Where's my bike helmet? Want to ride downtown ... 

My partner cleared out the car port where I had left it last and then put it, of course, exactly where it should be -- in my bike basket. 

My partner is meticulous. It's a quality that has served him well as a general contractor. Did the profession influence his behavior, or was it already present, as in a six year old who categorizes his sock drawer? 

His mother assured me that it was the former, because as a teen his room was typical -- strewn clothes, shoes, a trumpet for a period of time, frisbees, etc. 

His first construction project was the home where he was living in Minneapolis. His living and construction space were carefully separated by a plastic curtain, I imagine, and other neat markings. 

His father came to visit and described the scene. 

"I couldn't believe it! This same guy who had two feet of stuff on the floor of his room had created an impeccably separated work and living space. When I say 'work,' I mean construction, and all of the things that went along with it. I thought, 'What happened?'"

An impeccable work space has become his habit.  gotten worse since then. He is a hoarder, as most general contractors must be to some extent, but the hoarding is highly organized. Tools all have their place, along with bowls, baskets, and Tupperwares of nails, bolts, etc. (He has an affinity for Tupperware). The tools needed for a job are assembled the day before. 

Organization has merged with another quality, preparation. One of his sayings is, "And you're on your way." He makes himself ready to be "on his way" I'd say almost everyday. Traveling means a suitcase at least mostly packed the night before. It waits by the door for him hours before time to depart. (This truly drives me insane.)  He likes to lounge before leaving on a trip, watching golf on TV or a movie. In the meantime I'm in a frenzy between bathroom closet and make up bags. 

He's a regular at hot yoga, which generates a lot of laundry. No worries, because it's dropped off in the laundry room on the way into the house, and the bag of new work out clothes gets packed and set on the counter for the next day.

"And you're on your way" is his philosophy of being prepared: Be ready for what comes next. Not a bad way to live your life.  

photo of bike and helmet?  

Non-catering

 Okay, Gretchen, this is for you.

I've promised my little sister (Big Brothers / Big Sisters), now friend, Gretchen, that I'd start to blog again. Among Grethie's many wonderful qualities, she's stubborn and persistent. If I didn't start blogging tonight, she'd be on me until I did. 

I catered tonight. Not really, though I call it catering. "Catering" is more socially acceptable than working for a food service temp agency. You go to hotels, conference centers, and, as in tonight, college cafeterias, and fill in their work force. Yes, the benefit is that I can say "no" anytime. They text me pretty often because I've been with them a while (and there's a shortage of workers overall). I've met some cool people who have expanded my view of Savannah and life in general. 

As I was coming on my shift today at 3:15 PM, I saw Mary leaving. Mary looked like she had aged years, and I had to look a couple times to see if it was her. We worked together when I first began in late 2019. A few months after that (before COVID hit), I thought that she'd quit. She was helping her son with his hotel by managing the breakfast business, which I assumed would be her last gig before retirement. She didn't look up to say hello today, but she had kind of checked out from socializing the last time I'd seen her. 

It's time for a change. Can I make enough money without "catering" and other similar jobs? I've really needed this job at times, but hopefully I'm getting to the point where I can invest more time in areas where I can make more money. Mary was one of many signs to change while I can. I bet that she only works for the agency once in a while, anyway. 

Habits

A few years ago I was interested in habits. I was looking for a cure to what felt like an ongoing sludge of time management and organizational issues. While on a trip to Seattle I picked up a copy of Charles Duhigg's The Power of Habit. 

Duhigg believed in finding a "turnkey" habit that would be the start of a whole-life turnaround. I always thought that mine was getting up at 5:30 AM, which I have yet to accomplish. 

The funny thing is, I've always liked the idea of scheduling and habits. I remember my sister making fun of me for wearing a watch with my bath robe and pajamas; I was destined to be a time nerd. I'm attracted to planners and stationary stores.

            

But early in adulthood I seemed to hit the opposite end of the spectrum. Bags of paperwork and magazines followed me to every address. As a teacher, a frequent critique was "slow turn around time" on grading (a violation of SCAD's contract, I was reminded). For the sake of my income and other reasons related to sanity I've been determined in the last few years to recoup at least part of my organizational nerd. 

My strategies? I do set my alarm, though at 6, not 5:30. When I'm on track I try to be in bed by 9:45 and inch the alarm earlier by a couple minutes every week. I reward myself with a mark on that day in my calendar with a favorite colored pen. Small things, but pivotal. The To Do list! For some reason I resisted it for years and kept transferring a daily list. Crossing things off the To Do list is magical. I also have a daily list when I'm really / paying attention.  

I'm actually not so bad about good habits; once I do something at a well-suited time of day, I'll keep doing it at the same time or in the same sequence.

A bigger hurdle is to stop repeating bad habits. That may seem like an obvious part, but the attraction to bad habits can have an extra twist of sabotage: It felt more familiar, hence weirdly comfortable, to charge ahead with the bad stuff as opposed to the good. Or, it could have simply been the usual, child-in-charge approach to what's in front of me (this refers to the child - nurturing parent - rational adult triad of self-parenting). 

I've stopped a few destructive habits lately and it feels good. My "parent" voice has stepped in and promised me future rewards or replacements. My relationships have improved. I'm much more careful about maintaining physical balance (eating / sleeping, etc.) to prevent sliding toward the brink of bad behavior. A few piles of papers still exist, though. Maybe if I wear a watch with my pj's ... 

Forms of Address

When I teach public speaking I bring up forms of address – the way that speakers refer to their audience. At SCAD I remember lectures when speakers would start off with, “Future SCAD interior designers,” or something like that. It would spread a nice vibe and a sense of mutual respect. Age makes a difference in response to forms of address. A college-aged group might take offense at the standard, “ladies and gentlemen” because of outdated labels.

I bring all of this up because in my current job at Savannah Tech, forms of address are more formal than what I’m used to. Instructors are generally, “Mr.” or “Ms.;” those who have an Ed.D. or Ph.D. are “Dr.” More formal address is part of southern African American influence, but may also be connected to a community / technical college culture.

Even though my supervisor told me that I could call her by her first name, I only use it for emphasis or intensity in a conversation. Other than that, no form of address now seems more natural or at least appropriate than use of first name with some of my new colleagues.

The elevated forms of address aren’t just in public. When in a phone conversation with my supervisor, for example, she’ll refer to another instructor as “Ms. Smith.”

At SCAD in Liberal Arts (previous employment), we were “professor” with students, but on a first name basis with colleagues and most people above us (except for Paula Wallace, whom her followers sometimes referred to, weirdly, as “the President”).

Once during a phone conversation, my supervisor at Savannah Tech was recounting a situation that she felt strongly about and that involved me. The more intense she felt, the more formal my title became. I started off as “Ms. Berman,” then, in an apparent upgrade, became “Mrs. Berman.” I took that as a compliment.

Corona Virus

After reading about the state of things in New York today (Sat., Mar. 28), I don’t think that I can joke too much about the virus. Here are some local observations.

Is relish a vegetable? Sometimes I wait until I’m just about out of everything before going to the grocery store. (Then I don’t feel as bad about spending the money, too.) I see people in masks and remember that it’s good to get out quickly. Mostly what I buy is wine and cereal (I have these separately). We now have to stand behind pieces of tape on the floor at checkout to maintain space between us. A good idea.

Maybe the idea of maintaining space, especially if you’re sick, can carry over to the classroom when all of this is over. I have had students stand about six inches from me and lower their voice (for privacy, I assumed). Trying to boost my student engagement and empathy (ongoing SCAD edicts), I’d lean in. They would then tell me that they’re deathly ill, so is their roommate, and they don’t think that they should be in class today. Great.

Why gloves at the grocery store? I saw a woman at Whole Foods yesterday wearing a pair of winter gloves. Can’t these people put hand sanitizer on their hands when they get back in the car? Then wash their hands when they get home? I can see the logic in glove-wearing by workers who touch food like check-out clerks. But beyond that it’s pretty creepy.

Press conferences by Governor Kemp. Granted, his press conferences and public statements are necessities right now. But I’m sick of the fake folksy speech (“We’re gonna be frank with folks, and we’re gonna be sure we kin do it in a straight-forward kinda way.”) I want competence and clear English. No more opaque voting schemes that depress turnout. I want smart people as leaders and I want my country back. Is that too much to ask? Do you know who Stacey Abrams is?

Back to on-line teaching.

Faux Pas

 Well, I didn’t do a very good of “breathing in” a new colleague yesterday.

I was at the main campus of Savannah Tech, sitting at the adjunct’s desk. A Lead Community Team Instructor, the level of my boss,  sat down at the computer next to me. First, I called him the wrong name (it’s “Rick,” not “Dick”).  Why, oh why, don’t I let in the little voice in my head to say, ‘Julie, you’re not positive of this person’s name, and you don’t know him well, so instead of guessing out loud, simply say you’re unsure, could you please remind me again?’ Robin would laugh at this.

Of course, we were discussing the virus and the new state of things. Rick said that he planned to make a meatloaf but both Sam’s Club and Kroger’s were out of ground beef.  couldn’t find ground beef at Sam’s Club or Kroger. Of course, he said, this might be a good time to clean out cabinets; he could root around and find that can of chili in the back. And I said, “Oh, I just finished doing that before I got this job” (!).  Robin would be crying-laughing now. How awful! And one of my Douglas-mandated missions (Douglas is my boyfriend who often gives me assignments) in doing some work at Savannah Tech over pring break was to establish ties with my new colleagues.

It didn’t stop there. We then talked about hoarding at stores and I proclaimed, “I don’t have the money to hoard!”  Same issue going on here.  Why am I disclosing like this?  Why couldn’t I have just offered some bland response like, “I know, isn’t it awful?” Then he wouldn’t think that I’m some urchin that Savannah Tech recently hired.

He nodded after each of my weird responses. At least I remembered that he was a graduate of Broward College, the school that I taught for in Brazil last fall.

Goal for tomorrow:  Try to have normal interactions and not end up with negative-one new colleagues.

Robin #2

I mentioned Robin soon after I started this blog. She passed away in December, 2014. 

One of Robin’s amazing gifts was her ability to read people. She’d ask a question that zeroed in on “where you were.” It was as if she had sifted through everything and found what was most important to you at the time.

Then she’d add her incredible humor to the questions. If I talked to Robin today, she’d ask something like: So Julie, how’s life outside of the SCAD security zone? How is your new-found freedom? Are you actually able to go out one night a week now? My brother-in-law, Bob, who met Robin when we were roommates in Cambridge, Mass., would call this kind of comment “spot on.” (Bob took us out to dinner when he was on a business trip in Boston, and we ended up at a diner in Providence where he went to college. Robin thought that was hilarious.) 

My vocal performance teacher at SCAD talked about “breathing in” your ensemble partners to be in their mindset and create a unified performance. Robin had a way of breathing in her close friends and family.

Although she knew when to take things seriously, Robin thought that so much was funny. When we’d talk on the phone there would be brief periods of silence. I thought that we were just pausing in the conversation until I heard this gasp – Robin was laughing at something I’d said that I didn’t think was funny! She helped me not take myself so seriously and see the world in a different way – with more humor, for one thing.

                 

Robin Riggs was a working artist (as well as a mom and wife) and had a studio in downtown Champaign, IL.

Thinking of her reminds me to breathe in the important people in my life and laugh more.