I'm gonna go to the place that's the best...

Jim Irwin on the moon, Apollo 15, 1971

For about 20 years now, space has been my obsession, with a specialty in the history of manned space flight. Let's call it...Michelle's college.

So while I was going to real college and studying my way through every boring philosopher on the planet; 

I was also going to Michelle's college and studying my way through every available book on the space program that had ever been printed. 

I can be obsessive.

To understand half of these books I had to take physics as an elective. I voluntarily signed up for physics...that's how obsessed I was with becoming an expert on this stuff.

I went to see NASA people speak, I saw monuments and astronaut's childhood homes, visited the museums where their spacecraft are, read not only the history books and the tech books, but also all the biographies. 

I even read the books on the Soviets and their space program - they had one, too, you know - Sputnik, Soyuz, and a poor little doggy named Laika, and a hero named Yuri Gagarin, and also the first woman in space, Valentina Tereshkova.

And then I got to the point where I actually already knew everything in the new books I was getting.

BUMMER. It's like when you get to the end of a TV series. What now?

So I started trying to teach.

You know, some people just don't appreciate the value of having a true expert in their midst.

Take Chelsea, for instance.

I'll say, hey Chels, you know, your birthday, July 21, is also the date that the Apollo astronauts--

But I can't even finish saying the word 'astronauts' before she shouts 'NO' and leaves the room.

What's up with that?

Or, sometime at work when we're desperately trying NOT to work, I'll bring up my favorite subject, the Saturn V rocket, and my dear co-workers suddenly develop a pressing need for smoke break/potty break/uh, I'll go with one of you break.

What's up with THAT?

The very worst was last year when my nephew's homework assignment was a report on one of the Apollo missions.

It was the most exciting thing ever!

For the whole two minutes it took to get to my brother's house, get inside, and try to talk about my favorite subject in the whole world to an 11-year old who's intent on playing his DS thing.

He did not care about the Apollo missions, at all.

WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?

So, to bring a very long, boring story to an end (sorry), I no longer try to talk about my favorite thing.

(Except for that one time when we were watching Big Bang Theory and Howard was going up in the Soyuz and I was telling Dwayne about the Soyuz landing, and then they said exactly what I had just said on the TV. That was cool.)

I'm underappreciated.

:(

Okay, all joking aside, it makes me sad that no one wants to know about our incredible feat to get to the moon, or how and why it happened. 

Or why the program stopped at 17, and why the Saturn V - the rocket that took us to the moon - cannot be made today. 

Oh no.

I did it again, didn't I?

Me, sort of yelling (I'm very softspoken, actually, I never get loud): Everyone who left the room for smoke break/potty break/uh, I'll go with one of you break, you can come back now, thanks!

It's time for a whole new obsession...I'll take any and all suggestions! 

(Make sure to take into account my way diminished mental capacity, though. No driving. No sharp objects. No math. Other than that, we're good.)

:)

Oh, boy...

My BA is in Philosophy. This means that 1) people invariably give me a blank look when they hear this, and 2) I have no hope of ever finding work in my field. There's not a lot of job opportunities out there for 'philosophers'.

My schooling doesn't go to waste, however - I use it every day. I'm the epitome of absent-minded because of the debates I've got going in my head. I'll think an issue to death...argue both sides of it, examine all angles, dig under rocks, until I'm satisfied.

In the meantime, the real world has passed me by, and I've missed conversations, knocked stuff over, dropped a few things, and have been completely oblivious to the chaos around me.

I love when Dwayne or Chelsea says something like, 'Don't you think...' I can't help myself. Even if I agree, I will NEVER admit it - I always have to play devil's advocate and disagree, so I can get a debate going. So that I can win.

Because obviously, I'm a terrible person. Poor Chelsea gets so upset. Wow.

I have to stop writing now and go apologize to my daughter.

:(

A week?

My phone line has been messed up for a couple of weeks now.
And it wouldn’t matter at all, at all, to those of us who hate talking on the phone…
Except that I still connect to AOL by modem…and it takes me at least five tries to get connected…and I haven’t been able to stay online long enough to get through my emails without getting kicked off…and I’ve pretty much given up visiting any journals until my phone line is fixed, because by the time I’ve pulled up a page, the line has kicked me off again.
I’m writing this offline and then I’m going to try to post it QUICK, just in and out!, so we’ll see if it works…
The phone company, whom we called way back before the new year (!) started, is supposed to come out tomorrow and fix it.
Today was first day of classes at U of L…and by some miracle, I managed to get my stuff together and make the right phone calls and get the right info and actually get registered, as opposed to last semester!
So, I took the day off from work to get all this stuff done. The last thing to do was my daughter’s doctor appointment at 4:00 p.m. The plan was to leave the doctor, go on down to U of L, and my mom would meet me down there so she could get my daughter, since my class started at 5:30 p.m. and I wouldn’t have time to take C anywhere else.
Except that my mom got caught in traffic and couldn’t meet me after all. I had to take my 12-year old with me on my first day of school.
LOL! You had to be there…I sat her down in the study area right outside my class, with a Happy Meal for supper, her GameBoy for entertainment, and my cell phone in case she got nervous.
On the walk back to the car after class was over, she had lots of questions about college and what kind of classes you could take. I told her that she could take whatever she wanted within the requirements of the major that she chose…she immediately said, "Well, MY major is going to be ART."
::groan::
Even though I cringed, I didn’t say a word about Art degrees and the possibilities for gainful employment…after all, who am I to talk, with the degree I already have in Philosophy (and no philosophical jobs to be found!)? J
All in all, though I was a little apprehensive about taking her with me, it turned out to be a fine evening!
P.s. Ear update: the ear wick worked great for a few days but then didn’t fall out, instead it slipped down inside her ear and now is blocking the medicine from going on. She’s back to itching and pain and yet another doctor appointment tomorrow. That ENT appointment on the 24th can’t come fast enough!
P.p.s My dad called me this evening…he has a house up in Southern Indiana on the White River where all the terrible flooding was…I felt really bad after I talked to him because I WONDERED why he hadn’t called me…turns out he had gone up there to check on the house then got trapped by the rising water all around the area and was stuck through the weekend until some people on a boat came and picked him up and took him to dry land. It’s a house on stilts (well, not really on stilts, but you know what I mean, built up real high) because it’s on the river, and the water STILL came up three feet into the first floor of the house. I’m so thankful he made it home okay!
Dad took this picture from the roof area of the house:

I love Alexei Nemov...

Really, a lot. ...
Anyway,
I started taking classes at U of L when I was a junior in high school.  It was really my only choice for college, because I didn't want to leave Louisville (in the manner of all silly girls, the truth was that I didn't want to leave my boyfriend at the time!).
So I graduated from high school, went to U of L full time, had a baby in between my first and second years...I finally graduated 11 years after I had taken my first college class. 
During that 11 years, I sat out a few semesters, and took every class under the sun for a few semesters.  I changed my major several times before I finally picked Philosophy, because I realized I had taken more Philosophy classes than anything else and by that fifth or sixth year I really just wanted to graduate as quickly as possible.
After I graduated, I thought I would go back immediately...it actually took me three years.  I finally went back last year.  I had to start again with baby steps, one class only, due to time and money.  I successfully finished my one class in the fall semester, and pulled myself through the spring semester.  I was exhausted but very proud of myself...two classes, two A's...
Then I found out that not only does my employer actually pay for all my college classes (don't ask why I didn't know that, this is clueless Michelle we're talking about), I found out that it would also reimburse me for the two classes I took this past year.  Wow!
Thoughts of endless, PAID-FOR school stretched out before me.  I could picture myself going back to school forever...what a wonderful dream for wanna-be professional students like me!  Last month I took a day off work specifically to go down to U of L and get all my paperwork in order... I was coming back with no limitations!
So what happened to me these past couple of weeks?
I have no idea, but I can talk about one of the balls that I dropped...I didn't register for my classes.  I KNEW the time was comingup...I KNEW what I wanted...and I just didn't do it.  I didn't forget.  I just didn't do it.
There are many other things that I didn't do these past weeks, and many balls that I dropped and I still haven't picked up.  I didn't go to appointments, I didn't schedule appointments, I didn't get my daughter's school stuff together in a timely manner, I didn't pay some bills (even though the money was there!).  The list goes on and on.  I only did SOME things, not ALL things.  Just the bare minimum.
I'm working on it.  This one in particular, even though it seems so frivolous, just makes me so upset with myself.  If I'm not a student, what am I?  
*******************************
In John Glenn's autobiography, he talked about some of the tests he went through when he was hoping to be an astronaut.  One thing the scientists made them do was sit in a room and write down on paper 100 sentences beginning with the words, "I am...".
What would you say?  I would say, "I am Michelle, I am a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a granddaughter, a niece...I am a Christian, a reader, a writer...I am a brunette, a Kentuckian...I am depressed, I am tired...I am a student...".
Take one or all away, and am I still me?  Is there a heirarchy of what is me?  Or are those just labels that we add on to ourselves?
I can't, and won't, wait to be comfortable again, and back to me, and have things make sense. 
And I swear that I am going to try very hard not to write any more depressing journal entries!

Double Take Me

I saw Lost In Translation today, it was a beautiful movie. The characters experienced something real.  It made me wonder about my own life. 

Scarlett Johansson's character graduated with a degree in Philosophy, like me.  Bill Murray's reaction to learning this was priceless - I get that same silence and double take all the time.