KCKG: An Update on Living, Working, Family and Friends - Living

I have been living in KC for 18 months. I think it's about time for an update, don't you think?

The short version:

• January 2016: Move to KC and begin job at UMKC
• April 2016: Get accepted to Ph.D. program
• July 2016: Freak about about being accepted to Ph.D. program and fly to Aruba
• July 2016: See this incredible opportunity at MCCKC, interview twice, don't get it
• August 2016: Start a Ph.D. program 
• October 2016: Move exactly one block east in my same neighborhood
• May 2016: Leave UMKC, go back to the community college at MCC

The long version:

Living

When I moved to Kansas City, I fell in love with my neighborhood, Columbus Park. Like I LOVE it. It's the old little Italy of Kansas City and now has a huge Vietnamese population. I should be shamed about the amount of pho I have eaten in the past year. My neighborhood is adjacent to River Market so I can walk to City Market every Saturday morning. I can walk to the street car. When I worked at UMKC, I was 10 minutes from work. Now my commute is about 15 minutes longer, but I have learned to love the commute. (Plus my previous walk into work took 8 minutes, so really, it's not that much longer). 

I lived in this adorable, exposed-brick, third-floor apartment with gorgeous views of the sunset and sunrise. The outside was so historic I had a stone lion on the front. It was gorgeous. However, it wasn't really practical for me. There was limited storage. The management was meh. The kitchen was meh. The bedroom was up a spiral staircase, which isn't the best decision for a sleep walker (no, I never fell down those stairs).

Those top right windows were mine. 

On the day I moved into the apartment, ever the retail-hound, I was still looking at Trulia, and another apartment had just been renovated and opened that day. I loved it so much that I told my dad while I was moving and his response was, "Well, we can just quit moving you up here and move you over there." Obviously not a real choice, but secretly, I loved the other place. 

Cue eight months later, I have grown less enchanted by my current apartment and I'm month-to-month on my lease. A unit opens up in the other apartment. I go and look. I can't decide. Of course. After a day of thinking, I text the owner and say I don't know. He says that he is there and showing someone else if I want to pop over. So I walk out my back door, cut through the alley, and walk over in 2 minutes. It's that close. 

And guys. This kitchen. This kitchen kills me. I love it. It's so beautiful. It won me over. The apartment as a whole is smaller, it's ground level, and has street parking, but it has more storage, all updated appliances, two patios... and this kitchen. The pics don't do it justice (I took these when I was looking at it for the second time). And I love it. 

All the cabinets. 

Granite. Subway tile. Stainless. Swoon. 

Yes, my washer/dryer is in my kitchen. But again, ALL the cabinets. 

So, I take it. 15 days later, I move one block away. My pretty subway print I made no longer shows my current address, but it's still a timestamp of my move. 

The prints have found a new home that isn't so shabby.

And with that, I'll split up my next chapters on working, family, and friends in KC. 

A Note On Failing

Again, I begin a blog to say I have been terrible at blogging. It has been 1.5 years since my last blog. That bad. And then, I went and read my old unpublished blogs. I have tons of these that I never publish. Like my private journal. Not only did I not publish this blog once, I went back, wrote a prologue and didn't publish it again.

Now is the time. 2.5 years later in 2017. Looking back, the funny thing about this prologue, that I wrote in 2015 about my thoughts in 2014, was that, at this time, in 2015, my life was getting ready to change. When I wrote this blog in 2014, it was the first time I admitted to myself that I was ready to make a change. I started the mental process. In October 2015, I had just applied for a job in Kansas City that I would end up getting. That was me. I would think about any semi-large decision and think about it for years (it could be as simple as buying a TV... or dresser as documented), but then once the decision was made, I moved fast. Since that time and since my move to KC, I have been less scared of the big decisions. In 16 months since I originally moved to KC I have moved apartments and moved jobs. But more on that soon (I promise not to wait another year). For now... here is my post from 2015 describing my post from 2014.

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October 2015


I wrote this in October 2014. I never published it due to fear of someone realizing they 'had me' and realized I was a sham. Today I reread it and, then realized, it was my exact October from 2015 and it needed to be published. I needed to put this out there. It reminded me of a great quote. "You can't live the same year 75 times and call it a life."
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October, 2014

Failing.

Probably my biggest fear. Failing at accomplishing my goals. Failing at being a good friend. Failing at being a good daughter. Failing at being a good employee. Failing to living up to the expectation. That big 'ol expectation, I have created, of being Kim Greene. I have a million fears of failing.  Honestly, recently I have failed at most of them.

The funny thing about failing is that it didn't look like I expected. It didn't just come all at once like the winter in Missouri. When a 75 and sunny day turns into a freezing winter overnight. It came slow. It didn't take my breath away.

Getting overwhelmed is a process for me. I am convinced I can do all things. I am a problem solver. I pride myself in customer service. I constantly say to my students I teach and who are in my program, if you ever have an issue, contact me, if I don't have an answer, I know someone who does. I will fix the issue. I do not want to burden anyone else because, I know, everyone is as equally overwhelmed. I want to be the one contact for the student. I will not give anyone the runaround. However, I what I think I can handle is much higher than I expect of everyone around me. I can take on more. No problem. It's not factual. It's not even the truth. I just really would rather put myself out than anyone else. Then, the gradual slope becomes slippery, and I hit bottom.

Over the past few months and years, I have told everyone, I was fine. I know everyone says they are 'busy' when asked a question about work. I did too. I knew my load was too much. I knew I was barely keeping my head above, but is my busy anymore than anyone else's workload?

Like I said, it happened slowly. I knew I was slowly drowning, but I didn't want anyone else to see. You know when you trip or slip and don't want anyone to notice? I did that every day. For hundreds of days. Every semester worse than the last.

And this is where my failure became my fault.

I would reach out for help in a meaningless way. I would say I needed help, but still put in the hours to accomplish what needed to be done. No balls dropped. I would constantly be checking my email on my phone, to not miss an email and leave a student or parent in stress. It started slowly with working over every lunch. NBD. I can totally eat at my desk if it means I don't come back after 30 minutes to 35 actionable emails and 8 voicemails (I hate checking voicemail). Then, there were months during registration periods where I would come in for a few hours on Saturdays to catch up. Seriously. No big deal. I kept comparing my life to an accountant during busy season. Then, the last registration period hit. I did not leave my office before 7p and worked at least four hours every Saturday and Sunday for four weeks. But it was 'busy season.' I can do this was my mantra. It will be over on September 15th (again, just like an accountant).

And then, in the fall, my slow season, my to-do list grew longer. Items never getting checked off.

I would spend my days trying to make my life easier. Automate and teach others. Plan and project. Constantly interrupted by day-to-day student issues. Nothing ever finished due to constant interruption. I was sinking. Holding my head above, but slowing sinking.

Today, it happened. I failed. I felt so great about what I accomplished Monday. And yesterday. And last week. I worked so hard. So diligently. I accomplished so many giant tasks on my to-do list. I listened to students. I advised them and, I did what I love to do so much, solve their problems and frustrations. And then I looked down at my checklist, that I had built daily for myself, and noticed items that were past their deadline by two weeks. I solved a student's issue but then asked, 'Can we count him?' like a number.

So how do you feel when everything that you needed to do is left unfinished, but you helped a ton of students?

I looked at the next six weeks of my life and realized there is no way I can do this again. I realized my program had has doubled every year I have been coordinator. The thing about growing 100% for four years, is eventually doubling a number becomes an exponential and you have not multiplied yourself.

Everyday my checklist has grown and my voicemails and emails are getting returned more slowly. I realized today that I will not be able to assist my students with the service I expect from myself. I will create more frustration with my students, counselors, parents, and principals. I have prided myself on having a frustrated student come to me and I solve their problems, and now I realize, I am creating their problems.

That was me today. It hit me. It's my fault.