The C.R.E.A.M. Update

I finally got my money, an issue I agonized about in a previous post. I had great plans of how I was going to use my hard earned cash. I was going to save, pay off some debts, and have some fun. But because I’m trying to explore my financial literacy, I’m going to do more saving than I originally planned.

Now that it’s getting warm, the No Goods are making their presence known in my neighborhood and that pushes me further and further toward my homeownership goal. But as much as I’ve been saving, I fear that have not saved enough. So I toss a chunk of the cash into my Dream Home Fund, lock it up and throw away the key.

My new car came about with a great deal of help from my parents. I don’t like to owe anybody anything, so I took another chunk of dough and hoped to pay them back the rest of the money I owed them. However, they threw me for a loop when they told me they didn’t want it, that I should use it to save for the Dream Home. So I took their chunk and placed it in a CD, money that I can’t touch until fall 2012 after it ears a good interest rate.

That leaves a little bit leftover for me. What shall I do? My early plan was to place some into my Sharebuilder stock account and then another chunk in my Vacation account (I’ll be in Martha’s Vineyard soon, there’s nothing cheap about that!) However, there are the Wants, like a new television, a new iPod, a new guitar. Hell, maybe even a new wardrobe. But I’ll tread lightly, because I know that my list of Wants could get pretty extensive.

(Photo from http://theshirtjunkie.com/files/Creambox.jpg

Cash Rules Everything Around Me (CREAM)

Now, I'm not a blog jacker, let me say that up front. But if I see that one of my blog peeps is going through a tribulation similar to mine, well darnit, I'm gonna write about it. First, read here about how folks are trying to be shady with The L's money. Crazy scenario, right? Now allow me to piggy back on her plight.

I've been CRAZY busy. Good busy, but busy just the same. I learned in April that I won a creative writing award from my university. Awesome news. I play a little midday hooky to get down to the university where the grad and undergrad students were given certificates and checks. But my antenna was raised when I was given a certificate and a promise that I would get my check "soon." *side eye* (there will be an upcoming post about my years at this university)

I'm an optimistic person. When you tell me I'm going to win money, I make plans. I was going to repay my parents the money I owe, get a new camera, upgrade my guitar, and do my saving/investing hussle. Everyday I checked my mailbox, only to be greeted with nothing.

So I sent a polite email to my professor that if you read closely, spelled out WHY YOU TRYIN TO STICK ME FOR MY PAPERS? She told me that the university is now having "an issue" with the foundation that administers the awards. This foundation had wanted me to apply again (side eye/head roll/two snaps in a circle), but the university is trying to get it resolved on their own. I'm supposed to be given a check within the month. Let's hope I do. You can't imagine how violent I get when I think about the money that hasn't been sent my way. It's enough to make me wanna cut somebody's face off.

Birth of a Thesis

I have recently given birth, and unlike many new mothers I can say unequivocally that I despise my child. Ok, it’s not a child, exactly, but a 170-page 36,000-word document that has caused me to exist on nothing but bananas and green tea for the last several weeks. Yes, I’m talking about my thesis, or as I affectionately call it, Hemorrhoid.

In the early stages of my Hemorrhoid pregnancy, I was excited. Yes, there were the usual bouts of morning sickness that comes with assembling my committee, making my topic as specific as possible, structuring my abstract and review of literature, but I knew it would all pay off in the end. I looked forward to the day little Hemorrhoid was in my arms, beaming up at me with my name in print.

Months passed and I realized this would be a difficult pregnancy. One member of my committee had gone MIA, another forgot all about Hemorrhoid and the committee chair put me on a diet that stretched my baby beyond anything I’d ever imagined. But again, I was excited. Thrilled even. How long is your typical pregnancy? Nine months? More specifically, 40 weeks? I could handle that.

Two years and some change later, I remained face up, legs spread as members of my committee used various instruments to pull, heave and even drag Hemorrhoid from my womb. A portion of Hemorrhoid’s bloody body was extricated in time for me to meet with The Big Man this week. The Big Man has the final say on all things thesis, and if he doesn’t like an aspect of your formatting – don’t come with a ‘…’ when you should come with a ‘. . . ‘—then it’s over. The two members of my committee and I hemmed and hawed over the measurement of page numbers at the bottom, the MIA member told me his middle intial on the signature page was incorrect, etc etc. Like all mothers in labor, I pushed and pushed and I pushed until it came out to the way it was supposed to be. I paid my $200 to have Hemorrhoid bound and copyrighted (a copy for me and a copy for the school) and I was on my way to the Big Man.

Well, what can I say about my meeting with The Big Man? A LOT, but I’ll keep it brief. The first thing he says is that my committee and I have been working off of an out of date checklist, which means that I didn’t have all the materials he needed and that my formatting was again, incorrect. And since said out of date checklist was created, the fees for the thesis have gone down, so in the amount I paid, I actually bought THREE copies of the thesis (Happy birthday, Mom) instead of my desired two. So I had to go back to work on my day off to do some hasty reformatting (took me six hours), switching to pdf, signing and faxing before I could send dear Hemorrhoid away.

But you know how they say never look back? Well I do, often. My dear pdf version of Hemorrhoid has blank pages in the file, a wrong completion date and page numbers with issues. I can’t make any corrections now, I just have to wait for the grad school to come back with their revisions and/or instructions for me to go straight to hell because Hemorrhoid is such a mess. It’s only fitting that everytime I turn on the radio, Cee Lo is screaming for me to … uh…. ‘forget’ everyone who has made my life a mess.

So I’ve been trying to listen to Cee Lo as I make mani/pedi plans for next week. World Tuberculosis Day is coming up and I hope to spend it with a tiara on my head, Hill Harper in my bed and Chaka Khan’s ‘I’m Every Woman’ in my soul. And no Hemorrhoid is getting in the way of that.

Photo from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ60QyfWxZitR9zhyph4KPSv_1lDQ23kfNjwNE9sjo4UKEMuxI4lizkUmW8Ra0khlvVAVW-d35pUrZy6hqxniHB6RxFqeaF7JyPu4DL-XwzeHgQjzWjmHdPoHfGyK0TruiKrRmdw/s400/thesis+draft.jpeg

Productive, That's Me

I've been off the last two days and I actually got a lot accomplished. I mean, I did get some extra sleep in and did my fair share of TV watching, but I will say I was more productive than I have been on past days off.

It all started Monday. I woke up and made it to my 6 a.m. spin class. Yes, I did that, on my day off. Serious dedication over here! I came home, showered and slept a little. Then I did some revisions on the new novel in progress. (Draft 5 is really making me pull my hair out) I watched an episode of Friday Night Lights and Curb Your Enthusiasm.

And just when I was beginning to feel like a real couch potato, I got up and went to the mall. Can I just tell you there's no greater joy than going to the mall when it's empty?? And by empty, I mean no teenagers!!! No screaming kids!!! No disgruntled moms pushing in curlers pushing strollers! I tried on some new clothes and found that my spin class is really paying off. Thank goodness I was alone in the fitting room, because someone would've called mental services on me if they heard me back there jumping for joy. Because these clothes were fitting right, I just had to buy them. Then I went to a store with various collectibles and found the first part of my mother's Christmas gift. That's three people I've gotten Christmas gifts for so far. I'm on a roll!

Today, I was up early because maintenance needed to get inside to check my filter and change my smoke detector batteries. While I was awake, I did laundry, more revisions to the NIP (Novel In Progress) and a quick clean up of the kitchen. Then, of course, I fit in Friday Night Lights and Curb Your Enthusiasm. I did all of this before I had to go to campus to meet with my professor for our 2 p.m. appointment.

And it was there, at that university that I love to hate, that I learned some good news. Dr. L was pleased with my latest revisions to my thesis. In fact, she said I put too much research into the introductory section and some of that material can be used in the 'findings' sections. So all that's left for me to do is my findings and methodology portions of the paper, which, combined, shouldn't be more than 10 pages. After that, I'll put in the last chapter of my research, which is literally novel #1. Overall, I still have work to do, but not as much as I anticipated.

It was with great pride that I went to the bursar's office and applied for graduation. Sure, it cost me $75 (gulp) and a run around campus on a humid day. But inside, I keep thinking .... 'THE END IS NIGH!!!' Which will soon lead to thoughts of 'Hmmm....what's next?'


Photo of Zora Neale Hurston from http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc275/thehousenextdoor/2008/TV%20Reviews/Zora%20Neale%20Hurston%20PBS%20Schenker/Zora1loc3.jpg

Right Brain Vs Left

I’m spending the summer working on my thesis. My professor has me on a strict plan of handing this research project to her in sections over these warm months, so I can spend the year just revising, and hopefully taking advantage of some financial rewards that come with being a grad student novelist. (Fingers crossed)

Dr L has received about a third of my work and we’re going to chat soon about what I’ve written so far. That makes me nervous and excited. Nervous because Dr L is an intimidating presence. I mean, she’s got the kind of soft voice that can make you feel like you’ve done a really good job. But she also has this look in her eyes that let you know that she can immediately turn into Angry Black Mother at any given time. Thankfully, she hasn’t gone ABM on me.

The biggest struggle I’m facing with this whole process is my rebelling Left Brain, my creative side. Thankfully, my thesis is part research and part novel that I’ve previously written, so I mainly have to focus on the research portion. At the same time, I’m revising another fiction novel that takes up a bit of my time. So it’s hard to go from my analytical Right Brain to my rebellious Left Brain on a daily basis.

I managed to set a schedule for the NIP (Novel In Progress). The goal is to write at least 1,500 words a day, five days a week. I have index cards for each day of the week, noting how many words I should reach by any given day and I check each number off once I’m done. Sometimes I wake up at 5 a.m. to write. Other times I’m up till midnight. And there are some weekends where I’m in front of that computer trying to catch up on the writing that I didn’t get in during the week. But it gets done. By my calculations, this latest draft of NIP will be complete by September. Do you know what happens then?? More revisions. Sigh.

But I can’t say that I’ve established a regular schedule with the thesis. I read my books on black masculinity and recovery, and also offer analysis of other pieces of fiction that I'll be comparing to novel #1. Still, no matter how much I do, I feel like I'm not making any progress.

I'm gonna keep plugging away at both projects, just cause that's what I do. And if it doesn't work, it just doesn't work. I'd be more than happy to throw everything away and just go back to one of my childhood dreams -- to become a rapper. You may laugh, but a wise man once told me that metaphors will keep me out of the projects. We'll see.

The Only Friend

I’ve known Kate for a few years, ever since I started graduate school. Our program is small, so everyone knows each other and tends to take classes together. Yet Kate and I became close when we struggled with a challenging research class (with challenging classmates), and I later discovered that she teaches in the community that I live in. As we continue to battle through the thesis process, we’d get together and chat about various things. She mentions her woes of being a teacher and not getting a raise this year, and I would politely tell her to STFU since she makes more money than me and I can’t even remember the last time I got a raise. Then we’d laugh and talk about other things.

The last time I saw her we had one of our hilarious dinners at Olive Garden. It was hilarious because we had the worst waiter in the world. The poor thing meant well, but he gave me spaghetti in meat sauce when I clearly wanted spaghetti and meatballs and her order for ravioli also got messed up. Everytime we go out to eat, something crazy happens. She told me she was going to have surgery for her knee and that she was pretty nervous about it. I told her to calm down, things would be fine.

And they were. She sent me an email after the surgery, saying that things went well and that she was recuperating at her brother’s home. I promised her I’d come see her once I returned from vacation. So I went off to the beach without a care in the world.

Then I get a phone call yesterday on Kate’s cell phone, but it was Kate’s mother talking. I’m kind of morbid, so as soon as I heard her mother’s voice I immediately panicked and thought that something horrible happened to Kate, that she was on the road dead somewhere. I was close. Her mother told me that she developed a horrible blood clot after the surgery. She woke up in the middle of the night and had trouble bleeding, then immediately called an ambulance. The doctors said that if she hadn’t called for help, she would have died in her sleep.

The whole story was jarring. But I was touched when her mother told me about how Kate thought of me as a good friend and how much our outings meant to her. Kate is from another state and it seems like I’m her only friend in this area. So today I’m going to round up a card and my game face before I head out to the hospital this evening to wish her well. I hope she can recover quickly from this.

!!! DONE !!!!

Well, I did what I said I was going to do. I called out of work so I could spend today finishing my paper, as well as doing my take home exam for my class. And you know what? It took the ENTIRE day. But ... I'm done!

I literally sat at this computer all day trying to make this 12 page paper meet the 15-20 pages my professor required. I was able to stretch it to 14 pages, but really, that's all I can get. The professor had mentioned before she wouldn't take off for length if the papers were strong enough to keep from going further. Well, I hope my paper falls into that category.

The take home exam I had to do was just as mentally exhausting as the paper. I ate nothing but bananas and granola bars all day, because making anything substantive would have taken me away from the test. But slowly but surely, I finished.

After I was done, I took the gazillion articles I had to read over the semester and tossed them in the trash. Then I treated myself to a real meal and a little bit of fingerpainting, which was a fun mess. It is such a joy to put all this behind me. Now I have to begin the long journey of regaining my sanity.

The Sleep Deprived Post

There comes a time of night where it's so late that you completely lose your mind, all sense of focus. You know you should shower and get ready for bed, because you have a long workday ahead of you tomorrow. You avoid looking at the clock because that would only make it painfully clear that you have five hours, no four hours, hell maybe even three hours, before you need to get up and go to work. Your cat stares at you like your crazy before going off to bed and leaving you alone. That's when it hits you: You're well on your way to staying up all night.

Well, that's my situation this evening/morning. It is currently 3:40 a.m. and I am wide awake. The obvious question is why, so let me tell you. I am writing a paper that is due by 5 p.m. tomorrow. It needs to be 15-20 pages long and contain all the glowing research and analysis I've compiled on 'Sula' and 'The Street'. The problem? The paper is currently only 12 pages long, and that includes the bibliography.

Before you ask, the answer is NO! I did not procrastinate on this assignment. I've been working on it for quite a while give or take a few ... okay, several ... distractions. The problem with this paper is that I have absolutely NOTHING LEFT TO SAY, so I'm a bit on the stressed side. This stress part is very amusing, cuz ordinarily I'm not a stress filled type person. I mean, I can be sooooo cavalier with my "I don't give an eff" attitude that it scares people. But that's the daytime Strength. Apparently, this 3 a.m. version of me will do whatever she can to squeeze another three pages out of this paper.

Am I tired? Not at all, but that's probably because my eyes are numb from staring at this screen. I will say that I am hungry. And thirsty. And I'd like nothing more than a long, hot shower right now so that I can lather up in my new favorite body scrub. I'd list the name here, but I can't remember and if I go into the bathroom to grab it, I may just take that shower and never return.

Have I mentioned that in addition to this research paper I also have a final exam to do? That's probably because I'm still in denial. See, my highly organized professor promised to email us the final during our regular class time, which is between 4:30 and 7, so we could turn it in the next day. So I leave work early, all ready to abuse my brain cells. I check my email and she hasn't sent a final. I check it 54875485488 times and there's no test, despite several other students asking where it is. Finally, the professor sends the test at what time?? Go ahead, ask what time! She sent it ... at 10 pm!!!!!!! Luckily, she gave us an additional day to do the test, but still.... I'm annoyed!

I say all this to say that I'm calling out sick tomorrow. I'd certainly be a sight to see if I hauled my sleepy carcass into the office in the next four hours. I'd literally have to douse myself with coffee.

Oh, what's that I feel? I think my eyes are getting heavy. Maybe I'll finally go to sleep now. It's a good time cuz my cat looks like he's about to attack me and I don't have the energy to defend myself. My biggest struggle is going to be waking up early enough in the morning to tell the bosses I won't be in. Wish me luck!

Manic Mondays

The next time I get the bright idea to register for a Monday night class, I'm going to look up this post and read it 1,000 times until I talk myself out of it. Seriously, this is what.... the eight week of the semester? ... and I'm already about to hurt someone.









My problem is that the class I need is only offered on Mondays, 4:30 p.m. to 7:15 p.m. And it's a research class, which is a code word for boring. My task in this class is to do a research paper on George Sand and give a 15-minute presentation on my work by the end of the semester. Writing the paper is no problem -- my thing is that I hate oral presentations. I'm glad we only have about 10 student sin our class, but I'd much rather turn in my paper, take an exam and roll outta there. But that's just me.







Anyway, I've learned that each semester there is one student in class that I want to assassinate. This time it's this girl, Trudy. (I have no idea what her real name is, but she looks like a Trudy to me). Trudy is an interesting character. Each day, she comes to class wearing a black scarf -- I'm pretty sure its the same scarf each week -- and lugging a 2-liter bottle of diet Pepsi. She spends each class either drinking her Pepsi straight out of the bottle or asking the professor questions that have nothing to do with the subject at hand. There have been several times that we could've left class early if it weren't for her endless comments about the state of British literature, followed up with her loud, caffienated burps. Luckily, I've been able to zone out during those times that she gets overly annoying. On those days, I imagine myself dancing on her face while wearing golf shoes. And for whatever reason, that fills me with extreme joy.







Well, I hope the Monday night stress explains a little bit as to why I've been MIA lately. I'll try to do better with the posts, as long as it doesn't interfere with my 'thrilling' research. So far, I'm still sane. Check with me again in December, which is when I may truly lose my mind or make that golf shoe fantasy a reality. I'm hoping for the best!

(Photo courtesy of http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/848625/2/istockphoto_848625_online_education.jpg)

96

I reflected about the high school years the other day with one of my oldest friends, April. (that's the republican, for my regular readers) We spent alot of time together because we had similar circumstances -- only child, single mother and one of the few black students in a predominantly white classroom. We were also the girls with the answers. We were the students in class that teachers love, but students hate. We knew the answers, but it's not that we tried to draw attention to that fact. We weren't the kid in the front row who raised his hand for every question and pouted if the teacher picked someone else. We were undercover nerds. We tried to hide our brains, but the teachers would know better and call on us constantly to demonstrate that fact. Then they'd praise us and the other kids would roll their eyes.

April's talent is math, mine is English. Here is April's story, as told to me:
(My high school, 1993. Ms. Massaquoi's pre-calculus class)
Ms. M: Now who can look at this problem and apply the I Love Math Theorem?
April: (face buried behind textbook)
Ms. M: Anyone? Anyone?
April: (shrinks lower in her seat)
Ms. M: April! Do you know the answer?
April: Ummmm...not really.
Ms. M: Sure you do. Come up here and show everyone.
April: Ok.
(she writes a series of numbers and gibberish on the blackboard as slow as she can, so her classmates will assume she's working the problem out as she goes along) Is that it?
Ms M: Class, look at this!! Do you see the answer? The answer is e=mc2. And April is the only one who knew it. How do you all feel about that?
(A few yawns from the other students)
April: It really wasn't a big deal.
Ms. M: Oh yes it was. You all need to start studying, like April. Do you know why she knows the answers? Because she stays afteschool everyday to practice math! That's right. Everyday. Ask her if you need help.
(April walks slowly to her desk and contemplates slitting her wrists and bleeding over the blackboard. But since that would ruin her wonderful problem solving, she decides against it)

For the record, April stayed afterschool only a few times to tutor a friend. Ms. M. saw them together and jumped to her own conclusions.

Anyway, here's my story. I'm taking a writing class for graduate school. Our assignment was to write our autobiography.
(Present day, Strength Univ.)
Professor: I apologize to you all, but I've been sick this weekend. That means I did two things I never do. One, I marked up everything and two, I used a red pen. So my apologies in advance.
Male student: Oh great. You can keep mine then.
Professor: Some of you are very strong writers and I was impressed. I think the highest score in the class was a 96. Anyway, after you see your papers, you can leave.
(She passes them out and I get my paper. I got ... drumroll please ... a 96!! I could leave now, but everyone else is reviewing their papers. I fear that if I leave, everyone will know that I got the highest grade. So I sit back and try to look pensive)
Professor: (approaches my desk with a questioning look) Something wrong, Ms. Wisdom?
Me: No. Just looking over some of these errors I made.
Professor: Yes, only a few grammatical errors. (she points to my score) But you did very well. You write like a journalist.
Me: I think that's my problem (I chuckle with another student)
Professor: Oh no, you did very well. Very well. Again class, 96 was the highest score. So if you have a 96, I wouldn't even think about resubmitting. I mean, any score in the 90s isn't worth revising, but I'll leave it up to you. But you can't really improve from a 96.
(I stare at my paper for a little while longer, hoping that no one picked up on the fact that I earned the 96. Then I slip out quietly)

Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of my grade. It just made me feel like I was in high school again, trying to fit in with the cool kids. It's not easy having this beauty and brains too. =) In the words of Eva Perrone, or Madonna, "I'm only a simple woman!"