Forget Me Not: A Short Story of Alzheimer's

At the first Alzheimer's Association Great Minds meeting, I learned that Chicken Soup for the Soul is publishing a book about living with Alzheimer's and dementia. I knew right away I had to submit a story for it. Writing has long been my form of therapy, I've filled journals and felt so much better after putting pen to paper and getting whatever is in my heart and on my mind out.

There was a lot I wish I could have said, but I was limited to the 1200 word maximum. I plan on taking this short story and expanding it into a novel during National Novel Writing Month next month (aka NaNoWriMo, a challenge to write a 50,000-word novel during the month of November). I submitted this story tonight, and I should know by March whether or not it will be published in the Chicken Soup for the Soul collection.

***

"Forget Me Not" 

Nursing homes always seem to have an almost unnatural quiet about them. It must have something to do with the thick, plush carpet that hushes your footsteps, the quiet chatter of nurses, and the patients, clustered soundlessly in chairs in common rooms, or hidden behind the closed doors of their rooms.  Even a whisper seems too loud.

It is in this unnaturally quiet hallway that I wait, just outside Granny’s small apartment-style room, for my parents to finish up their goodbyes. The room was too crowded, so after hugging Granny goodbye, my face brushing her blue suit that she’s been wearing for the past several weeks since we can’t convince her to wear anything else, I lean against the wall, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and wait.

“And Angie, make sure to tell Courtney to come see me more often,” I hear Granny say.

My heart stops for a second and my stomach plummets. The moment I’ve been dreading, since Granny was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s several years before, has finally happened. She has forgotten that I was just there, that I had just spent an hour answering her repeated questions. The moments I spent with her weren’t enough for a memory to form. She had forgotten me.

I don’t hear Mom’s response. It’s all I can do to keep the tears from falling, to try and keep from sobbing as my heart breaks in two.

This is the beginning of the end, the long, slow decline into confusion and forgotten memories. While we could usually explain away the repeated questions, the mixing up of one grandchild with another, but it is impossible to deny a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s when Granny can’t remember spending an hour with me.

***

Dad punches in the code at the door to Monticello House. You have to put in a code to get in or out, so that patients can’t wander away. It is a depressingly necessary safety measure, but one that keeps my wandering Grandpa safely inside.

The lock clicks and Dad opens the door. I try to mentally prepare myself for this visit, clutching my senior pictures that I’ve brought for Grandpa’s room. Grandpa has gotten quieter in the last few visits, hardly talking to us at all and never initiating a conversation. He has started to become so different from the sociable, talkative, never-knew-a-stranger grandfather from my childhood that I have a hard time visiting with him. It hurts too much to see him quiet.

I follow Dad into Grandpa’s room. Grandpa is sitting in his chair, staring at, but not watching and comprehending, the evening news program that plays quietly on his TV. He looks up when we enter, but there isn’t much recognition in his eyes.

“Hi Grandpa,” I say, leaning down to hug him. He feels so small.

I hand him my framed senior pictures. “I brought some senior pictures for you!” I say, forcing some cheer into my voice.

Grandpa looks at the pictures and his brow furrows. He runs a finger across the frame, purses his lips. “That’s an awfully pretty girl. Do you know her?” he asks me.

I try to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. “Yeah, Grandpa,” I say, trying to keep my voice from quivering and blinking quickly. If I blink fast enough, the tears that are quickly building won’t escape. “That’s me, Grandpa, Courtney.”

Grandpa looks at me, his brow still puckered in confusion. I can see how much he’s struggling, how hard he’s trying to place how he knows me. Every moment of his struggle twists my stomach and tugs at my heart.

“Your granddaughter,” I say, trying so hard to keep the hurt out of my voice.

“Oh,” Grandpa says, and looks back at the pictures. He can’t connect the dots. He knows my face, but he doesn’t remember me. All the memories of me, of spending the night at his and Grandma’s house, of trying to teach me how to cast with a Mickey Mouse fishing pole in the backyard, of trips to Gatlinburg and scrambling over rocks at the Chimney Tops picnic grounds, of him chasing after a younger me, vacuuming up the crumbs that spill from the cookies in my hands with his handheld Dirt Devil, of Christmases with presents wrapped with at least ten pieces of tape, are gone.

Dad reaches out and rubs my shoulder. “How about we put those pictures on your shelf?” he asks Grandpa, reaching over and taking the frame. He places it on the same shelf as the other family pictures, smiling faces that Grandpa looks at every day and most likely doesn’t recognize. He has already asked Dad once before who the lady with him in the picture is, pointing to my grandma, his wife of almost 52 years, that he no longer remembers.

“Doesn’t that look nice?” Dad asks.

Grandpa nods, his attention diverted back to the TV, which is now playing Wheel of Fortune. The multicolored wheel spins and blurs in the reflection on his glasses, reflecting the blurry haze of memories he can no longer navigate.

***

We’re crowded into Granny’s dim, small room. I’m sitting in between Mom, who is talking quietly to Aunt Becky, and my brother Josh, who is playing on his phone. My sister Brittany plays with Cali and Eli, our cousin Megan’s kids. Uncle Eddie, Aunt Linda, Dad, Uncle Bob, and Kari are grouped together on the other side of the room. We’re circled around Granny’s bed, biding our time as she spends what are surely her last hours sleeping.

Snow is falling lightly outside. It’s Christmas Eve. I check the time on my phone, as I’m supposed to meet Mitchell for Christmas dinner with his dad’s family. The minutes pass by, ticking closer to the time when I need to leave. I don’t want to go. I don’t know when the next time I’ll see my grandmother alive will be.

Granny has been sleeping through most of our visits with her. We keep a quiet vigil, on alert every time her breath catches, knowing that each time her chest falls, it may not rise again. When she does wake, she mumbles random phrases, or talks as if she was a child growing up in the Great Depression again. She does not recognize us. We are just trying to keep her comfortable and peaceful until the end.

I check my phone again. I’ve stayed as long as I can. I get up from my chair and say to Mom, “I have to go. Dinner at Mitchell’s mamaw’s house starts in half an hour.”

I walk over to the side of Granny’s bed and grasp her hand. I kiss her wrinkled cheek like I’ve done so many times before.

“Bye, Granny,” I whisper. “I love you.”

Her eyes open, and she searches my face. Then she squeezes my hand, and a flash of recognition I haven’t seen in years is in her eyes. She knows who I am, even if she can no longer pull my name from the recesses of her mind. Beneath the plaques and tangles, and the neurons that no longer fire the way they should, she knows me. She always has. 

The Great Debate: Liberal Arts vs. STEM

It just wasn't a fall semester on Purdue's campus without several weeks of Letters to the Editor in the Exponent claiming that Engineering was better than Liberal Arts, and that Liberal Arts students were destined to spend their entire careers asking "Do you want fries with that?". Liberal Arts students weren't immune either; there would be several letters from Liberal Arts students claiming that Engineers were uncultured and couldn't spell. Ah, the great debate.

Purdue's College of Engineering is the largest college at the school (which should surprise absolutely no one). The College of Liberal Arts, however, is the second largest college (which never fails to surprise lots of people). Purdue is attempting to stop the great debate and have more Liberal Arts/Engineering integration, which you can read about in this Exponent article (yes, I follow the Exponent on Twitter. Please don't remind me that I'm not on campus anymore and can't read a physical copy). The article mentions COMM 114, the introductory speech class that all Purdue students must take in order to graduate, and suggests that science students take some humanities courses, and that Liberal Arts students take some science classes.

What the Exponent article fails to mention, however, is that there's a great Liberal Arts program that already makes an effort to bridge the gap between Liberal Arts and the STEM majors. I'm sure you can guess where I'm going with this, because I never miss a moment to brag on the program that was the best possible fit for me and helped me find a job that I love, but the Professional Writing program already works with the STEM classes.

Professional Writing is, I believe, the Liberal Arts/STEM integration Purdue is looking for. Yes, we're trained in rhetoric, and there's a lot of reading, and we have to take so many English Lit classes to graduate, but PW students also learn the industry standard Adobe software, how to build websites using HTML, CSS, and content management systems like Drupal, and spend a lot of time actively thinking about how technology is changing the way writing works. As someone who went through the Technical Writing track, a lot of my classes focused on technology, how to document it, and how to work with the engineers and scientists who create what you're writing about. Not to mention, the PW program and its big sibling, the graduate Rhetoric and Composition program, help in the Writing Lab and maintain the OWL, one of the best-known online writing resources in the nation (the OWL is also turning 20 this year, guys! Hooray for the OWL!).

In my Technical Writing (ENGL 421) and Multimedia Writing (ENGL 419) classes, I was often outnumbered by engineering and science majors. In my Technical Writing class, I was the only Professional Writing student (even though it's a class run by the Professional Writing program). I found my job by going to the engineering career fair, Industrial Roundtable, not by going to a Liberal Arts fair (I knew the tech companies I wanted to work for wouldn't be at the Liberal Arts fair). I had discussions with my fellow PW Club officers about how PW students don't really have a career fair that's tailored to us - we're kind of the oddball of the English department. We didn't join PW because we wanted to write novels for a living, or teach English in schools. We went in to PW because we wanted to pursue Technical Writing, or get into the publishing industry, or become User Experience Designers.

PW students are also required to take a minor or a second major outside of the English department to make ourselves more marketable when we graduate. I minored in Biology and also have a Bachelors of Science degree in Psychology. I know people who minored in Chemistry, Botany, or double majored in Computer Graphics Technology. If that's not an integration of Liberal Arts and STEM, I don't know what is.

So, Purdue, good on you for wanting to bring Engineers and Liberal Arts students closer together, and to end the yearly argument over which discipline is better than the other (that got annoying really quickly, since, from the beginning, I knew I was going to work with engineers and scientists). Take a look though, at the Professional Writing program, and realize you already have a program that was already bridging the gap between Liberal Arts and STEM a while ago.

Going Back to Where it all Began: IR 2013

A year ago, a couple friends and I did what most Liberal Arts majors, and specifically what most Communication and English majors, don't do. We went to Industrial Roundtable.

If you've never heard of Industrial Roundtable, I'll give you a quick run down. It's often recognized as the largest student-run career fair in the nation, and upwards of 300 companies attend the 2-day fair, including extremely well-known ones, like Apple, Microsoft, Lilly, Caterpillar, and John Deere. Companies camp out on Memorial Mall looking for Purdue's best and brightest from the Colleges of Engineering, Science, and Technology.

Forgive the poor image quality - these are pictures from the steps of Stewart Center showing IR 2012. 

So what were two Professional Writing majors and one Comm major doing at IR? Looking for jobs of course! I knew from the beginning that I was interested in some form of science or technical writing - I minored in Biology because, when I was accepted to Purdue, my dream was to be a medical writer at Eli Lilly. I knew that going to a Liberal Arts fair was not where I was going to find the technology and medical companies I was wanting to work for. I knew that if companies were coming to IR looking for engineers, they also had a need for technical writers.

I had a great experience at IR 2012, and not just because I found my job there. Every recruiter I talked to seemed genuinely interested in me, asked me questions about my resume, and took my resume to be included with all the other resumes from engineers and scientists (although, as a tech writer, it shouldn't be surprising that I get along well with engineers and scientists). As terrifying and out-of-my-comfort-zone as it was, I would recommend any Purdue student who wants a job in the tech industry to go to IR. It's crazy, it's hectic, but it's a lot of fun, too.

This year, I get to go back to IR - but as a recruiter, not a candidate. I get to sit on the other side of the table this year and ask jittery, hopeful candidates about their resumes, their Purdue experience, and what they can bring to LHP Telematics. I'm so excited to get to go back, not just because it's a day I get to spend back on Purdue's campus (I miss that place. A lot.), but because I want to be able to help some other student get that email that says "we like you and we want to interview you for a job."

So, Purdue students, enjoy the craziness that is IR 2013, and stop by the LHP Telematics table tomorrow! And may the odds be ever if your favor.

In Defense of Spelling

If you're active at all on social media, you might have heard of the newest scandal to hit the Twitter and Facebook universe: a contestant's Final Jeopardy answer on Jeopardy! Kids Week was ruled incorrect because he wrote down "Emanciptation Proclamation" instead of "Emancipation Proclamation" (if you have no clue what I'm talking about, check out an article here). And oh, the outrage ensues. The contestant, Thomas, claimed he was "cheated" out of $3000, his mom is upset, and Jeopardy! fans are calling for an apology from Alex Trebek (yeah, maybe he was a little bit of a smartass when he said the answer was "badly misspelled," but have you watched Jeopardy? Alex Trebek is the king of sass) and for Jeopardy! to give the kid the $3000 he wagered and lost.

But here's the thing. Jeopardy! sets standard amounts for second and third place finishers, $2000 and $1000, respectively. Whether Thomas spelled the answer correctly or not, he would not have finished first because the winner set a Jeopardy! Kids Week record for winning $66,600 in one show (he also apparently has had a four-year scholarship offered to him). That should be the story here, I think - that a 12-year-old has the third-highest one day winnings in Jeopardy! history. It also wasn't a kids tournament - there were 3 new contestants each day. Regardless of if Thomas had spelled Emancipation Proclamation correctly, the outcome would have been the same. He still would have won $2000 and he still would have come in second place.

People on social media are saying that "spelling shouldn't count" and that "they let adults have the right answer if it's misspelled" (I almost think Jeopardy! purposely re-ran the 2012 Teachers Tournament episode where Diana gets Final Jeopardy wrong because she writes down "Waitin for Godot" instead of "Waiting for Godot" last night). I have a problem with people saying "spelling shouldn't count."

As a writer, an English major, a grammar nerd, and a spelling guru, spelling does matter. I resent being lumped in with those "millennials who don't care about spelling and grammar" because I do care about spelling and grammar. I text in full sentences with correct spelling and grammar (it drives my friends and family nuts). I hate abbreviating words (I run into problems with the 140-character limit on Twitter a lot for this reason), and I hate purposely misspelling words (why the heck would you write "kewl" instead of "cool"? It's still 4 letters, it still takes the same amount of time). I am constantly disappointed in people that think "your" and "you're" are interchangeable (same goes for "there," "their," and "they're" and "too," "to," and "two").

It's also my job as a technical writer to care about spelling and grammar. I would be absolutely horrified to realize that I had sent a customer documentation with a misspelled word. Not only do misspellings and grammar mistakes reflect badly on me as a writer, they also reflect  badly on my company. It sends the message that I was careless enough to not proofread my own work, as well as that my company was careless enough to send out documentation that wasn't proofread. Bad news, folks. Spelling matters.

I have also schooled people on social media who say that "It's just the Internet, spelling and grammar don't matter." I could not disagree more. For me, it's a slippery slope to go from not caring how you write on the Internet or in your texts to unintentionally making mistakes in formal writing. Go ahead, apply for a job with a mistake in your resume or cover letter.Think you'll hear back about it? Spelling and grammar mistakes in cover letters and resumes are frequently cited as showing that applicants don't care about the job they're applying for, lack attention to detail, organization, and communication skills, and even make employers think that they are not intelligent (check out this article from Career Builder about spelling and grammar mistakes in resumes). Spelling and grammar matter.

So, I agree with the judges on Jeopardy! that ruled Thomas' answer of "Emanciptation Proclamation" incorrect. That extra "t" turned it into a non-word, and for that reason, he was incorrect. Sorry, kiddo. Spelling matters.

Brainy is Badass, Too

When I was browsing Twitter the other day, I happened to come across a tweet from TIME Magazine that was pushing an article called "Girl Power: 10 Terrific Teen Heroines in Movies" (you can read the article for yourself here). Being a feminist who enjoys a good list, I clicked on the link. There are some good picks in there - Juno, Tracy Turnblad of Hairspray, and Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games make appearances. But there was one heroine I thought that would be there that wasn't, and I was disappointed to see her missing from the list, since she's my favorite character in literature and on film.

Hermione Granger didn't make the list. Which is a shame, because she's pretty awesome. Now, I'm not dissing that Katniss is pretty badass for inciting and aiding a rebellion against a tyrannical government (and surviving the horror that is the Hunger Games), or discounting Tracy Turnblad and the way she fights for integration, but TIME, you should have included Hermione for all the girls who feel more comfortable being brainy than being a badass, kick-butt kind of girl. 

Now, if you know anything about me, you know that the Harry Potter series is my favorite book series of all time (I promise, it is purely coincidental that I came up with the idea for this post today, on JK Rowling's & Harry's birthdays, though it is a very happy coincidence). I reread the series all the time, I have all the books in print and e-book format, and I bought Order of the Phoenix, Half-Blood Prince, and Deathly Hallows at midnight when they came out (or had them ordered straight to my door) and then stayed up all night reading them (I think I finished Half-Blood Prince in twelve hours). It is my favorite not only because I grew up with the series (Sorcerer's Stone came out in the US in 1998, when I was beginning to read chapter books), but because the writing is fantastic, and the themes of love, acceptance, overcoming prejudice and hate, and doing what is right even when it is the most difficult are great and reach far beyond the classification of Children's/Young Adult literature. 

I also love Harry Potter because it gave me a heroine I could finally relate too. Hermione Granger is the brightest witch of her age, and grows throughout the books to become a strong, intelligent woman (17 is of age in the Wizarding World, you know) and is the glue that holds the trio together. She's not known for being the prettiest girl around, but she is known for her ridiculous intelligence, for spending most of her time in the library, and for having the first hand in the air whenever a teacher asks a question. I remember discovering Hermione in elementary school and thinking, "She's just like me!" 

"We wouldn't last two days without her" - Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1

I remember reading about her bushy hair and thinking about how my own never likes to do what I want it to do (what I wouldn't give to make Sleakeazy's Hair Potion a real thing), or reading about Draco Malfoy doing a buck-toothed impression of her and thinking about how, before I had braces, my own front teeth were a little big (and had a gap I could fit a straw through. No joke. Braces are a great thing). I wasn't comfortable with the way I looked until I was in high school. But Hermione gave me a character that I could relate to, anyway, who was more about her brain than her looks. 

Hermione is my favorite character of all time because she is smart and she's not afraid to let everyone know it.

She's brainy and she's bookish and I love it. While I wasn't comfortable with my appearance for a loooonnnggg time, I was comfortable with the fact that I had a brain that I wasn't afraid to use. Like Hermione, I was one of the weirdos that actually enjoyed school and learning (don't remind me that I'm actually not starting classes in 3 weeks). I would rather spend all my time in the library, finding a good book or doing some research on something I find interesting, than anything else. I'd rather read than watch TV or a movie. My Kindle goes everywhere with me (you never know when you might be stuck somewhere with nothing to do, you  know), and before I had a Kindle, I constantly had a book with me. I remember taking books to restaurants when my family would go out to eat and reading while waiting on our food to arrive (sorry Mom and Dad, that was probably weird for you guys). 

I don't relate to badasses like Katniss, who can handle a bow and arrow, hunt to keep her family from starvation, and lead a rebellion against the government (I am a shy introvert, don't look at me to lead a movement). I too, like Tracy, have causes that I will fight tooth and nail for, but I hate confrontation and am terrified, a lot of the time, of speaking out in public (I'm introverted and proud, but also cursed with shyness. Sigh). But that's okay, because I've got Hermione. I understand her need to consult a book first. I understand how she feels for being picked on for having her hand up first during class. But Hermione is a strong female character that I relate to, and I love that Rowling made her a bookworm with bushy hair and buckteeth, because that's the way I am, too. Thanks, JK Rowling, for finally giving the brainy, bookish girls a main character and a heroine, someone who drives the action and helps defeat evil, bushy hair, buck teeth, big-brained and all. 

So, TIME Entertainment, I think you forgot a pretty important female heroine for your list. Hermione Granger proves brainy is badass, too. 

Life's Not Fair: Those Moments when You Realize You Really are an Adult

This post is a little different from the ones I usually write, partly because it's not about my job (which I still love), though it is about being an adult and being a part of the real world. It is about the icky moments of adulthood, the ones where you realize that, if you were still a kid, you wouldn't be facing these issues head on (and I'm not talking about bills, though those are no fun). It is about aging, and illness, and forgetting. It is about the time you realize you are an adult because you have to tell a grandparent that they can no longer go home. It is about the time you realize you are an adult when you have to help pick out a nursing home for a grandparent, because it has become impossible to care for them full-time at home. It is about my experiences with Alzheimer's Disease.

Most of you know that I lost two grandparents to Alzheimer's Disease, my Granny (Mom's mom) and Grandpa (Dad's dad). They were diagnosed when I was in middle school, and both passed away about 6 months apart, during the spring semester of my freshman year and fall semester of my sophomore year of college. I watched, for about 7 years, as my grandparents that I loved dearly faded away, watched as their personalities changed and their memories were taken away. Watching someone you love go through Alzheimer's Disease is, I believe, the most heartbreaking, gut-wrenching things you will ever experience. And I am experiencing the process again, this time as my husband's family goes through it. And let me tell you, even though it's the third time for me on this roller coaster ride, it doesn't get any easier.

One of the most heartbreaking things about Alzheimer's Disease, besides the fact that it takes away the things that make people human, is the fact that it is a death sentence. You don't see purple ribbon car magnets emblazoned with a proud, script Survivor, because there are no Alzheimer's survivors. Once you have the diagnosis, that's it. It is the only leading cause of death in the United States with no cure and no way to even slow down it's relentless progress (a fact I keep repeating because I absolutely cannot believe it, and a fact I will continue to repeat until it changes). When a person you love has Alzheimer's Disease, you lose them twice: once, when their personalities change and their memories fade while their body carries on, not knowing that the brain that keeps it going is slowly dying, and once again when their bodies finally decide they are done.

My Granny was the most independent person I have ever met in my life, and Alzheimer's took that from her. She had to be dependent on others, she could no longer live alone, and she could no longer drive (I will never forget when we had to take the keys to her Buick Riviera away from her). My Grandpa was the most social person I have ever known. He never knew a stranger - there is a picture of all the Elsten cousins in Gatlinburg, and in the corner of the frame you can see Grandpa talking to someone we have never met. Alzheimer's Disease made him silent.

They say that you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have. Alzheimer's puts that to the test, when your granny, after just hugging you goodbye, tells your mom that you need to come see her more often. Alzheimer's tests that when your grandpa can't come up with your name when he sees your face or your senior pictures. Alzheimer's tests that when your grandmother, who has never had a temper in her life, gets angry, raises her voice, and tells you that she never wants to talk to you again. You realize you are an adult at those moments when your strength is tested, when you have to blink back tears  when you tell someone you love that you're sorry they are alone, that you wish you could stay longer, that they can't go home anymore. You realize you have joined the real world, with all its cruelty, when you have to keep your voice from quivering when you have to tell your grandparent that "It's me, Courtney, your granddaughter" when you go to visit and they don't recognize you.

But you also realize you are an adult when you realize you can do something about it. You can push for change. You can use that newly found strength to fight for a cure. You can use that persistence to keep fighting, because it will be a long fight, and giving up is not an option. You will fight until Alzheimer's Disease is no longer a death sentence, until it is just a phrase that used to be scary. You will wear purple, and you will email your senators and representatives, and you will advocate for those who can no longer advocate for themselves because it's on both sides of your family, and you will not go down this path again. You will fight because you are an adult, a big kid, and you can help end Alzheimer's Disease.

If you are interested in helping fight Alzheimer's Disease, I invite you to visit the Walk to End Alzheimer's page for my Walk team, Team Angel at http://act.alz.org/goto/teamangel. This is my third year walking, and I will keep walking every year until Alzheimer's Disease, itself, is a memory. I will talk about it until my voice goes out, and that won't stop me because I'll write about it (and, let's be honest, I write better than I talk, anyway). The end of Alzheimer's Disease begins with me, begins with all of us, and we can make change happen.

My Job is Cooler Than Yours

Remember when I was worried and terrified about graduation? Yeah, that was silly of me. Don't get me wrong, I miss Purdue and living in Lafayette (football season cannot come fast enough), but this whole graduation and having a big kid job is pretty cool.

I have been a college graduate for nearly two weeks! It's still weird to think about and it hasn't totally sunk in yet that I really have graduated and I'm not resuming classes in the fall. Although I did walk under the Bell Tower after graduation, so that kind of makes it more real.

I graduated with two majors and a minor in 4 years. Take that, Bell Tower!

Purdue legend says that if you walk under the Bell Tower before commencement, you won't graduate in four years. So, for the first time since starting at Purdue back in August of 2009, I walked under the Bell Tower after commencement. It was exciting  and fun and made it just a little more real. But, let's face it, it probably won't feel totally real until I'm not on campus in the fall, I'm not buying overpriced books I probably won't be able to sell back, I'm not spending more time trying to catch the Ross-Ade bus than actually riding it, and I won't have a class Heavilon 227, the wonky-smelling computer lab where nearly all the Professional Writing classes meet.

So, in these two weeks since graduation, Mitchell and I have moved to our fancy big kid apartment in Noblesville (we have hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, and a wine fridge. It's awesome) and I officially started working at LHP Telematics as their first technical writer! And like the title of this post says, my job is cooler than yours. 

It's pretty awesome in and of itself that I am making a living doing what I love to do. I have always wanted to be a writer, and now that's really what I'm doing. It's great to finally say that I love my job (and after working retail since junior year of high school, it's been a long time coming too). I spent this week writing a user guide for the Original Equipment Manufacturers who use the LHP web application to manage their fleets. It ended up being 98 pages today, with the help of screenshots. I've never written anything with that many pages. I also got details on the huge project we're doing with John Deere, and I might end up going on my first business trip in the next couple of weeks to the exotic Des Moines, Iowa, to meet with the John Deere representatives to learn how I need to write and format the documentation I'm going to be writing. 

But besides the fact that I'm finally getting to do what I love, the company I work for is pretty cool, too. There aren't very many of us working there (if I remember right, there's 9 full-time employees and 4 interns), so even though we have a lot to do, it's been easy to get to know everyone. The office is laid back and casual, for instance, I get to wear jeans to work. Today was Free Lunch and Board Games Friday, where the company buys lunch for everyone and we get to spend an hour or so playing board games with each other. It was great fun, even if I was the second to die in King of Tokyo (but at least I didn't go out as quickly as the intern did). There is also always the chance that a Nerf gun fight will break out. Today, as my cubicle got bombarded for the first time, I surprised my coworkers and fired back. And it was awesome. Although, I think I need a bigger Nerf gun. 

So there you have it. My job, and my company, is officially cooler than yours. And I know you're jealous!

The Comfort Zone

While watching The Big Bang Theory yesterday (which if you don't watch, you definitely should because it's hilarious and nerdy and fantastic), I realized I definitely relate to Sheldon (in more ways than this, but we won't go into that) on his feelings on his comfort zone:

Penny: "Okay, that's fine, but let's try and get you out of your comfort zone."
Sheldon: "Why would we want to do that? It's called the comfort zone for a reason."

I totally understand that feeling. Graduating college is forcing me out of the comfort zone I've had for years and years and years. I can't remember a time when I wasn't a full-time student. I've never had a job that doesn't involve a time clock and a cash register. While I'm very excited to graduate and be a writer for a living, I'm also pretty terrified.

A couple friends and I were talking about graduation and going into the adult world. They say you're an adult when you graduate high school and go to college, but let's be real here, you're really not. Most people live in the dorms for at least the first year, and you still don't really have a "real" job. You still have that protective barrier of "student." Boss wants you to work more than 25 hours? Nope, can't, because you're a student and you have homework and exams and projects. You might have an apartment and have rent and bills to pay, but it's still not the "adult world." You don't really become an "adult" until you finish your undergrad and graduate. Anyway, my friends and I decided that graduation and entering that adult world was like walking up to the edge of a cliff, looking over the edge to see how high up you are, and then jumping right off. I've been told by graduates from last year (and the year before that, and my parents) that the jump is scary, but once you jump it's perfectly fine and actually pretty fun. But I still have to leave my comfort zone to enjoy it.

Purdue has been a pretty great comfort zone. I've had an amazing time, had great experiences, and wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. I kinda feel like I have no idea what I'm doing (and that I should know what I'm doing), and while I'm terrified to leave my West Lafayette comfort zone, I'm also pretty excited to find my new one.

I take that big leap off the cliff in six days. And (I think) I'm ready. Now or never, right?

Countdown to the Real World: 33 Days

Countdown to Commencement: 26 days.
Countdown to my first day at LHP Telematics: 33 days.

The real world is rapidly approaching. Getting ready to graduate college is one of the scariest things I have every done. Until very recently, nothing has been set in stone, and now that I have accepted a big kid job, everything is falling into place rapidly. Finding a new apartment, packing up the current apartment, and finishing out classes is exhausting. But I've also never been more excited in my life.

I've titled my blog "Blazing New Trails" because I'm setting out into the real world for the first time here soon. After May 12, I will no longer be a full-time student. After May 20, I'll be working my first non-retail job, ever (which has been a long time coming, let me tell you!). I'm headed down a new path I've never walked before.

I'll also be blazing new trails in the work place. On May 20, I become LHP Telematics' very first technical writer. I already have a long list of documents that need to be written and created waiting on me, and I can't wait to start my career doing what I love. I've wanted to be a writer ever since I was little (just ask my parents, I've been making up stories and writing since I was itty-bitty), and that dream will finally come true in 33 days.

33 days. It's going to be a crazy, probably messy, incredibly fun journey!