Ugh, I'm up late writing a paper.

This PhD road is going to be paved with nights like these . . . might as well get used to it. Relax, keep plugging away, keep the coffee machine going. Honey, you're just getting started. This little ol' 4-5 page reacción crítica is the least of your worries this semester. For real. Save your whining for midterms. Or your monster-sized final papers. This party is just getting started, baby. Go 'head and get warmed up.

I put together a 5-shelf bookcase.

And I did it by myself. I am the woman. The queen of putting stuff together. That is all.

Whut?

Huckleberry chuckler: So you mean to tell me you went to Alabama then to Auburn and now you're going to Georgia? Whut? (chuckle, chuckle)

Me: (folksy chuckler mode) I just tell everybody I'm working my way through the SEC. (chuckle, chuckle)

Me: (unspoken sarcastic mode) (Steps up to the mic. Taps it.) Is this thing on? Oh, okay. I've been meaning to make this announcement for a long time now. I was hoping people would catch on, but I guess it's only fair and honest for me to spell it out. (clears throat) I. Don't. Care. About. Football. Yeah, I said it. I don't. I barely understand the game. It's too slow. A bunch of hulking guys group together. Then they crunch together and the game stops. They line back up, they crunch together again . . . like I said, I don't care for it. Gasping for air, are you? Listen. I wasn't raised in the syrupy, football-obsessed culture the majority of you were. Sorry. I'm one of those who chose to go to the schools I went to based on a mixture of financial and geographical reasons, not one of those who went for the football team or because mumma n' diddy n' paw paw went there so now I go there and I bleed crimson and white or orange and blue or red and black. By the time I got transplanted here, I was already too far gone to grasp the allure of scandalously paid coaches organizing their strategies in accordance to the amount of heat generated from enraged rednecks breathing down their necks. So, try to understand, y'all. I gulp down sweet tea, and I will tear up a plate of whatever Southern-fried, slow-cooked, ham hock-flavored, heart-attack giving concoction you place in front of me. I love it when your gentlemen let me go first and hold the door open for me. I do. I like magnolia trees and stuff. This is the only "home" I've ever known. But I don't care about football, people. I have a Bear Bryant hat and an Auburn t-shirt and I'm sure I'll get a little stuffed bulldog or something for kicks without any overwhelming sense of cognitive dissonance. I'm a traitor, har, har, har. Like I've never heard that one before. I think you guys got it. Whoops! Said "you guys" instead of "y'all"! (Puts mic back and walks off stage.)

Les événements de la journée

I watched a Spanish film in Spanish.

I wore my French t-shirt and practiced my French at la table française for a good two hours. Magnifique.

I saw a squirrel nibbling on a half-eaten burger still wrapped up in the paper that he dug out of the trash.

As I was sitting on a bench waiting for my bus, a car containing two stupid guys drove by. One stupid guy honked while the other stupid guy stuck his head out of the window and made kissing noises at me.

I was praying that my Autobiography of a Slave that I ordered from Amazon would come in the mail really soon because I need to have a bunch of it read by Tuesday. And what was in the mail today? Awww, yeah.

Dear D7 Chord,

I'm kinda mad at you right now because you've rubbed my fingertips raw trying to play you. Who gave you permission to do that? Who told you that was okay? You have frustrated me immensely. Grrrrr! It makes me so mad just thinking about all of my futile efforts today. It really burns me up when something as simple as correctly strumming a chord lies just beyond my grasp.

But let me tell you something. Don't think for a minute it's over. If you don't know anything about me, know this: I don't give up easily. I will win. You may have won the battle, but I will win the war. It's just a matter of time. I will persistently practice until I master you. I will dominate you, own you, subject you to my will. Just wait. Just you wait.

Quick Quips

So, my fingers are hurting from guitar. But I'm starting to play the blues, honey.

Have you ever unwarrantedly thrust yourself (and someone else) into an awkward situation? I have a knack for that. I'm the queen of awkward. An awkward situation magnet.

Before you start grad school anywhere and in anything, just remember this: Everything is a "social construction." You can thank me later.

I've narrowed things down to two on the Great Church Search. You're so glad to have me? Well, I'm so glad to be here. And I might see you again.

Please, please . . . hold your applause, hold your applause.

Mr. Wonderful . . . helloooo? I don't hear your banging down my door . . . hellooo?

Politically Incorrect?

On Thursday, the two Asian girls sitting next to me on the bus were speaking Chinese.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed, olive-skinned guy sitting across from me was wearing a t-shirt that said "Tony's Pizzeria - New York, New York."

The skinny, pale, nerdy-looking guy with a Star Wars shirt on sitting a couple of seats down from the Italian guy was glued to his MacBook.

The pretty, brown-skinned black girl who got on and sat next to me after the Chinese girls got off did smell like cocoa butter.

And me? I had on a long denim skirt and a peasant blouse with a flower in my hair, an oriental purse I bought for $5 in Chinatown and a scuffed up NPR tote bag. And I was on my way to Afro-Hispanic Identity (in the Physics building).

It wasn't because . . .

I navigated the bus system like a pro today, or because I went to a student job fair and got some offers to teach test prep on the side, or because I went back to tear up another banh mi ga and ran into some colleagues and ended up having a lovely Spanish-speaking Vietnamese lunch, or because I had a fruitful meeting about my research project with my faculty mentor, or because I ran into a former colleague on the bus who was an instructor at Auburn the same time I was who is getting her doctorate in Education, or even because I went to church and was reminded that God and my brothers and sisters in Christ truly love me.

It was because I thought that since I was here, doing my thing, getting involved, establishing discipline and routine, it would go away. At least for a while. I thought making the right strokes on a clean slate would do it. But it will still take work. Faith and trust don't come easy for me. It takes constant effort and constantly deciding that I will turn it over to God and not try to take the reins myself. It takes waking up every day and choosing to believe that a God exists who has my best interests at heart.

Snatches of the Day

Walking out of my Afro-Hispanic Identity class (held in the Physics building for, I'm sure, some genius reason), headed to the bus stop. Suited professor walking on one side of the road, smug frat boy on the other. He calls out, from across the street, "Hey, Professor so-and-so! Did you get those papers graded?" Professor, unsuccessfully trying to ignore him, "No, not yet." Frat boy brazenly replies, "When are you going to get them done?" Professor, continuing to walk, "When they're all turned in." I, disbelieving, walking in front of the Professor after this exchange, turn around and say, with a hint of instructorial camaraderie, "Isn't that annoying?" Professor replies, "Yes . . . especially with that student." I laugh. "It's just so brazen, you know?" Professor asks, "Are you a professor? Do you teach here?" "Oh, no, but I've taught in the past, and that whole thing rang familiar." But what I really wanted to answer was: "Not yet."

Sitting at an outside table of a Vietnamese bistro downtown, tearing UP a banh mi ga (not even $5!) for lunch. A girl with natural hair and velvet skin walks out with her man and comments, "You look really stylish today," and keeps walking. I told her thank you, but I don't think she realized she made my day.

Heard twice today: "Love the flower." I told one guy that it was my favorite flower, and he said "It fits." It was one of those days that called for my sunflower hair clip.

First Day Done

So . . . I'm in a class surrounded by fantastic, expert native Spanish speakers, and I, long-skirted neophyte, sit wiping my sweaty palms, nervous Spanish tumbling out of my defiant mouth. Defiant against the rising feelings of insecurity. Uh-uh. Ain't no time for that here, honey. You got something to say? You betta speak up. I like it when (and this only happens in a seminar where the professor says something to the effect of "you will do as much talking as I will in this class") you make a point and one of your classmates refers to the point you made and elaborates on it.

I sat sipping a tall iced white mocha, nibbling on a piece of pumpkin loaf when I caught ol' boy checking me out as soon as he walked in the room. Ha! Caught you again! And again! A friend joined me later and we were engaged in conversation, so he had no chance to say anything when he got up to leave. He just gave me one last look which prompted my self-satisfied smile. That's right, ol' boy. Keep on walking. You didn't have nothing to say to me.

My jovial guitar instructor makes it fun. I can play a simplified C, G7, G and D7 chord. Matter of fact, I can now play a baby version of "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands." Awwww, whatchu say now? Only downside: Those manicured little nails had to go. Clip, clip. Callused fingertips, here you come.

And It Begins . . .

Tomorrow's the first day of class! Ay, ay, ay! Narrative Discourses. What, WHAT? (And a guitar lesson. Awww, yeah.)

Did some more church hunting today. Think I'm narrowing down the search. Question of the day: "So, are you a freshman?" Me: (chuckling) "No, I'm a doctoral student." Wide eyes of disbelief. I still blast my oily skin, but I guess it's helped me keep a somewhat fresh face.

I christened my apartment by having my first official cup of tea. And, boo, I had to settle for some plastic shower curtain rings since all the WalMarts around town have been ransacked by students galore. Ah, well. At least they're purple.

We gon do dis thang. We gon DO it.

At the End of Moving Day

In my cozy bed with my sunflower bedspread. Yay! So glad the sweat fest of moving is over with. My poor dad and little brother were troopers. Now, little by little, I've got to make my teeny tiny place home.

I will admit, though, that I was about to scream when I realized my beautiful shower curtain hooks were too small for the gignormous, permanently mounted shower rod in my bathroom. Ah, such a waste. They looked fabulous with my shower curtain. Ah, well. Ya win some, ya lose some.

Next on the agenda is church hunting. I went to one of the local churches Wednesday. The people were very nice and welcoming. I filled out a visitor information card, and let me tell you, pastor and company were blowing up my phone today! Chillax, church people. I haven't made up my mind yet, but I'll be back for a Sunday visit.

Mmmm . . . gonna sink into my silky covers and wake up bathed in sunshine.

Moving Day

I'm back in Montgomery to get my stuff. Tomorrow is moving day.

Let's see . . . this will be my 4th moving day. 1st-Into my first apartment. 2nd-Out of my first apartment into my 2nd apartment in Auburn. 3rd-Out of my apartment in Auburn into storage/my parent's house and now 4th-Out of storage/my parent's house into my apartment in GA. At this rate, there will definitely be a 5th and 6th.

I haaaaate moving. It's such a hassle. It's hot. It involves a 3 1/2 hour trip this time. It's expensive. It's draining. A bunch of reshuffling, resettling, repositioning . . . I just can't wait until the dust settles and I can settle down with a mug of chai tea (actually, I've been into Earl Grey lately) and admire how I've once again made a place "home."

My apartment is still smallish, but when I got my keys the other day and took everything in after it had been cleaned, vacuumed and repainted, I found the blinds completely pulled up and the sun shining in through the great big windows in both the living room and bedroom. I looked outside and found a lovely, calming view. I can do this.

So Far, So Good

So, I'm slowly getting the hang of this town. Meeting people, got my classes all nice and registered for, trying not to get too scared about the onslaught of work that is going to rise up like a mighty wave and wash over me. There's great public transportation, and a spunky, eclectic downtown area. I'm also getting my guitar journey underway, and I'm looking into doing a little tutoring on the side for some extra cash flow. I got my student ID card today. I'm official, baby!

The only slight negative so far is my future apartment. I can't get my keys until tomorrow, but I went over and took a little peek the other day, and it's uber small! Ay, caramba. I spent a lot of time last night formulating a furniture formation in my head that would maximize space. I can't complain too much, though. My rent includes literally everything--utilities, internet, cable (if I so decided to indulge), laundry, even. I need to just relax and get ready to get really cozy.

Anyway, turns out I don't even have to stay up here the whole week of orientation. It's geared mainly for the teaching assistants, and my advisor let me know that since I won't be teaching . . . most of it doesn't really apply to me. Yesterday and today had some pretty important and informative sessions, but she said I could skip the rest of the week. So, I may be going back to the Gump a little sooner and then come back Saturday for the horrendous, grueling move. Ugh, I despise moving.

This is funny. . . it's like, a month or so ago I had no idea what moving up here and plunging into a PhD program would even look like. Now, things are just naturally coming into focus and taking their course.

Tomorrow

is the beginning of the rest of my life.

I woke up this morning feeling slumpy. Why oh why do I do this? After just having received lots of encouragement during a Starbucks chat last night and a couple of "just checking on you" calls this morning, part of me is still tripping on uncertainty. I'm having hallucinations seeped in IdontknowwhatImdoing and Idontknowwhattoexpect.

I just remembered that a sister at church has a guitar that she'd offered to lend me. She bought one and took a few guitar lessons, but got busy and it started collecting dust. It just popped into my mind today that I could take her up on her offer and finally start checking off one more thing on my life's to-do list. Now's as good a time as any. There are so many David Gray songs I can imagine myself playing.

Now to finish packing. And maybe do a little shopping. Heh, heh. It is a tax-free weekend!

A Mixture of Myself and Other People Strained Through My Brain Sieve and Typed Out in Numbered Points

The Pep Talkers

1. It's time for you to move on. You're ready for a change of scene. You get to meet new people, get involved in new things . . . you're going to do really well. You always knew that where you are now is not where you wanted to settle down, so here's your chance. Rock it!

2. The Lord has opened up these doors for you. You just need to trust Him and walk through them. Pray that He will allow you to enjoy it, to live it, to get out of it what He wants you to.

3. It's a good fit for you. There are people in the department you already know you want to work with. You'll probably have more opportunities to travel. All the hard work will pay off in the end, and you'll be so glad you went for it!

And my personal favorite . . .

4. You never know! (wink)

The Melancholy Comforter Cocoon Dwellers

1. From here on out, nothing will be the same. You don't know anybody and you're going to have to start all over. And when you finally reach the top, it'll be a lonely, windswept apex where you'll remain in your own bubble of an existence.

2. You're going to have to face those same lonely, long-morninged Saturdays where you have lots to get done but you want to do something else relaxing and fun, but you don't have a lot of money or available people to hang with, so you're stuck the whole day trying to avoid doing what you have to do but don't want to do.

3. You're so ready to settle down in an imaginary, safe, predictable rose-colored life full of made breakfasts and fat babies and sidewalk chalk but you're stuck reading articles that try to read Marxism into medieval theater.

4. You're going to have to say no. Say no and mean it. Say no and stick by it. Say no and not feel guilty about it.

The Realistic Sarcasm-Laced Pragmatists

1. What else are you going to do? Work for some non-profit and become disillusioned? You know that what you were doing wasn't it, so you're doing something else, right? You're not making a lateral move, either, you're stepping it up, which will ultimately prove economically and vocationally beneficial to you. So suck it up and tell the rumored "hard professors" to bring it.

2. Why are you pining after an imaginary life? If you woke up tomorrow morning to the wail of a fat baby and sidewalk chalk streaks and the prospect of making perfect pancakes, would you be ready? Or would you wish you had the chance to breathe in oxygen-poor air from the ruins of Machu Picchu? You are living your life right now. So get your head out of the clouds and live your best now.

3. Oh, you poor, poor thing. You have the chance to get a world-class education for free and get paid to do it with a boatload of guidance along the way. Oh, you poor, deprived little wench.

4. The only certain thing in this life is change, dear. I thought you'd learned that a long time ago. Seriously. You'd think after growing up a military brat and already having been around the world that some semblance of the idea of the temporariness of every darn thing would have seeped in by now.

The Mind Wanderers

1. You can take stuff outside of your department. Like a painting class or a music class . . . you've always wanted to learn the guitar.

2. Maybe you can get a part-time job. Like at a coffee shop or something. Come home smelling like coffee grounds. Mmmmm.

3. You're going to be making your lunch a lot. Healthy stuff like turkey croissant sandwiches and yogurt and dried cranberries and granola bars. Remember those healthy, economical days? They're back. Frozen salmon fillets and casseroles that last, and don't forget that crock pot you've got in storage. They're back, baby.

4. You know you miss that student-status. That time when you have an acceptable, cute excuse for being broke. Here you go again.

Sorting through my accumulation of stuff

I have an overabundance of

1. scarves.

2. hats.

3. tote bags.

What am I going to do with

1. my tae kwon do uniform?

2. my blowdryers with mismatched/broken attachments?

3. my stuffed animals?

Why is it so hard to do away with

1. t-shirts (mostly old, faded, paint-splattered, etc.) I never wear?

2. an old address book (that I've since updated in a new one)?

3. clothes I haven't worn in over a year?

I will, for some reason, always keep

1. a never-eaten box of candies given to me by a cute tour guide the first time I went to Paris.

2. a set of "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" frog figurines.

3. my Curious George doll.

I can't believe I still own

1. a boombox that plays cassette tapes.

2. a Game Boy.

3. a dress that I wore to my sweet 16 birthday party.

Georgia

The Age Old Connundrum

I always have too much to do or not enough. Or I have a lot of stuff that must eventually get done, but that I can't reasonably put on a to-do list and check off like most other tasks (i.e. create a reading list, choose an advisory committee or write a dissertation.)

One step at a time, one step at a time.

I did get a lot checked off today, though. I'm pleased with my progress.

Things are starting to coalesce. Paid rent for my apartment, reserved a U-Haul, made hotel reservations for the first few days after my arrival in GA, paid my last bit of rent for storage of all my stuff before I ship it on out. My answer used to be, "Uh, beginning of August sometime," but now my answer is definite. Specific. August 7th.

I started getting excited looking at the classes I might be taking: Issues of Race, Class and Gender, Hispanic Thought, Narrative Discourses, Survey of Literary and Cultural Theories and Criticism, Topics in Afro-Hispanic Identity. The nerd center of my brain is getting fired up, baby!

I will admit to a teeny tiny worry: church. God, please let me find a good one. Not a podunk one (bless their hearts), but one that's vibrant, growing, multicultural, and has at least a few 20 and 30somethings I can relate to. Atlanta's a big city nearby, but it's at least an hour and a half away. Don't make me have to do that every Sunday. I mean, I know some people from a couple of churches in ATL, so I wouldn't mind visiting every once in a while for fellowship, but (sigh) we'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess.