Keeping busy.

Do you ever wonder how you spend your time? Time passes so quickly. So incredibly quickly. But, for me at least, when I try to quantify how I am spending my time I am often left wondering what I am actually doing in those spare few hours between work and bedtime, or on those weekends at home. I often feel as if I have so little time, but maybe I have more time than I think. Because all it seems that I do is work, school, cook, and take pictures of the cats looking silly. That can't possibly fill a life, can it?

Case in point: this past week or so.

Cooked: Corned beef and cabbage dinner, in honor of everyone's favorite Irish holiday, St. Patrick's Day. It's on St. Patrick's Day (and also Thanksgiving) that I am so glad that I am not a vegetarian. The salty-beefy flavors of this festive meal are just too good to give up.

Schooled: Wrote my first research paper in about six years. Actually, probably longer than that. Seven or eight years, since I don't consider a lot of the papers that I wrote in library school real research papers. I had to reteach myself Chicago style citations, though I could have used the MLA format. Is all of this coming back to you, too? I had to pull all of this stuff out from so deep in my memory banks. Too much other useless info has crowded its way into my brain.

As mentioned, this paper was a case study on Sara Baartman, the Hottentot Venus, and the drawn out debate over the repatriation of her remains to South Africa. Museums can cling so strongly to what they consider their possessions, but I find this somewhat offensive when it comes to human remains. How does someone "own" Sara Baartman's skeleton, her brain, and her genitalia? Unless she willed these parts of herself to the museum, then they don't really own them. And she didn't will anything to anyone. And she's not a science experiment.

So that right there, in one or two nice and concise sentences, was my whole paper. If I had just handed that in I could have saved myself a lot of work!

Silly Cat Photos: Sherman is often a photogenic cat, though no cat is as photogenic as Sasha, just as no cat is as soft as Sasha. Sherman, however, isn't always lounging around on the bed looking cuddly and sleepy. Sometimes he's laying on the floor crazily grabbing at some random piece of string, or sometimes he's sitting on his favorite chair with his tongue sticking out.

I don't really know what to say about Sherman. He's darned cute, but he's also just so darned vacant. I really do believe that when he had his neck surgery the vet went a little too far into his neck with the scalpel and took out some of his gray matter, too. Sometimes I am amazed at the things that he does. But, we can forgive him most things, because he's just such a dope. And dopes are cute. And we like cute things. So therefore I guess we like dopes.

I, however, also like flowers. Like, really, really like flowers. I have little interest in putting the work in to grow them, but I certainly do like them when they sprout up in my yard. So, I guess I can now add to my list of things that I do to waste spend my time is "look at flowers." Spring is officially here, but even still, we have had an unseasonably abundant and early crop of flowers sprouting. This photo of some of the lovely purple crocuses in our front garden was taken a week ago, and you can see that already some of the blossoms had gone by!

Today when I went out to the front garden to look at the crocuses I was saddened to see that all of the blossoms look like those wilted ones. Now what do we do? What will bloom next? Without cookies and ice cream all I have are flowers to get me through my days. I suppose there are worse habits.

Paging Doctor Freud.

I am taking a psychology class this semester. I'm just a few weeks into it and we're already learning about Freud. First we learned about research methods (to remind us that psychology is indeed a science) and then we moved on to biological psychology (to also remind us that psychology is indeed a science). Now we are learning about Freud and psychoanalysis. Unlike some intro psych classes that stick strictly to the textbook, we dive right in and read a primary source. Freud, probably for a variety of reasons, has a difficult style. Takes twelve words to say what could have been said in two. But I'm sloughing through, thanks to being able to read aloud to a seasoned student of psychology.

I am not taking this class because I plan to become a psychologist or a therapist or anything like that. I just thought that this would be a good way to kill off a pretty standard pre-requisite for a potential career change, if that were to ever interest me. Teaching, dental-hygiene, nursing, speech therapy, even counseling - all of these things appeal to me, and all of the additional schooling I would need in order to pursue these careers requires a psychology class. So. I'll have my bases covered.

In the meantime, it's fun to learn about the brain and about different theories of psychology. I'm learning that Freud was one whacked-out dude, but some of his overall themes I actually think are useful and relevant. Even the idea of the id, ego, and super-ego. The idea of the self, of me, trying to create and maintain a balance between the more basic, biological needs that are battling against the bloated conscience of the external world. I like that. Maybe this is why some days feel like a struggle.

Of course, now whenever I look at something I'm reminded of some kind of psychological ideal or theory that was briefly touched on in my class. I just went through the photos on my camera to dump those I wanted onto the computer and saw this one:

I immediately thought of Freud and the possibility of Tyrone unconsciously exhibiting repressed sexual tension towards my mother (one can see Freud in anything). And then I saw Sasha trying to bust into the bag of catnip that came with her new scratching post

and was reminded of those doctors, like good Doctor Freud, who experimented with the medical possibilities of cocaine, morphine, opium, heroin, and other narcotics, on themselves and wound up, in some cases, dope fiends.

So I'm enjoying this class. It's fun to learn again, to do homework assignments, to be forced to read things that I may not otherwise have read. But let's just see if I'm singing that same tune in a few weeks when I have my first mid-term exam in something like six years. I'll have to get my seasoned student of psychology to do some review sessions with me. It will be like UCONN all over again.

Pomp and Circumstance.

This was definitely not a normal morning commute - there were too many suit coats and shiny shoes getting off the train at Harvard Square, and too many families. Usually it's just me and the other Harvard employees getting off the train, but, because today is Commencement Day at Harvard, things are changed. My library is open essentially as a bathroom for the crowds of people who are already swarming the Yard. See?
Maybe I'm okay with us being the campus bathroom for the day (or at least until noon, when the morning exercises are over and the circ desk opens and we are a functioning library again). It gives me an excuse to be here, witnessing the first (of many?) Harvard graduations. It will likely be a quiet day, at least in here, so I can get some work done. And I can also reflect, fondly and perhaps not-so-fondly, on my own college commencements.

I had written "college commencement" above, but then I remembered that I have two degrees, went to two commencement ceremonies, and went through those rituals twice. I always forget about my Simmons experience. It's somewhat fitting that the Simmons College t-shirt that I put into my quilt didn't fit, and that I had to truncate it down to say simply "Simmon." That's kind of fitting for my memories of the place; truncated and incomplete. That's a part of my life that has not really been branded into my mind. Was it a difficult time? Hard? Confusing? I'm not sure. In many ways I think I really liked that time of my life. I felt like an adult, whatever that means. But whatever I was thinking or feeling or experiencing during that time of my life (which is now seven years ago) it was not the schooling that left an impression.

Which leads me to wonder what these graduates are thinking and feeling today as they march to their seats that fill the Yard. Do they have jobs? Do they have career paths? Do they think that they do but then will discover that what they thought they were all about really isn't true, and will change their mind sometime in their late twenties when they realize that life really isn't what they thought it was after all? Perhaps that last question was a little too insightful, a little too telling about what my own experience was post-college. When I graduated from UCONN, now ten years ago almost to the day, I could not have told you what I wanted to do with my life. Job? Career? Had no clue, and I knew I had no clue. But I could have told you what I wanted to feel in my life. I wanted a worry-free future. Something exciting, yet also very stable. I would have told you that I was going to travel to Europe each year, find a job that would allow me to incorporate my interest in and ability wth French, and I would move far away from my hometown. I would be a cosmopolitan jetsetter. I would live the life of a Lonely Planet author, exploring fun places and writing about then for all to read. I would be like Anna Wintour, amazingly chic and sure of myself. Business-like. I would wear great clothes to work, take care of my appearance, have the career and the family and the hobbies and the life that women dream of, and do something that everyone - everyone - would know about. That's what I would have told you then.

If I were graduating now, what would I tell you about my hopes and dreams? Isn't that what graduations are for? For thinking about the future? You're done with one part of your life, and now move on to the next. Can life be segmented like that? Am I different than the person I was when I wore my cap and gown in Gampel Pavillion those ten years ago, or when I marched alongside my fellow librarians at the Boston Convention Center five years ago? Who knows. Maybe. In ways, yes. But not in other ways. I still can't tell you what I want to do for a career, but I am closer to being able to tell you that. And I know that I can have that Lonely Planet lifestyle, but I have to have some kind of means to support that lifestyle and it can't be my parents. Anna Wintour's life is still very intriguing, but so is coming home to my little house and my little yard and seeing Doug and petting the cats and sitting at the table in my dining room to eat my dinner and read my book. So there are things that I know now that I did not know then, at either graduation day.

So I guess you don't learn it all in college. I guess school doesn't teach you everything. When these graduates leave the Yard and go out into the real world they will still be learning. They will still be exploring their life. Maybe Harvard has set them up for great success in that. I hope so. But for now, today, they can come into my library and use our bathrooms and think about that thing called the future after the ceremonies and fanfare. Let them enjoy their day.