Question 19

19) If I could travel anywhere, where would I go?
a) New Zealand
b) Canada
c) Washington
d) Wisconsin
e) Iowa

My HIT professor is praying for me. I don't know if I can quite express how odd that seems. You all know that I can't walk well, so it should come as no surprise that our field trips, with their associated walking, standing about, and note-taking-while-on-the-move were significant challenges for me. I've also been dealing with a Depression-Induced Lack of Motivation[TM] lately, which has extended to class attendance and even completion of some assignments. I managed to drag myself to my HIT class last Wednesday because we were scheduled to have an exam. Even though I was going to be guessing on every question, because this last unit has been entirely based on handouts and lectures, not anything in our textbook. As it turned out, the guest speaker went a bit long, so the test was postponned until tomorrow. (It's a 2 hour and 20 minute class, but the exams take a maximum of 1 hour, so there's always something else scheduled for exam days as well.)

At any rate, after class on Wednesday, my professor gave me all of the handouts and asked what was going on. I mumbled something about my lung damage and stuff. Said that I know it doesn't look like it, but I really am trying. She said that she knew, she could see that. (I don't really understand that part either.) She kept waiting expectantly, and I ended up muttering something about my depression, said that was exacerbating my other problems. She kind of focused in on the depression aspect of things, taking it more seriously than some of my (past) psychologists have done. She was very concerned that I don't have anyone to really talk to about it (since my family is ... religious ... about it, and I'm really, really not), and she asked if it would be okay if she prayed for me. (Is there a polite way to say, "Sure, if you want, I guess, but you're kind of weirding me out here?" I've never found one.)

I think part of the startle-factor about it was that it's a secular school. If I was still going to one of the Lutheran schools I've attended in the past, I'd have been expecting that kind of reaction. And I know that just because it's not a religious school doesn't mean that none of the professors are religious. I do get that. I just really wasn't expecting that reaction. And I wasn't expecting her to be concerned. Very odd. It's been on my mind enough since then that I'm getting a little worried about tomorrow, and if it will be weird to see her again. (I am going to class though. There's an exam. One that I can even study for, now.)

Also? The director of the HIT program walked by us as the professor and I were walking out together. She's also been worried about me, and said she was glad to see me there. Maybe I've just worked for uncaring corporations for so long that human concern is baffling? I dunno.

I have done some knitting this week. In fact, I've finished 3.5 socks, and I'm almost done with the yarn from Warm Woolies that I'm using for the socks. Then I'll just have the sweater yarn left to knit up. Pictures next week, okay?

Answer to Question 19: Iowa. Canada and New Zealand are too far away. Well, most places are too far away for me these days. I've been to Washington (to see ArwensRose and Pansy and their homes/towns/city), but not to Iowa (to see Deenie and hers), so Iowa's my choice. Besides, it's just barely possible that I could actually go there someday. Wisconsin... I love Wisconsin, especially the Northwoods. I first went up to our family's cabin when I was 6 months old, and even though our current cabin is on my grandparents' land and not my dad's (because the lake by their property is both bigger and more accessible from our land), regardless of the fact that the cabin that's now there wasn't built until I was 5 or 6, the land and that lake are the home of my heart.

That said, I don't think I'll ever go back up there. The cabin just isn't accessible enough for me now. It would be hard to manage the steps down from the "parking lot," as we call the end of our road under the trees. I can't sleep on a bed without a lot of pain, and the chairs there are old and don't recline, so my dependent edema would get too bad if I tried to sleep in them. The shower stall is so tiny that I probably couldn't use it, since I wouldn't be able to sit down halfway through. And the hill is far too steep for me to be able to walk down to the lake, even if we still had a boat there that was licensed to go out on it.

Another problem is the political views of the people in the area. I used to dream about living up there, winterizing the cabin (or more likely building a small house in its place). Getting a job somewhere near enough to make winter commuting practical. But the area is very, very conservative, and realistically I couldn't live with that. When my mom and sister were up there this fall, they attended a community meeting about the area's elk population. Given what they've said about that, it's a good thing I wasn't there because my head might have exploded from the pressure of keeping my mouth shut. Then again, I wouldn't have gone to the meeting in the first place. But I have trouble looking past people's political views sometimes. I can't quite decide if I'm getting more intolerant, or if it's just that I'm noticing the political views of people I used to be completely neutral about. I can get past political stuff with friends, but if an otherwise benign stranger has political views that I vehemently disagree with, there's just not enough positive force there to keep my feelings about them at neutral. (If that even makes sense to anyone else.)

And then I remember my dad's last trip up there. It was about a month before he died, maybe 5 or 6 weeks. He knew he'd never see it again, and it was so hard for him to leave. Maybe I just don't want to do that myself. As things stand now, I have lots and lots of memories from up there, but I don't remember exactly what happened the last time I left. Realistically, I know that the last time I was up there was the time that my sister and I took three days and rented a U-Haul to bring my grandma's dining room set back down here so my sister could use it. I imagine that, when we locked up the cabin that time and I climbed into my car, I was just so relieved to be able to sit down and stop manhandling furniture up the slope and into the truck. But that's all reasoned out, not vivid memory. And I don't want my final memory of there to be fighting tears as I drive up the road, knowing my heart will never go home again.

These questions are coming from my 'How well do you know Beccaie Jamieson?' quiz on Facebook. Thus far, the high scores are 35% among my friends, 40% among my sister's friends, 41% for my mother, with my sister scoring 74%. I'm bringing the questions to my blog in the hopes that some more people will get to know me better.