Where I Am

When I was an undergraduate, I spent a semester of my junior year studying abroad in Cambridge, England.  It was four of the most amazing months of my life. Upon returning home, however, I was surprised to realize that everybody else’s lives – those of my friends and my family – had moved on without me.  Rather, I was surprised that I hadn’t realized that of course their lives were going on as usual.  I was so caught up in my once-in-a-lifetime experience that I forgot that things would have changed when I got back.  There were no drastic changes, but I had somehow failed to expect to need to catch up on their lives after my four-month absence.  Selfish?  Solipsistic?  Yes.  But there it was.

In the past 6 months or so, approximately 8,604 (more or less) of my friends have either given birth or announced their pregnancy.  Okay, maybe not that many.  But a lot.  Every time I turn around it seems like another friend is giving birth of announcing that she’s expecting.

And I am thrilled for them.  Absolutely, positively thrilled.

But.

The vast majority of these friends (of all of my friends, really) still live in Kentucky.  Or, at least, they don’t live in Tallahassee. And though Dave and I still have our fingers crossed that eventually we will get to move back to our home state, it’s definitely quite a ways off (if it were to happen at all).  In the meantime, the birth announcements of these friends reminds me that their lives are moving on without me being there. And that’s as it should be.  

Having my bubble bursted – that ridiculous bubble that says that everyone’s life will wait to move forward until I am able to be a part of it again – hurts just a little bit, but it’s also a very, very good thing.  It reminds me that I have to be in the here and now.  I want to be with my friends as they go through this amazing process – both the good and the bad parts of it.  But the reality of it is that I’m hundreds of miles away.

So though I can’t be there physically, I have to remember to be better at being there emotionally.  So I send cards.  And I call more often.  And I send emails with cool baby things I’ve found (I live, and procrastinate, vicariously).  And I pray that they know how ecstatic I am for them, even though I can’t offer them the hug they so deserve to prove it.

Today a friend told me some advice her major professor gave her regarding the process leading up to our comps: “You have to let people be where they are.”  For her it meant that you can’t force your committee to be more involved than they are. But for me, its significance is more literal.  I have to let myself be where I am and I have to live my life as it is now, not as my crossed fingers hope it will one day be.

And my life as it is now includes being thrilled that there will be so many babies waiting for me to play with the next time I visit Kentucky.

Is That James Lipton Calling?

Beth at So the Fish Said decided to interview some of her readers à la Inside the Actor’s Studio, so I took her up on the offer.  Here it goes:

1.  Remember the movie Brewster’s Millions? That happens to you, except on a smaller scale.  You receive a million dollars that you must spend in 30 days.  However, you cannot have any assets to show for the money at the end of the month (and you can’t buy something and then destroy it), you cannot waste the money, you cannot give it away, and you cannot tell anyone what you are doing.  How do you ditch the dough in a month or less?

This one is easy (and oh so idyllic).  I would start by paying off all of my dreaded student loans, making me a much more happy, carefree Catherine.  

After that, The Hubs and I would travel until we ran out of dough.  We’d start in the UK, so I could introduce Hubs to Nancy & Arthur (my English mom & dad) and show him my favorite haunts.  We’d explore all of Cambridge (and maybe give a nod to Oxford), go to New Lanark for some family history, the lake district to relax, Edinburgh for the ghost tours, and Bath for one of my favorite restaurants.  We’d stay in London for a while to see the shows, take our time with the museums, and whatever else we felt like doing.

When we’re satisfied with Great Britain, we’d take turns choosing the destination – The Hubs would send us to the Pyrenees Mountains, I’d ship us to Paris (for a redo, quite frankly).  We’d both agree on Italy and Greece.  I would want to see India, Morocco, and Madrid.  Hubs would want to explore Africa more thoroughly and return to Spain.

We’d end back in the States and try to see all 50.

I am practically salivating just thinking about it.

2.  You are locked in a toy store overnight, with no way out until it reopens in the morning.  What do you play with all night?

I would alternate between Legos and Barbies.  Maybe I’d build a rockin’ Barbie’s Dream House with Legos.  And then I would play all of the Wii games I have wanted to play but refuse to the spend the money on.

Oh, and I hope they would have one of the keyboards on the floor like in Big.  I’d play on that, too.

3.  If you could have a dinner party with any three famous people, living or dead, you would be wasting your supernatural powers on hosting dinner parties.  What would you do instead?

I have to say, I think I’d stick with the dinner party thing (if it has to involve meeting with famous people).  I just want to hear Hemingway and Fitzgerald have a conversation, listen to Billie Holiday sing live, introduce Barack Obama to JFK, convince J.K. Rowling to write me into Harry Potter, things like that.  But it wouldn’t be a drab dinner party.  Oh no no no.  That would not do.

If my supernatural powers do not have to be used to meet famous folks, I would totally magic myself a PhD. Oh, and maybe a published book, too; plus a tenured job at the school of my choice.

Can you tell I’m growing weary of studying for comps?

4.  What’s the best thing since sliced bread?  Now, sliced bread ain’t all that impressive, so what’s the best mediocre, hum-drum improvement or advancement that has made modern life just ever so slightly more convenient for humanity, along the lines of saving yourself five seconds every time you want a piece of bread.

Practically, I’m going to say the refrigerator.  The Hubs and I are horrible at cooking for two people and always have lots of food leftover.  I can’t imagine having to throw all of that away every time we ate.  Plus, it grossed me out that my English host-parents didn’t keep their eggs in the fridge.  Yuck.

More frivolously, I love that I can hook  my iPod directly into my car.  No more shuffling through cds.  Heck, no more need to burn cds when I buy music on iTunes.  Love it.

5.  What’s your best quality?  The response to this question must be a simple declarative statement.  You may elaborate on that statement, provided that your elaboration does not include the words “but,” “however,” or “although,” or any other hedging, equivocating, back-sliding, gerrymandering (which is not at all appropriate in this context, but I think it should be, don’t you?) or any other type of backing down from the simple declarative statement with which you began your response.

I am surprisingly perceptive.  Though it has taken The Hubs nine years to admit the truth of this statement, he will now back me up.  I am just enough of a realist that I can look at a situation and recognize what will probably happen versus what should happen.  

For instance, two of my friends that are also studying for comps keep telling me that they can’t believe how calm I am.  And though I have my own little freak outs, for the most part they’re right.  It’s not because I’m that confident in my intellect (ha!).  It’s that I know that freaking out does me no good.  I’m going to have to take the exam one way or the other, so I might as well deal with it.  I also know that, though the idea of comps is scary, my committee is supportive and wants me to succeed, so I’m not panicking over the sneak attacks some students have to watch out for.

My perceptivity also includes the ability to be a fairly decent judge of character.  Or so I am told.

Unfortunately, this attribute is not always appreciated by others.  But it’s served me well, so I’m stickin’ with it.

The end.

Would you like to be interviewed? (Think of the blog fodder!)  If so, here’s the rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying you want to be interviewed.
2. I’ll email you five questions of my choosing.
3. You update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. They will answer these questions. If they don’t, you can post embarrassing information or humiliating photos of them on the internet.

Or, if you want, you can just answer Beth’s questions, but do tell me you’re doing so in the comments so I can steal your ideas for the next time.

So, who’s next?

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.

Lacking Composure

Today is a big day.  Huge day.  I cried as Barack Obama took the oath of office (despite what one of my friends has described as President Obama being punk’d by Chief Justice Roberts).  I cheered as “Hail to the Chief” played.  It was an amazing moment.

And yet I seemed to have developed adult-amnesia through much of it.  I giggled at Aretha Franklin’s ginormous bow.  I got a kick out of one camera shot that made it appear the George H.W. Bush was nodding off.  I was a like little kid in church throughout a good part of the Inauguration.

Even nows, hours later, I seem unable to muster the appropriate awe the moments inspires.  Instead, CNN tells me that President and Mrs. Obama have gone into the White House to freshen up and commentators question whether or not the first family will visit the Oval Office, and I couldn’t help but think of what I would do the first time in the residence: jump on the beds.  Totally.  I would do it.  Today is probably the most relaxed President Obama will be for the next 4 (hopefully 8, actually) years – why not jump on the beds in one of the most famous bedrooms in the world?

I at least hope his daughters get some bed-jumpin’ in.

Also, I can’t help but wonder how long it will take spell check to stop telling me Obama is spelled incorrectly? Can somebody update that please?  Thank you.

And this, people, is one of the many, many, many reasons that I will never be President.

But I am so, so, so glad he is.

I Am the Demographic

When advertisers, PR folks, and media executives in general sit around a conference table, make a conference call, or just chat around the water cooler about how best to make Product X appeal to Consumer Y, there is a pretty good chance that they’re talking about me.  I am Consumer Y.  Hi.  Nice to meet you.  Because here’s the thing: I am a sucker for advertising gimmicks.  This may also mean that I am a sucker.

Does it make it better that I know that I’m a sucker?

(Probably not.)

Example: HBO was awarded the rights to be the sole network to air today’s pre-inauguration celebration, We Are One.  Obviously, this perturbed many of the other major networks because, well, they want viewers, too.  So HBO agreed to offer any cable subscribers the opportunity to watch the concert on their network whether they’re subscribers or not.

While I would like to think that this was simply a generous gesture by HBO in honor of the ideology of the man being inaugurated.  But as much as I want to, I just can’t muster that much naivete.  It’s about money. (Duh.)

And HBO’s smart.  They always have been.  When I was a kid, HBO would offer subscription-free weekends when anyone could watch their channel for the weekend.  Of course, the goal of this was to convince people to pay the extra money for HBO’s personal brand of entertainment.  My family would watch HBO that whole weekend and lament that we didn’t subscribe when it was over.

Maybe HBO still does this.  I don’t know.  But that’s definitely what they did today.  Before and after the concert, HBO aired a commercial celebrating the wonderful programming they offered in 2008 and the even better entertainment ahead in 2009.

And now I want it.  I want to see Sex and the City: the Movie when it comes on HBO (even though I already saw it in theaters)!  I need to be able to watch Entourage! I can’t help but think of a way to rationalize the need for HBO (I am a very good rationalizer).  And I know that I am succumbing to the goals of the advertisers. I am happily and knowingly drinking the kool-aid.

Let’s just say that it’s a good thing that I’m married.  If not, I would almost definitely be the newest subscriber to HBO.  

But as it is, I’m not…yet.

I Might as Well Lie on a Couch While I Write This

I have probably mentioned before that, in some ways, getting a PhD in Literature has ruined my ability to enjoy literature by making it impossible for me to just sit back and read.  I have an automatic need to analyze, criticize, summarize any book that I pick up.  I can’t help it.  I am basically programmed that way.

Unfortunately, the illness has spread…to movies.

This semester I’m teaching a course on Contemporary Dystopian Literature. [I know, you're so jealous that you can't be in this edge-of-your-seat class that you don't think you can go on reading.  But please, take a big deep breath, and stick with me people].  So tomorrow, in our second class of the semester, I’m going to show some clips from potentially-dystopian films to discuss what makes a dystopia and what a dystopia does. [TMI?  You've stopped caring?  Sorry. I digress (see previous post)].

In preparation for this film viewing, I’ve spent the day browsing movies and narrowing down the clips.  I also took this chance to watch Wall-E, because I’ve wanted to see it since it came out and I use any opportunity to mix work with pleasure.

The movie was great (Seriously. Watch it.), but I could not simply enjoy it.  In fact, I had a hard time seeing how young children would enjoy this movie because it’s obviously a sniping social commentary, right?  What, you mean there’s also a sweet story about friendship between two robots?  Yeah, right – that was totally criticism about the way society is losing the ability to maintain lasting relationships because of our addiction to technology.

See, it’s an illness. But for now it seems to be manageable. While I may not be able to turn the analysis off, it doesn’t completely lose its entertainment value.  Heck, I teared up twice (twice!) in this animated comedy.[When Eve's trying to save Wall-E.  Tell me you didn't get a little weepy.]

I don’t know if this auto-analyze feature will diminish after I’m through with school.  It may require intensive entertainment-therapy.

Darn.

P.S.-Wall-E just this very second won the Golden Globe for Best Animated Motion Picture.  How timely is that?