Not Adult Enough

Every once in a while I feel like I’m not Adulting correctly. Yes, with a capital A. I look around at other women in their 30s and see their nice blouses and nice pants and nice shoes. I’m just sitting over here in my Disneyland t-shirt, jeans, and Converse. Never mind the fact that I own my house and have a good job. I wear graphic tees as a 33-year so clearly my life isn’t put together.

It’s weird how we compare and judge ourselves. I am, by most standards, a pretty successful person. I hold 2 degrees and am earning a third. I have a decent paying job that allows me to pay my bills and still go to Disneyland when I want. I have friends and family who support me. I have students who like me (even if my class is hard). I have peers who respect me.

And yet, when I go out and see other 30-something women I judge myself because of the outfits I like to wear when I’m relaxing. I compare myself to them and think they are “more successful” than I am. I think they are more put together than I am. I think they’ve figured it all out. There is no reason for this other than the fact that these other women are wearing a pencil skirt and blouse with a belt. That’s literally the only thing I have to go on. It’s like my brain says, “Wow, that woman is wearing black slacks and a really nice top. She must have her shit together.” It doesn’t make any sense.

I do also think it’s a bit of worry about how others are viewing me. Maybe they look at me like I’m this girl-child who hasn’t figured anything out. “Look at this chick. Who wears graphic tees into their 30s?” *Scoff*

The thing is, though, I guess I don’t care enough to really change my behavior. I like the clothes I wear. I like displaying my nerdom. I like finding fun designs and showing them off. I’m actually pretty comfortable in the things I wear out.

I also want people to think that I’m adulting correctly. Because I am adulting the shit out of my life. When I’m not watching Disney movies or playing video games, of course.

How to measure oxygen

I wanted my honors chemistry students to see how chemists of old discovered the make-up of water using test tubes, batteries, and pushpins. The process would allow students to measure the amount of gas produced in each test tube and see it was a two:one ratio. All of this sounds great. Until I tested it out for myself…

The brass pushpins made hydrogen gas ok, but I couldn’t get oxygen. The silver ones worked a little better, but I still wasn’t able to produce oxygen gas. I tried salt water, I tried baking soda in water. I tried vinegar in water. I spent 3 straight mornings not grading or helping students, but trying to figure out this stupid lab. Jus when I was ready to give up, I found a site that reminded me graphic conducted electricity. So I made graphite water electrolysis devices.

Step one: poke holes in plastic cups.

Step two: insert pencil lead into said holes.

Step three: Use paraffin wax to secure the pencil lead.

Step four: Make thirteen more so that every pair can have one.

Step five: Test it to make sure it works

Step six: Cry when your 3rd hour class breaks the lead on half of them and you have to spend half of your lunch fixing them.

Step seven: Find out how much this set-up costs on Flinn Scientific and add it to you list for next year.

All and all I don’t think a single student got the 2:1 ratio of hydrogen to oxygen but they had a lot of fun setting it up and breaking apart the water. We’ll leave discussing just what the heck happened to Monday when I’m less frazzled from helping them set up the stupid thing correctly.

Oh, and if anyone knows a better solution to use besides salt, baking soda, or vinegar, please let me know in the comments!

Loss

I was going to write a blog post about Disneyland, seeing as how my Disney season is starting.  But then something happened and I couldn’t write about how happy I was.  My friend took his life.  I wasn’t prepared for it.

I don’t think anyone is really prepared for when their friend takes their own life.  It’s a shock to everyone because they seemed fine.  They make plans with people, reach out, try new things.  They has just hung out with people.  They were going out with people the next day.

I don’t know what happened and I won’t pretend to understand.  I know I can’t understand what he was going through.  I know I can’t understand how other people closer to him feel.  I know that I miss my friend.  I know that there is so much I want to tell him.

I want to tell him that I love him.  I’m sorry I hadn’t reached out in a while.  We get busy, there is stuff to do, he’ll be there tomorrow or next week or next month and I’ll see him then.  I would like to have one more conversation with him.  We used to have these great conversations when we were in high school.  The kind of conversations that only 16 year olds can have.  We used to have great conversations when we were older too.  I will miss the great conversations that could have been.

I want to tell him that I even though I didn’t talk to him often, I thought about him.  We had been friends for more than 17 years.  That kind of friendship doesn’t just go away.  Even if we didn’t speak, he was in my thoughts and memories.

I want to tell him that I’m angry.  So many people loved him and cared about him.  But I know that wouldn’t have made a difference.  Sometimes, there are things that can’t been seen because they can’t be felt.  Sometimes, we get to this place where the end seems to be the only way out.  That doesn’t make me any less angry.

I want to tell him that I miss him.  And that I’m sad that he is gone.  I went numb when I was told, but after the numbness came the tears.  Sometimes, I wasn’t sure I could every stop crying.  True, we hadn’t talked in months, but I never thought I would never be able to talk to him again.  Even now, I don’t want to believe it.

Mostly, I want to tell him that I will remember him.  I will remember the good times we had together.  I will remember the laughter and the smiles.  I will remember the sarcasm.  I will remember when he was there for me when I needed a friend to lean on.  I will remember him.  I will miss him.  I hope you are resting in peace, my friend.