone, I can see from all the concern that I am not alone.

What I ask now from my followers, friends and family is a little understanding and some patience. I’m not going to be fixed overnight. I know that I will still have some dark and twisty days, and I will still be snappy from time to time. I assume that it may take me the rest of my time here to figure out how to heal. I’m struggling, a lot, but your continued support, good thoughts and occasional cat videos/puppy pictures are much appreciated.

 

I like to have control. I’m bossy, domineering, and  stubborn. I don’t like it when there are things in my life that I cannot control. While there are many aspects of my life right now that I can’t control, there is one area that I should have control of, but is driving me crazy.

The food here is awful. I have no control over what gets served in the caf here, and no control of my options for dinner. I have to fight the urge to go into the kitchen every night and show them how to cook rice, or pasta, or what chicken should look like. I am tired of looking at over ripe fruit, soggy veggies and salad that is wilted. I miss tortillas and Mexican food, miss being able to try out the recipes I find on the internet, and really miss not feeling hungry. I also miss actually being hungry.

The motto in the caf here is “Love food, hate waste” My motto is, “We wouldn’t waste the food if you knew how to cook it”. Tonight I had two bites of cold under-cooked whole wheat pasta and two bites of an apple crumble that was as hard as a rock. If I could get a refund for the food portion of my housing cost, I would do it in a heartbeat. I would shop and eat out and gain some much needed control. Since that is not possible, I think I will go on a hunger strike.

Okay, that is not possible either, so I will continue to try and live off of breakfast and wilted salad and yogurt. I just have to make it a month and then my parents will be here and a little normal will creep back into my life. I have one month of class left, and three months left in Scotland. While I a extremely ready to come home, I do not want to miss out on what is going on here.

True love is pulling gum off your mate’s butt in the middle of a crowded dinning hall.

The guy didn’t even laugh as he did it either. I hope that if that ever happens to me, my flip would do the same….Everyone that knows me, and knows him, knows that he would laugh, probably take a photo of it, laugh some more, and then maybe think about getting it off. Lord knows that’s how I would handle it.

 

There is a park somewhat close to the dorms that I walk through sometimes to get to campus. Most of the time it is cold, pretty empty, and a tiny bit scary going through alone. I usually go through the park during the week, sometimes at night, so I am pretty sure that accounts for my view of it. Today I cut through the park in the middle of the afternoon because it is quickest route to the public library I like. The park was full of people. Children were playing on all of the equipment while their parents chatted with each other or pushed them on the swings. I could hear giggling and laughing and saw a sea of knit caps, bright colored jackets and mittens everywhere. As I got further along the path in the park, I saw dogs running through the muddy grass and guys playing rugby in small groups. The sun was even out, and I was not freezing, so I am going to take it as a sign for a good day.

I had a birthday card waiting for me when I got home from Belfast. It is really hard for me to not open it now, but I am going to try and hang tough. I was happy to see it, especially since I will be celebrating my birthday without my family for the first time ever. I am sure I will spend the day here surrounded by the people that love me, but besides Kelly, there is just one person I want to spend it with. In my mind I saw a Skype date with cake for me, and a healthy dinner for him at 2 or 3 am my time. Now I am just thinking to pass the day hiding in my room working on my final assignment. I officially only have a month left of classes, and then I can start to get ready to come home. I think that has good as this has been, I am just ready to come home. I think it is time for me to get my research in order, and start thinking about what I need to do to graduate here. I’ll have time to celebrate and have some fun later.

One of these posts will be positive and cheery soon. The sun has been out more and more, so I am hoping that boosts my mood. I am also a little over a month from a visit from my parents. I have a great trip planned for them, and it will be nice to see them here and be able to show them my little home away from home.

I needed a break. I’ve been stressed, homesick, and miserable to be around. In the last three weeks I have lost the chance to communicate with two people that I care about, and it is breaking my heart. This week for most of the students at the University of Edinburgh was Innovative Learning Week. Students have the week off from classes, and there are seminars and classes put on by the school on a variety of subjects. Even though I have an assignment due in a couple of weeks, I decided to spend learning week in Ireland. My feisty Texan had some research to do here, and I thought it would be fun to tag along. We got two of the boys to come along, and we’ve made quite the adventure of it. There have been times when I have been scared (driving on the other side of the road can be a bit hard to remember, and America doesn’t do roundabouts, so don’t even get me started on those), for the most part, this adventure has been just what I needed. The gang is keeping my mind off of the all of the horrible things going on in my life right now, and I needed.

I was amazed at how easy the traveling was from Edinburgh to Belfast. We did take two trains, a bus, a ferry and a cab, but everything was on time, relatively nice, and very scenic. I had so much fun figuring out where we needed to be next, and sitting with everyone chatting about nonsensical things. The day we left was sunny, and since it had been awhile since I saw the sun, I was very excited. We spent the first day in Belfast driving to the Ulster American Folk Museum. Jade had research to do, and while she worked, they boys and I walked around the exhibits. The museum was all outdoors. There were houses, schools, churches, a ship, and a trip to America within the walk. Even though the day was cold, the sun was out, the people were friendly, and I had fun trying to pet a goose, walking over ropes, and taking in the history of people who went from Northern Ireland to the Americas. I really enjoyed being outside in the fresh air, and getting to know the boys. When we left the museum we drove down to Dublin, and while I slept through most of that 3 hour journey, the boys got to have their Guinness, and we got to catch up with a lad whom we have become friends with. He took us to a really interesting pub and we shared a good laugh. I came back exhausted, but I was distracted and not sad.

Today was a day of sightseeing. First on the list: Giant’s Causeway. The causeway is made up of cliffs that were supposedly carved out by a giant named Finn. I don’t know the whole story (I wanted to go because it is on the beach), but it was the perfect day to be out in nature. We climbed rocks, picked up shells, enjoyed the deep sea air, and again enjoyed the conversation that can only be had when on roadtrips. We followed that up with a trip to the docks to see where the Titanic was docked, and to be honest, I was less than impressed. This city is obsessed with the Titanic, and the dry dock was huge, and impressive, but I don’t know if I needed to see it in person. We finished early for the day, and my tiredness and my misery caught up with me. Jade was nice enough to comfort me and give me  little kick in the pants that I needed. I got some food in me, but shrugged off walking around the city so that I could stay warm and have some time to think.

I have a lot to think about it. My future is up in the air right now. I have no control over it though. I know what I want, and know where I want to be, but I am not sure that it will happen. I have been thinking a lot about what will make me happy, and what I can do to get those things, and to be honest, most of that is in San Diego. I am enjoying my time here and the places I have been and the people I have met, but I think what this whole adventure has provided me with is a picture of what will make me happy. Right now that is going to where my heart is, and being near my family. I started this journey with the intent to finish the PhD here, but now I know there is no way that I can be away from the people that I love most in the world that long. Suddenly, even finishing the degree in Fullerton no longer seems important. I have a knack for going to school. I have always been a student, don’t know how to really be anything else, and the thought of not being one anymore scares me. My identity has been defined as how I am as a student, what I am studying and where I going to school. I am afraid that if I stop that, I will no longer know who I am. These last few months though have changed that. I think now though I am ready to stop putting off growing up. I want to put down roots somewhere, be with the person who has my heart, and make my future my present. I want to start teaching and get started helping students learn how to write better. I want to settle into a routine with my friends and family. I want to get a dog and take it for walks and take it to the dog beach and let it run around in the waves with other dogs. I want good Mexican food and home cooked meals. I want to feel like an adult. I want to pay my own bills.

Tomorrow we will make the long journey back to Scotland, and I will have to go back to work on my final assignment first thing Saturday. I am hoping that the good feelings of fresh air, sunshine and a change of scenery will follow me home and I can pass the next few weeks quickly. I am going to work my damnedest to make things right with the people I hurt, and try to remember that my misery is the not fault of the people who love me and should not be acted out as such. Tomorrow I look forward to sleeping in my dorm bed and hiding in my room with some light fluffy movies and Harry Potter.

I’m not sure if it was because the sun was out yesterday, or if it was because it was Friday, but my faith in the human race was temporarily restored.

I’ve had a tough week. I was having problems with the bank, problems with my email for my teaching position, an ever continuing problem with the culture class. I did not have high expectations for the errands I wanted to run before class. My first stop of the day was my favorite stationary store so I could get some envelopes. The place is run by a little old man, and I like feeling like 83 pence purchase is helping keep him in business. Yesterday though, it was his son that was working in the shop.

I feel it is important to note that Edinburgh is a cash city. The shops are not used to people using their card, and often are only cash only. This Scamp is not a cash friendly girl. The problems with the bank left me without access to my funds, so I was relying on my credit card. When I went to pay for my envelopes, the guy told me the card machine was broken, and he was cash only for the day. When I told him I didn’t have the cash and would be right back after hitting the ATM, he told simply told me to take the envelopes and next time I was in the area just to come by and give him the cash. He said he did it all the time, and was happy to help. I told him he was saving the delivery of a very important rubber chicken.

I left the shop feeling really good. I’m not used to people outside of my friends here doing nice things, and I instantly felt better about the afternoon class, and finishing the rest of my errands. He seemed shocked when I went back after class with the money. He laughed and wished me a good weekend. I will definitely go back as often as I can (with cash) while I am here.

I wish that good feeling had been enough to carry me for the weekend though. I’m a little sad and homesick, and have a lot of work to do for my research class. I spent today curled up in bed after dinner instead of reading. I am very much looking forward to having the week off of class and being able to get out of the city. I can’t wait to explore Belfast during the day (I’m going to try and talk the boys into going to the zoo so I can see the California Sea Lions. I could use a bit of home). I’m hoping for a little culture, a little adventure, and a push out of my sad and mopey state.

“At the temple there is a poem called “Loss” carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.”

–Arthur Golden

This week the world lost one of the good ones. I can’t tell you about his childhood, or what his life was like before I was born, but I can tell you that he was the one to drive my mom to the hospital when her water broke, and when I was older, I would see him early in the mornings walking Buster, his black Lab. I think the last time that I saw him was Kelly’s wedding, but I cannot remember if he was there, or if it was a time long before that. The last few years I have been pretty self involved, and even though the Jack and Jan lived less than a mile from us, I did not make it over there nearly as often as I should have.

While I cannot give you a proper biography of Jack Stayton, I cannot tell you when he and Jan moved to California, or when they settled into the house on Juanita, but I can tell you that they were living there when my parents moved in in the late 70s. My brother, knowing full well he was not allowed to cross the street, used to stand at the edge of our driveway and yell for Jack when he got home from work. I know that my sister used to sit on the arm of his easy chair and eat snacks with him. I know that he was good with his hands. He could fix cars, mowers, or anything else that broke, and I remember bird houses and weather vane that he made filling their backyard. When I was 8 or 9 he helped me make a pinewood derby car so that I could race in the big derby challenge that Matt was racing in. He even helped me sand the car and told me that I needed to remember to paint whiskers on it so that it would look like a cat.

I remember the giant Sequence board that Jack built so it would be easier to play. He laid out two complete decks of card on a huge board and then framed it in glass. I remember sitting at the kitchen table playing with him, his daughter Jana, and various people from the neighborhood.

I remember Jack’s dog, Buster. He was a sweet black Lab that thought he was a lap dog and would do anything that Jack wanted. He sat, laid down, and go for walks around the neighborhood carrying his own leash. I remember the little dog, Katie, and how she used to jump up into his chair and sit with him while he watched TV. I remember the big tub of pretzels, trial mix or granola that he kept next to his chair. He was a diabetic, and was always snacking on healthy or sugar free foods.

I remember his voice. He had a southern drawl and sounded like an old cowboy. He used to have a big belly laugh that came all the way up from his toes. He was always telling funny stories or jokes, and when John and Jana had the D-Man, Jack could not be more proud of telling us stories about the smart things he said, or how much his grandson loved big trucks and construction sites. Jack made him all sorts of fun things to play with when he was younger.

I remember thinking that he and Jan had been married forever (turns out he died the day before their 62nd anniversary) and laughing when he would say or do something that annoyed her. She’d always roll her eyes at him and then tell him he was wrong. Their love for each other was an easy one, one that came with the comforts of time and the sharing of a life.

Unfortunately I will not physically be there when he is laid to rest, but I will be there in spirit. I’m sure that my mom will dig up a funny picture of us when we were kids sitting on his lap, or playing in their driveway. I know that my mom will tell everyone that I wish I could be there, but I am in Scotland making everyone proud. I know that if I have a glass of scotch at my favorite pub, Jack will see that as an acceptable alternative.

His daughter said that he was ready to go, that it was his time. While that may have been the case for him, the rest of us were not ready for him to leave. The world is a little dimmer today, and the stars a little brighter.

Rest in peace, Jack. Rest in peace.

or….a Scamp and intolerance.

I’ve had really horrible heartburn all day. Not only does it feel like something is eating away my esophagus, but it is leaving a bad taste in my mouth (of course, that could also be the combination of Tums and toothpaste)  There is another strong possibility for the bad taste in my mouth though. It could very well be leftover bad feelings about my Language, Culture and Pedagogy class yesterday morning.

I knew the day was not going to be the best when I woke up. I was extremely tired, and even though the morning was clear, it was cold and my bed was warm. When I got to class everyone was grumbling about the homework that was assigned and the incomprehensible reading we were given. When the professor got to class, instead of asking us if we had any questions about the readings, she scolded us like we were five year olds because we did not post a non-homework assignment that is not being graded or used for anything outside of the one class that we discussed it in. She was pissed too. She told us that she knew what was best for us, and that when she asked us to do something, she expected us to do it (I’m pretty sure her tone of voice indicated that she thought that was too much for us to handle). She had given us a homework assignment that required us to go to the pub and observe people, so when it was clear that some of us did not post the non assignment, she asked if we had gotten drunk at the pub and decided not to take her seriously. I was a bit insulted, but since my group didn’t post, I felt like I had earned a little of her wrath. It wasn’t handled very well, and I did not appreciate feeling like I was five and colored on the wall, but I was tired, so I tuned her out and tried (and failed) to stay awake in class. One of the other girls in class spoke up and said she didn’t appreciate being talked to that way since she was doing the assigned reading and assignments. The professor mocked her, and basically ignored the comment in general.

Once we got around to discussing the readings, things got really interesting. One of the concepts that we are focusing on in this class is intercultural competence. We are learning how to be good moderators of culture, and how to best understand all of the students that we will potentially have in our classrooms. One of the concepts involved looking at complex situations in which cultures clashed, and as a group, students are supposed to come to a conclusion of what could be done in these situations so as not to offend any one culture. The two scenarios that were given as examples were very controversial. One involved a westernized woman in the Middle East being scolded quite forcefully because her head and body were not covered. The other scenario involved a Middle Eastern man in a westernized country who gets forcefully scolded for stopping in the middle of the street to pray.

Both of the scenarios are quite serious, and as one of the members of the class put it, “It would be next to impossible to get people to agree on a conclusion of what should be done in these situations. If you have a class that is a mix of western and eastern people, they are not going to agree on how these should be handled.” The professor jumped in and said that part of the theory was about negotiation.

This is where the fun began.

One woman in the class is from Palestine. She is very traditional, she keeps most of her body, including her head covered, and she is clearly very very very pro Palestine. She immediately puts her two sense in, saying that negotiations are pointless, and the only way to get what you want is through the use of weapons. She then went on a tirade about how Israel stole all of Palestine’s land, and how they have all the power, so they have no reason to negotiate for anything. She talked about the 20 years of being killed and abused by Israel, and how all the problems started with Bill Clinton (she looked at me and the other American in the class when she said this). She went on and on about how the people in Palestine were not slaves, or oppressed, but their land was stolen, and Israel was refusing to be reasonable. The Irish girl in the class spoke up and talked about the peace treaty between the Republic and Northern Ireland, and how before negotiations, the two side wanted to kill each other. I mentioned that women in the US had no power when they negotiated with men for the right to vote, but they didn’t kill anyone to get what they wanted.  The Palestinian woman shook her head to all of this and said the only way to get peace was with weapons. She said, “If someone kills you, you should kill them back.” Everyone was uncomfortable at this point, but the prof let the woman continue her tirade. One of the British men in the class pointed out that Gandhi didn’t use force to get what he wanted. but she overlooked that as well. 40 minutes later we had not started the lesson, had a break, or done anything worth while. I was really uncomfortable. I’m a Jew, and American, so to this woman, I am the ultimate enemy….good thing she doesn’t know I am Jewish.

Here is the thing: I’m not upset that she has an opinion that differs from me. I’m upset that she felt the need to stand on her soapbox with a totally brainwashed one sided opinion and then tell the Chinese girls in the class her one sided view of the conflict. I am not saying Israel is perfect, and I am not saying that negotiations are not working because of Palestine, but the middle of a cultural sensitivity class is not the time or place for her views. She is not the least bit culturally informed, or sensitive, and I did not feel comfortable enough to voice my opinion, or even tell the woman she is the reason that the theory of cultural negotiation didn’t work. I resent that I went to class and the professor didn’t think to stop the soapbox and actually teach us. I ended up sleeping through her lecture when she finally got around to it, and then later in the day I was so annoyed by what happened, that I was telling girls who were not in the class about how we were treated like five year olds, only to have the professor walk by and smile at me (and yes, I said her name, and I was talking loud enough for her to hear me).

Here is my dilemma: one of the girls in the class was also really insulted by being talked down to, and then having to listen to the argument for 40 minutes. She plans to go to our program director and tell him the situation and see if he can help us out. I think that maybe we should try to talk to the professor first and voice our concerns, but she has a reputation for being a bitch, and no one wants her wrath directed at them. I’m so tired that part of me just wants to let it go and chalk it up to her not being a good teacher, and know that next week is a new week and she will probably be fine. I can always raise my hand and complain in class if a discussion like this is repeated and nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand. Part of the class is about learning how to understand and demonstrate our understanding of various cultures, so I think I am going to try that.

Should I say something though, and if so, to whom? Or, should I just let it go and focus on the homework, writing assignments and my upcoming dissertation? (I’m in favor of the last option)