Inferior Imitator

ep·i·gone n. A second-rate imitator or follower, especially of an artist or a philosopher.

Monday, August 20, 2012

It Could Happen Anywhere

There is an unexpected hazard to working in the main Administration Building on campus. We're right downstairs from the President's office, the Provost's office, and down the hall from Registrar. Our department administers banking, billing, student loans and scholarships, and student ID cards. Which means, when someone is angry at the University, it's this building that is a target.

Twenty years ago, a disgruntled graduate student killed five people on camput, two of those murders happened upstairs, before committing suicide. It's not unprecedented, so when there's a threat, it's taken seriously. We, like many other Universities, have put together a threat assessment team to investigate reports of behavior that might pose a threat to the community, composed of public safety, HR, student services, mental health professionals, legal, and others.

For the last few days, and the foreseeable future, we are on semi-lockdown due to the actions of a student who was not allowed to register for fall classes due to unpaid bills. I guess her actions have been aggressive and we were told threats have been made against an individual in the legal office. I probably shouldn't say much more, due to privacy issues, but this isn't the first time something like this has happened. Usually, though, whatever issue is cleared up pretty quickly. But this time, we don't know how long we will be needing to keep the doors locked, as the people who have already dealt with her say they wouldn't be comfortable meeting with her again unless a public safety officer is present.

It's a little strange to have this possiblity higher up in your awareness. You know it's possible anywhere, but you don't really think it's going to happen to you. It would be exhausting to do so. It's been exhausting the few days we've been doing so. Even then, I only remember when I have to remember to take my keys with me when I leave the office and sometimes when the keys are in my hand, I forget and pull on the door, surprised it's locked. It's a great freedom, taking safety for granted.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Remembering What Wasn't

My expected due date was today. There should either be a baby in my arms or I should be huge and ready to go *any time now*. But I'm spending it barren. I knew it wouldn't take much to set me off today, but there's a gal in Collections next door finding out the sex of her baby next Friday, and a co-worker sent off an email setting up a contest to guess what it will be. I had to close my door and try to bawl silently. It's so hard to be quiet when all you want to do is wail.

It helps to have Joe's 30th birthday tomorrow to distract me. It's kind of a week-long celebration: we spent Sunday afternoon at his parents, with a cookout and ice cream cake. We'll do birthday sushi tomorrow (how fantastic is it that he adopted birthday sushi, too? Now I get birthday sushi TWICE a year!), and we'll get together with my parents sometime this weekend and dinner with Dave and Abby Saturday night. I'm pretty excited to give Joe his present, too. He wanted something "lasting" so instead of car parts, I picked something else out. I was worried it wouldn't get here in time, but it arrived last week, so the back up present I bought for him will be his Christmas present instead.

I called my OB/GYN, and since I'm 34 and it's been six months of actively trying to conceive, they're going to start the ball rolling with some of the easier tests to see if there's anything hindering our efforts. It doesn't even make sense, since we got pregnant so quickly before. But I don't want to waste any time if there's something else we could be doing, aside from obsessing over when I ovulate and taking my temperature all the time. I'll start with a blood test on the 30th, to test hormone levels. I don't know whether to hope for all clear, or hope something's wrong so they can treat it. What I REALLY hope, is that all it takes is complaining about it for something to happen and the blood test will say I'm pregnant instead.

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