All that worrying had gotten me was less peaceful sleep, when I could, and that was starting to mess up my skin and the last thing I wanted to do was start the week with messed up skin. Besides, I had been worrying for a little over two weeks faithfully and nothing was really changing.
I was worried about a paper that I had all summer. In the beginning I thought “Hey I have all summer, I’m going to take a little time to relax and then I’m going to bust this bad boy out.” By July I start thinking “I’d better get cracking on this paper.” Then disaster struck, well disaster by dissertation standards – my results were totally not doing what I wanted them to. I had to go back and check what I had actually done and think about how I can salvage my intro and lit review. Although the paper with the funky data wasn’t the same paper for class, it used the same data set and most of the same variables. Surely my class paper was going to be ruined too.
When I finally stopped worrying, I ran the data for class and that worked out fine. Now to write the paper. Ugh, the hard part. So I started and then came to the part that actually mattered to the class – interpreting odds ratios (aka the results section). This was when worry turned to panic. I began to imagine getting my first F ever in life in grad school. I contemplated dropping the class (but I’ve never been a quitter). Or doing something that is totally logically but that I never do. I asked my friend A for help. After about 5 minutes, I knew what I had to do and turned in the paper. I spent all of labor day weekend working on the paper – aside from a brief break to Saturday Morning Cartoons (hands down the best party of the summer).
I finished the paper around 11:30 on Monday night. Classes for the fall semester start the next day. I turned the paper in and avoided email all morning.
I had finished the paper but turned it in so late could he even give me a grad? Wow e. you’ve really done it this time.
Long story short, he got the paper and I got a B+ in the class (Praise sweet baby Jesus).
On crisis down. Another crisis that had not been solved with worry but with action.
I have another crisis left. Finding a roommate. Yes, I’ve been actively looking for 3 months down. 3 chicks who have confirmed they were moving in and then disappeared later, I have resolved to not solve this problem with worry because it doesn’t help. I’m going to do what I have to do and talk to my landlord on Monday. But I will not spend an entire weekend alone with my worries. No way.
The more I watch the news, the more worried I become about our youth. Last month it was the brutal murder of Derrion Albert. Yesterday it was the gang rape (and beating) of a 15 year old at Richmond High School. The crimes themselves are disturbing enough. The bystander effect hurts my soul. There have been many studies showing that the more people witnessing an act of violence, the less likely anyone is to help. It’s scary to know that if I’m being attacked, it might actually be better if only one other person is around as opposed to a crowd of people. I can understand some of the rationalizations of why people don’t jump in and help. But what I cannot understand is why some people would join in on the violence. CNN reported that as word spread about what was going on outside the dance, more people came to watch and some people joined in. That is just sick.
Today CNN posted a follow up of the victim’s friend giving it to the school. Granted, she spends most of her time talking about how she is a minority at the school, how she doesn’t feel safe and how another school (that is mostly White and Asian) has more security and handled a similar situation in a much different (read: better) way. From what Kami Baker says, I imagine the victim is White or Asian. If she’s White, it’s a wrap for these dudes, who I’m imagining are mostly men of color.
As is usual in cases of violence against women, other students are blaming the victim – ugh. I’m so done. I don’t care if she was drunk. I don’t care that she wasn’t popular. It’s not an excuse. I get it, blaming the victim takes the responsibility off the bystanders and other people. It’s still fucked up. I was watching another video where a chaperon was shirking any responsibility claiming that if she left, it was her and her parent’s responsibility to make sure she got home safely. That’s fair, but this girl did not even make it off school grounds. In my opinion, if she still’s at school, she’s still your responsibility. It was a 2.5 hour gang rape. That is a long time. And if word got around to all these kids, I don’t believe that no chaperon, security guard or police officer saw all these kids running to this random alleyway.
I don’t understand rape, I wouldn’t know else what to write.
I just realized I never blogged about that fact that I’m headed back to school in the fall. Right back to Columbia to get my PhD is social policy and policy analysis. I thought I had a dissertation idea (well I do) but when I went to the open house and began talking with my homeboy who is already a candidate there, he gave a super amazing idea – or at least the beginnings of an idea – for what I think is an even better idea. When I flush it out more I’ll share.
Ok that’s it. I don’t know why I am up this early. Back to bed for me.