Life

BIKES!

Posted on March 24, 2014 by caseykins

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I am very out of shape, and the reason I know this is because I rode my new vintage-style Schwinn downtown on Sunday and nearly killed myself.  I’m still sore from the effort.  It didn’t help that I had also forgotten to bring any water, a mistake I will not make again.  I am thrilled with the bike, though.  It is everything I wanted: a cruiser with seven speeds and a back tire rack.  It’s a man’s bike; a Schwinn Point Beach; navy blue and cream with white wall tires.  I bought a large wicker crate, which I strapped to the rack with zip ties, and a bell with a navy blue owl on it.  All I need now is a vintage headlight and the bike is perfect.  It’s pretty near to perfection already.  It’s my own physique that needs the work.

I am pretending that downtown is a very long and arduous distance.  Don’t burst my bubble.  Yes I know that it is really only about a mile of extraordinarily flat terrain, and that I’m a drama queen.  Brian and I walk the same route several times a week.  I also know that going to Scripps – up the steep incline that is Indian Hill Boulevard – will be a billion times worse.  I’m working up to that.  I have a few weeks in which I will ride around and hope that the throbbing in my thighs stops before I’m a regular commuter on the thing.  I may take it to my grandfather’s house next weekend, a similar incline on Towne Avenue (which runs parallel to Indian Hill).  I may also think better of it before I get there.  I know I’ll regret it if I decide to do it, but the thought of that zippy, downhill ride back home might win out.

I make fun, but really I’m thrilled about it.  We’ve parked it next to Brian’s car in the garage and every time we go anywhere I give it a little pat.  I’m trying to think of a name for it, as all beloved vehicles should have names.  I’m looking forward to getting in shape as I pedal around Claremont.  I’ve been trolling the web for fancy bike accessories.  The ukulele fits beautifully in the back crate.  There really isn’t a downside.

Except the sore legs.

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So, uh… Why “Caseykins?”

Posted on March 13, 2014 by caseykins

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I’m not really worried about privacy.  My real name is on the sidebar.  I’m open about the fact that I work at Disney and at Chapman.  If someone wanted to find me they probably could – and that doesn’t worry me much.  I don’t think a bona fide stalker wouldn’t be deterred by that stuff anyway.  I know from being the socially acceptable kind of stalker, the internet stalker, that more information is likely to sate than rile.  I’ve never been that private of a person unless we’re talking about my deep, dark secrets; or my internal monologue.  Those are not available from following me around, and they can’t be stolen.  So why an alias?  Well, many reasons.

First of all, my mother used to call my sister and I Caseykins and Codykins when we were growing up.  Her mother had called her Kathykins.  So in the way mothers morph into their own mothers, it’s a name I’ve been given as a birthright.  I started to use it when I felt like I needed an alias on the internet.  I no longer feel the need for anonymity, but there are other reasons to keep it.

I go by Casey E. Hamilton now that I’m married, on my official paperwork (although I answer to Case, Monkey Face, CJ, Hepsula, Cassie and Hey You).  My maiden name is Casey Jean Elderkin.  You see where I’m going with this?  ElderKIN?  I didn’t stop being me when I got married.  I’m the new and improved version of the younger me, and she’s still in there.  I feel like being Caseykins Hamilton is the best of both worlds; a little of married me, a little of maiden me.  So if this is the internet and we all get to be who we want to be, she is it.

There is also the nostalgia of the fact that I have been Caseykins on the internet since the ‘90s.  It doesn’t hold much weight, but my love of others’ history also makes me venerate my own.  You can accuse me of being self idulgent if you want.  I’ll agree with you, even while I can’t help it.

And that’s why Caseykins.

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A Week In Review:

Posted on March 7, 2014 by caseykins

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Having a mini composition book, and a phone that looks like a mini composition book is not as cute and adorable an idea as it may first seem.  I keep thinking the book is the phone and leaving home without essential things.  One of them has to go.  It won’t be the phone.

Cadbury Creme Eggs are out in force.  They are like a perfect, egg-shaped sugar coma, just waiting in the shiny foil for you to take a bite and enter heart-racing bliss.  I have already eaten more than are good for me, although so far I’ve kept it below one a day.  So far… I walked into the campus bookstore today and saw them at the counter.  Resistance might be futile.

I am going to a girls gathering this Saturday and it promises to be a great time.  All my favorite people will be there.  The only problem is that they are all Brian’s favorite people as well.  “If I buy a wig, can I go too?” he keeps asking.  Um – let me think about it… No.

There is a shop in downtown Claremont that carries blooming teas.  Those are the kind in the Marie Antoinette movie, where you put hot water on them and the bud blooms at the bottom of your dainty porcelain cup (because if you’re drinking blooming tea, it’s out of porcelain, preferably with gold somewhere).  I fell prey to the loose-leaf Lady Grey tea this time, but it’s probably only a matter of time before I can’t resist the other.  I’ll have to buy an appropriate cup.  Most of my mugs were purchased for volume and not class.

I misread the publishing date on a book I was dying to read.  It’s coming out May 6th, not March.  I am now upset that I have to wait, but I’ve been consoling myself with murder (in the form of Agatha Christie novels).

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Afghans (the kind you crochet, not the kind who live in the desert)

Posted on March 5, 2014 by caseykins

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I always forget that crocheting goes so incredibly fast.  This is a very fortunate thing.  There has been a rush of babies this year.  Every time I turn around, someone else is expecting.  Not just family, either, but good friends and coworkers.  I like to make afghans for babies, if I can, which means that I am on the afghan train.  My “With Yarn” Pinterest board is getting well used.  I’m working on the afghans in order of due date.

I’m fairly excited about it.  This gives me a chance to make a slough of things.  I don’t have to decide on which one, I only have to decide who gets what.  I’m trying all the options, and all the options are out there.  There are boys, there are girls whose parents don’t like pink, and there are unknown genders until birth.

Amongst all of this, I have realized that my process when making an afghan is much like writing a novel.  I spend far too much time waffling about structure and color.  I stand in the yarn aisle for hours, pulling out colors and seeing how they look together, before finally coming home with a gargantuan bag full of the stuff.  Then I start hooking, absorbed in the way the pieces are coming together in my hands.

Somewhere in the middle, I look at the color scheme and the work that I’ve done and start thinking I’m crazy.  This will never come out the way I think it should.  Who thought that brown and yellow were a good idea, even with all the blue and green between?  Did I pick the correct ratio of white to other colors?  Is it baby enough? But when I finish and look at the whole thing, I usually end up satisfied.  The only way to finish anything is to trust the person I was when I made decisions, and push through.

The first one is more than 1/2 finished.  I’ve been working on it for three days.  Maybe this making 4 afghans within a few months thing will go alright after all.  Also, everyone needs to stop having babies after this so my poor hands can rest.  You’re all on notice until next year.

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The Princess Leia of Pastry

Posted on March 4, 2014 by caseykins

I have been trying not to say too much about job interviews, because you never know.  Even if the interview went well and you’re imminently qualified, you don’t know who else is walking into that office and sitting down with the staff.  The best thing you can hope for is that you presented yourself as the best you are.  Then you know that if you aren’t offered the job it’s because there was genuinely a better candidate for the position.

That being said, I have an interview with Scripps College.  In an effort to cobble together a definitive answer to “why Scripps, specifically?” (I didn’t think “because pretty campus, music” was good enough) I did a little digging on their website.  I learned that the Fine Arts Foundation is based there, an organization that my grandmother was instrumental in helping to run until she was diagnosed with cancer.  There is a memorial scholarship in her name, too.

I was trying to explain the significance of this to Brian, how we were such a tight-knit family that it was part of my childhood as well.  The only thing I could think of  to illustrate my point was the Saint Lucia lunch.  My sister and I participated several years in a row.  I was probably about ten.

“What is Saint Lucia?” he asked.

“It’s a Swedish thing,” I said.  “On the winter solstice, the oldest girl in the family dresses as Saint Lucia, in a white dress with a red sash and candles in a wreath on her head.  She wakes everyone up in the dark and invites them to breakfast.”

Brian started laughing.

“No, I mean it sounds a little silly, but I think it’s about returning to the bountiful spring again,” I said.

“So how does this fit in with the Fine Arts Foundation?” he asked.

“They used to have a brunch once a year.  There were about four of us who would dress up, braid our hair, and pass out hot cross buns on a silver tray. I was usually the oldest.”

“Like Princess Leia, but with baked goods?”

“Uhh, yes,” I said.

“That’s awesome.”

There were fashion shows sometimes, too, and other little events.  Still, I will always remember the suited lady in the banquet hall lighting the real candles on my wreath, blooming golden in the dark, tables scattered around.  They placed the tray in my hands, piled with pastry, and slid the doors open to the white reception room.  I was ordered not to walk anywhere until the candles had been blown out.  For a split second, I got to be Kirsten Larsen the American Girl, and invite them all to breakfast.  At the age of ten, it doesn’t get better than this.

Whatever happens this afternoon, Scripps’ history and my history are intertwined.  I doubt I’ll ever get to be the Princess Leia of pastry again, but at least I have the memories.

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Rainy Day

Posted on February 27, 2014 by caseykins

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It’s such a dreary and drizzly day here.  And Californians freak out in the rain.  They turn from reasoned (if aggressive) commuters into slippery slidey old folks, creeping along at tiny speeds and following too close.  I spent the morning driving in this travesty, only to learn from the radio that a big-rig had overturned ahead and was blocking all but one lane of traffic.  The heavy traffic turned into stopped gridlock as the sky poured buckets on my little white car.  It took us almost fifteen minutes to move a mile down the road.  I clocked in with just seconds to spare before I was penalized for being late.  Brian had to drop me off first, which meant he had to also spend his lunch hour picking me up so I could get to job 2 on time.   He’s such a good guy sometimes.  Okay, oftentimes.

I had been looking forward to this rain.  I wasn’t factoring in the commute thing.  I pulled my grandmother’s old raincoat out of my closet and wore it to work today.  I never realized that it was reversible when she wore it, but it is.  Violent green on one side and navy on the other, with pocket flaps on each side of the coat.  It was the first real chance I’ve had since my grandfather handed it to me the day he cleaned out the coat closet.  I felt like all I really needed was a wide hat and a pair of tap shoes with bows on the ankles, and then I could be Debbie Reynolds.  Unfortunately, I’m no Debbie Reynolds.  After this morning, I won’t be singing nor will I be dancing in the rain.  We still have to drive home after work, still raining, in the deepening dark.

I’m still looking forward to tomorrow, though.  I worked Sunday, so I get to have Friday off as a consolation prize.  I’ll be able to sit in my warm, four poster bed and listen to the rain fall outside the window.  I’ll have time to make myself a pot of Imperial Earl Gray.  I won’t have to deal with a bevy of commuters in the rain.  That should be much better, right?

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Statement of Intent

Posted on February 13, 2014 by caseykins

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I’m working on my grad school application again.  I missed the deadline to be considered for the stipend due to work craziness, but I was a terribly long shot anyway.  It is that damn statement of intent that is the real problem.  I have been through four full drafts from scratch, and I’m not convinced that it is any better at all this time than it was the first.  They are all equally awful.  I know why, too.

If I were to be brutally honest with the selection committee, I’m not sure that I’ll complete this degree.  I think there is a strong chance that I won’t.  My economic situation is such that I have to have a full time job.  Classes that start at 4:30 are classes I can’t take.  Even if I could handle the higher work load of more classes, Chapman’s regular schedule limits me to about two classes a semester.  Whether I can even handle more, though, is a big “if.” It will take me at least three years (and probably more) to get through the program as a part time student.  Brian, who works at Chapman, is pondering a new job within the next few years.  Without tuition remission, I can’t afford a Chapman education.

Even if all of the other things work out, I am turning 32 this year.  If I don’t start having children soon, my expiration date will fly right by.  Kids, full time jobs, and masters degrees don’t mesh.  Pick two.  I already know which two I choose, and it’s the masters degree that gets dumped.  That is not a position that will get me admitted, I’m certain of it.

That’s why this statement of intent has been hard for me.  My intents are nothing, not even to finish.  I only intend to take as many classes as I’m able, and become a better writer.  But how do you express that in three pages worth of words, a paper where most people want to talk about their hopes and dreams?  I find myself unable to lie, and unable to pretend that I have bigger goals that I actually do.  I’m not even sure what I can offer Chapman in return, except for a dedication to do well in class.  This is probably where being a twenty one year old idealist with no bullshit filter comes in handy.  That used to be me, but how the world does change us.

I’m making Brian read draft four tonight in hopes that he will be able to recognize how to save this Statement of Intent where I have failed.  I’m not writing draft five from scratch.  I refuse.   Unless this one isn’t good enough…

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Interterm Reading List

Posted on February 4, 2014 by caseykins

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It is officially the end of Interterm this week. The students are back, regular classes are in session. That probably means that I should post my reading list for this school season. Yes, I’m not in class anymore. Still, I’m working at a college and the year seems to divide itself naturally into these sections. The reading list is smaller than the others, I’ll admit, but Interterm is short. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

Anyway, here is my official Interterm reading list with reviews:

1. Consider The Lobster – David Foster Wallace: His writing is excellent, but I can’t get over the conviction that he’s embellishing the truth for a better story. I’ve caught him in a few.

2. Elizabeth The First Wife – Lian Dolan: Super smutty like promised, but a bit contrived. I still loved it because the girl and the guy get together in the end. I’m terrible that way.

3. Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding: So excellent, with an endearing and neurotic main character you just have to love.

4. Lives Like Loaded Guns – Lyndall Gordon: The life of Emily Dickenson and her family. Heartbreaking, makes me glad I’m not a Victorian woman, and impossible to put down.

5. The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published – Arielle Eckstut & David Henry Sterry: Lots of interesting stuff to ponder. Makes me think that a lot of my instincts about just putting my writing out there are right.

6. Power of Three – Diana Wynne Jones: One of her best, I think. You know it’s one thing and then it morphs into another entirely. Clever and fun. I couldn’t put it down.

7. Shadows – Robin McKinley: Written from the 1st person POV of a rather gushy high school girl, but that’s its only flaw. I am otherwise IN LOVE with this book.

8. Nine Coaches Waiting – Mary Stewart: Oh another that I have re-read to death. It’s Raul mostly, I’ll admit, but the setting is beautiful, the suspense heartbreaking, and the end perfect.  So perfect!

9. On Writing Well – William Zinsser: In the absence of teachers, I have books… this confirmed a lot of my already held assumptions and clarified a bunch of questions. Clever read, and helpful.

10. Beauty – Robin McKinley: Loved all but the very end. Happily Ever After doesn’t quite satisfy when the rest is so sophisticated, and when I had such a deep affection for life pre-Happily Ever After.

11. Pegasus – Robin McKinley: It’s ½ a book, and it ends SO traumatically. Otherwise, it’s a beautiful setting and a beautiful concept. I’ll be picking up the next ASAP, please write fast! 🙂

In other news, my book list is stacking up horribly fast, no thanks to Amazon’s Kindle Daily Deals. For the first time in a long time, my to-read list is more than ten books long. I’m in the middle of Inkheart right now, far enough in to know that I love it, but not far enough to have more of an opinion than that. Then there is In Cold Blood, a book about German fighter pilots and how they felt about working for Hitler, seven romance novels (hey, it is February…), Robin McKinley’s Rose Daughter, and Tom Zoellner’s new book about trains. I have a feeling I’ll be adding sequels to that as well. It’s overwhelming. I practically need the smaller commute I’m seeking, just for the extra reading hours. That is also a story I’m sticking with.  We’ll see how it goes when I post Spring’s reading list…

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You Really Like Me

Posted on January 31, 2014 by caseykins

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What has been the most amazing to me during this job search is the number of people I have who are pulling for me.  It’s flabbergasting.  I love them for it.  Some of these are people that I don’t even know that well, or only on a brief professional level.  People like Brian’s boss and the professors at Dodge have offered to keep an eye out for jobs, pondering who they can call.  They’re also people I’ve worked closer with, like my current boss who has been sending me jobs to apply for and offering to go over my resume.  My friends are there for me, too.  My inbox is full of words of support and more job links, and offers of resume help.  Brian has provided days of flowers and shoulders to cry on.

It’s made everything so much easier to bear.  You like me.  You really like me, I say like Sally Fields.  I am the sort of gal who hates to ask favors of people, so the fact that others have offered means all the more.  I really like you too.   Thanks for the support.

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Blessing In Disguise?

Posted on January 23, 2014 by caseykins

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Why do I always have such a hard time writing a blog entry lately?  It’s not like lots hasn’t happened.  I guess I’m just not ready to tell the world about my woes, and not just because I don’t really want to talk about it.  It’s a little embarrassing.  I don’t want to come off as a complainer.  I have this need to pretend that I am a triumphant adult living a perfect life when the reality is quite different.  Especially now that I won’t have a job in three months.

Yes, that’s right.  You heard me.  Chapman University is reorganizing their entire University Advancement division.  My position is one of the several being eliminated.  They will not give us a concrete time frame, but they said it will be at least two months and maybe three.  The Dean told me they would keep me as long as they could manage, but that it was mostly out of his control.

You would think I should be distraught.  I’m not.

I can claim to be worried.  I can claim to be weary.  The last thing I want to spend my time doing is applying for jobs.  It takes hours to write a good cover letter, and then I send it all out into the vacuum of the internet and never hear back.  I do this several times a week, and maybe I will hear from one place in the three months before I’m out of a job, student loan debts still clamoring to be paid.  It’s enough to make a girl give up and agree to live in abject poverty the rest of her life.  None of the other options seem to be working.

But as much as I loathe the thought of a job search, I relish the idea of being in a new job.  Maybe I could get a job in Claremont without a three hour commute.  I could walk to work, or buy that teal beach cruiser.  I could work one job with a real live lunch hour instead of rushing from busy job #1 to busy job #2 with only minutes to spare.  And it could be much worse.  I still have job #1.  I may have to scrimp and save my pennies, but I will be able to pay the rent.  I won’t starve.  I have a bevy of people willing to give me good references.

The uncertainty is what’s killing me most.  Is this a good thing or a bad thing?  I just don’t know.  It’s too early to tell.  So I cling to good and hope it comes true.

I have a feeling the phrase “blessing in disguise,” is about to come out of my mouth about five million times.

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