notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 15.

it's been six months since graduation.
five months since finishing my final externship.

i suppose it's time i finished up these gradnotes, eh?

i think for a long while there will be residual grad-school-related comments to be made.

i have commentary on side notes learned from classes.
i have commentary on how graduate school affected me.
i have commentary on the endings and beginnings and people inside of them.

but overall.
i've run out of steam.

this past summer i spent an inordinate amount of time unable to really process much.
i spent a lot of time moving around and traveling, but also a lot of time just being still.
and it was very good for me, though also hard in some ways.

it's been over two months now since i started my
real-life-grown-up-big-kid-salaried job.
and i've got to say--
it's a pretty good life.

it's late on a tuesday night right now.
husband is asleep in the other room, but i couldn't sleep.
that's how it happens sometimes, you know?
in the most unexpected and unlikely moments--
that's when my words start to come back to me.

i was at work until almost six,
though my contract is only 8-4.
it's not very often that i actually leave at 4,
but i honestly don't mind too much.
i like my job overall. i like the people i work with. i like the students. i like the community.
i don't mind too much.

we live a quiet life right now, and i must admit it's a relief from the chaos
of dating and engaged and newlyweds
on top of
grad school and externships and finding a job.

at last we get to settle into ourselves--
he and i as we, and he and i in our respective careers and ventures.
together and separate and together again.
that might not even make sense.
but in short it's this:
life is in a stage of relief.

i'm glad i went to graduate school.
i am.
i'm grateful for the professors, the clients, the supervisors.
i'm grateful for the classes, the tests, and the study.
i'm grateful because i did it.
i'm grateful because it matters.
and i'm grateful for what it allows me to do daily.
i'm grateful for the world it opens up to me.

and now, in the phase we're in right now.
i'm grateful most of all because,
as noah and the whale says:

day by day, old joy comes back to me.

you'll sing, day by day, old joy comes back to me.
forget the things that get away, don't dream of yesterday.

song of the day: old joy, noah and the whale.

whatever else anything is.
we're in a good place right now.

and.
this is as good of place as any to realize.

i think this blog has served its purpose.
i think it has reached its culmination.
so many years of musing and thinking and feeling and writing.

i started it around the time i graduated from high school--
laurs and i both did, engrossed in quite the love of blogs.
it's evolved immeasurably over the years,
as has my writing,
as have i.

and with that i say: 

it's time.

a new era of life, 

a new era of writing, 

a new era of memories.

and if you're interested in following along:

where i plan to record our story from courtship to wedding--

especially now that grandpa ray has passed away--

all the way through to daily life. 

now that i have more flexibility with my time, 

i so hope to return to writing again--in some form or fashion, 

even if just as a recording of our story to start. 

because.

i've been missing that deepheartsoul of mine.

the one that clings deeply to russian literature and nearly weeps over some pieces. 

the one that has words bubble up when in the car, doing dishes, or anywhere in between.

pieces of life that need to be expressed, 

even if they're parts that most people don't often speak of.

i've always loved digging deep inside to the raw and the real.

words that have never quite had a place to go for the past little while. 

i miss that part of me--

and hope to bring her home again.

along with the funny and light and twinkly parts of life.

come with me?

it's time to let go of

emily janette nevers

(with grand respect and reverence)

and say hello to

( emily janette christofferson )

does it help convince you if i share a darling photo

of the love that lets us share a (relatively-new-to-me) last name?

ps. yes. i'm also saying goodbye to blogger. 

it's been real, but kind of like high school--

after awhile, you've really just got to let go.

pps. i know there's not much there. yet. #powerofyetandgrowthmindsetandstuff

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 14.

the past few months have been a whirlwind, if ever there was one.

at long last, though, i think the winds are calming.

march 10th:

i finished a 10-week medical externship that began at the beginning of the year.

(and kicked my trash.)

it was an immense opportunity for learning and growth.

(and sometimes it was just excruciating 

given my lack of experience, lack of exposure, and what felt like overall incompetence.) 

that said,

in my last two weeks i started to hit my stride--relatively speaking.

and it was sincerely such a good opportunity.

my eyes were opened to a whole new world of understanding.

i was working with adults with neurocognitive communication disorders--

strokes, traumatic brain injuries, cancer, etc.

i learned a lot about cognition.

(and a looooot about cognitive strategies.)

it was remarkable to watch progress,

and to see people experience really significant changes in their lives.

it was also heartbreaking to witness the frustration of the given difficulty.

i led a book club for patients/former patients while i was there, 

and though i probably won't be working in this setting or with this population in the future,

i'm grateful that it happened.

and to have had the opportunity to work with so very many remarkable people.

furthermore, it was enlightening 

to be so thoroughly exposed to individuals who had experienced a traumatic brain injury--

an invisible struggle that infiltrates so much of everyday life. 

i wish a larger proportion of the general population was educated regarding brain injuries,

that more people were more compassionate towards those who have experienced a brain injury.

i learned so much about compassion.

compassion for others.

compassion for oneself.

giving people the benefit of the doubt.

seeking to dig inside their day-to-day functioning.

the learning curve was steep, but still i climbed that slope.

and.

i was relieved to just make it through.

cognitive therapy is so important and so beneficial.

but doing cognitive therapy is not my career jamboree.

there's probably so much more i could say about this medical externship of mine.

but for now i'm just not quite sure how.

and so we'll leave it be with this:

i'm glad it happened and for all that i learned (more here and here),

though i'm glad that i'm now in a place more suited to my own aptitudes.

march 13th:

i started my school externship at an elementary school.

it's kindergarten through 5th grade, though they also house a headstart preschool.

so i work with prek-5th graders.

it's the best thing.

i adore it all.

for awhile i was wondering if i needed to find a new profession,

come to find out i just hadn't quite found my place yet.

until now.

i love this setting.

i love these kids.

i love this role.

i love this work.

the learning curve wasn't so steep this time.

it's only been three weeks, 

but it feels ever so much longer--in the best way.

i took over most of the caseload by the third day.

the rest starting on week two.

and i don't even mind.

i'll write more someday about all this,

but suffice it to say:

i love every second.

even the worst days are not really that bad.

i almost wept on the first day with how good it was.

sometimes i almost feel bad with how good life is right now.

but instead of feeling bad,

i plan to enjoy the ride and soak it all in.

it's a good life, you know?

it's a really good life.

as of a week and a half ago my last class is over.

i took the last final i'll ever take,

and am done with all formal college courses.

(CEUs are a different matter--and not nearly so intense.)

it was rough to have the class mostly coinciding with the first 10 weeks--

with the weeks that kicked my trash 

and drained every ounce of energy from me 

because of their intensity.

but hey. c'est la vie, right?

is what it is. and now it's over.

go team go. and i think i'm mostly still kind of standing.

after all these years--

classes and papers and tests and presentations and projects, oh my--

i really am almost done.

feel free to start prepping yourself 

mentally and emotionally for calling me 

master

master em

master krem

master emily

master mrs.christofferson.

oh, yeah.

and by the way.

in the middle of that intensely grueling 10-week medical externship?

i up and got married, 

thereby joining the christofferson clan.

(haaha. and by up and got married, i mean after over 14 months together we finally wed.)

more on that later--because i really do wish to start writing again.

(spoiler alert: it's the best thing, this marriage thing.)

happy (almost) start of april.

just look what the wind blew in.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 13.

who knew that the ambition of writing gradnotes
at least once a month while in grad school to chronicle the experience,
was actually too lofty of a goal?
oops.
but here we are.
because that's where we are in america today.

- - - - -

everyone hits the point in grad school.
the point of points that is just part of the experience.

the i'm almost broken and i legitimately don't know if i belong in this career or if i should have signed up for any of this in the first place or why i wrote essays and went through interviews to tell people why i belong here but what am i even doing with my life right now.

^^ THAT point. always in run-on sentence form.
(don't you agree, janessa?)

some people hit it in the dead middle.
others hit it towards the end-but-not-quite-end.
some people at the very beginning.
others at the not-quite-beginning-but-not-yet-middle.

that was me.
last january and early february, i had a really hard time.
reeeheheheheallly hard time.
in which i considered dropping out.
it wasn't just a joking statement that we all make sometimes.
it was a literal, consistent thought.

i hated clinic when i started.
i mean, maybe not hated it.
i liked the clients overall.
but they were trickier cases.
i had no idea what i was doing.
planning and making lesson plans killed me.
it took me forever, i hated feeling like i was a teacher,
because i purposefully chose to not go into education.
some people like making up activities and plans like that.
it made me want to vomit and ugly cry all at the same time.
and.
clinic is the real life.
clinic is what this career is.
and.
if i hated it, what did that mean about this very career choice?

january was rough on a lot of levels.
(have i ever mentioned that i hate january?
oh, right.
just thought i'd throw that out there.
in case you didn't catch it the first five-hundred times.)

in all the winter darkness of struggling with surviving, though.
jillian made me a playlist.
emmylou in january.
with just a little snark and dark, and a whole lot more empowerment and feel-good jams.

in time, it got better.
i'm glad i had some of my most complex clients at the start,
because everything else has felt like a breeze.
it really did empower me.
it really did show me what i'm capable of.
and it really did help me learn the process.
(and find ways for me to not hate it.)

but for january hearts, jillian made some jams.

- - - - -

i've been thinking about my jam lately.
you know, that moment of being in the zone,
able to shut down any outside anythings and focus like a beast?
the jam.

i used to be really good at getting in the jam.
especially in my last semester of undergrad.
(i mean, i was dying and numbing myself which is emotionally unhealthy.
but like. it was really effective for gettingshiiiishtuffdonelikeaboss.)
actually, the whole rest of my undergrad after my mission
i was pretty dang good at finding the jam.
for school, for grad school apps, for the gre.
i could get all intense like that for the things i really was motivated towards.

but.

i've lost my jam.
sometimes i worry lately that i'm not ambitious enough anymore.
that i've lost the ability to get intense and in the zone.
#burnout

but here. now.
in this, the final finals week of my life.
(don't even try to talk to me about phd's.
also the end of the semester is bad timing for that in general.
krem has no intentions of ever doing research or phd or being a formally enrolled student ever again.)
i have no jamming in me anymore.
people keep telling me to give myself a break.
because i'm getting married and stuff. (in 10 weeks!)

but i don't feel like i'm allowed to use that excuse.

i mean, obviously i'm distracted.
obviously i prefer spending time with my love to spending time with school.
but shouldn't i be a better grown up and able to shut everything down and focus once in awhile?
because it's actually really hard for me. #confessions
i feel like i shouldn't be given that excuse.
i don't do much wedding related on a daily basis.
occasionally kind of, but mostly i've been shoving it off to christmas break.
and granted, there's just a lot going on right now.
but. shouldn't i still focus more?
sometimes i feel guilty that i'm not very good at getting into the jam.
that i don't even try sometimes because i'm just so burned out.

just some real talk streams of SFDs* for your saturday.

but today.
today i've been listening to emmylou in january.
and it's my jam.
it's giving me my jam back.

shake it out by florence + the machine is my spirit animal.
spirit song? can that be a thing?

and every demon wants his pound of flesh,
but i like to keep some things to myself.
i like to keep my issues drawn,
it's always darkest before the dawn.

shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out.
and it's hard to dance with a devil on your back, 
so shake him off.

i'm also really into james taylor right now, with a side of billy joel.
and my other jam of the day is you were born by cloud cult.

you were born into a strange world.
like a candle, you were meant to share the fire.
i don't know where we come from, and i don't know where we go.
but my arms were made to hold you, so i will never let you go.
cause you were born to change this life.
you were born to chase this light.

because sometimes all you need
are some jams to give you your jam back, right?
some jams for january.
jamming january.

in honor of education and a final finals week,
i leave you with a photo from the depths of old photo books.
just a little preschool babykrem front and center there from over 20 years ago.

finals week and regression into an incompetent human
alleviated in part by lover, spotify study playlists, and playlists from the bean.

*SFD brought to you by anne lamott and brené brown,
the brilliant humans that they are.
also, probably everyone everywhere
should read rising strong 
at one or multiple points in their life,
because it's just that good.
not even one bit exaggerating.
you're welcome for the gift idea.

merry christmas.
happy finals.
are we done yet?
baaaiiiiii.

i'm trying to write more.

and not be insecure about it.

because writing is good for me and my heart and soul.

(because, realtalktotallyhonest: i'm really insecure about writing any personal words lately.)

and i have stopped writing this year, 

with really good reasons because my focus has been elsewhere.

but i'm trying to start again in multiple forms and venues:

emails, blogs, maybe journals.

messy and stormy and wild mess, though it may be in the process, 

i'm trying.

so if you're bothered by the drafts and messes

that come in writing my thinks, feels, and life:

carry on.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 12.

okay, okay.
i know.

I KNOW.

so maybe it's been over two months
since i've had a little note about anything at all.
(shoutout to janessa for noticing and appreciating the struggle.)

i've been a little preoccupied.
that's part of it.
also, i've had a hard time sitting down to write in any form,
aside from soap notes and reports, of course.
cause those thangs never end.
ever.
(insert all the unamusedemojifaces here.)

but i'm going to try.
i'm going to try to catch up on
the twelve (read: trillion)
different things there are to write about.

turns out getting engaged (!!!!!!!!! << times infinity)
on top of the usual grad school rigor
means you fall off the planet.
honestly speaking, though?
i got none regrets over here.
pretty sure natum's has got none neither.

(clearly my language abilities are excelling these days.)

unfortunately,
i'm not there yet.
not quite ready to make that journey
into the writing cave.
instead?
i have an exam to study for,
sessions to plan,
soaps to soon write,
more reports to write,
and projects to complete.
(or start. you know. same struggle.)

in the interim,
before i actually can give myself a minute
to enter the writing cave,
i grace you,
the handful of people who even read this blog (hi, janessa👋🏼),
with this hilariously adorable video
of me and my fiancé being delightfully awkward and charmingly hilarious.
(cause. you know. as of october 4th i have me one of those fine fiancé thangs.)

here we are, right on over here.

it's fine. i don't know portuguese either.
mostly our facial expressions are funny.
(to me, anyway. i get myself a little giggle when watching parts of it.)
and we do speak english for a shining little spell in there.

(we know. we're nerds and adorable.🤓🤗)

plus a shameless selfie for good measure.

because. why not?

( you're welcome. )

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 11.

the clinic has been flooded with new students these days.
a bunch of perky first years running around,
all with apprehensive terror in their eyes.

were we that perky?
we don't think so.
gosh, i hope not.

have you ever noticed that the true sign of
feeling like you're getting the hang of something,
is when you're no longer the new kids on the block?

i mean.
we're fully aware of the terror of what graduation means.
we're fully aware of how much we don't know.
we're fully aware of how grossly unprepared we feel for the real world.
but.
also.
we're fully aware of every second of the past year.
we're (becoming) fully aware that.

we really have learned something.
we really have learned a lot.

in this field,
you spend your whole life learning.
any given client can walk in your door,
any given child can walk into your school,
any given patient can end up in your medical facility.
and suddenly nothing you've really learned applies anymore.
suddenly before you is a brand new puzzle.

we can't know everything.
especially considering how young this field is.
oh my gosh is there so much we don't know.

but you know what we do know?
we know how to tackle anything.
we know what to watch for and how to approach things.

the main difference i've noticed in clinic this fall
compared to previous semesters,
(especially compared to back in january)
is the autonomy we're provided.
our supervisors.
generally speaking--
they trust us.
they follow our observations,
validate our line of thinking,
support the conclusions we come to.
i mean.
of course they're still supervising.
of course they're still the licensed authority in the building.
but they've stepped back much more than before in all areas,
not just in the therapy room.

and you know what?
our plans and thoughts and observations?
they're usually on exactly the right track.
they provide guide posts, of course.
but.
it's much less supervision,
and much more corroboration.
the reins of implementation are entirely in our hands.

little glimpses into the eyes and souls of those terrified first-years
confirm this beautiful truth:
the very worst that grad school has to offer?
it's over.
we've long-since embarked on that downhill slide.
and the light at the end?
it's finally starting to appear.

just see how far we've come.
hallelujah.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 10.

last weekend i took a weekend trip with gradschoolbffallyson to her home in vernal.
we laughed, talked, and slept.
played games and took walks.
boated and roasted s'mores.
oh, and we studied.
a lot.

that whole big-exam-on-a-monday-in-the-summertime thing can be a real bleen, you know?
(motorspeechisarealkillerrrrrrr.)

people laughed when i told them.
ha. right. vacation. boating. like you're actually going to study.

ha, is right.
joke's on you.
exam aced.

also, turns out vernal is a hidden gem.
and i'm obsessed with their balconies, sunrises, and sunsets.

kremilyferightnow in a nutshell:

i stay up late and get up early.
i write a lot of soap notes. (when i die, you could bury me in all the documentation.)
i work play with a lot of preschoolers. (literally 70% of my grad school client tx hours.)
i fall asleep accidentally. (#noregrets)
i complete a lot of online additional requirements. (whatisupwiththissemesterandonlineadditives??)
i spend a lot (a looooooot) of time on i-15.
i take sanity breaks. (like aforementioned spontaneous trip to vernal.)
i worry about the future. (don't even get me started.)
i try not to think too far ahead.

whether or not i'm actually learning anything or growing in my abilities as a clinician?
to be determined. #workingonit

you really must be tired.
what you wrote was completely lacking
any of your usual flowery language.
--my m.

^^this is actually where we're at in america (and krem's grad schooling) today.
#realtalk
[and for the record, i don't one bit regret today's accidental almost-two-hour nap.]

also, in july we can start saying that there's only 10 months left until graduation.
and in august we're in the single digits.
not that anyone's counting.
(we're totally counting. and trying to avoid drowning along the way.)

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 9.

nothing i write lately feels worth sharing.
i feel like i've lost the poetic knack i once had.

i try.
i really do try.
there are a number of things
i've been trying to write,
but i just.
can't.


i had this (clearly foolish) idea that summer semester would somehow be smoother than previous semesters.
i had this (clearly foolish) idea that somehow it would be less stressful and not quite as consuming.
i had this (clearly foolish) idea that i'd more easily get a handle on everything.
i had this (clearly foolish) idea that clinic would not require so much of me.

clearly, i was wrong.

i wish i had more to document this graduate school experience lately.
i mean, i have pages and pages and pages of notes written about clients, for classes, etc.
but the breezes and gusts that blow through me in the process,
shaping how i think, who i am, and what i see within those i work with, myself, or my future.

but when the task at hand is to stay afloat,
by any means possible,
when the water is exactly at your head--
well, that doesn't leave much time for soul-searching, detoxing, and processing.
the small moments i gobble up in order to revitalize myself and maintain sanity--
those rarely if ever allow for the taxing task of writing through it all.
letting out all the words that help me to understand and gain perspective.
instead, those small and gobbled moments mostly involve
letting life and goodness and bright moments,
spent with even brighter people,
seep deep down into me.
i allow the winds to blow on my soul.
sometimes i listen, sometimes i just let its breezes give me fresh breath.
perhaps i should dedicate a certain portion of each week to writing.
writing whatever comes out for however long i can,
even if only a small amount of time is allotted.
perhaps i should.
so far, though, i regret none of the time
i've dedicated to being with people and sunshine instead.

whatever else anything is, it's better in the summertime.
when the days are long, the sun is bright, and the leaves are green.
i feel like i ought to have something to say for these months.
to adequately describe the chaos, or at least to adequately describe all the things that are sinking me.

academically speaking,
nothing currently feels cohesive.
nothing currently feels like i have a grasp on it.
with each day--or each client, or each email--everything shifts a little bit.
everything requires constant adaptability.

that's fine, really.
it is.
but sometimes--
my soul is just a bit weary of all it takes to stay afloat.

on the other hand,
there are moments.
they never last long,
but there are small, fleeting glimpses.
moments in which i see a small sliver of light shine,
within which i see the growth in myself.
i see the changes in my thought processes.
my critical thinking being refined and becoming more and more like a clinician.
with all there is to know, and all there is to remember, and all there is to be,
there are moments.
they never last long.

i rarely, if ever, feel like i'm taking in enough or that i'm adequately prepared.
what if i get to the end of grad school and find
there are scores of things i should have learned but never took in?
often, i feel under-qualified.
particularly with my summer clinic assignments.
i want so badly to be able to help these children.
i see so acutely their need and their difficulties in communicating.
the complexity of figuring out language
amidst so many other complexities in their little systems and lives.

tell me your secrets and ask me your questions.
oh, let's go back to the start.
nobody said it was easy,
no one ever said it would be this hard.
i was just guessing at numbers and figures,
pulling the puzzles apart.
questions of science,
science and progress,
don't speak as loud as my heart.
running in circles, 
chasing our tails,
coming back as we are.
nobody said it was easy.
no one ever said it would be so hard.
i'm going back to the start.

all these (adorably bright-eyed) puzzles with so many pieces,
in order to truly make progress--
where do you even begin?

song of the day: 

the scientist, coldplay.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 8.

they say we're on the downhill now.
that the hardest is behind us.

if that were not the truth, i don't think we'd all make it through.

- - -

i did really well last semester, honestly speaking.
i mean.
i kind of forget that grades are part of my education at this point.
perhaps it's a grad school thing.
perhaps it's a growing up thing and i haven't thought too much about grades in years.
especially now, though.
sometimes i forget that we also receive grades.

nevertheless.
i am doing just fine.
more than fine.

- - -

last week i had my last day at the special ed/communication-based preschool i've been working at.
the slp said she can just see me working in the schools.
talked about how much she loves it.

sometimes i don't think we get to hear that enough.
never is it offered as more than an afterthought:
oh, but it's so wonderful and good and rewarding.
they talk of caseloads, difficulties, the craziness of scheduling.
but it's refreshing to hear about how good it can also be.
that the good isn't just a side effect.
the good is in everything.
because the joy itself is the process of being there.
the fact that in this field you must use your brain.
you have to think.
and that--
that is what makes it rewarding.
the never-ending puzzles to solve with each new client/student.

- - -

i'm really over this grad school thing.
being in our clinic classroom just about kills me with restlessness some days.
i never was made for the student life,
even if i am capable of being a good student.

there are many things i could share about summer clinic, but i'll let that sit for now.
so many thoughts about early childhood, safety, play, and growth.
but those are for another time.
because words come when they come, no sooner.
for now they're still a swirl of a mess inside me.

right now i simply must say,
aside from the swirl of things in my life to process
that i haven't figured out how to set down:
i am doing just fine.
more than fine.

i do love this month of may.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 7.

i'll write you a postcard, 
i'll send you the news
from a house down the road, 
from real love.

live through this, and you won't look back.

there's one thing i want to say, 
so i'll be brave:
you were what i wanted.
i gave what i gave.
i'm not sorry i met you.
i'm not sorry it's over.
i'm not sorry there's nothing to say.
(your ex-lover is dead, stars.)

that's how i feel about this semester, you know?
there were some really good moments.
there were some really rough moments.
i'm not sorry it happened.
i'm not sorry it's (almost) over.
i'm only a little bit sorry there's little to be said.
living through grad school, i won't look back.
i'll send a postcard someday.

- - - - -

midway through march, one of my clients stopped coming.
(ihatemoneyandinsuranceandmoney.)
it was sudden. and i found out after the best session we'd ever had.
on the corners of a grand transition and elevation in progress
while i didn't realize it at first amidst the uncertainty of potential return,
i grieved that sudden loss.
i grieved what could have been and the progress i wouldn't see.
there, right on the cusp of significant progression along the mountain, that's where we stopped.
and i grieved.

it seems strange, really.
i'm only formally acquainted with this child and his mother.
just these few hours a week we shared.
nonetheless, i was sad to see him go.
sad when i realized, that's most likely it for the rest of the semester.
i was involved in the diagnostic for this client.
i wrote the report.
set his first goals.
watched him make phenomenal progress much more quickly than we anticipated.
the initial sessions entrenched in routine suddenly gave way around february.
and by the end of february, he'd achieved his semester goals.
i'll be brave and i gave what i gave.
i'm not sorry we met,
and, to be honest, i have mixed feelings about the fact that it's over.
i'll send a postcard, someday.

- - - - -

the classes have been much simpler this semester than last semester.
the course-load much less.
sometimes i feel a little guilty about my lack of engagement or focus on school this semester.
i mean, i get everything done, of course.
clinic always is priority over classes.
everything we do is constant triage of simply getting done what needs to be.
doing what you can, giving what you can, and moving on.
sometimes i feel a little guilty for how hard i know i'm not working for this.
it's a rigorous program--it really is.
but not in the ways you'd think for being given the label of graduate school.
you're always busy while actually not always busy.
schedules are somewhat flexible for getting done what you need to,
aside from classes, sessions, and meetings.
i have much more time than i ever did in undergrad--
especially my last couple years of undergrad.
it's much easier than that.

and intellectually.
well, it's not challenging.
it's not.
there's critical thinking,
but a different kind than that required in the intricacies of foreign languages and russian literature.

i'm always busy,
but mentally--
i'm often far far away.

my russian capstone was completed a year ago today.
our priceless skits of adaptations to chekhov plays.
meaning, a year ago this week,
i graduated.
(kind of. #israel.)

there's still two-and-a-half weeks left for this semester.
and i'm over here like--
are we done yet?

because.
i'm quite excited for summer and my clinic placements.
(i'll be at the children's center and the intensive stuttering clinic!)
i'm quite excited for next spring.
(i was offered a medical externship!)

it's been real, spring semester 2016.
but let's never meet again.

photo credit: nbc.

brought to you by:

the distractions throughout the semester that have kept me sane.

the darling clients who make it worth it.

the spring sunshine and blossoms galore.

the mountains and the blue sky.

the audio books that make commuting more tolerable.
friday mornings working at the preschool.

thoughts of future vacations. 

and also. chocolate shakes.

because--why not?

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 6.

guys.
february has flown by.
literally.
flown.

and. you know what?
it's been quite a good month.
a good one, indeed.

do i sound a little bipolar after my last edition of gradnotes?
grad school is my eternal scapegoat for lack of sanity.
and it's been quite an extreme turn around.
take that for what you will or for what it's worth.

i have five trillion things i need to make time to write about in some place or another,
but for now i'm sticking with my aim for having a regular journal of grad school as it goes.
this small portion of life (that most days feels so long), is a pivotal, soul-stretching, soul-enlarging time.
and i want record of that journey.
a qualitative and subjective record of the progress,
separate entirely from any objective measures. (read: gradesandevaluationsgalore.)

guess what?
i see real progress in my clients.
my sessions are going so well.
(almost too well, quite frankly.)
good rapport has been built.
and i've found a groove.
a groove inside the uncertainty.
certainty inside the uncertainty of all that i still don't know.
i'm learning.

with one of my clients, the real secret to planning is not planning too much in advance.
because only a minor portion would ever go as planned anyways.
everything relies upon being in the moment and thinking on my feet.
perfect presentness.
because it doesn't matter so much what the activity or materials are.
it matters what you do with them.
i'm learning.
things hardly ever go the way i plan with my other client either,
even when that plan is loose and tentative from the start.
(six-year-olds, amiright?)
and yet, it still all works out.
i'm learning.

lately, i keep feeling like i'm on the downhill slide, especially after this semester is over.
that the end and the real world are not so far away.
i mean. next year and graduation still feels a million miles away,
but i'm taking that as improvement from being entire light years away, as they once felt.

during class tonight, i was thinking about how different my position is now from where it was at the start.
i was thinking about the nearly-nervous-breakdown that was had in january.
i mean, was it really that big of a deal?
what the capital-h-heck was wrong with me?
why did i have such a profound career/life crisis at that time?
i mean, i know.
kind of.
but.

honestly?



i still don't know.


i wish i could tell you what it was that changed.
i wish i knew.
a lot of things together, i guess.
when it comes down to it, though, i simply know that a change has taken place.
slowly, almost imperceptibly.
oh, the changes that have come.
slowly, almost imperceptibly, as one day stretches into another.
only in quiet moments do i look up for a moment and see just how this experience is evolving.

because.
despite being buried in somanythingstodoandreportstowrite,
and drained with an exhaustion that sinks deep into my soul,
it's a good kind of drained, you know?
a drained that comes from giving your heart and soul to worthwhile causes.
now i am tired, but resolute. (firstaidkit.)
because the general trajectory is a good one.
a really really good one.

in our voice disorders class last week,
we watched several videos of psychosocial interviews.
and. well.
they gave me incredibly heavy boots.
psychosomatic responses.
the way humans react to circumstances, sometimes without realizing it.
it's amazing, really--isn't it?

i often considered going into counseling.
in fact, just before receiving my first grad school acceptance,
it became my plan b--just in case i didn't get in to grad school.
i was worried i wouldn't, worried i'd be left a fool.
and so, at long last, on a simple saturday, i found my plan b.

well, we know how this story ends.
i got into grad school(s).
and am now on this pathway.
to stay--for now, anyway.
but sometimes i wonder.
because i ever so love to dig into people's souls.
to peak inside and help them see.
i don't anymore--not often, anyway.
but these videos we watched--
they reminded me why i don't think i could ever go into counseling--not professionally, anyway.
because i'd take too much into my soul,
and there it would be too heavy for me.
ergo, here we are in another branch of humanity.
they all build on one another, you know.
all these related fields.
and so here i am, in the world of speech and language--
where communication reigns.

i'm self-conscious about my writing lately.
i feel i've lost my touch, insight, or wisdom.

but i just wanted to say--
here i am.
marching on.
we are okay, we are alright. (joshuaradin.)
okay.
and so we're marching on.
okay?
okay.

i'm here.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 5.

i don't write anymore.
not much, anyway.
why is that?

january has been the first month of grad school in which i haven't made any note at all.
there's significance in that.
in the fact that i was barely surviving--barely breathing, even.
because january was a real doozy.
and i've never been so glad to see her go and hope she takes the wintertime with her.

i spent a lot of time doing things like cutting out laminated visual aids,
coloring said aids,
making others help me color said aids.
sometimes i feel like the core of what i'm doing has very little to do with speech itself at all,
but learning how to make things into games instead.
learning how to motivate and engage children.
#lifeskillz

i began the semester in a sickly state and a fuzzy head that took a couple weeks to go away.
that never helps anything, does it?
and if january were summed in one word, it would be this:
h a z e.

most would never know how fiercely i considered dropping out.
most would never know how deeply my soul has been striving to find peace.
most would never know how frequently i struggled to complete even the bare minimum.
most would never know how ardently i wished i could be anywhere but here.
but i'm still here.

there's this plant my mom bought for me right around the new year.
it came as a bulb with just a few leaves shooting out.
for awhile, we thought it was dead.
perhaps i'd underwatered it or left it neglected and too far from the light.
i gave her some water, though.
and the most curious thing happened--
she began to grow.
slowly, of course.
those leaves started getting just a little bit taller, until their tips started peeking out of the vase.
every few days, she became parched again,
so i'd drop in the remnants of the day from my water bottle before moving quickly on.
(because january was busy with a capital b, in more ways than one.)
and those stalks kept rising with a bulge at the tip.
last week, that bulge started parting.
yesterday, those bulges began to bloom.
just one and a half at first.
now, though.
now there's two full flowers, two still opening, and two buds waiting to spread their petaled wings.
you're much more patient with them than i am.
i already thought they were dead, and probably would have thrown them out.
that's what my mom said when the stalks started sprouting up.
they just needed a little love, is all.
some water and some light.
that's what i said, you see.

i'd like to think that this is how i am with people, too.
that i'm patient and good at helping them find nourishing water and light.
i was once, anyway.

a little in romania, and in ukraine, especially.
i had healing hands.
but sometimes i think i've lost those hands.

when you look at me, what do you see?
do you see--a sparkle?
like something reflective of something bigger that's trying to get out?
(mr. magorium's wonder emporium.)

i've been thinking a lot about romania lately.
especially about a dream i had while there.
this small little piece of something that showed me i care for this.
a little moment that sank into my bones to say,
communication matters.
it was a dream about one of my little boys, though was applicable to any of them.
because it really does matter.
it really will go somewhere.
and perhaps, for me, more important than that right now is this:
knowing that i belong here,
even when i'm not so sure.

sometimes i wonder if the only reason i stay is that i have nowhere else to go.

and last week. my mom brought home a new orchid for me.
because maybe i just need some water and some light, you know?
january is over now, and a month centered around love replaced her.
at a time when i think most are beginning to fall, i've already passed the hardest part.
(or so i hope.)
after such a steep learning curve, i'm getting my footing.
i'm learning life lessons, both personal and academic.
(and i'm learning just how inadequate i am and how much i don't know.)

perhaps it's not about being adequate.
it's about being flexible and willing to learn,
allowing all people and aspects of life to teach me.

to steal the words of cj cregg,
the water's still exactly at my head, of course.
but perhaps i've been trying too hard to forget this one seemingly obvious fact:
we need the water and the light.

in the water--that's when my sprouts arose.
light alone is not enough for cultivating life and growth, you see?

even on days it feels more like drowning--
the light to breathe, and the water to nourish.
this is how we grow.

(does this mean it can be springtime now?
i do fiercely long for the spring.)

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 4.

grades were posted yesterday.
this first semester of grad school is officially done.
and you know what?
it went far better than i expected.
far better than perhaps i feel i deserve--
were i to believe in deserved and undeserved.
but in this, one of the most peculiar semesters of my life,
(that's putting it incredibly generously and kindly.)
it didn't turn out so bad at all in the end.
not bad at all.
(in all aspects of living, really.)

by the end of the semester, though, i was ready to give up.
(#finalsweek, you know?)
because. am i really meant to do this?
am i actually even capable of being successful?
do i even like it?

and then in the very middle of finals week,
i had a meeting that changed everything.
a meeting that put me back on the bandwagon again.
a meeting that left me saying, okay. fine. i suppose i'll stay.
a meeting that reminded me, i really do have a lot of good things going for me.

because.
looking at real stories--real people.
digging into the puzzle of who they are.
analyzing speech and language anytime i'm around children these days.
seeing the application of where it all goes.

it really does all go somewhere.
it really does matter.
we're not supposed to know everything yet--
that's the point.
that's why we're here.

it's going to be a good life, you know?
because it already is a good life.

one semester of gradschooling down.
t-minus four semesters to go--one of which only slightly counts.
not that we're counting.
(we're totally counting--
especially the days until tuition is paid for the very last time.)

[insertsomanyemojishere.]

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 3.

(because apparently this is becoming a onceamonth thing.)



motivation towards
my field
and my career path
and my academics
and all things related
has been a struggle lately.
i think this is what we call burnout.

in the library today:
allyson: all these undergraduates look so--
me: young and spry?
allyson: happy.

- - -

that said.

november was a beautiful month in the life of krem.
maybe not academically.
but clinically.
clinically, november was a beautiful, busy month.

i helped with and did the report on a diagnostic for a new client that i'll be working with next semester.
the way it works out, i get to work with a supervisor who i justsohappen to think is a boss.
who justsohappens to be an expert in areas i want to potentially work in.
and both of my clients will be with the same supervisor.which makes literally everyone's lives easier.
winwinwinnomatterwhatwhatwhat.

- - -

nevertheless.
знаете в чём дело?
вот. я вам скажу.
дело в том, что:

being in classes is really hard for me.
not so much because it's hard,
but because it's so hard for me to see the real connections.
i like learning as i go.
i like learning on my feet.
running up to every ukrainian on the streets with my пригs, even when i don't know russian yet.
because i want to climb the stairs and get elbow-deep in mud.
i want to be inside the real thing.
and therefore.
being in classes is very hard for me.
not that i know everything--
i most certainly do not.
but i think i learned more in the few weeks i spent researching for and following up on that diagnostic,
than perhaps in the entire semester.
because it was real.

me and my obsession with real things and sincerity.
it makes for moments of sitting in the harbor frustrating.

- - -

here comes the end of semester one.
i'm beginning to question whether or not i will be alive three weeks from now.
because sometimes grad school makes you question all your life decisions. (#realtalk)

that said.

i had a talk the other night with greer. (amongthewisestofallthewomen.)
in the which we started talking about speech pathology.
and i got carried away talking about it and grad school and the intricacies of speech and language.
because.
you know?
it really is that interesting.






right.
still.
i don't even know.
^^this is how we feel about grad school right here, right now.

- - -

[i realize this post may seem meaningless.
but i want a record at least monthly of my gradschoolings.
i like the idea of it, in theory.
it's no daily log like my mission was, but it's something.
right? right.
we're going with it.]

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 2.

worst day of grad school > worst day of undergrad.
funny how that works, eh?
not that grad school isn't a lot--it is.
but. it's not so all-consuming as my last year of speechpathrussiangradapps was.
(cause that was just insanity. let's never do that again, yeah?)
this isn't rocket science, after all.
and, considering there's so much we don't know, there's a lot of ambiguity.

you know what the things is about grad school?
they don't actually force you to do anything.
not really.
it's expected.
and not doing these things punishes no one but yourself.
there's glory in that--
it's all your own.

- - -

i get a weird joy out of being lost in basements of libraries.
not lost, but lost to the world. at least for a time.
though sometimes it also makes me feel like i'm losing my humanity.
also. truth universally acknowledged?
it's always cold in the dungeons of the library.
always. why is that?

- - -

i like the different research findings we talk about,
but i don't like the research process itself or academia.
still, i'm frustrated by the desperate need for more research.
when humans are involved, though, research only goes so far.
that's something i kind of love about this field: ambiguity.
because sometimes there's not going to be an answer. it's okay not to know.

ease with ambiguity.
comfort with complexity.
confidence tempered by humility.

- - -

in one of my classes a few weeks ago, we were talking about biases.
researcher bias, examiner bias, all the possible bias in all things.
if you believe something in your head, you might find that.
agreed.

but. you know?
i also think.
sometimes. you must know what you're looking for in order to find.
not in all cases, of course.
in life, though.
with people.
perhaps you need a general idea of what you're aiming for if you ever hope to get there.

- - -

what do i really want out of life?
what do i really want it to look like?
these are the things i think about and scribble in the margins of notebooks during long lectures.
or when i've finished exams or quizzes before everyone else.
(i'm almost concerned at this trend--this finishing so soon when i receive last.)
i think too much, really.
that's my problem.
and yet i can't stop thinking and wondering.
what do i reallytrulyactually want out of life?
how do i truly want my life to look?
more than that--how do i get there?
most days i know, some days it all seems farfetched.

i wonder more often than i probably should why i am where i am.
not in my university, of course. in other things.

- - -

despite all these things we study and talk about,
even with the medical interests i have--
i still keep coming back to autism and languages/bilingual issues.
what does this mean? does it mean?
the other day one of my professors was talking about her research and her history.
how as a graduate student, she was bored with the typical, and so she got involved with some other research.
it was the part of my days i was most looking forward to.
and that's where i needed to go. that's what i needed to do.
[she studied complex syntax, and i thought it was fascinating.]
i'm not saying i'm interested in complex syntax. (i'm really not.)
but i am saying.
i'm bored.
my time is consumed, but i am bored.
and so i think too much.
and my mind wanders from every topic to what influence that may have on autism.
and i'm all filled up with all these pieces of different languages.
i mean, it's mostly russian anymore.
but there are still all those other pieces.
that must be for something. it's something cultivatable.

in my developmental language disorders class the other day,
we were talking about preschools for a minute.
and. you know?
an autism preschool.
a language-based preschool for individuals with autism.
that wouldn't be so bad.

(speaking of preschools.
when my children someday go to preschool.
i'd like their teacher to have a college degree.
and preferably, i'd like it to be a language-focused curriculum.
too much? right. okay. we'll cross that bridge later.)

- - -

i'm perplexed sometimes by the mix of people and personalities that end up in this field.

perhaps even more perplexed by the way there's not as much variation as you'd think.

- - -

if you don't like people, if you can't have empathy--
you shouldn't be in this field.

did you know they've done studies?
in the end.
if you're a good clinician, you'll see results--regardless of what you do.
these things we're learning, they're tools.
but sometimes.
even when the work is good, the research results are not inspiring.
and there is no one-way ticket to minimizing negative effects of language and speech disorders.
individuals, you see.
there's something in that, though.
the fact that, if you're a good clinician, you'll see results.
because it's about being a human being.
who believes. cultivates. empowers.

- - -

all of my personal experiences prior to graduate school--
well, they don't all relate. not really.
people say things--with astonishment, of course--like,
oh, you know russian?? look at you. that's so great. i'm sure it will be useful.
i'm sure it will. because it's useful in life. kind of.
but the offering in this field from russian-speaking countries is meager.
speech-language pathology isn't a very large field outside of the united states,
especially outside of english-speaking countries.
in ukraine i'd tell people what i was studying,
and often they had no idea what it was.
i had to describe the field to them, just as i frequently do in english.

my russian, particularly as a double major,
honestly has very little to do with the things i study now.
and yet.
all these languages i've studied.
all the literature that has seeped into my soul.
the experiences i've shared with so many different kinds of human beings.
they've sharpened me.

a sharpening a bit like a pencil in a pencil sharpener, you could say.
not one of those pretty electric ones that flooded into classrooms in my later elementary years--
rather, the metal manual sharpeners.
the ones you have to crank with your hand, and listen to the grinding.
you know?
everyone secretly despised the person who got up in the middle of a spelling test to sharpen their pencil.
despised that painful grinding that pierced through the room.
it's not pretty, that process.
the shavings discarded in all shapes and sizes.
sometimes you think the pencil's sharpened,
when really there's a hunk of wood on one side blocking the lead.
and so you shove that pencil back in and twirl the crank around,
pushing the pencil towards the circulating blades.
and then when you pull the pencil out--she's sharp as an arrow.
oh boy, is she sharp.

so it is.

these experiences from every kind of place and time.

these interactions with people of every kind.

they sharpen my perspective.

they sharpen the way i approach and categorize new information with the old.

they sharpen. me.

sharp.

- - -

p.s. first fall break i've ever had in college?

joke's on me. there's still several things scheduled for clinic throughout the week.

in addition to a ridiculous amount of things to be done.

#happyfallbreaktoyoutoo

then again. today i slept in.

did a bunch of laundry.

(washed my sheets for the first time in youdon'twanttoknow how long.)

ran through these beautiful streets.

worked on some readings.

did some researching trying to find article upon article.

worked on these bigger projects.

and made pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies while watching parenthood. 

(aka mynewfavoriteguiltypleasureshow.)

i'm nowhere near done.

but. you know. this breakandbreathe lyfe ain't so bad.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 1.

all through my aphasia class today we were talking about neuroscience.

all i know is that i kept thinking about brains. and autism. and aphasia.

in my other class, i kept thinking about autism therapy.

we were talking about phonological theories and articulation,

but i kept thinking about autism.

this is the thing about individuals with autism--

they see more than they get credit for seeing.

they see more.

- - -

the brain is so malleable, but damage is damage.

at church on sunday i was talking to someone.

and when i talked about my course of study, he had a real-live response and discussion.

(not just the usual coolokaybye. that means idon'tknowwhatthatmeansbutgoteamokaybye.)

because there was a woman in his ward or somewhere who was brilliant and bright and sharp.

and then she had a stroke and lost her words.

him: you can just tell. the words are right there. it's all still there, but she can't--

me: --yes! it's there, but she just can't get it out.

him: exactly. and now you can tell she's so reliant on her husband for everything.

aphasia is so fascinating, but tragic to me.

because even if you didn't lose your life from the stroke,

you've lost the words that give you life.

in therapy and intervention prognosis, they always talk about influencing factors.

things like age and site and severity of lesion.

family support, previous skills prior to the event.

and motivation.

because with acquired language disorders, so often the motivation comes so hard sometimes.

no one can understand you, or you can't understand yourself.

and so individuals become depressed sometimes and unmotivated to work on treatments.

as if a little part of them knows--

no matter how intensive the therapy,

their gains may never reach again where they once were.

in the beginning of college, i'd always understood that concept--

but only as a concept without really understanding.

then last fall as part of the professional practices course,

we talked about the stages of grief.

for individuals, for loved ones, for caregivers.

and i wonder--

would i lose my motivation and quit trying were i old and lost my words or comprehension?

would i fight?

we all say we would,

but when you've lived most of a life,

your heart and brain worn down--literally--from your battle scars.

would you keep fighting anyway, no matter how small the gains?

i'm not so sure i would.

- - -

there's a linguist in me.

or at least i thought there was.

but now i know.

it's a linguist for other languages, not english linguistics.

i love languages and their rule systems and the way they so eloquently function.

my freshman year i took a french class with this terrifying french woman.

she always used to say, c'est logique, c'est français! [it's logical, it's french!]

russian was more complex, but had all its sound systems and history of morphology.

my professor would put up all these linguistic rules about voicing or softness.

and even the exceptions came together in a beautiful sort of rhythm and rhyme.

not english, though.

i don't care for english linguistics.

we sit and talk of phonological processes and patterns.

language development theories and linguistic constraints.

and in english it all seems so scattered to me,

like groping for some small semblance of explanations.

they haven't found one yet.

because there isn't one.

- - -

that's the thing about graduate school--

it's so much less concrete than you'd think.

the statements of fact handed you as an undergraduate,

are taken away and returned to you as a collection of possibilities.

because everything's an option when it comes to pathologies in the brain and language.

everything's an option when it comes to disorder.

analyze what the child is doing.

figure out the puzzle.

this is what keeps our job so interesting.

because there is no one rule to follow.

they give you pieces of all they know,

they go through the process of solving puzzles with you,

and then they send you off to solve the puzzles yourself,

equipped not with answers, but with the resources to find the answers.

to keep researching until you find information that might work.

might. hopefully.

do the same thing with two seemingly identical individuals--

do you get the same result?

not necessarily.

and so you're left to create an answer yourself.

that's all it is--

a collection of answers for interventions that could work,

some are even likely to work.

but when human heads and hearts are involved, you just never know.

even when it seems they should--

sometimes they just might not.

granted.

but also.

even when it seems they shouldn't--

sometimes?

sometimes they just might.