Obligatory moved post! Please come join us at:
jessicainprogress.com
TG and I have known each other for a year today. It’s not the day we first met, but a year ago he first contacted me from a dating website.
(When these things happen on romantic holidays, you tend to remember. I also had an echocardiogram on Valentine’s Day, 1997. That was a useful mind trick when over a year later I found out my insurance was never billed for it and therefore wouldn’t pay the cardiologist to interpret it. Since I remembered “heart exam on heart day”, the hospital was able to find my records.)
(I have a weird heartbeat as a result of an enlarged left ventricle. Supposedly this is no big deal but man do people flip out when they take my pulse.)
(I’m thinking I need a good way to get back on track from my tangents. Something like, “PORCUPINE!” Because how could you hate me for my ramblings if I make you think of porcupines?)
PORCUPINE!
TG’s initial email was the funniest, least rote, most true-to-personality I’ve ever received in this kind of situation. I responded back quickly and favorably. So of course we managed to insult each other in the very next round. I am very thankful that we both somehow found an ounce of patience and stuck to our gut instinct that there was an interesting person on the other end of the email address.
I couldn’t begin to describe what I think TG and I have meant to each other over the past year. I use the term friends between us not to belittle the romantic aspects, or to have a nice pigeonhole in which to stick him. Anyone who has met TG knows why I call him friend. Within five minutes of meeting him, you want to call him that.
He is loyal, hysterical, clever, very caring, and insightful. And that shines through even in his most crass. I think he knows it shines through too and takes advantage to be extra crass. But no one minds. I can’t imagine anyone getting mad at him. Not really mad. He’s TG! He’s fun and sweet! What’s there to get mad at?
For Christmas, he gave me a very caring and insightful gift. It’s something he knew I’d planned for a long time but was too overwhelmed to make the first steps myself. I’ve been trying to work on it, learn about it, and get it polished up, but a few weeks ago I realized I would just have to live with it the way it was for now.
With that in mind, I figured today was a good day to make it public. Of course, that meant I couldn't get anything to work, got called off on other projects all evening, etc. So I am starting a new chapter just as half-assed as I've done everything else. Whoo! Consistency!
For Christmas, TG gave me a wonderful new home. Quite possibly to ensure that for at least another year, I won’t write too terrible things about him on the innernets:
Jessicainprogress.com
The weekend was a great success. My parents wanted to take a walk Friday morning, which gave me time to hit the gym per my new routine. Every bit counts when you know you’re going to be chowing down all weekend.
Thursday evening I had suggested to both of them to peruse my iTunes and pick songs for the shuffle. Dad chose a few, clearly not interested at first but he came back in with more and more suggestions when he saw how much fun Mom was having.
Not only did this mean a little bit for everyone on the drive up, but they got the added bonus of knowing they raised me right when they can find Wilson Pickett and Fats Waller in among my Dixie Chicks and Nickel Back.
(Although Dad? Chose the Texas Tornados “Guacamole”. Which…I cannot explain why I own the Texas Tornados because the story is too boring. But I had never heard it until somewhere south of Ocala on Friday. With my father singing along. I’m not sure I can be a produce section with him ever again.)
We got into Gainesville around lunchtime. Although we first stopped for lunch (at the Oaks mall! Did you see us?) inside Gainesville because Mom and Dad are a little scared of being dragged to the cafeteria. I love the cafeteria food and my father once attempted to disown me when I asked him to give me tips to recreate a chicken stew-thing we ate there. But, food quality aside, the real issue is that it’s just such a damn TO-DO to go to the cafeteria. So Ruby Tuesday’s it was.
The afternoon passed quickly, catching up and getting my parents checked into their room. The retirement community has two guest apartments that can be rented by residents and it really comes in handy. (I stayed with the Grandparents.)
We had dinner at one of my favorite restaurants:
The Stonewood Grill. And I had my two favorite dishes: herb encrusted grouper (I am not usually a seafood person, but this is awesome) and the chocolate bread pudding. It was heaven. Both the bruschetta and my salad came with balsamic vinegar dressing, and the grouper had a balsamic vinegar reduction sauce. I heartly approve of any meal where you can get balsamic vinegar in multiple courses.
I also tried a Pinot Gris. A little delicate, but better to me than a chardonnay.
Saturday we made it to the Santa Fe Community College Teaching Zoo for a tour and it didn’t start to rain until our last 100 feet. (I will answer for you the question asked of me from my family – I have no desire to be a zookeeper. I could do that at the sanctuary for the rest of my life and keep my high paying, amazing benefits giving, job. I wish to get into research that will help protect and understand animals in the wild.)
The zoo was interesting. I was impressed with their bald eagles. The South American porcupines wouldn’t come out though. I love me some porcupines.
Since it became so rainy and cold, I was half-hoping my grandfather would find the curry too much for him and I could snag it for lunch. No dice. I’ve been instructed to bring any extra curry in my possession to him directly.
Spent the afternoon reading and napping, then drinking mimosas while trying to ease kitchen tensions as Dad cooked in a strange environment. I know their layout and tend to get on Dad’s nerves a tad less. He is the kind of person that just needs to be left alone to work his magic.
But magic was worked and another yummy meal was consumed. This time with a shiraz and I’m sorry to disappoint wine-type people, but I find anything too dark to see through just too bitter and it gives me a headache. I’d love to be proven wrong, but haven’t yet so far.
Nothing too exciting for the evening’s endeavors. Mom and Dad once again skipped out early (it is rare they make it past 9:30 on any night) and Grandpa and Grandma and I watched some BBC and Olympics. I thought I would be jonesing for more entertainment, but just being around four other people non-stop tired me out.
Sunday morning was kind of annoying in that it was just hurry-up-and-wait until it was time to hit the road. I was very out-of-sorts. Perhaps it is because sometime Friday evening we had exhausted my interest and understanding of the Supreme Court, yet continued to discuss it throughout the weekend. (I am going to admit something to you that no one else in the world knows: when I am with my family? I often think I’m the dumbest person in the group. That is both cool and unnerving.)
Then we could not find a decent place to stop for lunch until it was way too late for me. I was shaking a bit in the restaurant and really biting my lip to ask everyone to just shut up until I’d had a meal and fifteen minutes to digest.
(Also – my family seems to exist solely on alcohol and dairy. It hit me more than once over the weekend that I was getting dehydrated. My usual intake of 100-160oz was probably reduced to 10.)
But luckily I perked up after eating. TPA has instituted a new “first hour free” in the short-term parking. It was a pleasant surprise on Thursday and Sunday it was nice to come inside with them and not be rushed with goodbyes.
I still got home earlier than I thought, got the grocery shopping done, and found surprisingly less damage to the house than I expected. The cats were happy to be fed. And later, after two meals, they were also happy to see me.
This week has been one of many kinds of suck. I had no desire to rehash it because:
1) it just makes the suck worse.
2) most would be/is over.
3) I had non-suck things to look forward to.
BUT. I just checked my mail. USF has returned my application.
Why? Because they do not process Summer semester applications until April.
They just spent 37 cents to tell me: YOU MAY RESUBMIT THE APPLICATION DURING OUR PEAK PROCESSING TIME.
What. The. Fuck.
Of course, I called. Because the application material I have specifically says "Pre-clearance". Which in my mind meant there was "post-clearance" material. Not too far off if you consider 1) the application material asked for little more than my name and address 2) the common use of the English language.
I was worried the timing between April and start of summer semester would not be enough for me to finish all my paperwork. But when I called, I was told that my acceptance will be automatic, they require nothing more (THEN WHY "PRE"? WHY? WHY? WHY?), and any more information to ensure I could enroll in the classes I wanted would be between me and the individual departments.
That is a little comforting. But still. You just sent all my paperwork back just for me to re-send it in April?
Suck.
OK. I'm off for real this time. To Gainesville where there is a well-stocked wine bar and many people familiar with the inefficiencies with university systems. I shall be well cared for.
Time it took for my mother to gravitate towards art: -2 minutes. (As soon as I saw the manatee installation at TPA I knew she'd have to stop. Sure enough, it was the first thing she mentioned.)
Time it took for my father to speak Latin: 2 hours. (Getting slow in his old age?)
I was nervous about taking them to Ajanti. My mother has some specific dietary restrictions and my father is consistently disappointed with any food someone calls spicy.
His eyes watered. And not only did she love her tandoori chicken but she ate her weight in naan as well.
I had a chicken curry which was tasty but a little too spicy for me. As I debated taking it home my father basically called me wuss. It's in the freezer now, but if I remember I'm bringing it with me tomorrow. The love of spice runs in the family and Grandpa would enjoy it.
They are staying in my bedroom tonight (cat allergies - the upstairs den does not have a door) and are already tucked in, so I have lugged the laptop up here and plan to curl up with some Angel season 5 before calling it a night myself.
Good night.
For reasons she could no longer remember, she owned an ex-boyfriend’s little brother’s jean jacket.
Jean jackets weren’t really her thing, but most outerwear in general failed her. Or she failed it.
She had owned the jacket for ten years now and supposed that was three times longer than the little brother ever did.
For reasons she could no longer remember, a Barney the dinosaur plastic kazoo resided in the left breast pocket. She was pretty sure it came from the ex-boyfriend. He was the purple-plastic kazoo type.
One afternoon while walking from work to the auto-repair shop, she remembered the kazoo and went digging for it, awkwardly shifting purse and lunch pail and not slowing her march. Finding it would give her some comfort. What she needed comfort from, she wasn’t entirely sure.
Instead of the kazoo, she found a note that read:
-Sears
-Vickie’s
-Fabric Shop
-Pottery
-Email & labs
-Albies
-Goodwill
She knew the general time frame it was written. There was only one time in her life labs and pottery were noteworthy on the same page. But why Goodwill? What would she have done in a fabric shop? She could no longer remember.
The note made her more uncomfortable. Lost in a way the kazoo would have made her found.
She put it back in her pocket and continued on.
Originally, I hadn’t been thinking about returning to the sanctuary. That ship, I thought, had sailed. But as I put the pieces in place for my big change, I realized it would be prudent for me to have an internship this summer. Something to prove to graduate schools I’m serious and committed to the idea of making a lot less money and getting much more dirty while doing it.
It is also imperative that I take Biology I this summer. I have a good idea of the undergraduate classes I will need to prepare for graduate school, and it’s about a full year’s worth. Whether USF will offer up everything my little heart desires in the next year is a chance I’m taking, but at least I will have tried. However, in order to take most of these classes, Biology I & II are pre-requisites. While I might be able to get away with Biology II as a co-requisite, Biology I is going to have to be tackled on it’s own and gotten out of the way.
That meant an internship in the Tampa Bay area. That severely limited my options, which weren’t that great anyway as most programs are geared for people already seeking degrees.
Funnily enough, it was when I realized I should ask the sanctuary for a letter of recommendation that the idea of just returning came to me. So simple!
The sanctuary has an official internship program, but I didn’t want to take a spot away from anyone and I wanted a little more control over my schedule. So, when I went back around Thanksgiving, I broached the idea of my returning for an intensive internship-like period of time over the summer.
Now, I understood this was not the greatest offer in the book. It takes a lot to train volunteers. It will take me a week or so at least to get back in the game – if I’m out there every day. Volunteer retention and stability is very important in such a difficult environment. If they said it wasn’t worth it, I’d get it. At least I would have tried.
Of the few people I mentioned this to, one committee member took interest and wanted to know the details of what I was thinking. So after Christmas I emailed her with an outline of my plan (still vague as USF will not put out the summer schedule until APRIL when classes start in MAY – although the Biology department has assured me a session of Biology I is always taught).
I made it clear that while I didn’t want to stop volunteering again, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep it up in the fall. I would be starting classes (hopefully) full-time and also need to look for a part-time job.
She replied back why didn’t I just come back as a lowest-level* (which would mean least-hours required monthly) volunteer and see if I could make it a permanent return? Four hours a week, or sixteen a month would be doable, yes?
Again, so simple! But it never occurred to me, as I was so “internship-type situation” focused. And just because I have small monthly quota of hours, doesn’t mean I can’t put in more over the summer. I can certainly come up with some specific project to complete during that time if I feel a huge need to prove something to graduate schools.
*There is a low-medium-high scale to volunteering. Each higher level has more training, responsibilities (including monthly hour quota), and there are requirements for moving from one to another. While they are called something else, I’m going to refer to them as LL, ML, and HL.
It also gives me freedom with my schedule. And is a good step to ensuring I don’t fall back into all of my old responsibilities and get burnt out again. (Although I doubt I would let this happen. One reason I didn’t go back sooner is because I felt I hadn’t learned enough about the limits and possibilities of my mind and body. I’d spent too long on autopilot, in part because of my marriage, doing what needed doing regardless of whether I could/should actually do it. I’m fairly confident that I know them now.)
I’ve thought about how be a LL volunteer will feel. I was an HL when I left. Overall, I don’t think it will be too weird for me. No matter what level you are, everyone picks up shit. Literally. And I know this will sound strange, but that’s one of my favorite tasks – cleaning habitats means your out there on the sanctuary grounds, walking around, near the animals, knowing that whatever else you do that day, you’ve given them a clean home.
As an LL, I won’t be able to clean the habitats of the larger cats, but since both my babies died I won’t feel any huge loss there. I don’t remember if I ever spoken about it, but I’ve been “Mom” to two bobcats longer than either the tiger or the lioness were around.
I also think the volunteers who knew me from before will respect my knowledge. That’s just how the place works. Age, social standing, and for the most part even education mean nothing. It’s all about how many hours you’ve put in. I’ve taken orders from someone ten years my senior and ten years my junior, as well as given them to cute guys I’d like to get with and people old enough to be my parents.
The only two downsides are that LL volunteers don’t feed and they don’t conduct tours.
Feeding, while sometimes difficult and stressful, is always looked at as a reward. Getting to watch carnivores chow down is amazing. And I will miss being out there in the evening, when feeding occurs. All LL volunteers are pretty much off-property by the afternoon. As someone who once lived out there and would get to be completely alone Sunday evenings with the lioness, I cherished the quiet and the satisfaction of knowing the day was done and the animals were safe.
The tours are something many other volunteers wouldn’t believe I’d miss. I can get burned out on people quickly, and I’m very protective of the animals, which can make for a stressful tour when guests think it’s so cute and funny when an abused leopard is hissing and charging the fence. The guide usually isn’t supposed to bitch-slap the patrons.
But especially with being away for so long, I’ve come to realize how much I love talking about the animals, and what people need to know so they can go home and make decisions that ensure more abuse and neglect doesn’t happen.
I used to be praised by guests for my tours quite a bit. And it surprised me, until I realized the same passion that made me mad when guests didn’t respect the privacy of the animals also made me a wonderful guide. People liked my tours because they could tell these animals were loved, that I believed in the sanctuary’s mission and in doing whatever it took to stop the exploitation of captive exotics.
So, I’m going to miss that. And yes, it has been a fanciful thought of some special privilege – that I could guide tours or feed even as an LL. But that is very fanciful. Special provisions have been made in the past and it is always hard on morale, not to mention difficult to monitor. I would rather fade into the background than stick out this time around.
I’ve also thought about perhaps advancing to be a ML volunteer. That is a seductive and dangerous proposition. I’m going back with a bigger picture in mind, and to eventually leave again when I find a graduate program. I can’t get sidetracked with the instant gratification of putting in a hard day’s work at the sanctuary, especially if it compromises the time and energy I put into school.
But we’ll see. First I just need to get back there. I had planned to be back in May. But returning as an LL means so small of a time commitment, I could go back any time after February (too much planned already) and fulfill my hours on just one weekend morning a week. Part of me wants to be back before my birthday. (Late March) I’m not sure why; I know it won’t be the same.
Perhaps it’s because I view birthdays and September (never really got out of the school mindset) the way many view the New Year. A time for reflection and change. It would be nice to have one part of my plan in place by then.
