My last Monday in Mississippi, for a while.

I woke up this morning with that feeling of my impending departure in the pit of my stomach.

"This is my last Monday in MS for a while," wandered through my mind. I thought a run would rid it, but I'm still feeling the funk.

Maybe writing it down will help? I haven't blogged in a while. You'd think this TCK would be used to these feeling by now. Also, I haven't had any coffee yet this morning.

Holy crap I still have so much to do before I fly. Professionally and personally.


There are those people you want to be sure to spend time with before you go. There's the bitter feeling of never having enough time with my folks in the summers because I am always gone for the month of July. I always miss the Neshoba County Fair and that's starting to get real old real fast. 

Boo-hoo, Jessi, you're going to freaking LONDON. 

Yup. I am. And going there with 158 students, 12-ish faculty, 2 staff, multiple guests and visiting professors is a hell-of-a lot different than going for a vacay. So stop rolling your eyes. 


What's even more is that I've spent the last many weeks preparing for this program, and it's not even close to being over yet - the work is only just beginning. However I will say I do feel more prepared for this round than the last three...that's nice. It doesn't take away from the approaching load, though. 

Boo this feeling.

It's that feeling of wanting to make sure you tie up loose ends before you take off for six weeks. There are the usual friends you want to be sure to spend time with, even though you never say "goodbye" only, "see you later". They are friends who are equally as used to you departing as you are.

There are the family members you already don't see on a regular basis, but really won't see now - especially the one who lives with you and might not be there when you get back. Don't really want to come to grips with that.

And then there's that "anonymous friend". The one you weren't expecting to be a part of your life, certainly not in this very large way, completely unexpected. There are a lot of things you don't want to admit about that one. Nope.

Bugh.

It'll be fine, duh. All of it. But that doesn't mean I can't have all the thoughts I'm having.

Once you get past all the above - it's really quite thrilling. London for a month. Boom! Work hard for a month, and then shut down for two weeks. Two weeks of vacation traveling around London, Paris, Pontlevoy and Erlangen with the aforementioned "anonymous friend". Epic, it will be. You can be jealous. 


Just don't forget all this does come with a roller coaster of emotions. 


Good thing I have my head screwed on straight. Right?

Meet my "crazy"...

I found it today, my "crazy".

An anonymous friend has been trying to find my "crazy switch" since we started seeing more of each other. I've assured him I had it removed, and I have the scar on my arm to prove it. I think he's desperately trying to figure out what's "wrong" with me. It's not my fault the majority of his former "friends" have been...well, we'll just say he spent a lot of time chasing after some interesting characters...but that doesn't mean there's something wrong with me - right?

That's right! I am wonderful. Even in my imperfections. And most time it's their imperfections that draw me to "the other". It's what makes them unique.

Gross, I just said that.

All of that is beside the point. The purpose of this entry is: My "crazy" is visiting today and I don't remember how to keep it on lock.

It's all going on in my head. Right now. This very instant. It's quite the adventure.

There's got to be some research out there that points to chemical imbalances occurring within women's brains during random periods of time. It can't all just be me, there's got to be some science behind it.

I should Google it.

Today is one of those days where I literally feel like I am going clinically insane. I know "hormones" have a lot to do with it...but it hasn't hit me like this in a long while, so it's freaking me out.

No, not freaking me out - I don't play that game. It's more like, making-me-an-ugly-human-being-no-one-should-be-subjected-to.

I know part of how I control my "crazy" is through the help of my dear friends. They get to hear all about it. The ridiculous thoughts that go through my mind, the crazy urges I have, the irrational attitude that erupts out of no where spurred by the most insignificant thing.

I turn down invitations to events. I don't respond to text messages. Or phone calls. Or if I do, it's just to say, hi, you really don't want to talk to me right now, I'm having a crazy day, I'll call you when it passes. I don't want to be around people and they are happier not to be around me. It really makes my day catering to people, interesting.

Through the course of today I've thrown a few fits at the numerous idiotic questions students have emailed me to ask about their study abroad program. Silly? Yes. I should just respond and forget the small stuff. It's the principle of so many of them not reading anything I send out that throws me over the edge. I should also mention that the questions to set me off are those that come in the form of a direct reply to an email I sent seconds prior with the answer to their question answered in the first sentence of the email they replied to...you follow?

You know how sometimes life happens and you aren't attached to your cell phone so you don't respond to a text within seconds? Yeah - happens to me all the time. And I usually don't pay too much attention to a delayed response. Not today. Nope.

Meet my crazy.

I really do pride myself on keeping my cool, not overreacting to the small stuff, and being able to juggle a lot of things at one time.

Not today.

I got that chocolate urge too - that NEVER happens. Ever. So I left the office for a 15 minute break to hit up Starbucks before I hurt somebody, and when I got downstairs I realized our entire street has been netted off to the point of having to walk an extra third of the way around to get to where I was going.

Oh! To have seen my facial expression when I made that realization! You don't want me to repeat the bazaar that went through my mind at that moment.

So looky-there. I do have some crazy in me. Satisfied?

Don't you hate those time stamped emails?

I've been calling students departing on our newest program this summer to inform them of our plans to "ticket" for the group flight (assign their name to an actual seat) and Eur Rail pass next week. We do this to explain that even though the payment deadline for the program isn't for a few weeks, they will owe the money for both of these items no matter what happens (read: make sure you have your $#!^ together).

The majority of students today rely on some form of Financial Aid to fund a portion if not the majority of their program - this means that come the payment deadline they are not always due any money out of pocket to us, because their aid typically doesn't get released until days before the program departs. If they have enough aid to cover the full cost of the program, then they don't pay anything out of pocket before departure. Breaking it down even further, students can drop out days before the program and not be out any money, but we lose because we've usually already paid out on their behalf. In the case of their airline tickets we can't do anything but charge them for it because it belongs to them after we ticket, and if they withdraw from the program, well, "congratulations you have an international plane ticket good for a year! Woohoo!"

When I make these calls I leave a lot of messages. I understand, I screen my calls too. Sometimes while I'm on the phone leaving another message, one of the students who screened my call earlier returns the call and leaves me a message. One student, we'll call her Shelley, left this message:

"Hi, this is Shelley, you just left me a message about the ________ program and I'm just calling to let you know that I withdrew from that program a long time ago, so I don't understand why you're calling me at all. Please call me back."

I called Shelley back. "Hi Shelley, this is Jessica with the ________ program returning your call..."

"Yeah, I talked to y'all, like, months ago, and withdrew my application for that program, so I don't know why you are calling me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Shelley, we hate to lose you! I called you about the program because I'm actually looking at your very active application online right now. If you would log in when you have a moment later and click the withdrawal button though, you will be officially removed from the program. Either that or send us an email - we just need something in writing from you."

"I did this weeks ago, I just don't understand, my application is already withdrawn. I already did all of that."

"I'm sorry for the confusion, Shelley, but when you log back in you'll see that you're still listed as being approved to go on the program - there's nothing to worry about, this is why we make these phone calls. All you have to do is withdraw or shoot us that email."

"Well I won't be near internet tonight."

"Totally understandable, there's no rush, I've noted our conversation and you have about a week to get this done before we ticket."

End of conversation....

So, I continued with my list. About a minute after I hung up with Shelley, an email popped into my inbox from our application software. You see, whenever a student does anything within their application, our software notifies us in case we need to follow up with that student. Ingenius, I know. Well this particular email named the program for which I was making these phone calls, and you'll never guess whose name was listed having "WITHDRAWN APPLICATION"...

The notification email came in while I was leaving yet another message for a different student and simultaneously I saw my new voicemail light turn on. Another message!

"Hi, this is Shelley, I just spoke with you and told you that I had already withdrawn from that program, and I just checked my application online and it indeed lists me as withdrawn so if you could call me back and tell me that you misread my application and that everything is okay now I would appreciate it. Thanks."

HA!

Shelley didn't know it, but she really didn't want me to call her back.

Instead, I counted to 10, took a deep breath, and clicked "Forward"on the Application Withdrawal announcement email.

Dear Shelley,

We spoke on the phone earlier in regards to your ________ Program application. Sorry for the confusion but I wanted to let you know we just received your successful application withdrawal, today, at the time marked below in the confirmation email. Thank you for taking care of this and please know how sorry we are to lose you, and we hope you will consider studying abroad in the future!

Have a fantastic day!

Mothers....not mine.

For having not been in the home office for the month of April in two years, I sure have experienced a whirlwind of a welcome back! The phones ring off the hook. Students are studying abroad - that's great! And with the Olympic summer approaching we're seeing a banner year in terms of enrollment for London. All positive, woohoo!

We're also seeing more "friends" and "parents" wanting to come over. Which makes for interesting phone calls. I picked up a call to the main line from a mother the other day, her son is studying abroad on "the study abroad program" this summer and she was hoping to have a few questions answered, could she speak to me about them?

Of course, ma'am, I'll be happy to help - would you mind telling me which program your son is participating on? The London one. Great. Thank you.

She proceeded to ask a few of the usual questions that we do in fact go over during our pre-departure orientation closer to program departure, but I answered them for her nonetheless. Towards the end of our conversation she asked about the mini-break travel period, "housing is not provided during that time, is this correct?"

Yes ma'am, that is correct, students pack up and move out for that period of time, all travel and accommodation is independent of the program during the mini-break.

"And when do they start to make those arrangements?"

Well, some students will plan their mini-break travels long before program departure, but many students wait until they are actually in London, to see where their friends decide to go, and they make plans together.

"Oh I see, well my husband and I would like to come over during that time to get him from place to place, is that something people do?"

Do parents come to visit? Yes, parents and friends come every year to visit program participants. Generally they come before the program or after the program rather than during the mini-break because that time is rather short, but it's entirely possible.

"Oh wonderful. So when will we pay for those arrangements?"

I'm sorry, I don't think I understand your question?

"Well for those travel arrangements, the ones during the mini-break, when will we pay you for that?"

Um, well, I don't make those arrangements, they are separate from the program, your son will make his arrangements. Not our office. If you decide to come over during that time, then you can make those plans accordingly.

"Oh, I see, so you're not just the travel agent?"

What does that even mean?


No, no ma'am, I am not a travel agent, far from it actually. But our office does in fact work with a travel agent and I would be happy to put you in touch with her if you need assistance planning any sort of non-program-related travel.

"Well that would be wonderful, yes, thank you."


I have an even better one coming later...

Ils ne sont pas propres...

Some people can't use the bathroom in public places. It's like a phobia or something. I like to think of it as purely lack of experience.

How can anyone lack experience going to the bathroom? Well, it's not the act/s I'm referring to, it's the locations in which the act/s is/are performed.

I think growing up in third world countries taught me that "when you gotta go, you go wherever you can"; and, to consider it lucky if said place has walls, a door, a floor, a toilet, toilet paper, running water, etc. Really if just one of all the above exists, count your blessings.

Personally I prefer the squatters, or a simple hole in the ground/behind a bush because you don't have to touch anything. And actually, I think I read somewhere that women empty their bladders better from that angle/position than from just sitting upright on a commode?

Where the hell is this coming from? I promise I don't just sit around thinking about bodily functions and where they happen.

I spent all night at CHU Bichat-Claude Bernard hospital in Paris with a student. As you can imagine, in the many hours I was there, sitting, watching, waiting, I had to visit the WC...

My first visit was actually in the toilettes of les chambres des urgences. As he directed me to the WC, the nurse said, "j'espere qu'ils sont propre."

They were not "propre". Think of any substance one could excrete, including the essence of life pumping through our veins, and you'll have a vague idea of what welcomed me. The metallic toilet bowl was the "cleanest" part of the room. Did I notice the disgusting view? Of course I did, I tweeted about it sans photograph (you're welcome). But the main thing I noticed was that there was toilet paper. #WhatABlessing. And that it was actually on a roll attached to the wall, not on the floor soaking up things-we-shall-not-mention.

Generally I practice two things when it comes to public restrooms:

1. Before entering the "area" I immediately stop breathing through my nose so as to avoid any unnecessary smells from entering my nostrils. I think this started at an early age from when I used to vomit any time I got in a moving vehicle. I still practice this when I start to feel motion sick, but I vaguely remember as a child despising the smell of cars and associating that (the smell, not the actual motion sickness) with my reason for vomiting.
2. I always carry a small packet of tissues in my purse, or a paper napkin, just in case. Mom taught me this one.

I am positive my experience in the emergency room toilets would have been far worse had my sense of smell absorbed the sight. Furthermore, had I been in practice of rule #2 above, my second experience, in the toilettes dans la salle d'attente (waiting room), would have been even better.

Alas, there are those moments in a woman's life when she must practice the drip/shake and just go with it.

I was trying to head upstairs to change into running gear...

minute 0.50 is when it really takes off.

Break in case of emergency...

I gave my staff the go-ahead to have last weekend off to drive to Amsterdam. So my two student coordinators, two local guys from Pontlevoy, and one of the staff members from The Abbey took off at 4am Thursday, packed into a rental car.

The night before their departure we found ourselves at Le Commerce ordering "corner pizza" and playing blackjack, and the five of them were going on about what fun they would have, the sights they would see, all the culture they would soak up [ahem].

I decided because everyone was leaving me to manage the students solo, they should return bearing gifts. So I proposed this challenge: whomever could bring me back the corniest/cheesiest souvenir from Amsterdam for under 5 Euros would be treated to dinner, by me, with everyone else who participates in attendance. After some explanation and translation of the words "corny" and "cheesy" into French, everyone accepted the challenge.

They left, they survived, they returned alive Sunday evening. I made a reservation for our group at Le Procoppio for Monday night and made it clear that I wasn't to know who selected each souvenir; I needed to separate the objects from the people. At dinner, an unbiased party pulled each souvenir out from a bag, and placed them in front of me.

Wow. What treasures!

I couldn't just choose on the spot, I needed some time to contemplate my decision. I needed to get to know each souvenir, and announced I would remove one from the pile after each course.

The keychain was the first to go. Followed by the wooden tulip. Both fantastic souvenirs that I will cherish from that time everyone else went to Amsterdam without me, but neither worthy of the prize.

That left the incredibly creepy children-of-the-corn-looking dutch kids wearing wooden clogs sitting in a tulip shaped magnet - OR - the pornographic snow globe that inspired the title of this blog (with a little help from an anonymous friend). Yes, that is a penis inside the snow globe. Yes, that is a naked lady riding it, sitting on top of a marijuana leaf.

Note: Some might find this vulgar or inappropriate. It might make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry.

What a difficult choice to make!

During our dessert course, I removed the magnet and announced the snow globe the winner. Congratulations, Nora!

Why, you ask? Believe me, it really was a difficult choice, those children are oh-so-corny...and I do look forward to welcoming them into my magnet collection on the fridge at home; but I thought the magnet really depicted Holland as a whole, not Amsterdam in particular.

And, what screams "corny/cheesy Amsterdam souvenir" louder than a penis-snow-globe from the Red Light District?