Busyness. Business.

Can some one gallop up on a white horse and save me?

Whisk me away to that far away land, where papers, readings, meetings, panels, presentations are all irrelevant.  Where the very idea of them melt away like a lone snowflake on my outstretched tongue.

I want to wake up as a queen on a canopy bed, well-rested, enveloped in the decadence of silken sheets.

I want to look in the mirror and find my eyebrows perfectly tweezed, my skin flawless and glowing.

I want to open my door and look outside to see a field of bright, wild sunflowers.

I want to take my guitar out of that gig bag and let every chord I strum be perfect, melodious, sonorous.

I would like to be able to speed read, no, even better, just place my hand on a book, close my eyes and telekinetically soak in the contents in a matter of seconds.  I want Microsoft Word to be a mind reader.  I can just lean my forehead against my laptop screen, and Word will write my papers in professional, academic, grammatically impeccable Spanish by absorbing my thoughts.

I want to do everything, get it all done, but I can't.  I have to blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, and then I have to yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda, after that I'll still have this and that and the other left to do. It's not even worth enumerating.

Last.  Semester.  Of.  Coursework.

And don't let me get dengue fever if a mosquito bites me in Cuba.  And don't let a sinewy, rum drinking, cigar smoking, cafe con leche, curly-haired Cuban with fire in his dark eyes and sugar cane sweet words seduce me.

Tomorrow (well, seeing that it is after 12:00 a.m., today) let me see my life with a cherry on top even if it's rainy and cold.

Healing Is Here

Sickness can't stay any longer

Your perfect love is casting out fear

You are the God of all power

And it is your will that my life is healed

I'm in the choir and every time we get to the bridge in "Healing is Here" I just get overwhelmed with the presence of God.  I guess it's because "sickness" is not just physical sickness.  You have to get to a point where you really believe that whatever your sickness is cannot stay any longer.  It's God's will that our lives are healed.  Not that we live in fear, not that we live in sickness, not that we live believing that we have to shoulder the burden.  If you really believe God, not just in God, then you know He has all power.  And you know that there is nothing too big for Him.

Those Days Where You Take Too Long of a Nap Therefore You Can't Get to Sleep at Night

I deserved a nap though, for real.  Well, kind of.  It was my fault.  Conference presentation Saturday morning in Atlanta, didn't finish self-translating (since I originally wrote the paper in Spanish and planned on presenting it in English) until late, late Friday night.  Well, early Saturday morning.  So late, that I got chained into the parking lot.  I had to honk down the campus police to unchain it when I saw one of them roll by.  I should really put their number into my phone.

So, presentation went okay.  My major professor even came, which was very sweet of her.  I need to get better at answering questions afterward, though. Ugh.  It brings out the nervous rambler in me.  Don't ask me a question that it would take me writing a paper to answer.  Dude.  And then this girl gonna come up after it's all over and begin a "question" she had for me by telling me, in sum, that she wanted to ask it during question/answer, but didn't because she didn't want to call me out.  As if to say, "I could have embarrassed you, but I didn't."  I get it.  How could I say that a character in a Peruvian novel followed a Yoruba herbalist tradition when there is such a strong herbalist tradition in indigenous culture, particularly in a country like Peru with a strong indigenous element?  Point well taken.  However, the purpose of the novel, written by an Afro-Peruvian writer, was to highlight the African element in Peruvian identity that is often overlooked.  If we're talking about Peru, the indigenous thing is kind of a given, isn't it?  The things I don't think of to say until afterward.

There was a young professor who presented in the panel with me, who, in retrospect, I think was trying to holla at me.  I was honestly intrigued by his presentation and we were chatting about it afterward and I mentioned I was going to Cuba this summer.  He went to Cuba as well and gave me his card to contact him if I needed any info on researching, places to check out, etc., in Cuba.  His interests include Jewish identity, but when discussing my presentation he mentioned that he was also interested in black female sexuality (part of my paper talked about sexual exploitation of female slaves).  Really?  Is that like a nerdy way of telling a black girl you wanna see what's up?

Afterward, I met up with a friend who now goes to the university where I gave the presentation who I met when we were both studying abroad in France.  It's always so good to see her.  When you go through the experience of being foreigners together in another country, there's something about it that makes you feel like family.

There was something about the dreary drive back that made me want something comforting.  Something like home.  Something akin to an Italian panini sandwich with olive oil.  (Yes, the paninis at Panera Bread are fake.)  I realized something.  What we used to call prosciutto piccante is actually sopressata.  It's like salami, but isn't.  It looked close enough, so I bought some along with a baguette and cheese.  When I got home and opened up the package and smelled it, I knew it.  That was it.  It almost brought tears to my eyes because it was a part of that idealized life on Via Mare.  That life when I used to go across the street and order from the deli at the alimentari in Italian.

Three Scriptures

1. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well (Psalm 139:14).

2. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding (Proverbs 3:5).

3. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths (Proverbs 3:6).

Focus, ol' gal. Focus.

Okay, ridiculous things are needing to come together, stat.  What am I thinking?  Monday started out so well.  I knocked out so many things on my to-do list.  Passport renewal off in the mail . . . can you believe I've had a passport so long that that bad boy is expired?  It was issued in 2002.  Right before I went to Spain for the first time.  It expired in 2012.  I don't want to think about the amount of time between those two dates.  If I had had a baby before I went to Spain, that baby would be in 4th grade right now.  No . . . I can't . . . the oldness . . .

Then I got stuff cooking for applying for one more grant that's due Monday.  Narrative with budget, check. Transcripts sent off (with that 4.0 GPA in yo' face, son!), check.  Letter of rec from my illustrious major professor on the way, check.  Language verification, check.  Tomorrow, I'mma scan that application cover sheet and send it in.  Bam.  You know you wanna give your girl some plane ticket money to go to Cuba.  Did I mention that I was awarded $1000 from a previous grant?

On top of that, I attended and set up meetings to start gearing up for comps.  Which I'm supposed to take in the fall!  And then I read an article right quick and got enough coherent thoughts together to write a response paper.  I rocked it on Monday.

But today?  Productivity has gone back down to 0%.  I have to self-translate and slash down a paper I'm presenting this weekend, and I need to read so that I can write another response paper, and I don't want to wait till the last minute.  Oh, plus I have to finish this article on blogging that's being published in a ladies' magazine.  Ahem.  In other words, I need to get my life together.

But my brain is traveling. It won't stop doing it's own thing.  Here I am like, Brain . . . come on back down to Earth . . . I need you, and my brain is like, Psshhh.  You on your own.

Every time I look at my calendar my stomach screams.  I can't believe this month is almost over and next month is almost here! Not only will I be on the other side of 30 at the end of next month, but in-between now and the other side of 30, I'm, well, I'll just say that I'm embarking on an adventure of sorts.  And the prospect of this adventure is turning my stomach into an adrenaline-laced acrobat.  It's turning my brain into the winner of the Indy 500.

There are times when you need to just take a chill pill and bring it all back.  Take it all down a thousand.  Breathe.  Do what you gotta do.  That's what I'm trying to do.

Another Difference Between Then and Now

Then, I used to despise going into a store by myself to buy feminine products.  Especially when the cashier was a guy.  I used to hate it.  It was the most mortifying experience ever.  But my mom used to make me do it.  I guess she thought it was like, character-building or something.

Now, I can't even express how much I do not care.  It's like dude, you work here, I need this, thanks, goodbye.

I guess that's how it always was, but I was too young and self-conscious to realize it.

Things Making Me Want to Cry This Weekend

Every darn thing is making me tear up.  I'll get over it.

1. A classmate invited me and two other classmates over to his place for dinner last night.  It was really nice.  We were sitting there talking and having a great, open, honest conversation, and it made me want to cry.  It made me feel like I was a part of a sincere moment that would only exist in that moment.  And then, before we left, our host gave us each a pretty little post-Valentine's Day gift of chocolate.  It was very sweet and made me feel like I was a part of something special.

2. My brain crush invited the class over today for empanadas and class discussion.  In the middle of sitting in that circle of colleagues/friends, a wave of longing washed over me.  I wished that one day I could be a married professor with a cute little girl and a nice place with enough room to invite my students over for a meal and casual conversation.  I was just sitting there, soaking in the conversation and suddenly struck with how beautiful a scene it was, how thankful I was to be a part of it, and how I would like to re-create it one day.

3. I've been working on a manuscript for another professor, the same professor who asked me to co-author an article with her, and the same one whose little boy I babysit twice a week.  There was a little problem with the manuscript, so I went over to show her how to fix it.  Just coming over, seeing her son's face light up  when he saw me and giving him hugs and kisses when he jumped into my arms almost brought me to the brink again.  He likes to spin things on top of his little plastic table . . . little balls, wooden beads, anything that spins.  While the toy is spinning around, we place our hands around it to make a casita, a little house for it, so that it will be happy.

Valentine's Day or Super Duper Day

First of all, I was cute today.  I was.  At least, people told me that I was.  I did a little som'n som'n to my hair, wore red and polka dots and had a flower in my hair.  It's Valentine's Day.  I wanted to look Valentiney.  I had a presentation in class and plus, well, it's Valentine's Day, so I brought cupcakes and chocolate.  But then I got a call that I had a delivery, but the delivery man wasn't able to find my apartment!  Who was the mystery Valentine's Day gift-giver?  I ended up going to the place, Edible Arrangements.  And I had a box of chocolate covered strawberries, a balloon and a teddy bear.

I read the card and saw that they were from this handsome guy right here . . . my brother.  Awww!  He really made my day.

And then I got a call from my professor.  The amazing one that I wish I could be like.  She didn't have time to talk to me after class, she said, but she wanted to tell me that I did a good job on my presentation.  Then, to make a long story short, she asked if I wanted to co-author an article with her!  I was so overwhelmed that I started to cry!  If you're in academia and can get an article published before you finish grad school, it's a huge deal.  But not even that . . . just the fact that she asked me.  That she thinks I'm a good enough scholar to want to attach her name to something that I would be partly responsible for.  That she would even consider me.  I'm excited. And today has been a super duper day.

I Hate WalMart

I only shop there out of poor graduate student necessity.  I hate it.  It takes forever, it's always mad crowded, I always end up going in circles trying to find stuff, wasting time, always dodging people in the aisles, trying to avoid the ogling of dirty old men, getting lost by the non-advice from people who work there.  No ma'am, matches are not with groceries, and those little long neck lighters are not just between registers 15 and 16 with all of the last-minute junk.  Matches AND long neck lighters are with the kitchen utensils in housewares.  Yes, ma'am.  I found that out after I wandered the store struggling with a bootleg cart that wouldn't stay on course, full of groceries.  I was NOT leaving without my long neck lighter.  A girl has candles and a girl will light them and smell them.

Don't look at me crazy if I ask you to slice my honey cured ham thinly, neither.  Lady, it's what you do.  Sir, I know you're just a lost middle-aged man, I'm not annoyed, but if you're looking for cranberry sauce, um, it might be with canned fruit, you know what I'm saying?

It's just so tiring.  And this is just for ONE person!  I mean, I guess for that reason, I only go what I call "big shopping" once a month.  And I talk about wanting bundles of kids.  How you think them kids are gonna be getting fed?  If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses?

I, having no free tickets to the moon, / I'd love you

It's a line of poetry (well, two lines, actually) written by my poetic friend.  It's one of those things that reminds me of those undergrad days.  It's one of those things that reminds me of the headiness of possibility.

I have no free tickets to the moon.  This is not some splashy, flashy, ostentatious bling-bling of an offering.  This is not some jackpot-winning, Lamborghini-driving pass abroad.  I have no free tickets to the moon.  All I have to give is myself.  And my love.

It doesn't say "I love you."  No.  It's not a fact.  Not a sure declaration.  It says "I'd love you."  I would love you.  If you only knew how capable I was of loving you.  If you only knew what I had to offer and could appreciate it.  If you only opened yourself up and allowed me to, I'd love you.

I'm going to be productive today . . .

but I must take a few minutes to sort of, um, blogularly express my heightened sense of, shall we say, expectation?

I don't do well with uncertainty.  I'm woman enough to admit it.  I know this about myself.  It tends to send me into emotional extremes.  One minute there's sunshine, and the next, there's nothing but clouds.  I know this about myself, and I'm not afraid to own up to it.  But I'll also say that, through the years, I've learned how to rein it in.  What I'm saying is that even though my brain is processing and reprocessing scads of unnecessary data at 1000 rpms, even though there are successive interchanges of sunshine and rain, I don't actually do anything that would show my hand.  In other words, I don't do anything impulsive that I would regret later.  Thank God.

Having said that, I think I'm also learning how to enjoy the uncertainty.  It's great when you can learn how to do that.  Because even though the fact of the matter is that there are many factors that are beyond your control, acknowledging that and deciding to take it a day at a time somehow increases your sense of agency.  And yes, I mean "agency" in the way that students of postcolonial literary theory mean it.

Sometimes things work out exactly the way you envisioned them, and sometimes they don't.  And sometimes, either one can result in dizzying, giddy satisfaction or crushing, disheartening disappointment.

One particular time that something happened exactly the way I had arranged it in my head was many years ago, when I was in Spain and I had a hopeless crush on a boy.  I had this mental scenario of us both going to a birthday party, both declaring that we weren't going to stay, and since we were both going to leave early, I envisioned him asking if I would like him to walk me home.  And as God is my witness, that was exactly what happened.

But one other time, quite recently, I applied for a teaching assistantship to go to Cuba.  I had it all worked out in my head.  But I didn't get it.  I was bummed.  But now, I'm still going.  Not as an assistant, but as an independent agent supported by a combination of research and travel grants.  In fact, I was recently awarded $1000 by one of them.  There's still another I'm applying for due later on this month.  In any event, I can say that I'm definitely going.  It definitely didn't work out the way I envisioned it, but this way is dizzyingly, giddily satisfying.

However this one is going to unravel is still a mystery.  But I know I'm in good Hands.

Sunny, Sunny Sun

Today is happy.

I haven't finished reading these articles yet and I need to.  I'm sort of giddy right now, to be honest.  I think it's the sunny weather.  Here are things that are making me smile:

1. I was told that my professorial brain crush mentioned me several times this past Wednesday in my absence.  (I'm auditing the class and he knows that I won't be able to attend each session.)  It even became a topic of discussion in class yesterday.  I think I might be a teacher's pet and bring him a cup of coffee next week.  Just thinking about the prospect of doing that is making me girlishly giggle.

2. I am in love with Newark, New Jersey Mayor Cory Booker.  He is my new hero and fake future husband.  I am considering writing him a card and sending it.  Hee, hee.  I know I could just Twitter him or whatever since he's really big into social media, or I could email him, but I want to send him a card.  I love sending people handwritten cards.  I think there's something special about it.  In all seriousness, though, I would absolutely love to meet him one day.  Not just because I have a crush on him, but because I truly believe he's a great example of an energetic, engaged leader.  This is what I think is going to happen:  He's about to run for US Senate to take over from this 89-year-old man who's seen better days.  I think he has a great chance of winning. Then, for two years, he's going to be a rising star in the US Senate, doing all kinds of awesomeness.  Then in 2016, he's going to get the Democratic nomination for President, and run against Chris Christie in the GOP.  A NJ mayor and governor going head to head.  It's going to be a fantastic, hard-fought election, but he's going to pull through.  And I'll have some extra time for getting my wish of having children while a black president is in office!

3. I'm going home this weekend, and my mom informed me that she got free tickets to see Macbeth at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival.  Did I want to go?  Heck, yes!  I LOVE Macbeth. (Well, my Shakespeare fave is Julius Caesar, but Macbeth is up there.)  I still remember the first time I saw a production of Macbeth at the same theater.  I was in high school and we had read the play for English.  This is how it began: All the lights suddenly went out.  It was pitch black, no sound for like 10 seconds.  Then all of a sudden, a booming, awe-inspiring drum beat began to sound.  Boom!  Boom!  Boom! Boom!  And then, suddenly, the high-pitched wail of a bagpipe pierced the darkness along with the drums and the stage lights slowly came up.  It gives me chills just thinking about it.  Ahh!  I can't wait.

4. On my way back to GA, I'm going to stop and visit one of my grad school buddies, back from being out of the country for a while.  I love this guy and can't wait to see him.  We might even have a guitar jam session.  He's a million times better than I am, but it would still be cool to play together.  He's a . . . well, let's just say he's a non-believer.  I think he would prefer the term "secular humanist."  I, of course, am a holy rollin' born again believer in the liberating power of Jesus' name. We were joking around saying if we formed a guitar duo we should call ourselves Cognitive Dissonance.  I love it!  I really do think it's a great name.

Here's to a great weekend!