November is nearly over, and since I've seen many people make a list of the things they are thankful for, I thought I'd make one of my own. I try to show gratitude and find the beauty in things every day, but I sometimes get bogged down in work/life. I thought this would be a good way to reflect on the things that matter most. Plus, it gives me an excuse to make a list. I love lists.
Right now, I am thankful for:
1. My loved ones. Whether it's family or friends, people I've known for years or only a short time, they are the foundation of who I am. I am lucky enough to know some beautiful and talented people who constantly inspire me. As Chris McCandless once realized (in what is probably the most heartbreaking revelation of the whole book), "happiness is only real when shared."
2. My health. I don't have health insurance, and I am so thankful that the few health problems I've had are manageable and don't currently require any doctor visits.
3. My boyfriend. His infinite patience and gentle spirit floor me. He is a constant reminder that life is incredible right now, and that it's OK to slow down enough to appreciate it.
4. My roommate. I'm certain he's the sole reason I survived grad school and my exams. His deranged sense of humor matches my own to a T, and his endless intelligence always drives me to pursue my own academic goals.
5. Running. I can say, without a doubt, that it has changed my life. It's changed the way I think about my own body, and about my strength. It's helped me learn to mediate. It's helped me learn to push myself farther than I ever though possible. It's helped me appreciate who I am and who I can become. I've written about my relationship to running many, many times here, so I won't go on.
6. Spin class/cycling. I never though I'd like anything as much as I like running, but spin class/long-distance cycling are close. I feel strong in a different way, and the teachers I've had have been so encouraging.
7. My cat. And really, all animals. They've taught me humility and compassion, and remind me that I am not the center of the universe.
8. My music/vinyl. Besides running and good people, there's nothing that makes me happier than a good record. Last weekend, I was lucky enough to snag a limited-edition copy of Joe Strummer's final performance in 2002. Listening to it reminds me of how important music was to me in high school -- and how important, though in a different sense, music is to me now.
9. Feminism. Without feminism/women's studies, I know I would not be who I am now. Feminism completely changed the way I see the world. It's changed the way I view politics, gender roles, power dynamics, race, sexuality, and so much more. And, as I continue to learn more about feminist theory, I hope to continue to become more progressive and inclusive in my own beliefs.
10. Literature. It's tied with music, without a doubt. Reading is my oldest and dearest hobby. Like feminism, it's affected the way I see the world and people different from me. And the best books and short stories push me to keep working at my own writing.
11. Grace and forgiveness of others. Without that, I'd be alone. I'm flawed and stubborn, but my loved ones forgive me and love me anyway. I might be more thankful for that than for anything else.
Showing posts with label think/act. Show all posts
Showing posts with label think/act. Show all posts
Monday, November 26, 2012
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Think/act: Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Mary Oliver, "Wild Geese"
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Mary Oliver, "Wild Geese"
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Think/act: Solitude
Alone time is important to me. I don't always do a good job of allowing myself downtime to read, or walk, or relax. I also don't always do a good job of balancing solitude with spending time with loved ones.
But lately, I've been feeling more balanced. This morning, I woke up before my boyfriend, and took a three-mile walk outside, near a lake. I brought music and enjoyed the sunshine. I was awake, and everything felt possible.
I've been reading more, too. The stack above is what I keep by my bed. There are books I'm working on, books I want to get to soon, and things I like to keep near. There are short stories, longer fiction, a book about running, and a book about being vegan. I also keep a notebook for quotes, and another one for my own writing. In grad school, it was hard to find time to read anything not related to coursework. When I graduated, I promised myself I'd finally get back to reading for fun. Which is, of course, also reading for work, because I'm always researching, always learning, always thinking about future dissertation topics.
Since I study modern American literature, my to-read list skews heavily toward that. I know I need to branch out a bit more, and read the writers who've influenced my favorite writers. I know I need to keep reading feminist and composition theory. But my list is so long, I don't stress about it now. I'm just enjoying being able to read all the things I love that my grad program didn't value.
It's these little things -- walking in the morning, reading Lorrie Moore without feeling guilty for not reading for class -- that keep me happiest when I'm alone.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Think/act: bell hooks
"There will be no mass-based feminist movement as long as feminist ideas are understood only by a well-educated few."
bell hooks, “Educating Women: A Feminist Agenda”
bell hooks, “Educating Women: A Feminist Agenda”
---
Why I love bell hooks, why feminism that isn't intersectional and inclusive is bullshit, why education has to be accessible to everyone, etc.
And really, this sums up all my feelings about why academia, in general, has failed and continues to fail us. Progressive ideas are worthless unless they can be accessed and enacted by everyone. I know I spent most of last semester talking about arbitrary power dynamics in my teaching class, but honestly, how can collapsing them not be the first thing that has to happen for everyone to be happy, healthy and free?
Monday, August 27, 2012
Think/act: Letting go
I haven't kept up on things. Blog things. Fitness things. Food things. A lot of things.
But this is about letting go. And not making excuses the whole way. Not looking back.
I've been tightly-wound my entire life. My mom loves to tell the story of an infant-me, stacking my blocks again and again, throwing a tantrum if the stack wasn't perfect. For anyone who knows me, it makes sense. The thing is, that compulsion has been my worst enemy, but it's also gotten me through some difficult times.
So, it's not about letting go of that part of myself entirely. What I want to do is learn to let go of the things that don't matter, to make sure my compulsions serve a purpose beyond make-work. I want to channel my relentlessness into the important things only. Do I really need to tackle cleaning the apartment with as much zest as I did my last semester of school? Of course not.
In other words, I'll never stop making to-do lists, but I want them to be less overwhelming, more enjoyable. I want to live my life with intention. I want to spend time on the things that matter and spend less time on the things that don't. I don't want to over-complicate needlessly, get myself overwhelmed before I've even began.
I'm writing this now because I'm at a strange time in my life. Grad school is behind me (for now). I'm not teaching this year (and I have mixed feelings on what I'm doing instead). I'm in a serious and good and important relationship. Real "adulthood," it feels like, is finally here. That's OK with me (most of the time). But I want to make sure I'm spending my soon-to-be limited time on what's important. I've frittered away a month of unemployment doing absolutely nothing. I needed it.
But now it's time to shake off my weird malaise about Change, and move forward.
I've been thinking this past month about what's really important to me, and this is what I want to focus on:
And to let go of the rest.
But this is about letting go. And not making excuses the whole way. Not looking back.
I've been tightly-wound my entire life. My mom loves to tell the story of an infant-me, stacking my blocks again and again, throwing a tantrum if the stack wasn't perfect. For anyone who knows me, it makes sense. The thing is, that compulsion has been my worst enemy, but it's also gotten me through some difficult times.
So, it's not about letting go of that part of myself entirely. What I want to do is learn to let go of the things that don't matter, to make sure my compulsions serve a purpose beyond make-work. I want to channel my relentlessness into the important things only. Do I really need to tackle cleaning the apartment with as much zest as I did my last semester of school? Of course not.
In other words, I'll never stop making to-do lists, but I want them to be less overwhelming, more enjoyable. I want to live my life with intention. I want to spend time on the things that matter and spend less time on the things that don't. I don't want to over-complicate needlessly, get myself overwhelmed before I've even began.
I'm writing this now because I'm at a strange time in my life. Grad school is behind me (for now). I'm not teaching this year (and I have mixed feelings on what I'm doing instead). I'm in a serious and good and important relationship. Real "adulthood," it feels like, is finally here. That's OK with me (most of the time). But I want to make sure I'm spending my soon-to-be limited time on what's important. I've frittered away a month of unemployment doing absolutely nothing. I needed it.
But now it's time to shake off my weird malaise about Change, and move forward.
I've been thinking this past month about what's really important to me, and this is what I want to focus on:
- Relationships. My schedule this summer let me spend time with loved ones in a way I've never been able to before. I've always known how important my friends and family were to me, but this summer showed me how sustaining something like a weekly "date" with my best friend can be.
- Solitude. I suppose it seems counter-intuitive, given the last point, but I also realize how important it is to take care of myself and spend time alone. There were weeks this summer where I was barely home. I missed my cat, my roommate, and my own time. I want to have a better balance.
- Creativity. I want to get better at writing. I've never pushed myself too hard -- I constantly refine old pieces, but they still all sound the same. I've got a style, but I don't work that hard at it. I need to kill my darlings. But even if it's not writing, I need to do something to channel my energies that grad school usually absorbed -- whether it's making things, writing down my thoughts, debating politics. I need to keep myself mentally entertained.
- Health. I had a pretty successful summer, in terms of health. But there were also some rough patches. My poor eating habits caught up to me, and I'm sick in about five different ways. I'm currently on a work-out hiatus thanks to some heavy-duty medication that gives me joint pain, double vision, and the risk of blowing out my tendons. As soon as I'm able to work out again, I plan on going at it with a renewed energy. I want to. Especially because, in two days, I won't have any health insurance.
And to let go of the rest.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Think/act: Acceptance
I've been more active than I have been in quite a while, and I've been thinking a lot about body acceptance.
As a teenager, I was always self-conscious of my legs. I hated wearing shorts, because even at my skinniest, I had huge leg muscles. Even on the hottest summer days, I'd usually be in jeans. In college, there would be days where I felt so fat, and so unattractive, that I couldn't even get dressed and go to class. Paralyzed, I'd put pajamas back on, and get back in bed.
I realize how ludicrous that sounds. I missed class because I felt "fat." And that was about 30 pounds ago.
Thirty pounds ago, I had disordered eating patterns. Thirty pounds ago, I couldn't even put on an outfit to leave the house.
After college, I realized that it was silly not to wear shorts, to be miserable because of something as superficial as clothing, or body shape. Especially when, by all accounts, I wasn't overweight. My legs were strong and healthy. There was nothing wrong with me. By then, I understood that bodies change. Mine had changed a lot. I had gained a good amount of weight -- I was probably at my heaviest when I first went back to graduate school. But I could get dressed, usually with minimal problems. I could wear shorts. I could leave the house. I wasn't crazy about how I looked. In fact, I was pretty unhappy with how much weight I gained. But I didn't linger on it.
Then, in graduate school, I started studying feminist theory, and thinking a lot about the ways women, in particular, are expected to look. The pressure that young girls feel to be thin, or pretty, or "perfect." The ways women pin their hopes and summer plans on fitting into the perfect pair of jeans, or bikini.
I thought of all the time and energy wasted on such a pointless thing. Imagine I had all the time back that I spent worrying about my clothes, my body. I could have been so much more productive. I could have experienced more life right then and there, instead of thinking I only deserved to live and be comfortable once I lost X pounds.
Think what would happen if every woman (and man) struggling with self-acceptance was able to trust that s/he was beautiful, and strong, and just fine. I read this blog post today, and it damn near broke my heart. A woman who has worked as hard as she has to get fit and strong has earned the right to wear running shorts, and look beautiful doing it. Shit, anyone should be able to. The idea that some people can wear some clothes, and others can't, is beyond upsetting to me. Who defines what beauty is?
Running has helped me with my own acceptance. Whereas before I'd wear shorts mostly out of necessity, I wear them now because I am proud of the muscles in my legs. A lot of hard work, sweat, and even tears have gone into those muscles. I've run in the rain. I've run in the snow. I've run during heat waves. I've run through shin splints, numbness, cracking joints, and other weird foot "things." I've run through heartbreak and depression. More than once, I've gotten up at 5:30 a.m. to run with a bunch of strangers.
Even so, I'm not perfect. I still have days where I feel like nothing fits right, or where I wonder how I gained all this weight. But those days are farther and farther apart. I can go months without feeling bad about my body.
Last week's heat wave was my most recent test. I was determined to keep up with running, despite the heat. I usually run in shorts, a jogging bra, and a tank top, but even the tank top was too much last week. Before now, I have never run in just a jogging bra. I feel vulnerable, and I'm self-conscious about my stomach. But, dammit, it was hotter than hell, and I wanted to run. So I took off my tank top. After all, it was so hot that no one else was out anyway. And the few people I came across just expressed disbelief that I was crazy enough to be running in the first place. No one told me to put a shirt back on. No one made fun of me.
And you know what? After a minute or so, I was so distracted by the sun and heat, that I couldn't even think about what I might have looked like.
I feel like, of all the runs I've done since last May, I earned those six miles.
I only wish I could have felt like this sooner in life. And that everyone else could feel the same.
As a teenager, I was always self-conscious of my legs. I hated wearing shorts, because even at my skinniest, I had huge leg muscles. Even on the hottest summer days, I'd usually be in jeans. In college, there would be days where I felt so fat, and so unattractive, that I couldn't even get dressed and go to class. Paralyzed, I'd put pajamas back on, and get back in bed.
I realize how ludicrous that sounds. I missed class because I felt "fat." And that was about 30 pounds ago.
Thirty pounds ago, I had disordered eating patterns. Thirty pounds ago, I couldn't even put on an outfit to leave the house.
After college, I realized that it was silly not to wear shorts, to be miserable because of something as superficial as clothing, or body shape. Especially when, by all accounts, I wasn't overweight. My legs were strong and healthy. There was nothing wrong with me. By then, I understood that bodies change. Mine had changed a lot. I had gained a good amount of weight -- I was probably at my heaviest when I first went back to graduate school. But I could get dressed, usually with minimal problems. I could wear shorts. I could leave the house. I wasn't crazy about how I looked. In fact, I was pretty unhappy with how much weight I gained. But I didn't linger on it.
Then, in graduate school, I started studying feminist theory, and thinking a lot about the ways women, in particular, are expected to look. The pressure that young girls feel to be thin, or pretty, or "perfect." The ways women pin their hopes and summer plans on fitting into the perfect pair of jeans, or bikini.
I thought of all the time and energy wasted on such a pointless thing. Imagine I had all the time back that I spent worrying about my clothes, my body. I could have been so much more productive. I could have experienced more life right then and there, instead of thinking I only deserved to live and be comfortable once I lost X pounds.
Think what would happen if every woman (and man) struggling with self-acceptance was able to trust that s/he was beautiful, and strong, and just fine. I read this blog post today, and it damn near broke my heart. A woman who has worked as hard as she has to get fit and strong has earned the right to wear running shorts, and look beautiful doing it. Shit, anyone should be able to. The idea that some people can wear some clothes, and others can't, is beyond upsetting to me. Who defines what beauty is?
Running has helped me with my own acceptance. Whereas before I'd wear shorts mostly out of necessity, I wear them now because I am proud of the muscles in my legs. A lot of hard work, sweat, and even tears have gone into those muscles. I've run in the rain. I've run in the snow. I've run during heat waves. I've run through shin splints, numbness, cracking joints, and other weird foot "things." I've run through heartbreak and depression. More than once, I've gotten up at 5:30 a.m. to run with a bunch of strangers.
Even so, I'm not perfect. I still have days where I feel like nothing fits right, or where I wonder how I gained all this weight. But those days are farther and farther apart. I can go months without feeling bad about my body.
Last week's heat wave was my most recent test. I was determined to keep up with running, despite the heat. I usually run in shorts, a jogging bra, and a tank top, but even the tank top was too much last week. Before now, I have never run in just a jogging bra. I feel vulnerable, and I'm self-conscious about my stomach. But, dammit, it was hotter than hell, and I wanted to run. So I took off my tank top. After all, it was so hot that no one else was out anyway. And the few people I came across just expressed disbelief that I was crazy enough to be running in the first place. No one told me to put a shirt back on. No one made fun of me.
And you know what? After a minute or so, I was so distracted by the sun and heat, that I couldn't even think about what I might have looked like.
I feel like, of all the runs I've done since last May, I earned those six miles.
I only wish I could have felt like this sooner in life. And that everyone else could feel the same.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Think/act: Little things
I'm well into my third week of job training. The days are 9- to 10- hours long, with short lunch breaks. I'm tired. I'm behind on the rest of my life. I'm worried about what my future holds. I've only had a day off here and there.
Tonight, I finally went grocery shopping after more than two weeks without any decent food in the house. I was going to go for a bike ride after, but decided to take the night off. I had a productive day -- I managed to get a lot of things done on top of my 10 hours of training -- so I thought I'd finally relax. I don't think I've done that since April, literally.
I made a veggie "chicken" sandwich with spinach and tomato on top, and ate it with sweet tea and salted caramel gelato (so good). I watched two episodes of Treme. Now, I'm listening to Centro-matic's last album while cleaning up.
If there's one good thing that's come out of this frustrating job, it's that I appreciate these kinds of things in a way I probably haven't in a while. A decent meal, an excellent TV show, and an amazing album.
Tonight, I finally went grocery shopping after more than two weeks without any decent food in the house. I was going to go for a bike ride after, but decided to take the night off. I had a productive day -- I managed to get a lot of things done on top of my 10 hours of training -- so I thought I'd finally relax. I don't think I've done that since April, literally.
I made a veggie "chicken" sandwich with spinach and tomato on top, and ate it with sweet tea and salted caramel gelato (so good). I watched two episodes of Treme. Now, I'm listening to Centro-matic's last album while cleaning up.
If there's one good thing that's come out of this frustrating job, it's that I appreciate these kinds of things in a way I probably haven't in a while. A decent meal, an excellent TV show, and an amazing album.
The opening of Treme. If you've watched The Wire, the style will look familiar. One of the best new shows I've seen. It manages to be frustrating and heartbreaking and exuberant, all at once.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Think/act: There's a name for that?
It is really satisfying to find a name for the theory I've been interested in all along.
Critical pedagogy.
I've had a couple of semesters of composition and teaching theory under my belt, and Paulo Freire's name has come up from time to time, but I've never read anything by him, or any of the other major names in this field. I'd never even heard the term "critical pedagogy" until now.
Maybe it's something that everyone but me was aware of. Maybe it speaks to the conservative nature of my program that we haven't been exposed to this -- after all, it's got Marxism, postmodernism, feminism and social action, things that rarely come up in my schooling. What a shame. The idealist in me thinks of how powerful a theory like this can be. This isn't just applying a Marxist reading to a given text, or looking at the gender issues at work in Faulkner. It's practical! Think of how we could empower our students, and transform the face of the modern university (which is in steady decline).
Though I've only read a little bit on it this morning, critical pedagogy makes so much sense to me. This is exactly what I want to do as a teacher: empower my students to think critically and take control of their own learning, and challenge that teacher/student power dynamic in the classroom. I'm not sure why this isn't just called "pedagogy," though, since empowerment seems like the most important thing for any student to succeed.
I've only just begun teaching, of course, and I realize that I'll be working toward to these goals for the rest of my career. And I haven't even touched that social justice aspect, though I want to.
It's probably the Type A part of me that likes to organize, list and label, but I find it immensely rewarding to come across a theory that so elegantly summarizes the things that are most important to me.
Critical pedagogy.
I've had a couple of semesters of composition and teaching theory under my belt, and Paulo Freire's name has come up from time to time, but I've never read anything by him, or any of the other major names in this field. I'd never even heard the term "critical pedagogy" until now.
Maybe it's something that everyone but me was aware of. Maybe it speaks to the conservative nature of my program that we haven't been exposed to this -- after all, it's got Marxism, postmodernism, feminism and social action, things that rarely come up in my schooling. What a shame. The idealist in me thinks of how powerful a theory like this can be. This isn't just applying a Marxist reading to a given text, or looking at the gender issues at work in Faulkner. It's practical! Think of how we could empower our students, and transform the face of the modern university (which is in steady decline).
Though I've only read a little bit on it this morning, critical pedagogy makes so much sense to me. This is exactly what I want to do as a teacher: empower my students to think critically and take control of their own learning, and challenge that teacher/student power dynamic in the classroom. I'm not sure why this isn't just called "pedagogy," though, since empowerment seems like the most important thing for any student to succeed.
I've only just begun teaching, of course, and I realize that I'll be working toward to these goals for the rest of my career. And I haven't even touched that social justice aspect, though I want to.
It's probably the Type A part of me that likes to organize, list and label, but I find it immensely rewarding to come across a theory that so elegantly summarizes the things that are most important to me.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Think/act: Clearing my head
Last week, I was lucky enough to give a talk at a teaching conference. I spent two days at a beautiful mansion-turned-conference-center, talking with other English instructors about different ideas to try out in the classroom. I spoke on ways we might reduce gender differences in class discussion. Both of my supervisors were there, along with a crowd from various local colleges and universities. I spoke in an intimidating, book-lined library.
The weather was beautiful: upper 70s and sunny the whole time. The conference atmosphere was very laid back, and we were encouraged to explore and socialize. I walked around the grounds with a group of people from my university the first night I arrived, and later went on a late-night walk with some of my friends and people from a local community college. The night walk was especially wonderful. We borrowed a couple of flashlights from the front desk. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and we could hear owls and coyotes. We passed around a flask, and a couple of people had beer bottles in their pockets. Everything was relaxed and easy. Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I roamed around the grounds some more, walking down to the main house (we stayed in a guest house on the property) to get water and explore some more. I stood outside for a while, looked up at the stars.
The next day, after giving my talk, I took a solo hike out to see some of the incredible statues the original owner had sprinkled throughout the expansive grounds. I spent an hour exploring. I brought my iPod but chose to leave it off, and instead tried to focus on how beautiful my surroundings were. Everything couple of yards or so, a cloud of butterflies would lift off the ground and flutter around me, only to settle further down the road. It was warm enough that I rolled up my sleeves. It was unreal.
The room I stayed in was gorgeous, too. It was a room for three people, but I only shared it with one friend from my department. We each had our own bedroom area. There was exposed brick, bright windows, and a screened-in porch. I brought a rocking chair outside and sat under a huge tree, getting some reading done for my feminist theory class.
The food and company was great, too. There were four of us from my teaching cohort who stayed in the rooms next to each other. We left the doors to our rooms open most of the time, and moved back and forth, talking and drinking beer in the evening. We vented about teaching, and dating, and so many other things. We bounced ideas off of each other on the long car ride back home.
I spent a lot of time clearing my mind and sorting things out. I've often felt like I didn't know what I wanted to focus on in school. I've often wondered how everything -- all my interests -- might come together. I've often felt like I don't know anything, don't really have an emphasis. I like literature, sure, but was never sure how that might fit into everything else I do. Being at this conference made me realize I want to pursue teaching and tutoring methods that are influenced by feminist theory and good examples of writing, and that I've already started to do those things. It made me realize that I might even be good at those things. I love what I do, but until now, I've often wondered how the different elements of my academic life might come together. What will I do when I graduate? What are my goals?
Though I don't have all the answers, I was able to better appreciate what my strengths are. Getting good feedback on my presentation helped, and it was also great to hear what other people in my field are doing. The conference was inspiring and rejuvenating. I also remembered how important being outdoors is to me. I don't know that I could live in a big city for long. I'd much rather look outside and see mountains, forests, trees older than anything else around. If I could get paid to teach and tutor writing and literature somewhere out west or in the South, I'd be happy.
I wanted to write this all down so that I can remember how lucky I am to be surrounded by good people, even when I am often unhappy with the larger program. To remember that I do have an emphasis within my studies -- feminist pedagogy. And to remember how beautiful things -- especially the natural world -- can be.
The weather was beautiful: upper 70s and sunny the whole time. The conference atmosphere was very laid back, and we were encouraged to explore and socialize. I walked around the grounds with a group of people from my university the first night I arrived, and later went on a late-night walk with some of my friends and people from a local community college. The night walk was especially wonderful. We borrowed a couple of flashlights from the front desk. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and we could hear owls and coyotes. We passed around a flask, and a couple of people had beer bottles in their pockets. Everything was relaxed and easy. Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I roamed around the grounds some more, walking down to the main house (we stayed in a guest house on the property) to get water and explore some more. I stood outside for a while, looked up at the stars.
The next day, after giving my talk, I took a solo hike out to see some of the incredible statues the original owner had sprinkled throughout the expansive grounds. I spent an hour exploring. I brought my iPod but chose to leave it off, and instead tried to focus on how beautiful my surroundings were. Everything couple of yards or so, a cloud of butterflies would lift off the ground and flutter around me, only to settle further down the road. It was warm enough that I rolled up my sleeves. It was unreal.
The room I stayed in was gorgeous, too. It was a room for three people, but I only shared it with one friend from my department. We each had our own bedroom area. There was exposed brick, bright windows, and a screened-in porch. I brought a rocking chair outside and sat under a huge tree, getting some reading done for my feminist theory class.
The food and company was great, too. There were four of us from my teaching cohort who stayed in the rooms next to each other. We left the doors to our rooms open most of the time, and moved back and forth, talking and drinking beer in the evening. We vented about teaching, and dating, and so many other things. We bounced ideas off of each other on the long car ride back home.
I spent a lot of time clearing my mind and sorting things out. I've often felt like I didn't know what I wanted to focus on in school. I've often wondered how everything -- all my interests -- might come together. I've often felt like I don't know anything, don't really have an emphasis. I like literature, sure, but was never sure how that might fit into everything else I do. Being at this conference made me realize I want to pursue teaching and tutoring methods that are influenced by feminist theory and good examples of writing, and that I've already started to do those things. It made me realize that I might even be good at those things. I love what I do, but until now, I've often wondered how the different elements of my academic life might come together. What will I do when I graduate? What are my goals?
Though I don't have all the answers, I was able to better appreciate what my strengths are. Getting good feedback on my presentation helped, and it was also great to hear what other people in my field are doing. The conference was inspiring and rejuvenating. I also remembered how important being outdoors is to me. I don't know that I could live in a big city for long. I'd much rather look outside and see mountains, forests, trees older than anything else around. If I could get paid to teach and tutor writing and literature somewhere out west or in the South, I'd be happy.
I wanted to write this all down so that I can remember how lucky I am to be surrounded by good people, even when I am often unhappy with the larger program. To remember that I do have an emphasis within my studies -- feminist pedagogy. And to remember how beautiful things -- especially the natural world -- can be.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Think/act: Changes
Last weekend, I was walking back from dinner with a friend, and she asked, "How are you doing out here by yourself?"
Answering her question made me realize just how much my life has changed in the last year. I suppose I've realized things here and there, but adding everything up and seeing it in front of me was surprising.
Last summer, I broke up with someone I had been with for nearly five years. At first, I was devastated and angry. Things didn't end on the best of terms. They were messy. He had moved to another state. And after several exhausting months of still talking and thinking about working things out, we officially parted ways. I didn't cry. I unfriended him on Facebook. I ran twice as far as I ever had before.
I originally started running when my then-boyfriend first moved out of state. I had been meaning to get in shape. My desk job had taken its toll. Running kept me from being as lonely and sad as I first was. But after we stopped speaking to each other all together, I realized that those months of in-between had been holding me back, physically and mentally.
After we broke up, I also quit a job that I had been unhappy with for a long time. I switched careers. I starting teaching and tutoring for the first-year writing program at my university. I wouldn't trade my job for anything.
After we broke up, I also realized I needed a roommate. I ended up living with a fellow English major. He was originally a friend of a friend, but he's become one of my favorite people here. Now, I wouldn't trade that for anything, either.
I've gone on dates, reconnected with old friends, made new ones, and met some amazing people, including many of my students. I gave up meat and fast food. I started biking to work. I've learned so much about teaching, tutoring and feminism. I can honestly say I am happy. As someone who has struggled with depression and anxiety for more than a decade, this is the most content and settled I've felt in a very long time. I've worked hard to become healthier, more conscientious, and more appreciative of the things in life that are good. It's an ongoing process, but I am much happier to be the person I am now. I feel more like myself.
Being by myself has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I know what I'm capable of. I know how strong I can be. I don't want to give credit to a person I no longer respect or care for. Instead, I think I'll take the credit. The breakup might have been the catalyst for much of this change, but I was the one who did all the hard work. I usually hate to brag, but I feel pretty damn proud of myself right now.
Answering her question made me realize just how much my life has changed in the last year. I suppose I've realized things here and there, but adding everything up and seeing it in front of me was surprising.
Last summer, I broke up with someone I had been with for nearly five years. At first, I was devastated and angry. Things didn't end on the best of terms. They were messy. He had moved to another state. And after several exhausting months of still talking and thinking about working things out, we officially parted ways. I didn't cry. I unfriended him on Facebook. I ran twice as far as I ever had before.
I originally started running when my then-boyfriend first moved out of state. I had been meaning to get in shape. My desk job had taken its toll. Running kept me from being as lonely and sad as I first was. But after we stopped speaking to each other all together, I realized that those months of in-between had been holding me back, physically and mentally.
After we broke up, I also quit a job that I had been unhappy with for a long time. I switched careers. I starting teaching and tutoring for the first-year writing program at my university. I wouldn't trade my job for anything.
After we broke up, I also realized I needed a roommate. I ended up living with a fellow English major. He was originally a friend of a friend, but he's become one of my favorite people here. Now, I wouldn't trade that for anything, either.
I've gone on dates, reconnected with old friends, made new ones, and met some amazing people, including many of my students. I gave up meat and fast food. I started biking to work. I've learned so much about teaching, tutoring and feminism. I can honestly say I am happy. As someone who has struggled with depression and anxiety for more than a decade, this is the most content and settled I've felt in a very long time. I've worked hard to become healthier, more conscientious, and more appreciative of the things in life that are good. It's an ongoing process, but I am much happier to be the person I am now. I feel more like myself.
Being by myself has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I know what I'm capable of. I know how strong I can be. I don't want to give credit to a person I no longer respect or care for. Instead, I think I'll take the credit. The breakup might have been the catalyst for much of this change, but I was the one who did all the hard work. I usually hate to brag, but I feel pretty damn proud of myself right now.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Think/act: Poetry and home
Even in Kyoto--
hearing the cuckoo's cry--
I long for Kyoto.
Bashô
I've been mulling over this haiku for a while, having stumbled across it via a book I was reading for class. To me, this poem symbolizes a certain sweetness of loss. It reminds me of longing for a place that no longer exists, except in remembered pieces -- an idealized or former version of a place you are currently in.
This haiku struck me because, when I go back to my hometown, I often feel homesick, even when I'm there. I miss what home was for me at a time in my life that I'll never have back. But I don't entirely want it back, either -- the nostalgia is bittersweet and impractical.
But, like the haiku says, even when I am home, I long for home.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Think/act: Intersectionality and feminism
I haven't decided how to respond to this, but it's been bothering me.
I'm presenting at a conference this month, giving a paper on a British-Pakistani poet. I'm frustrated because the conference organizers have put me on a panel called "Modern Ethnic Literature," whatever that means. Why wouldn't my paper be included in one of the several British literature panels at the conference?
I'm especially upset because my paper is on how multi-faceted identity is, how it's constantly changing and how one thing -- race, gender or sex -- cannot define a person. This panel, in other words, is the exact opposite of the thing I'm talking about. At the very least, it shows that no one bothered to read the abstract.
More than that, though, I'm frustrated because this isn't a problem specific to my university, as my roommate reminded me. I'm tired of the "ethnics" getting shucked into a neglected, undervalued corner of literature. I'm tired of that label in the first place. I'm tired of non-white, non-Western writers being labeled as the "Other." I'm tired of the fact that, in 2012, in the humanities, we're still using Western whiteness as the yardstick by which all other work is measured. I'm tired of the canon. I'm tired of exclusion.
As a white, middle-class woman, I know I'm speaking from a position of extreme privilege. But this conference has angered me especially at this moment, because I've been struggling with the failings of mainstream feminism to be inclusive and intersectional. I know I, as a feminist, can and must do better. I believe the onus absolutely falls on privileged groups to interrogate power structures, to actively challenge and oppose the same kind of binary thinking that we say we're against. The more I learn about feminisms, the more I see what work needs to be done. Mainstream feminism is still very much white, very much able-bodied, very much cis-gendered, very much straight. It's more exclusion.
Labels like "other" or, in the case above, "ethnic," then, are especially problematic. I'm upset about a minor paper at a tiny conference, yes, but it represents the larger, very real issues above. Separating literature in such an arbitrary, meaningless way hurts everyone. It denies the possibility of dialogue, of understanding how identity might really work. It denies the possibility of growth and inclusion. How can we become more inclusive if we can't even let everyone sit at the same table?
I'm presenting at a conference this month, giving a paper on a British-Pakistani poet. I'm frustrated because the conference organizers have put me on a panel called "Modern Ethnic Literature," whatever that means. Why wouldn't my paper be included in one of the several British literature panels at the conference?
I'm especially upset because my paper is on how multi-faceted identity is, how it's constantly changing and how one thing -- race, gender or sex -- cannot define a person. This panel, in other words, is the exact opposite of the thing I'm talking about. At the very least, it shows that no one bothered to read the abstract.
More than that, though, I'm frustrated because this isn't a problem specific to my university, as my roommate reminded me. I'm tired of the "ethnics" getting shucked into a neglected, undervalued corner of literature. I'm tired of that label in the first place. I'm tired of non-white, non-Western writers being labeled as the "Other." I'm tired of the fact that, in 2012, in the humanities, we're still using Western whiteness as the yardstick by which all other work is measured. I'm tired of the canon. I'm tired of exclusion.
As a white, middle-class woman, I know I'm speaking from a position of extreme privilege. But this conference has angered me especially at this moment, because I've been struggling with the failings of mainstream feminism to be inclusive and intersectional. I know I, as a feminist, can and must do better. I believe the onus absolutely falls on privileged groups to interrogate power structures, to actively challenge and oppose the same kind of binary thinking that we say we're against. The more I learn about feminisms, the more I see what work needs to be done. Mainstream feminism is still very much white, very much able-bodied, very much cis-gendered, very much straight. It's more exclusion.
Labels like "other" or, in the case above, "ethnic," then, are especially problematic. I'm upset about a minor paper at a tiny conference, yes, but it represents the larger, very real issues above. Separating literature in such an arbitrary, meaningless way hurts everyone. It denies the possibility of dialogue, of understanding how identity might really work. It denies the possibility of growth and inclusion. How can we become more inclusive if we can't even let everyone sit at the same table?
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