August, die she must

From April, Come She Will.

I’m a little bummed today. Although I still have a week before classes start, and two weeks before Turtle and Bug head off to school, summer feels well and truly over.

[Yes! Bug is going to school! I can't believe it either. Only 2 days a week, mornings, and it's a co-op. But, school! She's excited, but I'm worried she thinks that she gets to go to school with Turtle...she will not be pleased when she realizes that isn't the case.]

I am self-medicating with a big ol’ piece of chocolate cake. Not surprising, it’s not really making me feel better.

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On the way to work this morning, I heard the “Toes in the Water” song by the Zac Brown Band on the radio. It has quite a catchy tune, but when I started listening to the lyrics, I was more than a little disappointed:

Adios and vaya con dios/ A long way from GA
Yeah, and all the muchachas they call me “big poppa” when I throw / Pesos their way
Adios and vaya con dios / A long way from GA
Hey boss do me a favor and pass me the Jaeger / I’ll grab my guitar and play

Adios and vaya con dios / Going home now to stay
The senoritas don’t care-o when there’s no dinero / I got no money to stay
Adios and vaya con dios / Going home now to stay

Why is it entertainment to throw a little zenophobia and misogynism into a song? Why didn’t anyone involved with the production of the song–from the writers all the way to the record executives who approved it to the radio DJs playing it–stop for a moment and think, “Gee, this is really reinforcing some pretty negative stereotypes right here. Maybe we shouldn’t be involved in it or play it on our station.”

Granted, there are doubtless many, many worse songs out there in terms of pandering to really hateful stereotypes. My guess is that the majority just happen to be on stations I don’t much listen to, so they haven’t come to my attention lately. It’s just getting a little frustrating to have all the radio stations I do like to listen to playing music that I wouldn’t want to have to explain to my kids. Much less have to worry about the thousands of subtle ways that stereotypes about different groups of people are inculcated in their minds.

I *really* don’t want the only station I can safely have on be the Christian station.

 

Minimum Wage

If an adult making minimum wage and working 40 hours per week can’t earn enough money to keep her family out of poverty, what does “minimum wage” even mean?

 

Path, Diverged

This one time is time enough only to stay planted for a life time OR to wander around and end up in paradise.

Although I might disagree with “this one time” being truly our only one chance at life on earth, I was really stuck by this line, written by an old acquaintance, comparing her life living abroad to her father’s living in one town for much of his life. I grew up somewhat wander-y, and am surprised to realize that I’ve been living in the same place–not house, but general location–for seven years now. Very surprised. Of course a lot of stability-engendering things (grad school, kids, home-buying) have happened in those seven years. With having kids, I have thought a lot about how I wanted ours to grow up. I’ve always had a this romantic notion that I wanted my kids to grow up in one house, that we’d chart their growth with pencil marks on a door jamb, that summers would be full of cookouts with the neighbors, and that the kids would have wonderful, lifelong friends living only blocks away. A few weeks ago, our neighbors across the street moved away. It made me realize that they were the only family in the neighborhood that we ever spoke to, and that it had been nearly a year since we had them over. I’ve not once marked up a door jamb with a height line. And in our neighborhood, even if we were to stay here, enough people will be moving in and out that it’s pretty unlikely that our kids will have “lifelong friends” from the area.

The other event that has had me questioning my romantic notions of home and roots is our trip to Turkey. My husband’s family has roots, and even more than roots, branches. They are connected and interwoven among the generations and siblings and cousins in a way that I never have been. And while it does require a shift in thinking about how loyalities and alliances and space/time planning should go–it is much simpler to think about these things in relation to a nuclear family of 4 than in relation to a family as large as ours–I wouldn’t trade our large family for anything. They are the ones we will have cookouts with. They are the lifelong friends for my children.

So, this summer I have really been questioning the whys of living where we are. Although I love our house, love that we (in large part) built it with our own hands, that we picked the bathroom tile, designed the floor plan, painted, put up curtains, and (now!) have planted a garden–and in many ways it would break my heart to leave this house we have worked so hard to make a home, in the end “home” will come with us wherever we go. And I can always pick out new tile, and see it as a good thing, to be able to reinvent our conception of home and how we breathe life into that idea and flesh it out into walls and floors and paint colors.

 

Chaaaaanging…

Settled in the new office space now. Not entirely a fan. I’d evidently gotten used to working alone, because suddenly having all these people around, asking questions, wanting to chat, YELLING THINGS AT EACH OTHER DOWN THE HALLWAY, well…let’s just say that it’s a little freakin’ annoying disconcerting.

Goals for August:

• Finalize program plan.
• Select program committee.
• Prepare for first portfolio review.
• Submit Hugely revise and then submit paper on borderlands to a journal.
• Hugely pare down massive amounts of stuff in the house. Yard sale? Probably will just end up at Goodwill. It’s just not worth the little money we could get selling stuff; hopefully we will get some good karma from donating anyway.

 

A (Different) Good Argument for Universal Health Care

One of the smartest (education-related) reasons for supporting universal health care coverage came from Dean Dad’s recent post:

My proposal for long-term prosperity: combine an educated population with national health insurance (since going without health insurance is a colossal barrier to starting a new business) and a focus on providing the kinds of public goods that lead to all manner of positive externalities – basic research, mass transit, that sort of thing. If that sounds a bit Scandinavian, well, Norway and Sweden aren’t doing too badly these days. Iceland followed our model instead, and effectively collapsed. In places with plenty of smart people running around, where the cost of failure isn’t so awful, it’s not shocking that Nokias and Ericssons pop up. Here, we get Wal-Mart. We can train people to work at Wal-Mart, and there may be times when that’s the least-bad short-term option. But it’s not the same thing.

I thought this was interesting; I hadn’t thought about the implications of universal access to health care for people who stay in their jobs because of the benefits, such as health insurance, who might prefer to go out on their own and do something different. As the bringing-home-the-benefits spouse, I personally would love to have health care for my family that wasn’t tied to my job. Then maybe grad students like me wouldn’t need to work full-time on top of going to school full-time; or at least we’d have the option of taking a GRAship and maybe a little teaching on the side to make it through school.

 

Off to Turkey!

Well, we are off to Turkey tomorrow…I almost can’t believe it! The semester is done, all papers turned in, work today is wrapping up 500 loose threads so that everything doesn’t unravel while I’m gone. Okay, perhaps that’s a little overstating my importance here. Just a little.

I am a little worried about the no-sleeping thing. And I don’t mean the kids. See, I’m one of those needs eight hours of sleep people. I’m not a late-night person by nature. But, when you have a full courseload and kids and a job, well, the 8pm-1am time is prime work time. Or, really, the ONLY time to get anything done, full stop. Since I’ve been staying up late and getting up early pretty much every day for the past couple weeks, my body seems to think this is the new normal. This morning, when I could actually “sleep in,” I was WIDE AWAKE at 5:45am. After going to bed at 1am (which, now that I think about it, is perhaps the problem). Maybe I should try going to bed really early tonight to catch up on sleep? (Ignoring for the moment the little problem of finishing packing for the 4 of us for 3 weeks away.) Or, just hope we can all sleep on the plane? (Note to self: pack benadryl).

I don’t have a good feeling about the sleep prognosis, y’all…

But, Turkey? That will be fun! See you all in June…

 

A True Life Case of Synchrondipity…

So, last night was the last class of the semester for one of my courses. We were capping off the course by discussing our final papers–which I undoubtedly should be writing right now, rather than chatting here. But I digress–and the prof. asked me to talk about mine. Which, okay, I had already talked about mine last week, but I’m going to take it as a compliment that he wants to hear more about it. So I’m talking about how I’m writing about the “borderlands” concept as being not only a geo-political space but also a psycho-social space, and why this is important (if you want to know, I’m happy to share the paper. You know, once it’s done!), blah blah blah…and then, out of nowhere, he asks, “So it the overlap of cultures, languages, peoples, etc. a type of synchronicity?” The whole class waited with bated (or, more likely, yawning) breath while I tried to come up with a good, scholarly answer. While trying hard not to blurt out, “Hey! That’s my blog!” Which probably would not have earned me any points, but perhaps a few snickers.

Now I’m thinking, though…what if he was on to something? There’s something teasing at me…ah, probably just my un-written paper with its siren call: Come wriiiiiite me! I’m due Moooondaaaay! WRIIIITE MEEEEE!

 

TGIF!

Once again, inspiration is coming from Brene Brown’s wonderful website. I feel like every Friday I stop and think, Where on earth did the week go? And then the weekend zips by, I dive into a new week, and before I know it, Friday’s back. Realizing last night that there’s really only a little over a week left in the term was a shock. Luckily, I have made major headway on all three of my final papers, so I’m actually feeling fairly confident. <Knocking on wood>

So, this Friday…

I’m trusting my own voice and the knowledge that “academic writing” doesn’t have to mean impersonal writing; that there is room for the “I” as well.

I’m grateful for an upcoming beautiful weekend with my kids where we have nothing planned except playing outside.

I’m inspired by all the strong, smart, insightful women that I’ve met in my program thus far. [Not that there aren't men in the program too, I just have classes with almost all women.] They’ve challenged me to look at things in new ways, introduced me to new ideas, and have been a pleasure to get to know.

Perhaps I should have called this post “TGI-cheesy-F!”

 

Tension/Ambiguity

In one of my classes this term, there has been some tension around expectations. These tensions have bubbled to the surface in various ways, and last night–in the absence of the professor, but in the presence of his selected stand-in–we processed and discussed our (collective) concerns about the course. For two hours.

The biggest concern, well, the biggest one directly related to the course–was the syllabus. Strictly speaking, it not being clear enough. When you get a group full of former- and current-teachers in a room together and tell them that they are getting a grade at the end, well, they want clarity. They want rubrics. They want agendas. They want clearly listed readings and other assignments. As much as teachers live in ambiguity in their daily school lives, I have found that teachers as students are not very good with ambiguity. So, we you set up a class format that is a “seminar,” whatever that means to the different individuals involved, and the expectations are, shall we say, loosey-goosey, well, it takes a really good kind of chemistry to keep that group knitted together. And–and I suggested this last night–we really don’t seem to have that chemistry. I think–personally, I feel–that we found some of that connection last night that had been missing. Maybe it was solidarity in catharsis. Maybe it was being able to step out from under the pressure of the coursework. (books to read! papers to write! presentations to prep!)

All in all, it’s never boring…

 

Monotaskers of the World, Raise Your Hands! (but just the one at a time…)

My lesson learned–or, lesson I felt deeply but found it clearly articulated by someone else (Karen Maezen Miller over at Cheerio Road)–this week is that multitasking does not help me get more things done. It helps me get more things started and left half-finished, like half-written emails in my drafts folder. Which, really, does no one any good.

And, just for a bit of springtime inspiration, I stumbled upon Warrior Girl’s fabulous paintings, and really took a shine to this one. It’s called “Flying Girl Learns to Let Go.”