Fitting In

I have no words for my reality. [ Max Frisch (1911–1991)]

Early on during my time as the science & technology dean (slightly less than two years ago), I called a gathering of the entire division to talk over some old and new business. Now, I guess my personal meeting-leading style is a bit different than other deans who have occupied this position: I remember mentioning things like “we all work too hard,” and that “we should take better care of ourselves,” and that “I’m not willing to die for this job”…that kind of stuff.

I think most would agree that I tend to be honest and direct.

Further, when I speak to things that I am passionate about, I typically have great energy. I’m expressive, I gesture, I emote. In sum, I likely exhibit a collection of personal characteristics and interpersonal communication styles that are different from your stereotypical, geeky, sometimes-reticent, always-in-his-head science guy.

Directly after one of these early meetings, I remember F coming up to me and exclaiming, “you don’t talk like any dean we’ve ever had here before!”

Now, at the time, I wasn’t exceptionally surprised by this remark. In addition to my science education (two degrees, a bachelor's and a master's), I also have a master’s in counseling. In case you didn’t know: this is quite an unusual background. While scientists tend to focus on theories, experiments, findings and ideas, counselors mostly attend to feelings, relationships, and personal growth. These are radically different approaches to knowing the world, and I admit that I probably am a pretty rare bird both in terms of my formal education and how I interact with the universe around me.

It seems, over time though, that the Division faculty here have rather gotten used to me and my non-traditional ways of talking and behaving. However, when it comes to job searching, I’m not so sure my, well, deviance is all that much appreciated. I’ve talked this over with M, and he agrees: when it comes to a job interview, a new group may not quite know what to make of me. “Could this be our new dean ?” [I can imagine some of them ( most of them) wondering...]

This topic has been more on my mind in the last few days due to another, more recent interaction: this time with T. As I was lamenting my lack of a job offer despite my ambitious interviewing schedule of late, I once again mentioned something like “I guess I just don’t talk like a science dean.”

Her comeback was a very quick, energetic, and expressive, “Jim, you don’t talk like anyone I’ve ever known !” She went on to say that, “in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like you!”

Now, I’m positive that these statements were offered in only the most complimentary way. And, I certainly received them as such. Actually, such observations are (to me) pretty flattering. But, the more I’ve thought about the implications of these remarks, the more distraught I have become. In terms of locating a new workplace, how can I possibly find somewhere to “fit” if I am perceived to be so different? Who would want to hire me if I’m not “one of them?”

Well, it’s going to be hard, isn’t it? Actually, it HAS been difficult, and maybe this is one of the primary reasons I am facing unemployment: I am too different, and I really just don’t fit .

The question now is: where do I fit?

I Can See Clearly Now

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone, I can see all obstacles in my way…
(Johnny Nash)

Back on April 18th, when I was traveling home from the Grays Harbor College interview, while I was on I-205 just north of the Oregon border, a rock violently hit my windshield and chipped it. A couple of weeks later, when I was at my neighborhood gas station, I spent a few minutes at their little “rock-chip repair” station. I’d done this before and the results had been really dramatic. For a few minutes of time, and a call to the insurance company, the rock-chip damage magically became much less noticeable. Well, this time, instead of “healing” the chipped glass, the repair attempt led to a very large crack in my windshield. It was obvious that it was time to get the whole thing replaced. Happily I have great insurance, -$0- deductible on my comprehensive coverage, so my windshield was totally swapped-out for free a few days ago. The glass company even came to the college parking lot and replaced it while I was at work. Pretty slick.

It’s amazing, really. Every day since then has rather been like I’ve just had a car wash. I can see so much better out of this new glass, it’s unbelievable. The old windshield had been chipped and damaged over the last few years, and I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was. I drive down the road and I am able to see everything so much more clearly now.

It’s a lot like my life at the current time, where I believe I am getting a fresh perspective on several elements of my current existence.

For example, I see clearly that:

♥ My health has suffered under the duress of my current work environment. I desperately need time to heal, rest, recharge and recuperate.

♥ I need to take care of my body and soul. This has to be THE priority of my life.

♥ Unemployment wouldn’t be all that bad…well, for a little while at least. I have not really had a break for ages, and even the vacation time I had last summer was quite stress-filled. I would love some time to sit by the pool, walk in the sunshine, read novels, produce some great photographs, and write.

♥ Leaving “my people” behind will be difficult. I have made some significant attachments during the last two years, and now I’ll be going. I am really, really inept at goodbyes, but I will try and do them as gracefully as I possibly can. I know that “love” is a strong word, but there are some of these folks that I have come to love that I must now leave.

♥ As much as I’ve been resisting change, here it comes. I need to embrace it. I have started to do just that by taking a few substantive actions: I have given notice on my house; I have filed for unemployment; I have decided to live in Eugene if I need to be unemployed for a while; and, as a symbol of this new life I am about to start, I even cut my hair. (Way short. My first hairstyle change since 1977.)

♥ As much as I am called to do the work of academic administration, Oregon may not be the place to continue to do this. Or, as much skill and experience as I bring to such work, there are other endeavors that probably suit me as well. [I doubt if I could make a living as an artist at this stage of my life (and I do still have to make a living), but I need to remain unattached as to the outcome of this particular transition.]

♥ I need to soak up the emotional support that I’ve been receiving lately, which has been totally delicious. There are lots of folks in my camp right now, on my side, checking in, expressing their concern and emotional support.

♥ I need to keep breathing and asking the universe: “what’s next?”

It is pretty great to have a new windshield for my life as well!

Angst at 40,000 Feet

My body is doing another number on me. It’s one stress symptom after another, it seems. This time: gastric distress. Really, honestly, I’m sure you don’t want to read about this latest development, so you should probably just stop right here.

After the interview in Washington last week, as I was driving back to Portland, I succumbed to hunger pangs late in the evening and took the Cougar, Washington, exit from the freeway and indulged in a McDonald’s fish sandwich. I’ve had lots of these meals in the past, of course, but it seems the combination of the stress of the interview day and this particular fast-food fix were a potent combination. I felt ill almost immediately, but went to work the next morning anyway despite obvious intestinal issues. I only made it a couple hours before I gave up and came home, though. The bathroom here is simply more convenient!

Just when it seemed I had recovered from that episode, I went to San Mateo, California, three days later for another interview. I had been eating only the blandest foods I could find, so my insides made it through that meeting just fine. Afterwards, however, at the San Francisco airport, I needed to eat before flying home later in the evening (I had almost five hours to kill, given how my schedule turned out). I had a chicken-salad sandwich at an eatery I’d had success with on other trips. Well, approximately the same thing happened to my body, only this time instead of a half-hour drive to get home (in my own car), I had an almost two-hour wait plus an hour-and-a-half in the air (sitting in a window seat!).

I honestly didn’t know if I was going to be able to handle the air travel. I was queasy and needed frequent visits to the rest room. How was this possibly going to work?

I had no idea. But, if there was any chance that I was actually going to get on that airplane, there was no way I could cope with a window seat. Luckily, it was possible to get an aisle seat, so I snapped that right up.

I thought about alerting a flight attendant about my unstable condition, but decided against it…I’d keep this little secret to myself unless it became an obvious and disruptive problem. A risky, but, as it turned out, good decision.

Then, the moment I got on the plane (I was alone in my new row!), I put on my headphones, with my iPod set to one of my quieter playlists.

I breathed. And breathed some more. And continued to focus on my breath.

An hour-and-a-half in the air. Can I do this? Yes, one minute of focusing on my breath at a time.

When the flight attendant came by, I asked for a 7-Up, thinking that would calm my stomach a bit. Nope, it didn’t. It had rather the opposite effect, so I drank very little.

When we were doing our initial climb, the pilot indicated we were at 27,000 feet headed for a cruising altitude of 40,000 feet. Ohmygod, I thought: 40,000 feet up, 40,000 feet down. Feeling like this. Oh. My. God.

Somewhere, at some point, when we were likely at that 40,000 foot level, I started sweating a little bit. I actually felt a bit feverish. And, I just could have sworn that I was sweating out chicken salad. I was thinking that if there had been anyone sitting next to me, they would have certainly detected perspiration with the distinct odor of my evening meal.

Oh, but that couldn’t be. Who’s ever heard of such a thing?

Fortunately, the story ends well. I made it through the flight with no major impossible urges. My shuttle was on time, and it rushed me home.

Whew! What a trip…

…and for what? I got the rejection call from San Mateo earlier today.

Lasting Security

My colleague Wendall died swiftly of a heart-attack on Thursday evening. A co-worker was able to drive him from campus to the emergency room during the crisis (it’s just down the street), but they were apparently able to do little for him. He was one day short of his 56th birthday, and leaves behind a wife, kids, grandkids, and a large number of stunned colleagues in his department and on the entire campus.

I worked with Wendall for nearly two years. When I accepted this interim job in 2004, I was slated initially to take over the supervision of the Science Division, but by the time I actually got to campus, the president had reorganized things a bit and I found myself leading the “Science & Technology Division.” The technology portion included the Industrial Technology Department (consisting of the Automotive, Machine Tool, and Welding Technologies), of which Wendall was the department chair.

Wendall was a weldor and welding instructor; from my perspective he loved his trade and he had a deep and abiding affection for his students. He was exceptionally dedicated to the mission of the Industrial Technology department, and worked long hours to make sure everything was moving along as it should. Most importantly he was, simply, a very decent human being.

I will miss him.

This event seems to be triggering, for me, overwhelming feelings of loss. Even though I know that loss is integral to our existence, I still am sad. Despite the length of time I’ve lived and how much I’ve learned, I guess I’ve never been able to accept the impermanent nature of the universe. One would think that, by now, I would know that any relationship is temporary. To begin a relationship with anyone, with anything, is to know that it will someday end.

This loss, taken with my other large losses in the last couple years, is serving to keep me, I believe, in a rather deep and prolonged melancholic state. I apparently cling to some kind of ideal that I can, at some point, “get it together.” It’s likely my perfectionist tendencies, and my sense of what’s “fair,” that lead to disappointment and my sense of loss and failure. And, I suppose it’s what keeps me “stuck” in whatever uncomfortable place this is that I am in.

“To think that we can finally get it all together is unrealistic. To seek for some lasting security is futile…Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope that there is anywhere to hide.

Hopelessness means that we no longer have the spirit for holding our trip together…Trying to get lasting security teaches us a lot, because if we never try to do it, we never notice that it can’t be done.” (Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart, p. 39)

Anniversary & A Passing

On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated in Memphis, TN. Two days later, as the country was experiencing utter turmoil from coast to coast, M and I were married at Trinity Lutheran Church in Eau Claire, WI. If that marriage had lasted, today we would have been celebrating 38 years of married life. Holy smokerinos, do these kinds of thoughts make me feel old!

I now find it interesting that I chose to get married in a year that was one of the most turbulent and definitive ones of the times. M and I went honeymooning when many of the major metropolitan areas of the country were experiencing riots in the aftermath of MLK’s murder. Bobby Kennedy was killed in California just a couple months later; two more months after that was the Democratic National Convention debacle in Chicago. My oh my, the flashbacks I’m having as I write this…

I guess if I can have memories this old, then feeling old, at least at times, isn’t all that surprising.

Lately, the energy I’ve been able to summon to make blog entries (well, actually, just to make it through the day) has waned a tad. Since last week, for sure, I’ve been trying to pace myself even more conscientiously that I usually do. Seeing my life’s blood literally gush from my body in the nosebleed episode had a big impact on me, I think. And, too, I was diagnosed with another eye infection last week. So, I’ve been fighting with that condition, which has led to diminished motivation to stare at a computer screen. Anyway, if you’re out there checking blog entries, you’ll probably have noticed less productivity from ol’ TechnoMonk.

I had a chat with a fellow I work with today. He’s a couple years younger than me, and he disclosed that, physically, he’s been struggling as well. It seems as if his energy level has taken an unexplained, precipitous drop. It wasn’t a gradual thing. Suddenly he’s fatigued all the time. All the medical tests that he’s had so far have turned up nothing; still, this kind of stuff can weigh mightily on one’s mind. I sure know about that firsthand.

It just another example of the fact: we never, really, have any control…

“Seeking security or perfection, rejoicing in feeling confirmed and whole, self-contained and comfortable, is some kind of death…[and is] setting ourselves up for failure, because sooner or later we’re going to have an experience we can’t control: our house will burn down, someone we love is going to die, we’re going to find out we have cancer, a brick is going to fall out of the sky and hit us on the head…to be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest. To live fully is to be always in no-man’s land…” (Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart, p. 71).

Postscript for the day ... As I was just putting the finishing touches on this entry, the phone rang. My supervisor, who normally does not call me at home, just did. The news is: one of our colleagues, a good man, and a department chair who reported directly to me, died this evening, apparently of a heart-attack. I don’t have the details. I am in shock. More later...