Why every mom should shave her daughter's head at least once...

(Let's just pretend that those last four weeks of non-blogging didn't happen, eh?)

Flashback: Easter week. Genevieve comes home from 1st grade with lice. Not good. Boxes and tubes and cans of lice removal chemicals later...the lice persist. But not in any way that makes sense...nothing there, then *BAM* the boys are back in town, or hair rather.

Roll forward: End of school. Genevieve still has the bugs. And miraculously Izzy does not. Until...

Roll forward: Grammy's house. Lice everywhere. All over both of my little girls. Somehow, in the way that only the Florida ecosystem can, the bugs have multiplied and spread and are infesting not one but both of my princesses. And here is the rub: they have great hair. Not thin, straggly nasty left-over-from-infancy baby hair, like lots of kids do. They have thick, smooth, shiny, beautiful hair.

It's just...full of lice.

I have always thought that God has a special place in His heart for mothers. And if the coffee mugs/crocheted samplers/pot holders/ugly sweatshirts hold true, He really really likes grandmothers. Case in point...my mom.

Now not only has that woman had her circadian rhythm turned from that of an empty-nester to that of a mother of two school-aged children practically overnight, she has willingly chosen to dive head-first (sans helmet) into the endless laundry, demands, whining, mess, and nurture that those kids demand. She and my step-dad stepped up to take care of G and I for the summer so I could go to sleep-away college for the summer.

And what do I do? Unbeknownst to me, I send them not one but two girls with lice.

Fast forward: Dire straights. The shampoo isn't working. And since the girlies got my hair and not the thin crap from their other DNA contributor, this is where the rubber meets the road. Or rather, where the buzzer meets the scalp. After multiple internet searches (Who doesn't trust Dr. Google?) and frantic calls to the pediatrician, it's time to shave. And if you're wondering if simply buzzing to a #1 works, you're wrong.

Picture this: two tanned little girls, smiling, happy summer kids, with shiny, white scalps. Cue the tears, all the way around. My strong, seemingly unshakeable mother has to shave the hair off of her only granddaughters. No body is happy, even though this will surely signal the end of the infestation. (They still love her, if you were wondering. We are a family of tough broads, and nothing holds us down.)

Present moment: The strong Florida sunlight is coming through the window, falling on the delicate white hair growing on Izzy's shoulder. And it isn't just growing like any old hair. Nope, this hair grows in intricate patterns and swirls and designs more beautiful than any tapestry or paintbrush stroke on the most priceless of canvasses.

Did you know that body hair has cowlicks and follows hairlines and contours too? You can almost see where they were knit together, along each seam of hair that is normally invisible. Covered by bangs, little bits of the last day's worth of food clinging to the lengths of hair, all concealing this amazing beauty. I had no idea that they were built so delicately; to look at their summer bruises you would never know that each inch of their heads, faces, shoulders, and backs were so beautiful in design and so unique.

I feel like I have fallen more in love with them as little Bald Eaglets. I can see their strength and unwillingness to be defined by their hairstyles as they go out in public with 'boy haircuts'. They are dumbfounded when the lady at the gas station (who is short of hair herself, mind you) asks, "Are they little boys or little girls?".

My girls have been forced to break other people's stereotypes in our fight against lice. They aren't defined by other people's expectations of gender presentation. And I dare someone to speak against them.

After all, we know a few thousand lice looking to move...

homework.

that's all.

(dis)connection

Have you ever felt like someone has grabbed you by the back of the neck and transported you from the group you identify with, to a whole different plane?

I'm pretty sure that happened today.

Things I have identified as possible causes:

1. PMS. (I thought this was a legit excuse until my Psyc of Gender class today, empirical evidence has proven that this is in fact a myth. Don't believe me? Look it up.)

2. The suspicious piece of fish I ate in the Caf today. I hereforth renew my vow as a Vegetarian and promise never to stray again. After all, I get transported to a universe filled with strange guttural noises and constipation when I do.

3. The growing beastly desire to take a bubble bath. Seriously...it's all I wanna do these days.

4. The squirrels. Those b@st@rds follow me everywhere I go, and I am starting to feel slightly paranoid.


So tomorrow I will try to (gently) insert myself back into the community and hope that I will be well received. If not, I will grab the neck of a fellow Scholar and take him/her along for the ride. An alternate reality must be more exciting with a buddy, right?

Straddling

Since you and I know each other more than we did previously, I suppose it's time that I admit my first (and let's face it...only) flaw to you. Sometimes I procrastinate. A sad fact clearly demonstrated by the lack of bloggage over the past two days.

May I bow and scrape and somehow earn your forgiveness? I CAN?!?!?! Thank you.

Now if I were one to point to excuses, I just may indicate the fact that I have no less than three intense writing assignments spinning like plates on a stick at any given time. That's exhausting. And to be honest, I had been using the blogosphere to find my voice, which has helped me find my voice in my academic writing...so there is a little less of that urge to verbally purge, if you know what I'm sayin.

So today is the third day in the first week of classes. Thankfully there was no actual class scheduled today, but instead we had an Enrichment Session. I know what you are thinking..."B-O-R-I-N-G."

You are sadly mistaken, my friend. Blown out of the water as a matter of fact.

Today's session was a conversation with Professor Robert Midkiff about straddling. Standing between the world of the working class poor and the middle class academic. All of the differences that most attribute to sex, gender, race or ethnicity, age...those really have their root in socioeconomic status (SES). And whether we like to admit it or not, that SES has its ugly fingers and vine-like implications around nearly every choice we make. Our responses, our desires, the things we set up to get in the way of us and make us fail when we don't feel like we really belong where the course of our life has placed us...SES has a powerful influence on that.

But I get all of that. I am, after all, running hard after Sociology, and these are not terms that I am unfamiliar with. But one thing did leave me reeling, and I suspect it will serve to challenge and make me question my values, priorities, beliefs, strengths, and the parts of myself that need changing.

Prof. Midkiff posed a question to us...just what will you have to give up in the process of your education? And I find myself both exhilarated and terrified of the answer.

Exhilarated to have an excuse to change some things that cannot be refuted. I mean, who is going to say (who in their right mind, rather) "you are wrong, things need to stay the same. Don't challenge yourself...those ideas were meant for someone better/smarter/higher/richer than yourself...YOUR COLLEGE IS WRONG." (Yes, I know people say this nonsense, but just LET them say it to me.)

Terrified to see what will be asked of me. I have given up a lot throughout my life, and while it has always served to better me and my life and my family, it hurts like hell in the process. Terrified that in order to fully achieve my potential, to realize who I am, I will in the process become someone that makes others too uncomfortable with who they are, and I will become isolated. I don't want to lose the people in my life that I love...but what if they are here for a season and not for the long run? It takes a strong man or woman to stand beside someone and truly truly cheer for them and serve as their foundation and remind them why they started this journey in the first place.

I hope they can keep up...but my heart questions that very possibility, and it leaves me apprehensive.

the eve before...

Tonight marks the last day of 'freedom' before classes really begin. I worry about my ability to juggle the work, the awesome people here, and finding time for myself.

We had our first house meeting tonight, and learned that 1. sexual assault is heavily frowned upon (as well it should be) 2. Under no circumstances shall we crash any of the various weddings that will be held on campus this summer 3. Most of the group wasn't sure what exactly a ropes course is 4. See pic below...




For those of you not schooled in the art of reading backwards, a la daVinci, it says there will be no hot water on Tuesday. Not cool. I wonder if someone did that in response to my shower complaints..."haha she thinks there is only one way to save water in the showers? We will show her!!!! Make it freezing and see who wastes water now, sucker". I stand corrected.

I bought a newspaper to read today, and as there is only 41 minutes of today left, I had better get to reading. No one likes old news...

Third day's a charm!

I am simply blown away by the incredibly diverse group of men and women I am surrounded by. The different journeys that we have all experienced have, for some reason, brought us to this moment in history together, and for that I am grateful.

I got to skype with my two besties today which was a great break in the monotony of quiet that occurred this evening. See, I got all of my homework done by the second hour of the afternoon, and while that seems like a good idea in theory, it really means that when I am ready to hang out and build relationships, everyone else is studying. I have come to some realizations already:

1. Being first done at everything may have garnered a small amount of notoriety at the community college level, but here it just means long stretches of silence and lonely.

2. Thank goodness for the internet, right?

3. The internet is boring, unless you are a pervert or a gamer.

4. I don't want to be a pervert, and I am not coordinated enough to be a gamer.

5. Recovery isn't just limited to those who identify with the Community. It is a process that we all go through as we refine ourselves and define our purpose on this earth.

6. I am not sure that we will ever transplant to another planet, but if we do, I am riding in Gemma Dugan's spaceship.

7. It's hard to fit in when everyone is reeling and you (for the first time) have all of your proverbial ducks in a row.

8. The squirrels here really do deserve their own facebook page. (if you are reading this, accept me already, wouldja??)

9. For someone who has 13,000 songs in iTunes, I have a very limited taste in music.

10. I miss doing laundry.

another day, another dollar...

Forgive me in advance if I fall asleep whilst bloggingggggggggggggggggggggg

Day 2: It's very humid here. And the squirrels have a facebook page.
No, really...see?



Also, I am wondering what the difference between 'spoken word' and 'circle time at the library' is. Please, someone educate me, before my brain is filled with Higher Education from The Program, and I no longer understand the subtle nuances of culture.

Redundancies abound.

I am going to make a valiant effort at turning on my iPhone Pedometer and see just how much I am walking. In a nutshell (see the squirrel reference?) its a whole heckuva lot.

So there are some rad people here...from all over the world, studying across the different disciplines. Different colours, different orientations, different heights, different senses of humour...beauty.

Quote of the day..."Perfect is the enemy of good."
Chew on that one for a while...

first day at sleep-away college!!!!

Hey-o! It's been a long time since I have blogged...but you already knew that. Perhaps you are wondering, "where did Bryell go?" Well, in a nutshell, I have been pounding out the college courses, earning another 4.0 for the semester and bringing GPA back into a healthy range of 3.92.

So a few months ago, I was interviewed to be a part of the Bucknell Community College Scholars Program (hereafter referred to as The Program). Anyway, after a few agonizing weeks of waiting, I found out that I was accepted! Fast-forward to today...check in at Hunt Hall (hereafter referred to as The Homestead). Room 436 is where I will snore, tweeze, type, brew coffee, and wonder who hung the plant hook in the 100-year old ceiling, and what kind of plant I can hang there without killing...

Wowzers...so many firsts! First major block of time away from my kiddos (who are happily ensconced at Grammy's house in FL), first dorm room, first time really being away from home all by myself...first mini-fridge, red coffee pot, pair of shower shoes (more on that situation later...) and first cohort of friends with the same goals and aspirations as me. It's amazing here! The campus looks like a movie set, the TA's and RA's are amazing, and I think I fit in.

Our schedule for the weekend is literally planned for 12 solid hours, minute by minute. Goals for tomorrow include getting up at 615 to walk with another Program member, not being late for the pancake breakfast at 8, and not sweating profusely. Easily accomplished, you say? We shall see...

One thing that has struck me as just plain wrong is the sign hanging from the shower head...


For those of you without super-sonic eyesight (yes, I know that is not possible, you say! sonic would refer to sound, not sight, but track with me here...) it basically informs you, the naked showerer, that the showers at Bucknell use 2 gallons of water per minute, and that you should be mindful of how long you do in fact shower, so as to not waste water.

WHAT???

I, being the creative, think-outside-the-box genius that I am, have solved the problem...low-flow shower heads.

My work here is done.