Graduation – 100th Post

So this is my 100th post on Witch’s Journey.

I had to think about what would be somewhat significant to use as a topic for this post. Finally it kind of just lambasted me. After all, this Sunday is my graduation ceremony from my university. There’s not much more significant at this moment that I could write about for a milestone for my blog. I’m officially done with my four years of undergraduate studies. I have 2 B.A.s, with cum laude honors in History and German to show for all my hard work, after having turned in my last thesis last night for my history capstone class. I’m a member of Phi Alpha Theta, a national history society as well, with the chapter opening at my university just this year.

I got to spend a year abroad in Germany, my “Junior” year of school, and I did 3/4 of my work for my history degree in Germany while taking classes and writing all my work in German. That’s a major accomplishment in and of itself. So I did quite a bit of my History degree in a foreign language. I’m rather proud of that myself. But even if I hadn’t done it that way, 2 degrees simultaneously in 4 years is quite the accomplishment.

Within my family, I’m the first person to go to college. I’ll also be, because of that, the first to graduate. So this is a huge deal for my family. I’m excited as well, but I’m more nervous than anything. My family is having a huge “graduation party” tomorrow afternoon for me, and I’m none too keen on all the attention that I’m going to receive. But, given that it is such a huge event in my family, I’m willing to deal with it. I can handle the attention for an afternoon after all, if it means that I’ll get to enjoy some quiet on Sunday evening after the graduation ceremony is over. Which is what the trade-off is for me. Of course, downside – the ceremony is, from what one of my friends said – 4+ hours long. That is going to be awful to deal with, of course. But I’ll suffer through it, because I’m the first to ever get to have the honor of having to suffer through it in my family.

So it’s a huge change in my life. I’m officially done with school. Or at least, until/unless I go back to grad school. (Until, since I plan on going back.) So at least for a few years, I’ll have no more dissertations pushing at deadlines. That is going to be a new change. I’ll have to get used to the “real world” and a true job schedule. It’s a huge time for changes for me.

And it all starts after graduation on Sunday.

Family Clan

One would think that my sister would know more about this than I do. After all, she’s the one who does the Highland Dance, plays bass drum in the Pipe Band…and hangs out with the bagpipers at all times. Sure, my high school was the Highlanders (pretty awesome, of course), but I wasn’t involved in any of the ultra-Scottish heritage activities. I just never had any time for them, not after all the band activities that I was already in.

Our family is Irish, but within the Irish family line, someone along the line had come from Scotland, probably moving to Ireland and marrying into an Irish family. Because we know which Scottish clan we come from. If I didn’t know this little fact, I would have no clue whatsoever about any of these little facts. So I have to here thank a cousin somewhat removed from me for doing the family research into the family history to find that little tidbit out for us.

“Ancient” – Bruce clan tartan

Our family’s Scottish tartan is from the Bruce clan. So somewhere back along the line, our family came from that clan, before moving to Ireland. That was pretty interesting to learn, since it’s a unique little thing to learn about our family. And it is a pretty cool tartan. I actually like the family tartan in the ancient tartan form, it’s pretty to look at.

My sister went to Scotland in 2011, competed in the Highland Games, and wanted to bring back some of the family tartan to sew with. But, she had no clue which clan it was before she was going to be going off to Scotland. As to that – how I’m the one who knows all this (and I’m the one who knows far more about our Eastern European heritage and family) is beyond me. But I had to be the one to tell her. Of course, my sister doesn’t like the Bruce clan tartan much, and to be fair, the modern one is a bit too bright for my taste. The orange is more bright, not an orange-brown like the “ancient” pattern is. So she wasn’t terribly thrilled. Instead of our tartan, she brought back some other one.

It’s not a huge deal, but I like knowing where our family comes from. And knowing which clan our family originated from is something nice to know. It’s one part of the complicated history of our family.

Rose II

I took my kitty to the vet this morning. She got a lump on her side at the end of December, and I’ve been kind of watching it since (mom too, to be honest). So we finally found a cat hospital in the area, so we took her this afternoon. She hates the vet, majorly. As soon as I went to put her in her carrier, she spazzed out and started snarling at me. I felt awful. But, I got her there, and then met with mom.

Vet gave us good news, which was a huge relief.

The lump on her side might be a tumor. We have to keep an eye on it. If it keeps growing in size over the next 6 months, we have to take her back in. Or if she chews at it, scratches at it, or otherwise shows signs of distress. But, as long as she seems fine, the vet said it is most likely a cosmetic cyst that they won’t mess with, as it is very small, and it isn’t worth the problems to go in and try to remove it. Medically, unless it’s causing Rose trouble, it is actually safer, if it is benign, to leave it alone.

Other good news – she hasn’t lost any weight, which is something to look out for with other cats her age. She’s still just over 6 lbs, and feisty. No change in moods or behaviors, which is great for her age too. But best news, her teeth. Himalayan cats, or cats with Himalayan blood like my fur-baby, usually have bad teeth over the age of 10. Himalayan cats teeth tend to be really bad the older they get, don’t know why, but the vet said so. So he was surprised at the fact she has all of hers, and they’re in pretty much perfect shape, considering we don’t take her to the groomer constantly. But, she’s got perfect little fangs, my little kitty.

All of this means, I get vet-approved permission to spoil my little baby now. He said that since Rose isn’t a “young” cat anymore, we can go ahead and give her canned food more often. At the moment we give her a specific brand, 1 flavor (my cat is a picky little brat, she only likes this 1 type, 1 brand. She hates all other types of canned food, even all the seafood types but this one salmon & whitefish type that we buy) as a special treat, if she’s well behaved. Or rather, that’s what my mom does. I kind of give it to her randomly, whenever I feel like it. So, I gave her a cup of it today after the vet, because we always give her a “special treat” after taking her there or the groomer — she hates both. But, since the vet said we can feed her canned food more often, I get to officially spoil her now. — Mom is not so delighted with this prospect I think, because I’m the one who is going to spoil the cat delightedly, because I’m not living in the apartment full-time yet. But…she totally gets to deal with it, because she loves the kitty as much as I do, and she’ll go along with it and spoil Rose too.

Now that I’m not worrying that my baby kitty is sick and going to die from some unknown lump anymore, I’m feeling much better. I’m calmer again and not freaking out. It does feel better to be calm, to know that my little fur-baby is safe and sound. Now, she’ll be around to play with me, curl up in my lap and purr for quite a long time. The family joke is that she’ll live to 30 to spite my mom (which should give us 15 more years of delightful kitty company)!

Rose

Rose – March 2013

This is my “baby”.

We (and by we, I mean my parents) bought her when I was 7, back in 1998. Her birthday is July 22. We actually got her just a few months after my dad lost his pet, our Chow-Chow, to old age (he was 10, almost 11). Me and my sister had been begging for a kitten for months and months, and my mom finally convinced my dad to let us get the cat. Of course, we promised our parents we’d feed her, clean the litter box, etc etc. But, at 7 and 5, we weren’t all too good at helping out with that stuff. Though we were really good at feeding her treats and spoiling her.

Rose is a Himalayan-Manx. So she’s got the no-tail feature of the Manx breed, but the features of the Himalayan. Her fur is three inches long and very silky. She’s so soft and silky, it’s absolutely unbelievable. This photo doesn’t really do her any justice to just how gorgeous she is. She has the markings of a Siamese though (the Himalayan is a Siamese-Persian cross). So she’s a Blue Point, technically. She’s not quite so sharply featured as a pure-bred Siamese would be, but she also doesn’t have the smushed in face of a Persian — much to my sister’s disappointment and my delight. She’s got gorgeous blue eyes though. They’re a stunning sapphire color that can look lighter at times, or darker.

My baby is also very tiny. She’s only 6 pounds. Which is hilarious if I could find a photo to show how big she is in comparison to another, more “normal”-sized cat (i.e. 10-12ish lbs). Her fur though, which she has an impressive ability to fluff out to great defensive capability, makes her look like a 20-pound cat when she’s upset or angry. The vet says she’s healthy though, and not in any danger. So she’s a tiny little 6-lb fluff-ball of a cat.

Rose – June 2009

She always comes and greets me at the door. And if I don’t put my stuff down and immediately pick her up on getting home, she’ll headbutt me in the shin until I pick her up and give her attention. And when I’m at home, she sleeps in bed with me, curled up at my side, purring and with her nose burrowed into my neck. She’s absolutely the most affectionate cat I know, and just so cute and loving.

She’s my 15-year-old (almost 16) baby, that I adore. She sleeps in my lap when I read, and just generally makes my life more pleasant.

Trust – Evolving and Gone

I spent the weekend at my mom’s and my apartment. We’re splitting rent and I’m saving up money for grad school that I’ll hopefully be starting next September (September 2014 I mean). I come home to find this on my board outside my dorm room door:

Anniversary

I almost forgot all about this.

Officially I registered this blog 1 January 2012. But…since I didn’t post anything until March, that’s what I’m counting as my “anniversary” for the blog (because I feel like it). It’s technically the 2nd of March, for this. But since my first substantial post was this one, I’m going to go ahead and celebrate today, instead. It’s been a year, which is a pretty good accomplishment. I usually up and bail on tasks pretty quickly. So making a year is a pretty good initial thing for me. So I’m really grateful for those of you who follow me and my sometimes off-topic ramblings…or even the barely tenuously connected stuff that I fit together here. I’m glad that anyone has found my journey to be of use in reading (or perhaps just of use to laugh at me flailing around, I’m fine with that too).

Still, I’m going to keep blogging and sharing my flailing about. And I hope that you stick around and still find my posts of some interest, amusement or use. Thank you for sticking around and reading!

Emily

Eye Contact

Not perhaps normal as a topic, but something unique to me.

In the States you’re expected to be very direct when speaking to people. Blunt, direct, look them in the eyes. Be sharp and strong-willed, determined and show no fear. Be bold and be the one in control. Really, eye-contact is aggression in interaction between people in the workplace, in school, in social interactions. Of course, that is only my opinion, and I suppose, it would take a bit of explanation into my history and family relationship growing up to fully understand why I say that. I’m sure most people reading this are protesting my saying that as a blanket statement of all interactions between people. Because I mean my statement for all interactions, not just some.

But that is my experience and my personal opinion.

Functionalism?

Apparently I’m a “functionalist”. And by that, my professor meant that I hold to structural functionalism (yes, I am using Wikipedia as a source, it works for quick reference), a type of system where things in society all hold within a system that has to have each part in its place, functioning, or it falls apart. It is a “macro-analysis” of society, looking at things like organs, to the whole of society. My professor doesn’t think this a bad thing at all, he actually quite enjoys it, because I’m the only student in my “Capstone” class (this is what my university calls our degree class, our final paper class, that basically gives us our degree) who thinks this way. I was also the only student in my Research Methods class who thought this way too. So I know that I’m not like most people.

But, perhaps a good example is a better way to help illustrate how this all came up in class.

The focus of Capstone in European History (my focus), is, due to our professor, early modern Europe. So we were discussing pilgrimages in the late Middle Ages to Jerusalem, and how pilgrimages sharply dropped off in number in the early modern period in Europe. The rest of the class just was talking about how great it would have been to be part of the pilgrimages, to go on the journeys, to be a part of the journeys, or to be part of the society. I had to ask, “Why?” I mean, why go? After all, one was very likely to be mugged, robbed, murdered or just flat out die on the road there or back. So why go all the way to Jerusalem? I could potentially see going to one of the holy relic sites in Europe, closer to one’s home village, but why go all the way to Jerusalem from say France? I didn’t see why someone in say the early 16th Century wouldn’t just disappear from their village for 10 months or so, a year, whatever, and then reappear, and just say that they had gone all the way to Jerusalem. No one would really be able to tell that they hadn’t gone, so who would contradict them? Of course, everyone else just said that no one would dare do that. I just didn’t see why it wasn’t even an option. After all, functionally, they could easily do it, without any trouble. It’s not like it was impossible for anyone to lie about where they went once they left their village. I mean, travelers lied about where they went at times, or embellished their stories. So why wouldn’t pilgrims do the same thing?

My professor just thinks it amusing, because my mind is not like the rest of the kids. I really don’t think like the rest of the students that I know.

Constantly during classes I will be asking questions about “why”. Why things have to be a certain way. Or why no one questions things. Why an order exists. It’s just, I suppose, I’m always curious how things get organized and ordered, because I don’t understand how these kinds of orders/organizations get implemented. I never have. So I constantly want to know the why behind these kinds of things.

So yes, I want to know the structural function of everything. I want to know how it fits with everything around it. How it fits with the social constructs, how it fits society around it. I’m always curious how society fits together, the different parts organized in the ways they are. It’s all things I’m fascinated with. It’s partially why I always research, and why I constantly take history courses and ask all the questions I do. The functions are the interesting things I want to know, the things that in cases of religious situations, most students don’t think to ask. After all, in terms of Europe, the religious situations are Christian-based, so most people are basically familiar with a lot of it. So they don’t have to. I wasn’t raised Christian though, and so I don’t know a lot of these things, so I’m intensely curious and I have to ask the questions, because I don’t have the background raising in a church to even begin to understand what the function and purpose of church and religious traditions and actions are.

I had to laugh when my professor called me a functionalist. He’s right, though he really has no clue exactly how right he is. He had to tell me he meant no offense to me at all. It doesn’t offend me, not from what I understand of it. I mean, what is there to offend me, if I understand well that I am trying to understand the function of parts of the whole towards making the whole? I think then, there isn’t anything to offend me. I’ve learned that being told the truth isn’t really offensive in this case. It actually was kind of amusing to hear it, especially when it contrasts so wildly with the rest of my classmates.

Discussing actions in the early modern period/late Middle Ages, especially religious actions, from my point of view, and trying to put them functionally in their place, it just doesn’t quite mesh with my particular world view. Which, at least, with figuring out exactly how my mind is working, and with how the people in those times would have seen the world…now I can understand how they felt and acted. So I feel better able to understand their motivations and actions. That’s learning about the time, which is the point of my class. I got to learn about myself and people 500-600 years ago, that’s the best part of learning about myself.

So, I’m a functionalist. I’ll have to thank my professor for this knowledge sometime.

Alcohol

I’m slightly drunk. It’s a first for me. And I’ll chalk it up to the bartender thinking me and my friend are cute, and probably hoping for a good tip. Because this restaurant’s bar never makes their drinks this strong. They are always severely watered down on the alcohol front for drinks. We went because it was “happy hour” and we were getting cheaper drinks. And I only drank 2. Granted, I drink pretty vodka-heavy drinks, and in under 1.5 hours, that’s pretty bad, but add in the drinks being alcohol-heavy, and that makes me drunk. Plus, I didn’t eat a very good dinner. Snack food at 3pm does not a real dinner make, nor does some bread sticks qualify as real dinner either.

But, it did get me thinking just now. I realize, for the first time ever (I’ve never been drunk in my life), why people might drink as part of life. I mean…being a bit inhibition-less is nice. It’s freeing. It kind of opens the mind to new possibilities and makes me feel a bit happier to try new things, and think about new things. And it makes me feel a bit calmer, less worried and stressed out. That’s a huge deal for me, because usually I’m thinking of 20 things at once.

So, I’m going to consider using alcohol (1 drink methinks) as part of ritual in my future practice. Not getting drunk. But, I get the feeling that an occasional drink for ritual, or honoring the gods, or perhaps ancestors, if I ever choose to make that part of my practice, is a good idea.

I will of course revisit this idea when I’m sober (say tomorrow afternoon/evening) and evaluate. But, I think it’s a good idea. After all, alcohol is part of some religious practices, so it’s not without precedence for me to consider this.

2012 in Review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 4,000 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 7 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.