Pursuing Potential

This has been a hectic and frustrating week, made all the more so by the fact that it should have been a normal, run-of-the-mill week with no major deadlines, projects, or events. And while in many ways I have hit the majority of the productivity marks I have set for myself, there have also been substantial setbacks.  The latter revolves primarily around the fact that, after having approved my comps’ reading list more than two months ago, one of my committee members decided to triple (!) the poetry section less than two months before I sit for the exam.

Awesome.

The email giving me the “suggestions” felt like a punch in the gut and, almost instantly, turned what had been a good day into an emotional FAIL.

And yet, despite the emotional roller-coaster I have been on (and assume I will stay on until April 07), last night I found myself mulling over the week’s events with a sense of hope and surprising optimism.  Regardless of the ups and downs, the one thing that seems to stand out to me is the realization that people have a surprising amount of confidence…in me.

Maybe that seems like a strange realization to you, especially if you know me and consider me to be a fairly confident, assured person. And in some ways I am.  But I almost the woman who constantly doubts that people will remember me.  If I see you out and about and don’t communicate with you on any kind of semi-regular basis – even if we were absolute best friends in the world until 8th grade – there’s a good chance I won’t strike up a conversation out of the fear that you won’t know who I am. (It’s not you, it’s me – really).  I hesitate to “add”  high school friends (who I haven’t kept in touch with) on Facebook, convinced that their reaction to seeing my name will be, “Who?”  And I am always, always surprised when someone from my past adds me on Facebook. They remember me, they really remember me!

I feel the same sense of shock when I realize that someone – especially someone I respect – professes confidence in me.  My committee members, bless their hearts, are constantly telling me that of course I’ll do just fine on the ridiculous, 12-hour, mind-numbing comprehensive exam they are subjecting me to.  Of course.  They laugh at my doubts as though I’m a toddler stumbling as I try to walk.  And while I appreciate their confidence (it’s certainly better than having your mentors doubt your ability!), I have trouble believing in them believing in me.  But how do they know I’ll do well?

After I finished (and passed) my MA oral exam, I told The Hubs that I thought I had tricked the committee into thinking I was smart enough for the degree.  I truly thought it may have been my personality that passed rather than my intellect. Hubs, always having confidence in me by the barrel-full, slapped down my negativity and reassured me, repeatedly, that I deserved it.

Then yesterday after I got done teaching, I was talking to some of my students after class.  I initially had the same reaction I always do when students take me seriously (suckers!), and then I had an epiphany – they have no reason not to have confidence in me. To them, as to my committee, I am trustworthy and capable until proven otherwise, not the other way around.  

I have (for the most part) never proven to be inept in my scholastic pursuits, so why do I always assume that ineptitude is the default position? Why not believe in my past performances and assume that I am, in fact, capable of these things.

What a novel idea.

Maybe I’ll even start adding people on Facebook.

Nah, probably not.

Speech-less

I haven’t had a lot to say lately.

[I know those of you who know me well may be experiencing shock right now.  It's okay.  Take a deep breath.  Breathe into a paper bag if you must.]

It’s not that I don’t have anything to talk about.  I could drum up any ol’ thing to say.  For instance, I had an absolutely ideal weekend.  Though fall in Tallahassee usually make me sad (it’s nothing like fall in Kentucky), it seems that northern Florida is pulling out all the stops this autumn, supplying me with gorgeous sunny days complete with a light breeze and even putting more than 2 colors on the trees as the leaves fall to the ground.  So, in light of this fantastic season, The Hubs and I went to the farmer’s market Saturday morning, came home to knit (me) and watch football (me & Hubs) with the doors and windows thrown open to let the breeze in.  Mix and repeat on Sunday.  Fantastic.

But I haven’t felt like telling you about it because, well, it’s mine.  Somehow those peaceful, glorious days seem too personal and rare to share with my blog.  Instead I’m spending an increased amount of time being reflective and working out ways to show my friends and family that I love and appreciate them during the upcoming holiday season.

Also, I think that as I grow older I’m learning to keep more stories to myself.  Somehow that lovely Saturday seems more wonderful if only Hubs and I know about it.

Also, I wish other people I know would keep their stories to themselves, and that’s what finally made me blog.

Being at Florida State hasn’t been supremely easy.  It took me about a year to find a niche for myself in the department, longer still to find a small group of trustworthy friends who were both fun and supportive.  And I have worked very hard to support the literature program as a whole, going out of my way to create opportunities that didn’t exist before and make it easier for new PhDs to find answers I struggled to discover.

Which is why it is so bleepin’ frustrating when I hear that people are, in public, taking what I’ve worked hard for and are smearing their gossipy poo all over it.

I love being in school.  I love the thrill of learning something new or finding an appreciation for something I wasn’t interested in before.  I love having my limits tested and my abilities expanded.  I do not try to take the easy way out.  I am not coasting towards the end of my degree.

But I cannot wait to be done.

I know that the sniveling and sniping won’t end when I am no longer a student. But at least I will then have the time to concentrate my energy on opportunities and people off campus that are more concerned with making a lasting impact than on belittling their coworkers.

So if I speak less, it’s because I’m hoping to lead by example.

[End rant.  More optimistic post to come.]

Making My Own Fall Break

One of the most annoying things about FSU is that they don’t provide any kind of fall break.  Now, I’m not picky.  I don’t need a week or anything extravagant like that.  But can I please have one measly day off in the middle of the semester?  I mean, sheesh, I only teach twice a week but right about now I just need one stinkin’ day when my brain thinks I should be teaching that I get to not go to class.  It’s more of a psychological holiday than anything.  But no.  I have to struggle through until November until we randomly get Veteran’s Day off and then the two required days for Thanksgiving.  Thanks for your generosity FSU…

To remedy the problem during this semester when I need a small break more than any time before, I am making my own fall break.  Tomorrow Dave and I head to Mt. Dora, Florida to spend the weekend with Dave’s grandfather.  Dave and Papa will spend their time cycling with hundreds of other cycling-fanatics.  I will go antique shopping, get a head start on my Christmas list, and, mostly, try to get lots of reading done.  But even though I’ll be working most of the time I’m down there, just being able to leave Tallahassee and relax in a nice hotel and eat lovely food someone else prepares for me will do a lot of good for me psychologically.

Of course, that could all be ruined if Potter decides to eat his pet sitter.  Wish us luck on that front.  I think he’ll do fine; I think Dave is terrified.  Luckily our pet sitter is a tough New Yorker, so I think we’ll be okay.

Either way, I am leaving this apartment for the next three days and this fall break, official or otherwise, could not come at a better time.

:::

On an unrelated not, my amazing friend Katie gave birth to her beautiful little girl, Maddy, yesterday afternoon.  While telling Dave how happy I am for the newly-expanded Williams family, it suddenly occurred to me that, if Barack Obama wins this election, Maddy will grow up never questioning whether or not an African American will ever be President of the United States.  Cool, huh?  Hopefully the next generation will be able to have the same experience with a woman in charge.

Blech.

I feel utterly exhausted and worn out, depressingly deprived of strength.  I’ve not been sleeping, which is unusual for me.  Typically I go to bed, read for an hour or so, turn out the light, and then my head hits the pillow and I am completely out. Not so lately.  Instead I go to bed feeling as though there is not even an ounce of energy left in my body; I read for only 15 minutes or so before I can no longer hold my eyelids up.  Then I lay my head on the pillow only to instantly feel wide awake.  I toss and turn, hear every noise, and notice every ray of light.  My mind recalls everything that I have done that day and that I still need to do.  Last night I rolled around until after 1:30, leaving me only 5 hours of sleep.

But I think the lack of sleep is more of a symptom than the problem. I have a tendency to avoid talking about the strenuousness of my job because I am aware that it’s something you can only understand by experiencing.  For Pete’s sake, I only have to be at the physical location of my job for  8 or 9 hours a week.  I know that seems like “the dream.” That’s the good part.  Here’s the problem: there is no way for me to ever complete my to-do list.  And because there are no set hours for my job, I feel like I should be doing work 24 hours a day.  I can’t help but feel guilty when I choose to do something other than read, research, or plan.  And eventually that guilt becomes unbearable and I have a mild freak out; I’m averaging about 3 or 4 a semester (ask Dave; he’ll verify).

Last night (3 weeks into the semester mind you) I had mild freak out #1.  I went from feeling productive and on top of things (and, in fact, enjoying my research) on Wednesday afternoon to feeling behind, frustrated, hopeless, and angry last night. I was grumpy and snappy.  Then this morning, still feeling doubtful and pissy, I taught my Contemporary Lit class and left, once again, feeling confident.  Seriously, I think my PhD is giving me manic depression.

So today I’m complaining…to you, because poor Dave had to deal with enough of my complaints last night.  But here’s the good news: the Pumpkin Spice Latte is back at Starbucks.  Yay!  That sort of makes up for my favorite Panera salad being (apparently) taken off the menu permanently.  Too bad it doesn’t get me out of going to class tonight; at least it will keep me caffeinated throughout it.

Not a Post

I should write a blog post about all that is going on this week, this the first week of Summer C Session.  I could tell you about the crazy key lady and the key that changed its mind.  Or I could tell you about the persistent emailer who wants to take my (entirely discussion-based) class via correspondence study.  Or I could tell you about how my lit class turned into a 45 minute therapy session on race relations.  All of these issues would make great blog posts.

But the truth is, I’m too daggum tired to write about any of them.  I am exhausted.  There’s no explaining it.  I, technically, do not have a demanding schedule.  I was prepared in advance for teaching this class.  And yet I find myself overrun with prep and minor to-dos, coming home feeling worn out and having aching feet.  Yesterday I fell asleep reading within 20 minutes of being home.  I keep pushing my “bedtime” up, hoping that will help.  So far it hasn’t.  And I certainly have not had the energy, time, or wherewithal to do any productive prelims reading over the past two days.

I fear this is going to be a long six weeks.  The upside is that my students seem fantastic thus far.  We’ll see if that keeps up as they get sick of doing the reading and I get sick of them not doing the reading.  But for now that at least is a bright side.

I Am Slowly Going Crazy

Well, you should all be proud of me; I have been crazy productive this week.  I’m really proud of how well I’ve been able to keep my nose to the grindstone.  I’ve gotten a lot of reading done and am just about as prepared for the class I start teaching next week as I can be.  Yay me:)

Unfortunately, I have discovered the side-effect of such productivity: I am going stir-crazy. Until this afternoon, I hadn’t left my home since Saturday except to walk Potter every morning.  That may not seem long, but you spend all day reading with very little human interaction and see if you don’t start hallucinating, too.

Luckily my friend Jenny rescued me and invited me to coffee this afternoon, where we lamented the quickly passing summer and our upcoming teaching assignments. Then Dave and I had planned to play disc golf when he got off of work; unfortunately Mother Nature had other plans and threw a thunderstorm our way. So, disc golf will have to wait until the weekend.  Let’s hope I can hold off the stir craziness until then.

In other news, I officially passed my French exam.  Yay!  Just don’t ask me to translate anything for you… I also (finally) got my teaching assignment for the fall and will be once again instructing young adults about Contemporary Literature.  I haven’t decided what I’ll teach yet, though; ideas include Postmodernism, Multicultural Authors, and Post-War Literature.  I’ll get through this summer class and then decide.

So, my summer is rolling right along. I feel like I’m actually getting a lot of work done for prelims and may not fail them after all.  I hope I didn’t just jinx myself…