So I happened to visit my brother a couple days ago, who asked me about my blog, as he'd met a blogger who has similar interests.
Which prompted me to think, oh, yeah. I have a blog.
So today, I logged on and realized that I haven't updated my blog since late August.
And felt a bit guilty, not because I think anyone really misses the occasional humor, but because it's a mark of something that, once again, I didn't follow through on.
But then I decided that this time, I had a good excuse.
As a colleague put it, when I asked him how he was doing:
"Well, I entered the doctoral program, and then my life exploded."
Doc studies are, to me, so many things: Challenging. Invigorating. Consuming. Rewarding. Painful. Hopeful.
Maybe I'm being overdramatic. But maybe I'm not. Nothing else that I've ever done in academia has pushed me like this, forced me to question the world around me, required such dedication or commitment.
The first few weeks, I was on autopilot, rushing from school to work to school to my other work to home to church to school to work to my other work to home... you get the idea.
I was so thrown off with my sense of scheduling. As a school teacher, you work Monday to Friday. Of course you grade and plan at night and on the weekends. But you have a set regular schedule. Since I've become a research assistant, I also have a base schedule... but between special opportunities and deadlines, often the base schedule becomes a mere suggestion... and even when it's not, I'm still trying to remember when I work at my second job (basically all closing shifts, so I'm getting home around two in the morning on those nights). It's pretty amazing to me that so far, I've showed up at all the right times to all the right places.
But just to give you an idea as to how much I'm in the moment, as opposed to seeing the big picture, here's a true story.
The other day, I was driving past the elementary school to do some laundry, because our dryer, which has been fixed four times, broke once again. As I passed Kaliah's school, I frowned to myself, because I noticed that there were cars lined up around the block all over the place. And I thought to myself, how rude! What on earth is going on at the school that they wouldn't even notify the parents? Obviously, I'd like to know so that I could at least have the option of participating! I was about to work myself into a full blown tizzy when I happened to glance at the clock and realize that it was a little after three.
The line of cars was there to pick up their children.
My very own daughter was IN the building. While I'm having a momzilla moment going off about the lack of etiquette the school was displaying over not letting me know what kind of special event is going on...
It dawns on me that there was no special event. Just my daughter going home from school. Which happens every day, at this time, at this place.
And I am so clueless, I've forgotten my own kid is in this building.
(And no, my poor, overworked brain had no sense of where my kid actually was, if not at school. So don't ask.)
I know, right? Mother of the year, right here.
But in all seriousness, between my efforts to be a mom and wife and student and research assistant and manager (and late cook--that's a fun one. My restaurant stops scheduling late night cooks this time of the year, so you'd be happy to know that my culinary skills are improving, because, um, they have to)--being a blogger has sort of fallen off the radar. And while I still consider myself a writer (I always will), the writing I'm doing these days is primarily academic.
But it was a pleasant surprise to see, that when I found a few minutes today to check into the situation...
Apparently I had 163 views over the past month, even though I hadn't updated a single time.
And I'm going to try to do better. No promises, because life is short. And full. And I know that I am no Super Woman.
But as always, I do appreciate your support. And I'm quite taken aback by it this time.
So thanks for reading. And please continue doing so.
And I'll do my best to continue writing.