I know, Thanksgiving is over. A girl can still be thankful, though, can't she?
My future husband and I left Sunday afternoon for a friends-and-family-visiting road trip. We made a stop to visit some family friends in another Georgian city Sunday evening, got up the next morning and left to visit my friend of friends and her family in their nice new house in an Alabamian city, and then left Tuesday afternoon to spend the rest of the week with my family in my Alabamian not-quite hometown. We've had a lovely time so far. Some highlights yet to come: Tomorrow afternoon I try on my wedding dress and tomorrow night the whole family is going to see the play A Christmas Carol at the theater!
I just want to take a few minutes to reflect on what I'm truly thankful for this year. So much has happened. So much has changed. God has been very good to me and now is as good a time as any to express my gratitude. I'm thankful for:
1. My family. I have been very blessed to have such a supportive, loving family. My mom, dad and two brothers have been there for me my entire life.
2. My soon-to-be husband. I love this man so much. God brought him into my life and orchestrated things in both of our lives in a way that only He could. Finding a life partner is the fulfillment of something I have desired for a very long time. What a wonderful thing to see it come to pass in such a beautiful, unexpected way.
3. My church/church family. It's such a relief and a joy to be a part of an assembly that works for us. We've been able to grow spiritually, we've been able to get involved and we've been able to minister to others.
4. My education. I complain about this stage in my program a lot, but I want to see it as a blessing. It's a wonderful opportunity and privilege to reach this level of education, and I thank God for giving me the strength to finish.
5. My friends. I have friends that are like family to me, and I don't know where I would be without them. I just thank God for allowing me to form positive, healthy relationships with people who love and care about me and who want the best for me.
6. My health. It's something that has been very easy for me to take for granted, but I know that it is a gift. It's a blessing to be able to wake up every day with my health and strength and a sound mind.
7. My talents. I'm thankful for the ability to speak several languages and to play instruments like the piano and guitar. They are things I value and things that I can and do use to minister to others.
8. Nutella. Does this really need any explanation?
9. Sunflowers. They're beautiful and bright and having them in my presence makes me happy.
10. My rainbow maker. It makes my mornings dance with color and light.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
On Productivity
I wish I could be this unfettered while writing my dissertation.
One thing I can say, though, is that I think I've conquered my Facebook compulsion. I used to let it distract me in a terrible way. Like, if I started writing and I hit a thought block, instead of digging down a little deeper into my gray matter and pulling out a plug to reopen the thought flow, I would unhesistatingly skip over to Facebook. Suddenly, my brother's Herculean workout sessions or retellings of adorable children's antics or academic outrage at the oppression-du-jour or Scandal previews became more important than the most important work I have staring me in the face with every breath I take. Write. Write. Write. Write. I would especially get suckered into reading those "numbered" articles (you know the kind. 5 Things that Every...., 10 Tips for...., 17 Ideas to Make Your...., 22 Habits that Every....). Particularly the kind that had to do with relationships and marriage and making it work and what the predictors of success are and how to know you're with the right one and yadda, yadda, yadda.
I deactivated it for a few weeks. I'm technically back on, but now I've limited myself to one checking a day. And no posting. No posting unless I win the lottery or something. Which I wouldn't because I'm not a gambling kinda gal. No interaction of any sort until I make some significant strides toward finishing the seemingly unfinishable.
If you stare at the word 'write' too long, it starts to look strange. It starts to look like it describes some type of extraterrestrian bodily function rather than what it is. And what it is is my ticket out of this extended adolescence. It's the key to escape this transitory state. It's the last step out of this chronically broke student state and into the productive, money-making citizen of society state.
Productive. If you are this, you are the best possible you you could ever be, and if you're not this, you're the worst possible you you could ever be. In our society, productivity is doing. Productivity is producing. Productivity is working. Productivity is progressing. Productivity is validation for existing. And if you aren't doing, producing, working or progressing, you are taking up unearned space. You are breathing in air of which productive people have priority to breathe. I don't really believe that, but that's how I feel as an oft-unproducing person. If you aren't productive, you are a sad, lazy sack of bones.
The fear of existing as a sad, lazy sack of bones prompts me to do something. Eke out a few words. Read a few post-colonial theory-riddled paragraphs. But then the slow going prompts me to have some pretty interesting conversations with myself:
Me: Hey, self, wassup?
Myself: Yo.
Me: So, how's that writing thing going?
Myself: (gives Me major side eye) Really?
Me: (snickering) I know, I know. Makes you want to put it on the "Do not ask" list along with "Where are you going on your honeymoon?" right? Heh, heh.
Myself: Um, can I help you with something? You're distracting me from writing.
Me: C'mon. You call that "writing"? Do you really want to be doing this from here on out? Writing about the hegemony of the patriarchal, racist, sexist nation? Talking about unsettling dominant ideologies and resisting oppression? Girl, stop.
Myself: Um, do you have a problem with what I've chosen to write about? This is my topic. No one's forcing me to write about this. And stop trying to make it sound like overblown academic claptrap. You're so annoying. I know that I have a very relevant, interesting project, and when I'm finished, it's going to be something I'm proud of.
Me: (sighs) Please. We all know what you really want to do.
Myself: Okay, know-it-all. What do I really want to do?
Me: (rolls eyes) Don't act like you don't know. You know good and well you wanna be knocked up and sedentary somewhere with a big fat jar of Nutella at your disposal and a big fat spoon with which to shove it into your mouth. You know you wanna be employing whatever vegetable grater you managed to snag from your little fantasy Williams-Sonoma registry grating up some zucchini to bake loaf after loaf of zucchini bread. You want to join a knitting circle so you can finally learn to knit and decide that your first project will be some ill-made booties for the baby. You want to --
Myself: Shut. Up. You are the worst, you know that? You are like, the incarnation of the phrase "You are your own worst enemy." Geez. So what if I'd like to do some version of those things you so snidely characterized my wanting to do? Wanting to learn to knit or have a baby one day does not preclude my finishing a dissertation. Good Lord. Working in academia as well as having a family and baking zucchini bread and learning to knit are not mutually exclusive. Sit yo' ol' limited mindset, negative, snide, sarcastic, jaded behind down somewhere. Here you are talking all this smack about what I "really want to do" when you're actually preventing me from getting into the position of being able to do anything I actually "really want to do" because I'm sitting here listening to you when I should be writing. Finishing my dissertation and graduating are also things I "really want to do." So, please. You need to go somewhere with all that.
Me: (trying to act unfazed) Yeah, okay.
So...productivity. Yeah. It eludes me at times. And it makes me question my goals, motivations and desires. But here we are. I'd venture to say that "productive" is relative. If productivity were measured by sheer words which translate into sheer page numbers...I'm not the most productive gal on the block. But if productivity were judged by the quality of what I have produced thus far...maybe I'd be a little higher up on the productivity totem pole. At least according to my adviser. My goal is to have a complete chapter submitted before I leave for Christmas break. I'm already halfway there. ¡Sí, se puede!
One thing I can say, though, is that I think I've conquered my Facebook compulsion. I used to let it distract me in a terrible way. Like, if I started writing and I hit a thought block, instead of digging down a little deeper into my gray matter and pulling out a plug to reopen the thought flow, I would unhesistatingly skip over to Facebook. Suddenly, my brother's Herculean workout sessions or retellings of adorable children's antics or academic outrage at the oppression-du-jour or Scandal previews became more important than the most important work I have staring me in the face with every breath I take. Write. Write. Write. Write. I would especially get suckered into reading those "numbered" articles (you know the kind. 5 Things that Every...., 10 Tips for...., 17 Ideas to Make Your...., 22 Habits that Every....). Particularly the kind that had to do with relationships and marriage and making it work and what the predictors of success are and how to know you're with the right one and yadda, yadda, yadda.
I deactivated it for a few weeks. I'm technically back on, but now I've limited myself to one checking a day. And no posting. No posting unless I win the lottery or something. Which I wouldn't because I'm not a gambling kinda gal. No interaction of any sort until I make some significant strides toward finishing the seemingly unfinishable.
If you stare at the word 'write' too long, it starts to look strange. It starts to look like it describes some type of extraterrestrian bodily function rather than what it is. And what it is is my ticket out of this extended adolescence. It's the key to escape this transitory state. It's the last step out of this chronically broke student state and into the productive, money-making citizen of society state.
Productive. If you are this, you are the best possible you you could ever be, and if you're not this, you're the worst possible you you could ever be. In our society, productivity is doing. Productivity is producing. Productivity is working. Productivity is progressing. Productivity is validation for existing. And if you aren't doing, producing, working or progressing, you are taking up unearned space. You are breathing in air of which productive people have priority to breathe. I don't really believe that, but that's how I feel as an oft-unproducing person. If you aren't productive, you are a sad, lazy sack of bones.
The fear of existing as a sad, lazy sack of bones prompts me to do something. Eke out a few words. Read a few post-colonial theory-riddled paragraphs. But then the slow going prompts me to have some pretty interesting conversations with myself:
Me: Hey, self, wassup?
Myself: Yo.
Me: So, how's that writing thing going?
Myself: (gives Me major side eye) Really?
Me: (snickering) I know, I know. Makes you want to put it on the "Do not ask" list along with "Where are you going on your honeymoon?" right? Heh, heh.
Myself: Um, can I help you with something? You're distracting me from writing.
Me: C'mon. You call that "writing"? Do you really want to be doing this from here on out? Writing about the hegemony of the patriarchal, racist, sexist nation? Talking about unsettling dominant ideologies and resisting oppression? Girl, stop.
Myself: Um, do you have a problem with what I've chosen to write about? This is my topic. No one's forcing me to write about this. And stop trying to make it sound like overblown academic claptrap. You're so annoying. I know that I have a very relevant, interesting project, and when I'm finished, it's going to be something I'm proud of.
Me: (sighs) Please. We all know what you really want to do.
Myself: Okay, know-it-all. What do I really want to do?
Me: (rolls eyes) Don't act like you don't know. You know good and well you wanna be knocked up and sedentary somewhere with a big fat jar of Nutella at your disposal and a big fat spoon with which to shove it into your mouth. You know you wanna be employing whatever vegetable grater you managed to snag from your little fantasy Williams-Sonoma registry grating up some zucchini to bake loaf after loaf of zucchini bread. You want to join a knitting circle so you can finally learn to knit and decide that your first project will be some ill-made booties for the baby. You want to --
Myself: Shut. Up. You are the worst, you know that? You are like, the incarnation of the phrase "You are your own worst enemy." Geez. So what if I'd like to do some version of those things you so snidely characterized my wanting to do? Wanting to learn to knit or have a baby one day does not preclude my finishing a dissertation. Good Lord. Working in academia as well as having a family and baking zucchini bread and learning to knit are not mutually exclusive. Sit yo' ol' limited mindset, negative, snide, sarcastic, jaded behind down somewhere. Here you are talking all this smack about what I "really want to do" when you're actually preventing me from getting into the position of being able to do anything I actually "really want to do" because I'm sitting here listening to you when I should be writing. Finishing my dissertation and graduating are also things I "really want to do." So, please. You need to go somewhere with all that.
Me: (trying to act unfazed) Yeah, okay.
So...productivity. Yeah. It eludes me at times. And it makes me question my goals, motivations and desires. But here we are. I'd venture to say that "productive" is relative. If productivity were measured by sheer words which translate into sheer page numbers...I'm not the most productive gal on the block. But if productivity were judged by the quality of what I have produced thus far...maybe I'd be a little higher up on the productivity totem pole. At least according to my adviser. My goal is to have a complete chapter submitted before I leave for Christmas break. I'm already halfway there. ¡Sí, se puede!
Saturday, November 08, 2014
The Struggle Is Part of the Story
This semester, I'm teaching two classes I'd never taught before. One is the second semester of elementary Spanish, which I wasn't too freaked out about, but the other, Latino Literature and Culture, represents the first time I've taught a literature, content-based class at the university level. When I first realized I would be teaching it, I was freaking out.
Now, it has turned out to be my favorite class. My students are a diverse group of amazing kids and teaching this course reminds me that I'm doing what I've always wanted to do...teach literature.
A student in my class had problems with anxiety and depression and began missing a lot of days. I became concerned about her and reached out to her and she was upfront with me about what she had been experiencing and let me know that she'd taken steps to get help. She asked if she could stay enrolled in my class and asked if she could make up the work she missed and I let her know I was willing to work with her.
Yesterday, she totally surprised me with a beautiful, hand-decorated thank you card telling me how grateful she is that I gave her a second chance and a drawing featuring the quotation "The struggle is part of the story." It took everything in me not to just well up with tears right then and there.
Sometimes, many times, I question myself. What am I even doing? Why did I decide to start this PhD program? Hard work, very little pay, no guarantees...but I have to stop and realize that I was placed here for a reason. That this difficult time has a purpose, I have a goal in sight, and it will pay off. At the same time, I have to realize that neither is this time a mere means to an end. This is a season in my life, but I'm still living my life. This time is a part of my story.
My student said, "Miss Smith, you have no idea how much you've helped me and how much your understanding means to me." In reality, she has no idea how much she's reminded me of my purpose.
Writing a dissertation is one of the most difficult things I've ever undertaken. It can get very discouraging at times. But I have to remember that starting this program was the best decision I've ever made. Moving to Athens gave me a chance to start over, get grounded, further my education. I have supportive mentors in my committee. I found a loving church community to be a part of. I met the love of my life. All of these things are a part of my story, too, and I am grateful.
Now, it has turned out to be my favorite class. My students are a diverse group of amazing kids and teaching this course reminds me that I'm doing what I've always wanted to do...teach literature.
A student in my class had problems with anxiety and depression and began missing a lot of days. I became concerned about her and reached out to her and she was upfront with me about what she had been experiencing and let me know that she'd taken steps to get help. She asked if she could stay enrolled in my class and asked if she could make up the work she missed and I let her know I was willing to work with her.
Yesterday, she totally surprised me with a beautiful, hand-decorated thank you card telling me how grateful she is that I gave her a second chance and a drawing featuring the quotation "The struggle is part of the story." It took everything in me not to just well up with tears right then and there.
Sometimes, many times, I question myself. What am I even doing? Why did I decide to start this PhD program? Hard work, very little pay, no guarantees...but I have to stop and realize that I was placed here for a reason. That this difficult time has a purpose, I have a goal in sight, and it will pay off. At the same time, I have to realize that neither is this time a mere means to an end. This is a season in my life, but I'm still living my life. This time is a part of my story.
My student said, "Miss Smith, you have no idea how much you've helped me and how much your understanding means to me." In reality, she has no idea how much she's reminded me of my purpose.
Writing a dissertation is one of the most difficult things I've ever undertaken. It can get very discouraging at times. But I have to remember that starting this program was the best decision I've ever made. Moving to Athens gave me a chance to start over, get grounded, further my education. I have supportive mentors in my committee. I found a loving church community to be a part of. I met the love of my life. All of these things are a part of my story, too, and I am grateful.
Thursday, November 06, 2014
"It's going to be hard work." Nawl, really?
So, we opened up little registries at Bed Bath and Beyond and Target. (I might do a little Williams-Sonoma som'n som'n on the side, doe.)
There's just something about deciding upon vacuum cleaners and toasters and towels that make this thing more real. Like, this is actually going down. I'm seriously going to marry this guy.
I don't know why the idea of myself, this me that I've always been, getting married is still hard for me to completely grasp.
Like, there is this person, this completely separate entity, a grown man, who is going to be my husband. A person who, just a year ago, I was still getting to know. Just a year ago, he was just beginning to enter my world and I, just beginning to enter his. This same person is now going to be the one I wake up next to every morning. He's going to be a father to our children. There's still something about the whole thing that's amazing and unbelievable to me.
I was having a conversation with someone today, and they were like,"Enjoy this time now, because there's hard work ahead to keep it a happy marriage." I mean, I get that we're still in the so-called "honeymoon phase" or whatever. I get it. I'm trying to be realistic about things and keep in mind that we're going to have disagreements, that money is going to be tight, and that things are going to come up that neither of us are prepared for that we're just going to have to roll with. But can I be honest and say there's something about this "it's going to be hard work" reminder that slightly annoys me?
There's something about this need for "experienced" people to remind me that "it's not going to be all roses all the time" that is kind of patronizing. I think I'm mature enough to recognize that things aren't always going to be giddily exciting. Of course it's going to be hard work. Good Lord, anything that's worth anything usually is.
I realize that many people who say this are usually doing so with good intentions, but part of me is kind of like, okay, just because your honeymoon phase was short-lived doesn't mean that ours has to be. Just because you got jaded in your marriage because you or your partner stopped putting in the effort doesn't mean the same thing is going to happen to us. Some people make "reality setting in" out to be something negative, when it really doesn't have to be.
I get that we're less experienced in the institution of marriage compared to those who've been married 10+ years. But it's not like we're 18-year-olds without a clue to who we are as people, what matters the most to us, or what our goals are in life.
Speaking of the honeymoon phase...we just made reservations at a quaint little inn in a charming Southern town.
There's just something about deciding upon vacuum cleaners and toasters and towels that make this thing more real. Like, this is actually going down. I'm seriously going to marry this guy.
I don't know why the idea of myself, this me that I've always been, getting married is still hard for me to completely grasp.
Like, there is this person, this completely separate entity, a grown man, who is going to be my husband. A person who, just a year ago, I was still getting to know. Just a year ago, he was just beginning to enter my world and I, just beginning to enter his. This same person is now going to be the one I wake up next to every morning. He's going to be a father to our children. There's still something about the whole thing that's amazing and unbelievable to me.
I was having a conversation with someone today, and they were like,"Enjoy this time now, because there's hard work ahead to keep it a happy marriage." I mean, I get that we're still in the so-called "honeymoon phase" or whatever. I get it. I'm trying to be realistic about things and keep in mind that we're going to have disagreements, that money is going to be tight, and that things are going to come up that neither of us are prepared for that we're just going to have to roll with. But can I be honest and say there's something about this "it's going to be hard work" reminder that slightly annoys me?
There's something about this need for "experienced" people to remind me that "it's not going to be all roses all the time" that is kind of patronizing. I think I'm mature enough to recognize that things aren't always going to be giddily exciting. Of course it's going to be hard work. Good Lord, anything that's worth anything usually is.
I realize that many people who say this are usually doing so with good intentions, but part of me is kind of like, okay, just because your honeymoon phase was short-lived doesn't mean that ours has to be. Just because you got jaded in your marriage because you or your partner stopped putting in the effort doesn't mean the same thing is going to happen to us. Some people make "reality setting in" out to be something negative, when it really doesn't have to be.
I get that we're less experienced in the institution of marriage compared to those who've been married 10+ years. But it's not like we're 18-year-olds without a clue to who we are as people, what matters the most to us, or what our goals are in life.
Speaking of the honeymoon phase...we just made reservations at a quaint little inn in a charming Southern town.
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