One Hell of a Year

So, I finally caught up with my friend J. last night (we'd been playing phone tag for weeks), and we had a nice long talk about what we want in our lives, feeling a bit overwhelmed by changes that are happening to each of us individually, how the economy is making everything crazy for lots of people we know, etc.

It's weird, both J. and I are in a place of uncertainty right now career-wise, but for diametrically opposed reasons. You see, she just found out that her company is being bought out by a smaller company, and so the likelihood is that as of July 1 she won't have a job. She's been there a long time, so she'll get a good severance package, but she was the victim of downsizing almost 4 years ago (got a severance package, used the time to finally finish college, and then was hired back with her old seniority), and so this news is a real blow. Especially because she'd been feeling unhappy about her work situation for a good while now, had already updated her resume, but figured that she'd be able to stick it out until job prospects improved. Now, the decision is made for her.

In contrast, I now am in the place where there is total job security, which is awesome and which I do not take for granted, but it also means I have to figure out what I do next without the aid of any external motivation. Now, don't get me wrong: I am not saying that people should feel sorry for me because of this. That said, it's still a big conceptual leap to make, having been a person who had gotten used to jumping through hoops that other people set for me.

In any case, both J. and I are at a point where we're reviewing decisions that we've made and about where we want to go and how to get where we want to go now that we've reached this point. A lot of that involves thinking about how a personal life is going to look based on our current career situations, and a lot of it involves thinking pretty carefully about priorities in the coming year or two. J.'s considering grad school, but she's very ambivalent about it at this point - not sure whether she's thinking about it just because she went back to school the last time she lost her job. I'm certainly not thinking about more school (as IF!) but I am thinking a lot about needing a Next Big Project that will justify a sabbatical.

So anyway, I'm not sure what I really want to write about further in this post, but I felt so good after we talked last night. J. is just such a super friend, and I'm so lucky to have friends like her in what has been a pretty rocky year (both the '09 and the academic year).

Tough Love

I first met BES in the Fall of 2007. She was a transfer student, and so hadn't encountered many faculty in our department. I met her because she went to a colleague of mine looking for an Honors Thesis Adviser. He was one of the few teachers that she'd encountered in our department, at that point. She told him what she was thinking, and he said, "Seriously? I am not the person you want. The person you want, if you really want to do what you propose, is Dr. Crazy." So he introduced me to her. And I was suspicious and in no way inclined to say yes to advising her without... well, without knowing her. But I met her, and we talked, and I felt, in the words of Anne of Green Gables, that we were Kindred Spirits, and well, so there is how our alliance was forged.

In the intervening time she's taken two courses with me, and we've spent a year and a half working on her senior thesis. Mentor Colleague of mine (who's seriously worked here longer than I've been alive and who's fabulous and who was my mentor toward tenure) has tried to poach her, but BES refuses to be poached. As I told her today, though, I so don't feel like it's a competition because I feel like Mentor Colleague is actually MY professor, and thus she and I are under the same umbrella. Anyway.

When BES first came to me, she indicated that she wanted to do a thesis that would prepare her for grad school in English. I gave her then, and I've given her many since, a speech about how that was a RISKY proposition. [Insert the diatribe about grad school in English here] But when I signed on, that was the project I signed on for: prepare this student for grad school at a school that doesn't really prepare students for that. And dude, if she wants it? It's hers. Yes, I've tried to dissuade her from the dream, because I feel like I should, but she is SO bright and SO capable. I really do believe she can maybe do it, or I'd not have agreed to this thesis project.

But so the road hasn't been easy. For me or for her. For her? Because I've been a real motherfucker to her. I've given her comments that are NOT comments for undergrads. I've not coddled her. I've not made her feel good, or even ok, about lame work. I've not even excused the lameness out of a sense of niceness or whatever. I've been a total hard-ass. In regard to the thesis, that is.

And she, well, she's not been easy either, in that she's done the classic shit of avoiding me, of resenting me, of refusing to do what her adviser tells her to do. Not out of conviction but out of laziness and rebellion. She's lost her shit and sobbed, she's thrown tantrums, she's pitched a fit. She's sulked and sighed. All of those things when she knew from the first day that I'm the Ill-Equipped Professor who barely has a napkin, let alone kleenex.

But I LOVE BES. She's seriously, like, my friend. I mean, it's weird as I'm like a professor-friend, but for real, she's not just some undergrad to me. She's somebody whom I'd figure as a peep.

So I forced her to give me a complete draft of her thesis this past week (after she'd been actively avoiding me for two weeks, in the way of anxious dissertators). And I spent at least 2 hours commenting on it by hand, with three different colors of ink. When I finished, I knew that I had to email her before she saw it or she would totally lose her mind in angst. So I emailed her yesterday, saying "BES, you're at a crossroads, and you can either choose A (finish the shit up and do nothing ambitious) or B (work your ass off and do work you never thought you could plus make the theory make sense to normal folks). I made it very clear that I was cool with both, and that I'd mentor her through either, happily. I made the point that this was HER project and that it really isn't mine. So she thought for approx. 24 hours.

Then she came to pick up the draft with all of the comments. And she lost her shit.

Luckily, Mentor Colleague comforted her for a few before I was out of class, and then as I came back to my office, I found her. I saw the look on her face and hugged her, she cried, I nearly cried, I talked her off the ledge, at a certain point I said, "Do you have a lighter? Because if you do I have cigarettes and I'll provide some for you," and then we went and smoked and she calmed down, and then we went back to my office and had a two-hour long confab, that was part meeting and part just hanging out and in which it was agreed that she'd come to my place on Friday (for thesis work, yes, but mainly for dinner, and wine) and I'd help her hash the shit of her thesis out. The thing is, and the thing that she didn't seem to get, is her thesis is already fucking passed. She's amazing. It's just -- her thesis isn't what I know she wants it to be. I'm committed to helping her to make that, if it's still what she wants.

So there are lots of things, related to this cathartic meeting with BES.

Things she was surprised about:

• I never had a preconceived notion about what this thesis would be. I never had an idea in my head about what her thesis "was." I was always about helping her to get as far as she could go. And still am.
• I wrote a shittier senior thesis than she's written already. Seriously. My standards for her have nothing to do with what I did as a student.
• I really do see how totally far she's come. I'm proud of her - already.
• I really don't think that this thesis is my business. I think that it's her work. I want to facilitate that work, sure, but I have absolutely no personal investment in it.

Things I've been surprised about:

• I have a gift for giving people as much or as little feedback, at the appropriate times, as they need to do their best work.
• I'm good at pushing a student past what they think are their limits, and bringing them over the threshold into a new way of thinking and a new way of seeing.
• I'm really good at giving students ownership over their own work - for as stressed as BES is, she sees how much she's become her own scholar through this - and so do I.

All that being said? Thank freaking god I'm not responsible for a bunch of grad students writing their dissertations. I have absolutely no interest in that. I do not care fuckall about spreading my academic seed. I care about teaching. I care about helping my students to find their own voices and to find their own highest level. None of that involves being at a research university with grad students. My students aren't an accomplishment of mine, nor do I wish that they would be. FB laments that he can't have "real" grad students and that he can't advise good PhD types where he is (althought it's an actual research place). Nah, I'd rather have a random thesis student every now and again, and be able to get that person to a place to which they never dreamed of going. And to invite that student over for wine and cigarettes and theory. That's my scene. Totally.

The Rainbow's Working Its Magic!

What with the budget crisis (and what with shady accounting practices of my last chair), there was some uncertainty about how travel money would work out for the spring. My current chair (who RULES) had given me a figure for my recent conference, below what Former Chair had offered but reasonable.

It's a miracle! The money worked out such that I get the full amount Former Chair had Promised! Hallelujah! A full 260 bucks more! Huzzah!

Allergies are for Losers

Tree pollen is NOT my friend. I am also no huge fan of mold spores.

Grumble.

Somewhere Over the ....

I just saw not only a rainbow, but a double-rainbow. I ran into the house to get the camera so as to take a picture of it, but by the time I got back outside, it was pretty much gone. I'm not superstitious about most things, but I really believe that a rainbow means good things to come. I think I've been due for a rainbow for some time.

Most of the Time I Do My Best Not to Do This....

So I started reading Sepulchre by Kate Mosse yesterday (a grocery store purchase made on a whim) and for the most part I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Now, is it the best book I've ever read? Not so much. But is it engrossing, entertaining, and a great pleasure-read? So far, yes.

Typically I can cut a book like this a ton of slack. And typically, I don't get too disgruntled when things are outlandish in such a book. So, for example, I'm on board with the whole "the tarot cards are sending definite signals" thing, and I'm also on board with the whole "there is an important connection between these people from a hundred years ago in the book and this biographer character from today" thing, and even I'm cool with the idea that there is something supernatural going on in the book.

But, in spite of my abilities in the area of willingly suspending my disbelief, I am decidedly not able to look the other way about the following passage:

"After a couple of years of researching and planning - but getting nowhere - she'd caught a break. Six months ago, a small start-up academic press made a modest offer for the book. The advance wasn't great but, given that she didn't have a reputation in the field of music criticism, it was pretty good. Enough to make her dream of coming to Europe a reality. She was determined to write not just another Debussy memoir but the book, the biography.

Her second piece of luck had been getting a part-time teaching post at a private college outside Raleigh-Durham, starting the spring semester. [. . .]

After ten years of paying her way through college, Meredith had racked up a lot of debt, and money was tight. But with what she made from teaching piano, combined with the advance from the publishing company and now the promise of a regular salary, she summoned up the courage to go ahead and book the tickets to Europe." (56-57)

I have tried to stop being irritated by the above, but DUDE! a "part-time teaching post" is not (as my readers here well know) a "regular salary" on which one could live, let alone justify a pricey trip to the UK and to France (Paying 10 Euros for breakfast! Agreeing to pay 30 euros for a 1/2 hour tarot reading! Staying in a swank hotel in the heart of Paris, and then in a 5-star place for a few days in the country as a "reward" for roughing it! Not taking the metro once! Flying as opposed to taking the train to the countryside!) by any stretch. And an advance from an small academic press for a first book? DUDE!

I realize my complaint here isn't terribly articulate, but this is exactly why I feel like people who aren't academics - or who have little to no familiarity with academic life - should not have characters whom they style as academics. Of course people think that this is a cushy gig, if the "realistic" parts of the book include these details! Hideous!

In Which I Am Without Words

Ok, so you all know how I enjoy a Lifetime movie every now and again, and I did somehow get partially sucked into one this evening. Note: it is called "Then She Found Me," and it is about a mother who finds the daughter she gave up for adoption.

The cast includes Helen Hunt (who directed as well), Bette Midler, Colin Firth, Matthew Broderick, and....

Salman Rushdie. Playing a gynecologist.

No, I'm not kidding.

Well That's Weird

When I was in high school and college, I wrote stories and poems all the time. You'll laugh, but I actually thought that getting my Ph.D. was a "sensible" choice, as opposed to attempting to become some silly thing like a poet. (Not that becoming a poet is "sensible," per se, but it's no less sensible than going to grad school in English, as far as I can tell.) I was editor of my college's literary magazine (which I resurrected from the ashes - it had gone defunct prior to my arrival), I took workshops in poetry and fiction writing, I would give readings of my poems in public venues.

So anyway, graduate school, well, it did something to me where I stopped writing for myself. I came to believe that nothing I could write would ever be close to what I love reading, and it all just stopped. The stories went first, and later, the poems. I just didn't have it in me to write crap anymore, or so I explained it to myself. I've often thought that graduate school taught me too much - that graduate school ultimately ruined me for writing creative pieces. I should also note that I felt like graduate school ruined me for reading for a long time, too. I would say that I spent 5 or so years reading almost nothing just because I wanted to read it (unless I was rereading, which is something I've always done).

When I got my job, I returned to reading - reading for me. Not as much during the academic year, but still, I read for myself again. But the "creative" writing never returned. I had a scholarly book to write, articles to write, reviews to write, conference papers to write. And then I had this blog to write, which while in some ways creative, is also in many ways just me spewing. Or it's journalistic, or it's just... well, it somehow doesn't "count" in the same way. Which of course is why it's awesome, though it's also not quite the same sort of risk.

Sure, I've had moments where I've wanted to write a story or a poem. I've even attempted to participate in Nanowrimo once (though that lasted only about a week or two). I still jot down ideas, and I still think, "Oh, someday, that will be the thing, just not now, I'm not ready, I don't have the experiences I need to do anything really good...." (Of course, then I think about a writer like Zadie Smith who is a literary darling and who is my age, and I think that I'm an idiot because it's not like she had all this grand life experience when she was in her early 20s and published White Teeth, and no, I don't believe I'm Zadie Smith, but seriously - I'm definitely way more cool than Stephenie Meyer who's about my age and who is a zillionaire, so perhaps my problem is one of confidence, and not one of talent.)

But so today I sat down and wrote a poem. Unselfconsciously. I just felt like I had a poem in me, and I wrote a poem. Now, sure, it's probably crap. But I wrote it. Without overthinking it, and without worrying over it.

It's probably not very good. It's surely not revised.

Again, I think it's probably crap. But it's what happened today. And I'm kind of excited that it happened, even if it's crap.

Friday - Finally!

So I've got tons of things to catch up on this weekend, a student event to attend tonight, etc.

Anyway. That's not what I feel like writing about right now, though. What I feel like writing about is my inability to understand how anyone could possibly think that a person who is angry at them will become less angry if one ignores them and pretends that they don't exist. I mean, I get it if the person doesn't like the idea of dealing with the angry person, but to characterize checking out as being about taking care of the angry person and of the relationship just strikes me as totally disingenuous. Going and pouting in a corner isn't some positive course of action in my book, however one tries to spin it.

But I'm not going to write more about that because really, what is there to say?

In other news, I've been rereading Jeanette Winterson's The Powerbook. Let's end with a passage from her that captures how I feel in less rage-filled moments:

"I said I was afraid of not living.

I don't want to eke out my life like a resource in short supply. The only selfish life is a timid one. To hold back, to withdraw, to keep the best in reserve, both overvalues the self, and undervalues what the self is.

Here is my life - I have to mine it, farm it, trade it, tenant it, and when the lease is up it cannot be renewed.

This is my chance. Take it." (203)

In Which I Brag about My Students

So today was our annual department awards ceremony, and I realized that in the 6 years I've been around, and 6 awards seasons, that I've had 2 students win the big award and like 4 win the "we love this student and this student is a pleasure to have in class" award, both cash prizes. And this year, I knew all but like 2 students who won the awards for the major (so like 5 of 7 awards or something). The point here is this: I attract smarties to me. And awesome students. Indeed, they cannot resist the Crazy.

Tragically, I was dressed like a homeless person today because I forgot it was the day of the awards ceremony. The good news is that BES's parents were there, and her dad was all, "I hope this isn't offensive, but how old are you anyway?" When I revealed that I'm 34, and that the question was actually complimentary in my book, he and her mom were all, "But you look like a student! We wouldn't guess you were over 25!" Once upon a time, this wouldn't have pleased me so much, but seriously: I now love being thought to look like a student.

So anyway, I have students who won book awards, a leadership award (one who gave me his poems to look at when he was a baby Freshman!), the outstanding senior writing award, the outstanding major award, and the "Miss Congeniality You're a Great Student to Have in Class" award. Now, on the one hand I will say that they are the ones who deserve the props for having won these. On the other, dude, there's a reason why my students are the big winners. It's because I attract the smarties to me and I help to make them outstanding.

I'm so proud of them all. They are all so freaking awesome. And the fact of the matter is, these students are as awesome as any student at an elite slac or at a fancy R1. They just don't have the histories that would have gotten them there. And no, I don't believe that choosing a CC for the first two years and then transferring to a fancy place would have insured some sort of brighter future for them. So when people talk about how institutions like mine are "doomed," well, I say to those people, you don't know what an institution like mine can do for students who would do just as well at fancier establishments, but who didn't have the guidance, support, or money to get there. My students rock, y'all. Maybe not all of them, but having taught at an R1 as a grad student, I can say with all confidence that not all of them rocked either.

I am so, so proud. Both of them, and of the teacher that I've been to them. And god, I'm going to cry my eyes out at graduation this year. I'm so happy for them, and so sad to see them go (for me).

Whining

So typically I'm the sort of person who is a great sleeper. My head hits the pillow, and I'm asleep in no time at all. And then I stay sleeping until it's morning (or until a certain Man-Kitty yowls for breakfast). For the past few days, however, I keep waking up approximately 3-4 hours after I've fallen asleep, and then I can't really go back to sleep to the point where I feel rested when it's really time to wake up. In addition, the waking up makes me restless, which then causes me to wake the kittens up, so all of us are cranky and off schedule. And then on top of that, I didn't buy coffee yesterday, and so I was down to the last of it, so I did this totally depression-era thing where I ran yesterday's leftover coffee back through the coffee maker along with some water and the remains of the coffee in the can (like 3 tbsp). It actually tastes pretty good, though I may just be lying to myself about that so that I won't be disgusted with myself.

In other news, I live in a Valley of Pestilence and Airborn Allergens, and so I'm sniffly and my eyes are watering (allergy meds have not kicked in yet). And I have about a thousand meetings today, as well as a mountain of grading, and BES has disappeared into the dark place where thesis students who are avoiding their advisers go. She'll have to see me today, but I feel like this might end up being one of those times where she cries. Sigh. I really can't hang with her crying today. And yes, I know that makes me a bitch, but seriously: I've got enough without that, too.

I'm also doing the thing where I'm reading stuff and I keep coming across passages that are Very Deep and Connected to My Life. I hate when I do that.

So yes. I am whiny and I'm annoying. And I'm feeling sorry for myself.

But it is Wednesday. Not long until the weekend. I must remind myself of that.

Back to the Daily Grind

So I woke up reasonably early this morning, and I've done my prep for theory. One of the things that's been interesting about teaching this course is that I've remembered some things about how I read theory best (in the morning, and with discernible goals about what I'm hoping to achieve) and also I'm realizing how much is really trapped in my brain about theoretical approaches, stuff I'd not really had to call on since graduate school. Another thing that's been interesting is that I've really gained a lot of confidence in my talent at "translating" theory into small blocks, easily understandable chunks. As a graduate student, I often felt overwhelmed by theory, and a definite lack of confidence in my ability to communicate about theory. I think a lot of this had to do with the fact that I felt so intimidated by my adviser and other profs in the program, who seemed to be able to discuss theory in ways that were (to my novice eye) effortless. What I think I'm realizing now is that what I learned from them was how to do the exact same thing - to discuss theory in a way that appears natural, although there's really a lot of hard work that goes into getting to that point. I've tried as much as I know how to model for my students the nature of my reading process, and I think that's a good approach, but I also see reflected back at me in their questions and in their looks of consternation that they feel a similar sense of intimidation in response to me as I once felt in response to my professors. I keep trying to insist to them that this is a normal feeling, and that it means absolutely nothing about their intrinsic abilities to grapple with this stuff. I'm not sure whether they believe me.

So I need to meet with some students about Levinas, I need to hound BES about her thesis (which she's not turned in to me - alas), and I need to catch up on work for my online class and to prep for tomorrow. Things are progressing at a steady, if slow, pace.

So now it's time to get motivated, to get in the shower, and to get myself in to the office.

Routines

So today I spent the day chilling with the kitties and reading and then I watched In Treatment. I also wrote in my journal for the first time in months. So far so good, right? But now it's about that time when normally I'd be on the phone. And yeah, that feels a bit lonesome.

But why does it feel lonesome? Is it because I really want to be talking to that person? When I ask myself that question for real, the answer to that is no. At least, not if it would be another Wednesday-night-style conversation. And also not if it would be a conversation that pretended Wednesday night didn't happen. I feel lonesome because my routine for two years was to be talking on the phone right now. And you know, that's just not a good enough reason to be talking on the phone.

I'm a creature of routines. In order to be a successful academic, I think one has to be. The thing is, we don't have a lot of outside pressure to order our time. If one is going to get done all the things that one must, one has to have some sort of internal organization system, a penchant toward making routines for oneself so that one doesn't just transform into a sloth. But breaking routines is much harder for me than making them. Breaking a routine takes a lot more effort than sticking with one.

I feel a lot of anger that breaking this particular routine was on me to do. I'm really resentful of the fact that I had to make the change - a change I didn't really want to make - because I wasn't getting what I needed. This doesn't feel empowering to me - it feels irritating. This is not what I wanted, ultimately. I wanted to be able to do anything else but this. But here I am.

I'm also angry and resentful because I know that the lonesomeness I'm experiencing is less than the lonesomeness he's experiencing - because another of my routines is writing on this blog. My situation, ultimately, is one of total radio silence. He doesn't have a blog at all, let alone one on which he'd ever spill his guts. I'm cut off - totally. He, well, isn't. He can check in with me via this here blog. He gets to know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, what I'm doing. Now, I could shut down the blog, but seriously? Fuck off to that idea. Or I could choose not to write about how I'm actually feeling or what I'm actually thinking about. I could do a series of posts about teaching or research or something. I could cut him off from what's "really" happening. But how satisfying would that really be for me? How honest? Um, not very. And I'll admit, I hope he's reading and I want him to be reading because I think that he should have to deal with me. That's weird and lame. But it's how I'm feeling.

I think one of the reasons that I'm feeling that is because he'd mentioned a while ago that he was convinced if things ended with us that I'd just get over it in a snap. That he'd be bereft and wallowing while I'd be moving on. Because, of course, he's this total fucking victim of circumstance. As if just because I'd be the one to end it I'd be cool. And then he'd be able to feel sorry for himself ("Woe is me! She is moving on! I'm a loser!") while also being able to congratulate himself ("I'm very selfless and awesome! I have let her go and now she shall be happy!") Sure, that's convenient for him to think, but it's not true. And beyond not being true, it's a totally shitty way to think.

Here's a tip, fellows of the world who are too cowardly to end something that is lame: just because the girl ends it, it doesn't mean that she's "happy" now or that she's "fine" with the decision. In fact, she may be very distraught over the whole thing, while at the same time she feels regret and guilt and a general sense of unease about her decision. Even if she has no intention of changing her mind, she still might feel those things.

The bottom line is that he's neither a hero or a victim here. He's just an asshole, really. A coward. A fool. That's not why I ended it, but it's how I feel about his response to me ending it. And I don't feel "good" in feeling that. I feel horrible. But I'm not calling him. Because there's really nothing left for me to say. I'm not willing to pretend that what we've been is enough, nor am I willing to have another fight. The only thing, really, would be for him to apologize and to step up to give me what I need. And he's not going to. I get it. I really and truly do get it.

But god, that so sucks right now. Because I didn't want for this to be how things turned out. It's just - man, I'm an adult. And as an adult person? Yeah, I saw the writing on the wall. Once you acknowledge that there's nothing that you can do to change a thing? No matter what you try? The only thing for it is to stop that thing. Even if all you'd really want would be something else.

I spent 22 years of my life in a routine with my father, wherein I would be disappointed when he didn't give me what I needed, and then I would try harder - harder! - and still it wasn't enough, and then I'd decide to stop trying but would feel like a shitty daughter for it. I refuse to keep trying in that same way, and feeling the same bullshit guilt, now that he's gone. Crumbs are just not enough. What is convenient for the other person, in spite of my needs, just isn't enough. I couldn't say no to my father, not really, even though I tried. I can say no to just about anybody else. It's not on me to make this ok. It's not on me to fix it. It's not on me to make things comfortable.

I just can't believe that people who claim to love another person can act this way. I can't believe that if you love somebody you hurt them the way that he hurts me, and that it's in any way possible to justify that. It's really unforgivable. Unforgivable.

So. It's time to start making some new routines, right? To fill up the hole of this one with something else. But all I feel right now is empty. I don't feel like I know how to fill the hole.

Back from the Big Easy

I am home. Stuffed with lovely food, much rejuvenated after days spent walking, hanging out, having girl time and new conference friend time... and did I mention the eating of the mountains of food? I had a woman (whom BFF and I have named "the leprous crone" but who has named herself "Fox") read my tarot cards in Jackson Square (and I have to say, I think that she may really have some gifts, as such things go, or at the very least I enjoy that she looks like an authentic gypsy complete with headscarf and that she only shows up when darkness falls - not when it's all touristy psychics all over the place).

In other words, a great weekend.

More tomorrow. I need to go spend some quality time with the kitties. Thanks for the support re: the last post. "Fox" had some really wise things to say about my situation, pretty much all of which are encompassed by her emphatic announcement "Other people's problems are not your problems." There was also a thing about a glass half filled with sand with a rock jammed in the top. In any case, I don't know what will happen, but the days away did not result in me feeling any differently than I felt Wednesday night, so I think I'm on the right path.

You Know What Sucks?

Trying to break up with a person whom you've not seen since December, who is probably if not your single best friend in the world is definitely one of them, and who's doped up on vicodin because he likely has a kidney stone.

Perhaps Crazy's timing wasn't ideal with the drugs and all. But she feels both too old for this shit and too young for this shit at the same time.

Here's the thing. You know what I want in the next five years?

I want the following:

1) I don't want to live in an apartment.
2) If I'm in a romantic-style relationship, I'd like to see the person at least 6 times a year. (like in the next year or two)
3) Further, I think I would like to be in a committed, married-style relationship. (by year 5)
4) I want the option of having a baby. I'm not entirely sure about how that would work for me right now, but in the next five years, I want to be able to decide to do that if I want.
5) I want to know that if I decide to be in a relationship that the person I am in it with is equally in it. That includes actually motherfucking seeing me.

I do not think that those five things are too much to want. I am not being unreasonable. And so if I have been giving a person the benefit of the doubt for two full years, and those things are no nearer now than they were then, well, it is time for me to jump ship, right?

And NOT because that other person is a douchebag, or a loser, or because he has an inability to make plans, or because he is this total victim of the cruel, cruel world in which we live. It is time for me to jump ship because this sucks balls for me. He is not some victim of the world - he has made this world. This is his fucking world, and the fact that there is nothing that I can do to change it, sure, sucks, but clearly it was never my world to begin with.

My world is nice, and there is hope and happiness and flowers and such in my world. This world with HIM? BULLSHIT. That's what makes up that world. Total and complete bullshit. And it's not that I'm naive, or that I want too much, or that I don't understand complexity, or whatever. No. It's that he can't step up. Done. I need to be done.

(I don't feel done.)

Gaaaahhhh!

So I'm leaving (on a jet plane... don't know when I'll be back again... - except I do, because dude, return tickets and jobs and work and all that) on an 8:45 flight tomorrow for The Big Easy, and I am so in a state.

The Good:

• The paper is written. I'm sure I'll tweak on the hard copy, but it's written. And if I do say so myself, I'm saying some interesting shit, theoretically. Sure, I only get there in the conclusion, but if I really cared, I could turn this into something that actually made a difference to people. It is not that now, but it doesn't need to be.
• I got a boatload of grading done this evening, which was good, although the reason I had the time was bad (students unprepared, the Big Speech about Not Being Able to Teach People Who are Not Prepared, get out of my sight, blah).
• Wine.
• Oh! and I just (yesterday) got a thank you note from a person for whom I wrote a letter of rec.! She got into a great Library Science grad program! Huzzah!
  

The Bad:

• Packing? I need to do that, right?
• Exactly how clean does a house need to be for a pet-sitter? I have been pondering this all day long, while not cleaning. I am fairly certain that I need to pack up the ceramic Christmas tree on the dining room table or the jig will be up. Yes, I'm that sort of person.
• I've been ruminating for about two weeks about a Major Life Decision that involves ending a certain phone habit (which really is all it is at this point). I shouldn't write more about this. I just deleted tons. The point is, Crazy is feeling, in the words of those crazy kids from Laguna Beach, "donezo."

The Random:

• I'm obsessed with that show "Chopped" on the Food Network. Part of this has to do with my love of all things FN. Part of it has to do with my love of trying to think what I would make with the random ingredients (I SOOOO would have made a curry with the turkey breast, pearl onions, baby turnips, and coconut! Stupid contestants!) and part of it has to do with my weird attraction to sometime judge Scott Conant, who I think is a real dick (as I did when he dissed Fabio on Top Chef) but who nevertheless compels me. I feel like he does have good taste in food. What can I say? That said, I really do think he's a dick. I hate myself for finding him compelling.
• I totally want Mindy to win Rock of Love Bus. I know she's doomed, as were Amber and ... Whatsername from the first season, but whatever the case, she's my choice. But seriously, he should always be with Heather from the first season, even though apparently he felt more of a "friend vibe" with her.
• In Treatment is amazing. It is the one show that I cannot multitask while watching. I am riveted. I love it even more this season than last. You must watch it, if you have not. Gabriel Byrne. Dianne Weist. Freaking Hope Davis and John Mahoney. I feel this way, that I can't do other things in the meanwhile, only while reading books. In Treatment is like a really good freaking book, and I'm a person who doesn't think every book falls into that category. There are books I multitask while reading. Seriously.
• Speaking of which, I'm going to be at my conference this weekend with BFF. We have vowed that we will only attend Twilight panels.
  

Wow. Just Wow.

Ok, so before this day, I'd never looked at the published annual salary report for my institution. I always thought that it would leave me filled with rage to do so, or that it would make me disgruntled or something. I'm not about the whole comparing what other people are getting relative to what I'm getting if I'm happy with what I've got. I'm not sure why I just looked at it (other than that it didn't require going over to the library) but, um, let's just say I'm not disgruntled, though I think I have a better sense of why some other folks (who are the type who like to make such comparisons) are.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not making a million dollars or something, in comparison with my colleagues. It is very clear, however, who negotiated successfully when they started and who, for whatever reason, didn't. Now, when I did my negotiating, lo, those many years ago, I sort of felt like I didn't exactly set the world on fire. I only ended up getting a bump of a grand to what they initially offered, and I felt like I was a bit silly even having bothered to ask. However, I now see how that bump has grown so man, any bump you can negotiate to your base is totally worth it.

I also see, as I look at the numbers, that it was probably worth it that I not only went on the market but also that I was open with administrators about doing so selectively, while at the same time I was busting my ass to be as productive at this institution as possible. I never got an offer, but I think that those interviews during a flush budget year (though, let's be real about the fact that I was not calculating this when I decided to put my cv out there) - the same year that I got my book contract (a happy accident timing-wise) - had to have affected my raise in that year, which only widened the gap further between me and some of my colleagues who entered around the time that I did. I think that the raises I've gotten reflected my department's desire to keep me here, though at the time I didn't think much of them (because again, I never asked other people what they got - I just figured everybody's raises were as lame as mine were, when apparently lots of people got much lamer raises than I did). Looking at my salary now, I suspect even if I'd gotten another offer, it would have ended up being unlikely that they would have matched my salary - let alone bumped it higher.

But so now, there is like a 3-4 grand differential in base salary between me and people with whom I went up for tenure this year. Since the tenure raise is 8% of one's base, that gap widens this year, as somebody who's making 50K will only get a 4K raise, whereas somebody making 54K will get a 4,320K raise. Moreover, since there will likely be no actual raises this year, that bump will put me at about the same pay level as about 75% of people who already rank at associate (some of whom who've held that rank for 10+ years - this is what people are on about when they freak out about salary compression).

Another thing that looking at this report has done is solidify my intention to go up for full as soon as is reasonably possible. On average, people ranked at full in my department make a 10-20K more than the people who rank at associate (though obviously some of them have been around for a very long time, so that has to be taken into account). That whole "it's not worth it to go up for full" thing? Totally a stupid move, as again, while it may not be a huge raise at the outset, that raise in base pay clearly makes a huge difference over time. Also, being on the "associate track" - at least in my department - seems to apply mostly to women, which means that I've got just one female colleague who's cracked the 60K mark.

Now, I know that it's not terribly classy to talk about money in this way, but it strikes me that it's a good thing to do, if only because I think a lot of the people who haven't done as well as I have money-wise at this institution have in part ended up in that position because they just didn't know any better. The fact of the matter is, the initial offer that I got - ABD, first year on the market - to work here, was pretty darned good. I know that some of my colleagues didn't negotiate because they just assumed that there would be no room for the administration to pay more. They were just happy to get a t-t job, and a fair offer to boot. My approach (based on advice from savvy mentors) was to ask because the worst they'd say was no. I also think that there is a perception at my institution that research carries no material rewards here, and you know, that's crap. In fact, I think that it's the only thing that merit pay is based on, if the salary report is any indication. People who publish get raises. People who don't, well, even if they do, they are small. Regardless of their work in the classroom or the mountains of service work that they do.

I'm not saying that this system is "fair." It's not "fair," even though I am comfortable that I am worth every penny of what they're paying me. "Fair" would mean transparency about how to achieve a higher base salary and higher annual raises to that base. The fact that I had the confidence to negotiate (and the encouragement to do so and good advice about how to go about it), and the fact that I intuitively did the sort of work that would be rewarded with raises (even though nobody ever stated that "research = money") is a fluke, ultimately. So while I've earned every penny, no, the system isn't "fair." Also, we should totally be mentoring people to full, and encouraging people to go up for full, which we don't do in my department. Instead, we mentor people to tenure as if it's the finish line, and then people (and their salaries) stagnate. It's one thing if people know the facts and choose this path, but my impression from looking at the report is that this is less about choice than about inertia. And the fact that we're all too middle-class to talk about money openly.

So anyway, it turns out that I'm very well-compensated for my work. I always thought I was fine money-wise, but who knew I was this fine?

My Students Rule

Now is the time for presentations of student research, and this year a number of my students participated. They did so, so well. Indeed, my chair and other colleagues noted that really the work that they are doing is more on the level of grad work than undergrad - better than much of what gets presented at professional conferences. And sure, you see my influence, but they're exploring their own questions, and they're having ideas that are original.

The work is all theirs. They deserve the total credit for that. But man, am I proud of them. And of myself for helping them to have the ideas that they want to have.

Ranting, Raving

1. Actually, the whole reason that I schedule library instruction on the freaking syllabus - taking a whole class period for it - is so that I can say things like "do a keyword search limited to books in the MLA database" and you will go do that without me having to teach you how to do it individually.
   
2. Probably the day before the annotated bibliography is due is not the day to email me about how you have no clue how to use library databases.
3. The whole point of the vote is that no, I will not be incorporating whole new proposals that are not well conceived into the fully developed proposal with my name on top of it that goes to the department. If you would like your half-brained idea to go to the department, you will need to do the actual, um, work. I will not be doing it.
4. I hate people. This includes students and colleagues.
   
5. I do not hate cats. Although I do find certain ones that I live with very annoying today.
   

Conference Paper, Done Enough

Now, "done" of course is a matter of opinion, and is this the best thing I've ever written? Uh, not so much. But it's done enough to present, and thank god because I've got about a thousand other things I need to do between now and Thursday when I leave for New Orleans. All I want to do is to go back to bed, now that this is accomplished, but I've got to meet with students at noon, so alas, no return to bed for me. Sigh.

The Sweet Taste of Victory!

CTTCCFPD has not crushed Crazy into a fine and powdery dust! No, indeed! Instead, the hard work, the politicking, the sleepless nights, the rage have all resulted in a vote that is a positive and unequivocal mandate for Crazy to proceed forward in exactly the fashion that she thought should happen all along!

Crazy is a masterful strategist with the unswerving support of a full 2/3 of her colleagues! Our major will no longer be stuck in 1975! The haters have been silenced! All is right with the world!

Summer Teaching

So my university has instituted a new policy about summer courses. Historically, if a course made its enrollment and was held, a f-t faculty member would make .9% of her base salary for each course. If a faculty member chose to teach two courses (the maximum allowed), that means that in only 5-8 weeks (depending on the summer term in which the courses took place) a person could make nearly 20% of her annual salary. This approach was intended to encourage f-t faculty (on 9 month contracts) to teach over the summer, which helps students to graduate on time, brings in revenue to the university when students from elsewhere take classes while home over the summer, etc. Indeed, in the past, departments had been rewarded with extra pots of money based on the summer FTE hours that they generated, in addition to the individual benefit of being able to make nearly 20% of one's base salary extra. (We haven't seen that extra money for departments in a few years, I should note.)

Under the cover of the economic crisis, two significant things have happened. First, the administration has decided that summer pay should be prorated based on enrollments. This means that if you don't get x bodies into the seats of your courses, you will not make the full summer teaching salary. Second, the "minimum enrollment" for full salary is higher than the minimum for a course to go. So, for example, let's say one is scheduled to teach a gen. ed. course that has an enrollment cap of 25. In order to get the full salary for teaching the course, one has to have at least 15 students enrolled in the course. (Note: your salary won't increase if you are teaching to a full house.) If, however, only 11 enroll? Now, technically the course still might "go," but the faculty member would only make 11/15 of the salary he/she was expecting when he/she signed up for summer teaching. The faculty member might choose not to teach the class, but the faculty member has to decide no later than 2 weeks before the summer term starts. For a gen. ed. course, this policy is not too transparent: basically, it means that if a faculty member bows out, the department has two weeks to get an adjunct in there (teaching for much, much less). And if 5 students enroll in the two weeks before the course starts? Well, the faculty member who bowed out has no recourse to take the course back. The faculty member is just out the summer teaching.

This change happened pretty much by fiat, and it was announced after summer teaching schedules were made. Now, on the one hand, a person slated to teach a gen. ed. course probably doesn't have a whole lot about which to worry. Those tend to fill in the summer. But what if, in the interest of one's program, one agreed to teach an upper-level undergrad course or a grad level course in one's specialization over the summer? Well. The "minimum" for full pay for those courses is 10. (Yes, the number for undergrad courses and grad courses is the same.) The course that a person agreed to teach may have a significant impact on students' time to graduation, and there are not very many of these offered. At the same time, the audience for such courses is also much smaller. It's not unlikely that one might end up with, say, only 8 enrolled in such a course.

Let's say that there are only 8 enrolled. The faculty member still has the option, two weeks out, to say no to the course. But can another instructor be brought in to teach the course? In this case, no. First, our department policies are such that adjuncts can't teach upper-level undergrad or grad classes. Second, the whole point of these courses is that they are taught by "experts" in the field with specialized training and a specialized point of view. If a colleague of mine was slated to teach a grad level course in restoration drama, really only that colleague would be qualified to teach it. Not only couldn't an adjunct reasonably step in at the last minute, but I or another f-t person couldn't either. We wouldn't be qualified to do so. Also, I question the wisdom of thinking that anyone should prepare an advanced course with just two weeks in which to do so, having never given it a thought before then.

So let's say that the faculty member thinks, "No way, dude! I'm not teaching for less money!" in an upper-level/grad context. That means most probably that the course will be canceled, right? But what if those 8 students all really need the course? Where does that leave them? And who is the bad guy here? The faculty member, right? The university didn't cancel the class. It wasn't technically under-enrolled. The faculty member decided not to teach it, screwing the students, when we all know that faculty members don't really work for the money but rather for their own personal edification and because they are committed to a "life of the mind." Thinking about monetary compensation for work is just gauche in this context, surely.

I'm scheduled to teach two summer courses this summer. I am teaching in the summer because it's a way to quickly erase my credit card debt without a lot of personal sacrifice and to come up with a down payment for a house. If I came into an inheritance, won the lottery, or similar, I would not be teaching in the summer. That's a fact. I am not teaching in the summer because I just love teaching so much. I'm teaching in the summer because I want the cold hard cash. I know. I am a mercenary. I am a bad person.

Now, the one course is a gen. ed. course, and I would be surprised if it doesn't make the minimum enrollment for full pay. Of course, this is still a gamble, but I'm confident. The other course that I agreed to teach, however, is a grad course. I said I'd teach it to help out our DGS, and I did so when the old rules were in place about pay. Priority registration only began yesterday, and there are four students enrolled, and I think another student will likely enroll today. This is a very good sign, right out of the gate. BUT, it's entirely possible that I will not get to 10 students. In my head, I've decided that I would be willing to teach the course as long as I get 8, my personal cut-off. (The course would be good for my research, and I'm willing to take that much of a hit in the service of my research if necessary.) That said, it sucks that I'm in the position of making the call to cancel the course if it only makes it to 7. The reality, though, is that I'm not willing to do 100% of the work of this course if I'm only making 70% of my summer salary for it. The amount that the course would contribute to my research wouldn't make up for that 30% pay cut.

Shmedagogy, and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to BES's Thesis

Shmedagogy
So earlier today I bemoaned the fact that I've become that professor - the professor who does shit to fill time, shit that involves watching movies of books we've read and stuff on youtube - but what seems apparent from the "experiments" (if you can call them that) of the past couple of days is that both have pedagogical value. I'm not saying I really believe in doing this shit as a rule, but in both cases these were really valuable in terms of bringing the material to my students. As opposed to just giving me time that I needed, although both things did that, ultimately. In other words, maybe I really do need to be less hard on myself, as even when I think I'm slacking, I come up with things that are really worth doing for the students. A. said tonight that she wishes she had teachers like me when she was in college. I replied, "I know I'm supposed to be modest here, but so do I!"

I really am a great teacher. I didn't come to academia caring all that much about teaching, but seriously: teaching is the thing that I'm most proud of. The fact that I didn't come to academia for teaching is part of why I beat myself up for trying things like the short-cuts of this week, but it's also why my short-cuts are also totally awesome - because I really don't take teaching for granted as "the thing I do" or "the thing I'm best at." Even when I am short-cutting, I do it with thought. This week, I think that worked out in really positive ways. In ways I think I might even incorporate in future, regardless of the biases that I hold near and dear. Dude, sometimes teaching the movie makes absolutely perfect sense. And sometimes having students watch a theorist on youtube is a really great idea. I'm glad I learned that.

And the bonus is that I've got one stack of overdue tests graded. Life is good.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to BES's Thesis

So you all know that BES is determined to go to graduate school. This has caused me no end of internal pain, as I've feared that she was dead set on my field, one of the most competitive in the whole world when it comes to jobs. Now, BES is awesome and there is no way that I wouldn't support her in her grad school ambitions. But have I wanted - for some time - to advise her away from my field? Uh, yeah! But how to do that when she's writing a thesis with me? How to do that when she's been so passionate about the things about which I'm most passionate? So we had a meeting today about the Thesis That Will Never Be Finished (though of course it will, though for me it feels like a lifetime will go by before she'll get there). We talked about the thesis, we talked about grad school applications (she'll apply next year), and we talked about the advice that she got from Most Awesome Colleague Who Was My Mentor Toward Tenure and Who Is Fabulous and what he said to her about the whole shebang, as well as about Other Colleague Whom I Love with a Love that Is Pure and True who will be her other recommender. Here's the thing: we (my fabulous colleagues and I), in attempting to advise BES, in ways that are supportive of her "passion," have been stupidly advising her against what she really wants to do and against what she'd really be most happy doing (I think).

See, here's the thing. One book that "changed her life" is the book that is featured in the first chapter of my book. Another book that "made her see everything differently" is featured in another chapter of my book, and is a book that she is using in her thesis. All roads would point to her specializing in my specialization, right? That's why Other Colleague directed her to me for her thesis. Except she really thinks that she wants to do American literature. And she really wants to love the two aforementioned books - as well as the others that I work on - with a love that is pure and true, and not with a love that is compromised by criticism. And except she is sick of the things in my wheeelhouse and hates that she's "ruined" things she once loved and that meant so much to her with the criticism. So she (following our advice) thought she should emphasize literature of my period, except American. Except. She doesn't really care about American literature of my historical wheelhouse. And (as I told her today) that's actually a worse choice than my field, as far as job prospects.

And so then we had "the talk." She actually loves American lit of the century before. Like really. She's just not in love with it. It was at this moment that I realized that I didn't choose the thing that I was in love with as my field of specialization. I mean, I knew it before, but I never knew it in the present tense so viscerally. See, the literature that I most love - uncritically? It's so not what I work on. I read Jane Eyre like it's the best book in the world, but I'm not a critic of it. Even having taught it - in like an intro class or a survey class. Sure, I've read some criticism, but I love that book - I don't interrogate it. And that's because at a certain point I realized I never wanted to be a critic of it. I thought that really interrogating it and living with it as a critic would ruin it for me.

BES feels that way about the stuff in my field. For real. And so if she's going to do grad school? She so needs not to do my thing - not because it's a bad market in that field but because she'll be miserable if she does.

And today? When I told her that my field was not her field? On her face? In her heart? Relief, total relief. She was totally excited to be given permission to think that what I do is not what she really does or has to do.

BES is awesome. But she's no mini-me. She's her own lady, for real. As much as I've shaped her ideas, and influenced her approaches to texts, she doesn't want to do what I do, and that is cool. It is so not about me, and not about me replicating myself. And she thanked me for showing her that she didn't want to spend her life on Thesis Author. And I loved that, because seriously, I love her. I want her to do what she should d0 - I don't want to replicate myself.

***

So those are my things tonight. BES is awesome, and so is my Shmedagogy :)

Pedagogy, Shmedagogy

I am typically not a teacher who does things just to fill time. When I do group work, I do it because I think students need practice doing certain tasks, and that they learn by doing, as opposed to me doing for them. When I show films, I do so with a pedagogical purpose, typically forcing students to fill out worksheets and such and to really engage with the film as a literary text. In other words, I don't just show the movie version of the books that I teach, or whatever.

I don't cut corners by showing a movie instead of teaching, or give group work because I don't feel like actually teaching.

Except this week.

Because with the death of my father, with an upcoming conference for which I've not even begun the paper, with student research projects I'm supervising, I'm so ridiculously behind that I find myself having to fill time as opposed to teaching in the way that I know that I should. And I hate it. But I'm trying to cut myself some slack and to give myself permission to do this in the service of getting my shit together.

But it does make me loathe myself just a little bit. I'm a better teacher than this. I hate feeling so at loose ends that I can't do my job well.

Students and Graduate School (Post # 400,000)

A bit ago I had a meeting with yet another of my students who is interested in graduate school in English. This is a student I'm only getting to know this semester, and zie is graduating in May. Zie is a strong student, and she's the first in her family to go to college, yadda yadda yadda.

I gave my standard spiel about how competitive it is, about how I don't in good conscience recommend that any student pursue this - opportunity costs, horrible outcomes, yadda yadda yadda - but also that if a student wants to do it after all of the facts are presented, that I support students that I think are strong candidates. Reading Sisyphus's post today... well, it has me thinking about that meeting. (I link to Sis here because I want everybody in the whole world to head over there and to give her some love. I'll know if you don't do it, so get on it.)

I've also been spending some time lurking on the forums at The Grad Cafe, and on the Chronicle's grad student life forum in recent weeks, thinking that it's good for me to know what those kids today (beyond "those kids" whom I know in the academic blogosphere - and I use "those kids" facetiously here) are saying about the process and about their experiences. It's nearly 13 years since I began grad school. I gather it's a brave new world - or maybe it was always that world and I just didn't have enough of a clue to realize it. And then there's the current economy, which is encouraging even more students to consider grad school (per even my local news), and yet which is fucking higher education just as surely as every other career path is fucked (although my students don't realize this).

At any rate, all of this has me rethinking my stance on the grad school advice. Well, not really rethinking - just thinking about. See, I still believe that it's fucked up to tell my students no outright. Especially given the fact that I'm at a crap institution where nearly all students are first generation to graduate from any college at all. I still believe that people from a wide range of backgrounds make higher education stronger, and I still believe that some of my students really are suited to academia. How can I just tell them I won't support them? I mean, the facts probably do indicate that I should, but my instinct is that once upon a time the "facts" indicated that lots of marginalized groups should be advised toward, say, beauty school or secretarial school and iron-working or construction. Not college. And yeah, I think that's fucked up. So sure, the facts are against me, but my beliefs really are on my side on this one.

But. There is a tiny part of me that feels like maybe I should be even more discouraging than I already am. There is a tiny part of me that feels like maybe it's not my job to advise based on what I believe. It's just my students are so clueless and so without support. I feel like if they didn't get support from me then they wouldn't get the informed support that they need. They have no idea that they need to apply to more than one program. They have no idea that they should expect full funding or not go. They have no idea that even if you want to teach at a place like my current place that you've got to go to a top 50 program - that even the crappy jobs are just that competitive. They don't know from SLACs and R1s - they just "want to be a professor" and they figure that any Ph.D. from any institution will do. They think that if they take out loans that they'll make a salary commensurate with their debt, if they're not funded. They seriously think these things. They think that they won't need to move away from their families. They think that they won't need to do anything other than to "pursue their dreams" and that it will all work out. Of course I disabuse them of all these notions, of course I tell them lots of things our grads have done that are not graduate school (or law school, or library school). But so many of them still want this. Even after I talk about the specifics of my job, of the things that are screwy in my personal life, even after I give them my best doom and gloom.

And so I support them. I give them the best advice I know how to give, and I support their research, and I write those letters of recommendation. But is that the right thing to do? Who the fuck knows.

I'll say this: I'm glad that I don't teach at a uni with a Ph.D. program. I imagine that the guilt that I feel right now would be quadrupled.

All of that said, my BES? She won two of our 7 or so department awards. She won the biggie for most outstanding graduating senior, and she won the one for the most awesome student in class (the award is something about the student's wit and irreverence... I forget the language). And two of my other students won book awards, and another former student (one of the boys who gave me a poem when he was a baby freshman!) won the leadership award. So maybe my worries are about nothing. Maybe my students really just are that good.

I'm still not sure if they should go to graduate school in English, though. Not even close to sure.

Cooking without Recipes

My to-do list lingers with items still to be checked off, but this weekend I pretty much allowed myself not to worry about it. Instead, I spent the bulk of my time cooking things.

I'm not sure whether I've talked about how I cook when I cook, but typically, I like no distractions - no music, no tv, no telephone. I cook in silence, just thinking about the ingredients and what I need to do. All other thoughts fly from my head, and I feel really peaceful.

It is for this reason that I totally understand why my Auntie Minerva in Lebanon and my Tayta in the states wake up and do the day's cooking before 8 AM. Cooking for them is not social - it's not something that they do with people coming in and out. No, they do their thing early early in the morning, and then their primary work for the day is done. So in other words, were I not a Ph.D. and did I not just get tenure as a university professor, I do think I might be content to be a Lebanese housewife who was born in like 1935. I would also have much better French if I were that instead of my current self, but that's neither here nor there.

Anyway, so on Saturday I made a london broil (whatever, it was cheap, it can easily be made into other things as leftovers), steamed asparagus with lemon, and a lentil dish that I made up (sautee a medium onion and some garlic, add in some sliced crimini mushrooms, then add lentils and low sodium beef broth - kind of like making a rich mushroom risotto only better for you and you don't need to watch it and stir constantly). My real challenge, though, was Sunday.

My absolute favorite Lebanese dish is my tayta's malfouf (or malfoof - arabic spelling in English varies). Basically, it's stuffed cabbage. Except what I learned in attempting to search for Tayta's recipe on the internet (it's no good asking Tayta, as she barely speaks English, I barely speak arabic, and she doesn't actually use "recipes" in cooking, so I've found it's better if I try to make something first, and then I know exactly what questions to ask when I see her) is that apparently she makes it differently from every Lebanese person in the whole world (and different from Syrians and other middle-eastern peeps, too, for good measure). Now I've found this to be the case with a number of my favorite dishes of hers (hummus, this chicken/beef/almonds/rice recipe that I've somehow managed to reconstruct), and so either a) she is really a phenomenally inventive cook or b) "standard" recipes for ethnic cuisines are totally not necessarily right.

But so anyway, I've always been a fan of cooked cabbage. Ham and cabbage? Cabbage and noodles? Corned beef and cabbage? TOTALLY my scene. HOWEVER, I've never really been a fan of American/Eastern European stuffed cabbage for what I've determined are the following reasons:

1) the cabbage is often really tough.
2) the texture of the meat/rice filling is often gooey and gross. (same problem I have with stuffed peppers, in addition to not really loving the pepper)
3) I hate the tomato component that is slopped over it. (same problem I have with both stuffed peppers and some meatloaf recipes)

So, what's so great about malfouf as my tayta makes it?
1) the cabbage is totally silky in texture - so much so that you can cut through a roll with a fork or even a spoon - no toughness. And yet, it is not soggy. It's like a cabbage miracle.
2) no tomato component - instead there is olive oil and lemon and garlic.
3) the filling includes no meat - and the rice is perfectly cooked and the grains are individual and not a sticky gooey mess. In addition to the rice, the filling includes chick peas that are pleasantly different in texture both from the rice and from the cabbage, and it may/may not include pine nuts (I'm not sure, but I threw some in).

But so anyway, I did lots of searching all over the internet to try to figure out at least the techniques for the cabbage and the rice, which I figured would be the hardest parts. I did this while the chick peas (which I'd soaked overnight) were cooking. I then improvised with seasonings, and I have to say, it didn't come out half-bad although I still need to do some tweaking. So, here's the recipe as I've figured it out to this point, though it's still a work in progress. It's labor-intensive, but totally worth it.

Ingredients:

• 1 medium cabbage.
• 2 cups rice (I used short-grain brown rice because it's what I had, but I think Tayta typically uses long-grain white rice - the kind of rice will affect cooking time, I'd imagine).
• 1/2 cup pine nuts.
• 8 oz. dried garbanzo beans, soaked, cooked, and drained. (I really think it's probably important to use dried rather than canned for reasons of texture.)
• approximately 1/4 to 1/2 cup olive oil. (I don't really know - I just eyeballed it.)
• the juice of 3 lemons (guessing here, because I only used one lemon and it was decidedly not lemony enough.)
• salt, pepper, and other spices (not sure) to taste. (this time around, I tried some cardamom, some cumin, and some nutmeg. I think the nutmeg was wrong and maybe I should use some oregano? Or if not that, maybe I should just use zatar? need to play with the spices)
• water or chicken stock to cover the cabbage rolls.
• Approximately 3-5 cloves of garlic.
  

Directions:

1. Put the rice in hot water to soak for one hour.
2. While the rice is soaking, core the cabbage. The easiest way to do this is to stick a large cooking fork in the core as a handle, and then you cut around it.
3. Lightly toast the pine nuts to develop their flavor (takes about five minutes). You can do this while the cabbage is just starting to cook in step 4.
   
4. Put the cabbage in a large pot, core-side down, and cover with water. Cook the cabbage, and remove the leaves with tongs as they detach from the head. They will not be totally cooked, but they will be pleasantly flexible for rolling. This is a pain in the ass. It is worth doing.
   
5. Drain the rice and mix the filling. Mix together the rice, the chick peas, the toasted pine nuts, salt pepper and spices (whatever those are), the juice of a lemon (I only used the juice of half a lemon, and it wasn't enough), and some olive oil (I'd estimate 1/8 to 1/4 cup).
6. Pre-heat the oven to 350 or 375 (I started at 375 then reduced to 35o because I was afraid the cabbage would burn).
7. Spray the baking dish with cooking spray.
   
8. Next, you'll do the little cabbage rolls. It's important to note that these are not big honking rolls like American Style ones. Each roll is typicaly only 1 to 3 bites in size (depending on the size of your bites). For the larger leaves, you can cut them in half, and cutting the tough spine of the leaf out altogether is a good idea. Put only 1-2 teaspoons of the filling into the roll, and roll them up like little burritos. Fit them tightly into a large baking dish.
9. Drizzle with olive oil and lemon.
10. Cut cloves of garlic into large pieces and scatter over the top. This infuses the rolls with a light garlic flavor that is delicate and not overpowering. You'll discard the garlic when cooking is complete.
11. Fill dish with either stock or water to cover (just) the cabbage rolls. I had homemade stock on hand in the freezer, so I used that.
12. Cover with foil (you can take the foil off if you'd like the cabbage to brown a little on top and to make the liquid evaporate a bit faster during cooking, if you feel like that's a good idea).
13. Place in the oven. My cooking time was somewhere around 1 hour and 45 minutes, but I was using a glass dish, and I had to check frequently (busting into one roll to test the rice for doneness) because I had no recipe, so that probably extended the time a bit.

As you see, it's a recipe that is a pain. But as it is my favorite, and it is so perfect texturally and the flavors so subtle, I'm glad I tried it out. I need to figure out the spices, but the fact that I got the cabbage and the rice right means that I'm totally up for that challenge. As it is, even though the spices aren't quite right yet, it's still better than any American stuffed cabbage I've ever tasted. So delicious! So nutritious! And it freezes fine, so you can make a ton even if you're only one person.

So yes. That was my weekend. Now I need to get back to work.

Thank God It's Friday.

Well, I managed to make it through this week. Seriously? That's an accomplishment on its own. Today I've got a lot to do that will clear my weekend for household tasks, drafting my upcoming conference paper, and grading. What's on the agenda?

1. Service crap related to CTTCCFPD. Probably a couple hours worth.
2. Finalize course fliers advertising fall courses.
3. Deal with my calendar, which is a zoo of events that I haven't rsvp'd to, written down, or otherwise made sense of. This also will involve scheduling a mammogram (they want me getting screened every year because of my father's cancer (pancreatic cancer may have a link with breast/ovarian/cervical cancer genetically, and also because so many on my father's side have had those other cancers - none of this came up with my doctor before because medical history stuff asks about immediate family and not extended family, and as an only child, well, it just didn't come up in a meaningful way until my father's illness hit the radar), a hair appointment, a vet appointment for M-K, and the pet sitter for the upcoming conference.
4. Deal with thank you notes for all of the expressions of sympathy I've received (and thank you again to all of you! - yay, one item checked off the list).
5. Email students presenting in student research thingie.
6. Grocery store, for I've been eating like garbage and the cupboards are bare.
7. Some other odds and ends with service.
8. Deal with the train wreck that is my online course.
9. I want there to be a number ten but really, I think that's all of the things. Oh, I suppose catch up on phone calls.

In other news, right around now is probably my sweet, darling Mr. Stripey's first birthday. Now, of course, I don't really know his actual birthday, but counting back from when I first met him when he was an estimated few weeks old, I've guesstimated that he's an Aries. Here is the first picture I've got of him, from when he was maybe 6 weeks or so old:

He wasn't much of a poser in his infancy. Too busy playing.

And here's a picture of him from when I first brought him home:

He was such a sweet baby! So teeny tiny! So serious, in his repose!

And here is the glorious kitty-cat that he has become:
I've got to say, Mr. Stripey, well, he is one beautiful cat. And he has a sparkling personality and is very affectionate and has many good ideas. Of course, he primarily keeps those ideas to himself, but as a full-sized Man-Stripey I believe that he has the right to keep his own council about most things.

Sweet Little First-Year Students Who Want Me to Read Their Poems

It's been a while since I've had one, but yesterday, in a class populated almost entirely by first years, along one came. For some reason, it's always male students who want me to read their poetry, though I'm not sure why. And they're always really bright and engaged and alert in class and then one day, as class is ending, they come shyly up with a ripped out sheet of notebook paper. It's so darling. It's like one of my absolute favorite things about being an English professor.

Hanging In, Barely

I thought I should post just to let everybody know I'm alive. I'm behind after all of the drama of the last week, and I hope to god that I can get caught up this weekend. I've pretty much accepted that this week is a wash, that grading will not get done, that I can't really concentrate, and that you know, that's ok. I just feel totally wiped out and exhausted and at loose ends. This too shall pass, blah.

Anyway, I've got nothing really to report. Coffee is delicious, I've got a doctor appointment in a couple of hours, and things are progressing with the CTTCCFPD, in spite of the first paragraph. A vote has been forced - like a binding one - about how we move forward, and we'll be doing an actual vote by paper ballot - binding - so the results of that will be known in like a week. I fantasize that the whole thing will go totally smoothly, though I suspect there will be one part that doesn't pass, so one more vote before a proposal goes forward after this one. Still, I the whole process does seem to be moving along. I'll just be happy when decisions have been made. Because seriously: I just want us to decide - whatever the outcome.

In a funny moment in the meeting where we voted on how things would move forward, the colleague who threatened the entire process a few weeks ago expressed surprise that our committee hadn't met again before we reached this time of decision as a department. As if our committee would just keep meeting and meeting, even though we've met multiple times and these issues have been on the table with the whole department for months. Even though I did consult with the committee via email about a question and he at first did not respond at all, and then when he did he expressed his intractability about his own position: "I don't see what feedback students could give that would change my ideas about curriculum." Yeah, I was going to go out of my way and take my time and the time of the other committee members to meet with that person. Totally.

I mean, he wasn't happy with the direction that things were heading, and so clearly we should all go back to the drawing board, right? We would just continue meeting until we all retired, never reaching a moment of decision. Clearly I couldn't do anything to improve parts of the proposal based on feedback that I got (from all of our colleagues and from students) without running it by him first. I let the comment go by without comment (though I'm sure some amusement registered on my face), but in my head I was entirely gleeful that this colleague thought that I was supposed to continue to consult with him and to treat him like a collaborative member of the committee and to beg for his opinions after he went outside of the committee process and tried to ruin all of the work I'd done with some bullshit ideas that were all about obstructing forward movement and dismissing the mountains of work I'd been doing. I'm supposed to be just that nice, apparently, and just that much of a doormat.

Uh, no. He had his chance to be part of the process, instead of working with me and others to come to a reasonable compromise, he overplayed his hand, and well, from that point I really had no interest in seeking him out. Those are the breaks. It's so funny when people underestimate me in this way. I think it's that there is this assumption that because I'm so generally not about power plays and intrigue that I'm above those things. Ah, silly people. Just because I think those things suck doesn't mean that I can't or won't do them, nor does it mean that I'm not really freaking good at them.

I think what surprised him most was that what I presented was actually a compromise that addressed the heart of his concerns (thus taking the teeth out of much of his argument - and let's just note that he never offered any similar compromise nor expressed any interest in coming up with one). Keeping him out of the loop for the past few weeks wasn't about ignoring his position - it was about refusing to continue to entertain him and those who were disrespectful to me and to others who disagreed with him. I never intended not to address his position. Being treated like I was part of some evil and self-serving coalition did not sit well with me because it was never true. I always thought that there should be compromise at the center of the work that we're doing, and I proceeded that way in spite of people attempting to put me in a false position, and in spite of the fact that I took that really freaking personally.

So anyway, that's the latest. Let's keep our fingers crossed that things move forward smoothly from this point.

RBOC of "Life's a Beach"

• Apparently there was a service - today - as a "close friend" of my stepmother's accidentally blurted out to me at the end of the calling hours (so I suppose they're not all that close after all or the friend would have known that I'm not "really" part of the family) - and I wasn't invited. Nice.
• So I've got no idea what's happened to my father's ashes, but I figure that since I had to bust my ass to visit my father for the past 15 years with no reciprocity that I'm probably exempt from having to visit his remains. In other words, wherever the ashes are is fine with me, though, as my mom noted, this does sort of exemplify the way that my stepmother has held him hostage (though in his life with his permission, so it wasn't all her) all this time.
  
• The calling hours thing wasn't so bad. Only A. ended up coming of my friends (J.'s mom had emergency gall bladder surgery so direct your prayers that way!), but my uncle and his wife did come, too, and my grandmother's sister and one of her daughters. The whole thing was an episode of Celebrity Widow - not at all a send-off for the recently departed - and thus (I thought) gross - but I think I handled the whole thing with class and sensitivity. I realize my classiness and sensitivity are not in evidence here, but I blew my wad on that yesterday.
  
• I should admit, though, that A. and I were starved in the middle of the whole thing, so at one point cut out for some taco bell, which some might not regard as a classy move. Hilariously, at about the same time my brothers cut out with some of their friends for dairy queen. Were my dad not dead and all, I think he would have been right there with us.
• The great thing about the whole thing being Celebrity Widow was that I did get to have private (i.e., no stepmother keeping watch) conversations with my brothers, and the three of us are cool with one another and I think they get where I'm coming from in terms of wanting a relationship with them and being here for them.
• Today I went to mass with my mother and it was really just perfect. Because it was a Lenten mass, the readings and the sermon were all about death and rebirth, and living with Christ as an example, and it really just was the perfect thing. Then I went to lunch with my parents, and then my mom and I tried to go visit my grandma but she wasn't home, so we left a flower and a note. Duty there done.
• Now I'm back home with my kitties, and I'm feeling like I got the closure that I needed. Of course I'm still grieving, and will continue to do so, but I feel like I said goodbye to my father and at peace with things.
• I think my favorite thing of yesterday was that one of the pictures (one of the few that included me) that was displayed was one that I didn't know existed. The picture seems to have been taken in the summer, when I was 12 or 13. I think that the picture, aside from my apparent age, can be dated about 1987, from my outfit. In the picture, a bunch of people are sitting around a table outside, at what appears to be a cookout of some kind. I'm sitting on my dad's right, my dad was in the middle, and my stepmother was on his left. My dad has his arm around my stepmother, and they're smiling happily. I'm a few inches from my father, arms crossed, a look of pure misery on my face. What was I wearing? Jams (totally) and a bright yellow t-shirt that said "Life's a Beach" in huge black block letters. First, there's something about my miserable scowl and posture that is so perfect with that shirt. But second, I really felt after seeing that picture totally validated in my feelings about where I've fit into my father's life for the past 23 years. I didn't make this shit up. "Life's a beach," indeed.

Thank you again for all of your condolences. They have meant so much.

Thoughts

I'm not sure why I've written so much about this stuff with my father on the blog. I think the impulse does have something to do with wanting support, and there's nothing like my bloggy peeps for support related to all manner of things. So thank you all for your condolences, and for being here and reading. Writing this stuff out, not only for myself but for other people, has helped me to think through and to... feel through, I guess, a lot of the complicated things in my relationship with him.

I loved my father, and my father loved me. I do know both of those things. But it also was never that simple. And while I suppose people might say that love is never that simple, blah blah blah, well, the love between my mom and G. and me is, and so is the love that I have from and feel for my closest friends. It really is unconditional and uncomplicated. So it's not just that I've got support from you all, but I've got lots of real and deep support from the people who are really in my life. In other words, although I am sort of alone in dealing with this, and am sort of disconnected from it in lots of ways, I'm a person who has an embarrassment of riches in terms of people who really care about her and on whom she really can count.

My father was cremated, and there will not be a funeral, nor any kind of service. I don't know whether my father will be interred somewhere, whether his ashes will be scattered, or whether my stepmother plans to hoard his ashes so that only those of whom she approves can know where he is. I think that this is wrong, but I don't have any say in what happens. Parts of this have to do with my father's wishes, but parts are definitely related to my stepmother's incredible selfishness. There will be calling hours at a funeral home, and I will go, flanked by my friends who are really more like sisters than friends.

My stepmother made it clear to me that she would prefer if none of my father's family - his mother, his siblings - attended the calling hours, and she hadn't intended on informing them of his death. She figured they'd see it in the paper. Classic. I called my aunt and told her last night. I don't care what animosity anyone has for anybody else, or what wrongs people have done - to think that it's appropriate for a mother to find out her child has died by reading it in the newspaper is disgusting to me.

And this whole "calling hours" thing has me upset, in part because I'll be such an oddball in that setting. I'm not really part of my father's family or the life that he left behind, and so there will be tons of people there who are strangers to me or brief acquaintances - the people who are actually welcome. I don't want to have to explain who I am to those people, or to make nice with them. If any of my father's family comes, I will know them, but then I'll have to deal with the anger and tension that will come from the fact that my stepmother has made it clear that she does not want any of them coming near her or the boys. She does not want them even to speak to her or to them, she indicated. And then there will be those people who are from my father's past - who knew him when he was married to my mother - and who will want to talk to me, and that will make me uncomfortable, too. Thank God I'll have A. and J. and C. surrounding me, buffering me from as much of this as is possible. I wish there were a service of some kind. If there were, I would go to that and ignore this calling hours business altogether. I do not want to be in a room with an urn and pictures, but no flowers, with people milling around. I want structure to my grief. I want ceremony. I don't want to make small-talk. So I'll go, but I'm not sure how long I'll stay. I'll do what feels right for me in the moment, because seriously, nobody's given me much thought in all of this, so I feel completely comfortable putting myself first now.

It is also disgusting to me that my stepmother packed her sons off to school yesterday - business as usual, because they had tests, you know - after telling them of their father's death. It's disgusting to me that on the day his father died the older of the two boys then went on to basketball practice last night. It's disgusting to me that my stepmother believes that the right thing to do is to get back to normal as quickly as possible, that somehow that will make it all less devastating. I know that people grieve in different ways, and that there is no right way to handle death, but I also know a thing or two about wanting to please one's parents, and I think if there's a lot of pressure from a parent to be a certain way - even if that pressure comes out of love - that it can be very, very difficult to assert one's own needs, especially when you're only 12 or 14 years old. When you're 12 or 14 it's difficult to even know what your own needs are. Witness how I handled (or failed to handle) my parents' divorce at that age.

Aside from my disgust at the way that things are proceeding, though, I also feel a lot of relief. I don't feel obligated anymore to "deal" with the complexity of my relationship with my father, and all of the other players. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can have a relationship with him on my terms. I no longer feel torn between anger and wanting to please him. I no longer feel like this is something that I have to negotiate. As much as I'm sad, that's a happy consequence I hadn't expected. All of a sudden, in relation to my father, I finally get to be a grown-up.

So that's where things are. I have a lot of feelings, as I said to FB on the phone last night, and it's hard, but I'm really ok, and I know I'm going to be ok. I've just got to go through this, and to let myself mourn and to feel whatever it is I feel. And I need to handle this in a way that I think is appropriate, regardless of what my stepmother wants, what my father thought, or how these people think that things should go. (For example, my stepmother made a point of noting that the dress for the calling hours will be casual, and I plan on ignoring that. I wasn't raised that way.) And I'll probably go to mass with my mom (who's being great, by the way) on Sunday - I need a ritual even if nobody else wants one. And if my grandmother stays away from the calling hours, I think we'll go see her afterwards. We're not close, but that feels right. And I think I'm going to make a donation in my father's name to cancer research - though no such option was offered in lieu of the flowers that were prohibited - in all capital letters - in the obituary. And later, I think my father's family will do some sort of memorial thing of their own, and I'll attend that. What I do in relation to my father's death is not dictated by anybody but me, really. It feels nice, quite frankly, to feel that way now, even if I didn't feel that way about my relationship with him in life.

Loss

My father died this morning. So I didn't see him "one last time" or whatever, but I feel fine about that, actually. We had our goodbye in January, and I only had wanted to go see him if I thought it might give him some comfort. So that didn't happen, but that's ok. Apparently he went peacefully. I'm glad he's not sick anymore.