So, my classmate and I are showing our collaborative PowerPoint presentation in class tonight, a simple multimedia presentation designed to introduce ourselves. I wanted to mention my blog so I had included a screen capture of it, not realizing that there were multiple tabs in view, one of which featured the heading "irritable bowel syndrome". This is not typically a talking point I incorporate when introducing myself to a room full of strangers.

What I learned from my friend Cameron, the electrician. "Check stupid first."

The pendant light he installed in my dining room this summer quit working about two weeks ago. I finally got around to calling him yesterday. While I was talking to him, I pushed the light switch again...and turned up the dimmer. Lo and behold, my light magically worked again.

I should have learned this a few weeks ago when the package scale in my office seemed to be weighing everything incorrectly. That feels like 3 lbs. to me, I would think, but it's only registering about 1.4. Hmmm. Several days went by before I realized the switch had been bumped to kilograms.

Check stupid first, indeed. Oh, and trust yourself every now and then.

After all of my academic reading for this semester, for both classes, I am left with the burning question, "What do British writers have against commas?!"

And the letter "z" for that matter.

I have a postcard with a single word on it tacked to the small bulletin board above my computer. The word is ANGST, and it is rarely more appropriate than when the end of a semester is nigh.

One moment I'm euphoric: this research paper/project/essay is going so well! I'm an academic genius! The next, I'm in the depths: this research paper/project/essay is an utter failure. Who do I think I'm kidding?

It is altogether energizing, frustrating, stimulating, intriguing, maddening and gratifying.

Monday's peer review and individual meeting with Dr. Amidon was most useful in helping me with project clarification. Michael, fellow student, asked thought-provoking questions about the direction the biographical piece would take. He made some suggestions, which we discussed: a chronological progression? Thematic? Where does my voice come in?

I came to the conclusion (I think) that MJ's story might best be laid out story to story. It was her many interesting anecdotes over the years that inspired the idea to write about her life. Each chapter can begin with one of her amusing, outlandish, thoughtful stories and be fleshed out with factual, historical information of the corresponding time period, where applicable.

Talking with the prof similarly affirmed my project choice and encouraged me to take it from the literal transcription that I currently have to a fully realized work.

RUBBER
_ _ _ _

Hose! said player 1
Duck! said player 2
Rope! said player 3 (rubber rope? really?)
Ball, thought I.

MASK, was the answer revealed
whereupon Pat, in his inimitable fashion, exclaimed, "Hey! We saved $1,000!"

Oh, Wheel of Fortune, so many laughs you have brought me.

It has been a somber week in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. The Katrina-esque scope of the damage is hard to take in. Unless one has been through such a devastating event, it is impossible to comprehend. As "onlookers" we can pray, remember those who are suffering and will be for some time to come, and give to relief efforts as we are able.

As my friend Debbie said this evening, such circumstances can also spark natural and stimulating conversation starters such as, "If you knew your home would face the potential of being destroyed, what items would you save from it?" and progress from there to talk about what is most important to people--things that are of eternal significance.

These massive natural disasters bind us together as we measure the depth of human suffering, sympathize with those who are angry and frustrated, mourn with those who have experienced immeasurable loss, and think about how we  might respond in a similar situation. We watch the news, knowing that it can only scrape the surface in depicting the scope of the loss, yet weeping with those who weep. We wake in the night and utter a prayer, grateful to be in a warm bed, safe in our homes when so very many are not.