I'm currently in a down-home, small-town cafe in the city of my husband's birth. They have wi-fi (and awesome toasted marshmallow lattes). This year is his family for Thanksgiving since last year was mine. It'll be our first Thanksgiving as a married couple. Awww.
Dissertation: Finished with a draft of my second chapter of analysis. One more analysis chapter to go before I finish up with intro (reworking of my prospectus, so not starting from scratch) and my conclusion (which won't be nearly as involved as everything else). I need to put the pedal to the metal, but some progress is better than none. I MUST defend in April to graduate in May.
Job search: I had my first campus visit last week, and I think it went pretty well, overall. I felt confident about it and I think I might get an offer. We'll see. I have since gotten two other call-backs for preliminary interviews. One of the places is only an hour from my husband's family, so my mother-in-law is super excited about that possibility. There's still a place that I (think I) would really like to hear back from which is situated more conveniently between our families. It's a really scary process, frankly. Everything is so up in the air. I still have my dissertation to contend with, which is such a beast. And no matter where I end up accepting an offer, chances are that we're going to have to move. I mean, it's a part of what I signed up for...it's how it's going to have to be. I am very thankful for one thing, that by the time I finish, my husband will be done with coursework, so we'll be able to stay together. I know a few academics who do the long-distance thing, but that's just something neither of us are willing to do.
What I'm thankful for: I usually do this whole list thing, but this time, I want to focus on one thing. And in spite of myself, in spite of not wanting to sound like those women who post things about their "hubbies" all the time, I have to keep it 100 and say that I am overwhelmingly thankful for my husband. Who he is is what I need. That's the best way I can describe it. A lot of people think we got together "too fast," and I get it. We met 8 months before we got engaged and we were engaged 11 months before we were married. But what I love about my husband is that there was something that made him decide I was it for him, and once he made that decision, he was consistent and committed. He was not afraid of the risks because he loved me and believed in us. I'm thankful for the consistent confidence he has in me and in us. It's one of the things that makes me feel adored and secure. We wrote our own wedding vows, and his last line was "My love for you is here to stay." I'm thankful for my husband and I don't ever want to take him or what he's brought to my life for granted.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Thursday, November 12, 2015
No, I'm not French...I just use French interjections in frustrating situations.
As a student of languages and speaker of (optimistically speaking) three languages, I sometimes have a habit of using my second languages in mock-frustration. It's sort of hard to accurately explain why, but it's a weird way of practicing the language as well as a sort of inside joke to myself.
The reason the self-joking even functions as such is because 1. expressing myself in mock-frustration in another language is a way to tell myself I'm not really frustrated since whatever language I'm using to express myself (either Spanish or French) is not my native language, and if I were really frustrated then I would use English, and 2. if anyone were to hear me, there's an underlying assumption that they wouldn't understand me.
And number 2 is what has occasionally plunged me headfirst into awkwardness, precisely because of that underlying assumption. Here's an example, although not in the context of mock-frustration: Once I was at the grocery store about to buy some cilantro because I really really wanted some to go with the carnitas tacos I was about to make and I was doing (what I thought was) some low-key self talk about getting cilantro, but I was saying "cilantro" with a Spanish accent. I turn around and there's a Hispanic family behind me waiting for me to move so they could also get a bunch of cilantro (maybe even for the same reason) looking at me weird.
So here's my French faux-pas. Husband and I were standing in line to get free tickets to see a documentary at a venue downtown. Tickets were free for students as long as you show your ID and the place was packed. The line was pretty long and didn't really seem to be moving, so I said, "Qu'est-ce qui ce passe ici?" with this really Frenchy annoyed tone of voice. It basically means something to the effect of "What's going on here?" I didn't think anyone was paying me any mind, and I really was just trying to make my husband laugh, but then the guy in front of me turned around and with a distinctly French accent asked, "Are you French?"
Oh, em, gee, I wanted to die. It was just my luck that I just happened to use mock-frustration French in earshot of an actual Frenchman. Of course, I immediately started cackling, expressed how embarrassed I was and that I'm totally not French, but that I playfully use it sometimes, thinking no one would understand me. And then I did get to practice my French a little, telling him how I studied abroad, et al.
Moral of the story: Never assume. Because chances are you will be in the precise situation to prove your assumption dead wrong. And then you will feel awkward and boisterously cackle.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Husband, Salamander Killer
It's been a little rainy in these parts lately. I guess the wet stickiness brings out the slimy little creatures, because, on everything, we were sitting on the couch Netflix and chillin the other night when I saw a slow moving dark shadow under our bedroom door.
What is that? Oh, my God, honey, what is that?? If it was a bug, it was a long, huge, extremely undesirable bug.
So we jumped up, ran into the bedroom, peeked behind the door and there it was in the corner, a dark, slimy, long tailed creature that looked like a little lizard but wasn't, and I wanted to die. How dare that thing have the audacity to enter our apartment! The sanctity of my life literally felt violated. I started yelling and screaming and jumping up and down and felt the weight of all of the slimy disgusting things in the world enter my mindspace and I just couldn't even.
This was not just a bug that you could smash, wipe up and then go about your life. This was a creature. An animal with a heart and eyes and a little brain and little slimy creature bones that could be broken. I'm pretty sure hubs was just as grossed out as I was, but he was kind of matter of fact about things. First things first, eliminate distraction. He told me to go into the other room where I commenced to ball up on the couch with an afghan, shuddering in disgust. I figured he was going to scoop the little guy up somehow, maybe with a dustpan or something and throw him back outside. But then I saw homeboy pick up his church shoe. Oh, snap! He ain't playin no games! Somebody was about to get sent to salamander heaven. But then, I imagined salamander guts on our carpet and went back to shuddering. A moment later, he came back out and got a gignormous wad of paper towels, and then emerged with the balled up wad (avec salamander dedans) and went outside to dispose of it in the dumpster.
Slimy, disgusting little creature disposed of, I had questions. The first of which involved the prospect of creature guts on the carpet. Apparently, hubs didn't 100% obliterate it, but hit it just enough to stop it. Stop it from moving and breathing, that is. But was there any blood? Salamander innards and juices? What did it look like where you hit it? Yes, the same one screaming bloody murder and shuddering in disgust now had to know all the dirty details. No juices or innards, but it was "a little torn up" where he had hit it with the shoe. Ewwwwwwww. SO gross, but somehow hilarious and morbidly satisfying to know.
Now, when I want to make him laugh, I just call him "salamander killer." Amphibians, beware!
What is that? Oh, my God, honey, what is that?? If it was a bug, it was a long, huge, extremely undesirable bug.
So we jumped up, ran into the bedroom, peeked behind the door and there it was in the corner, a dark, slimy, long tailed creature that looked like a little lizard but wasn't, and I wanted to die. How dare that thing have the audacity to enter our apartment! The sanctity of my life literally felt violated. I started yelling and screaming and jumping up and down and felt the weight of all of the slimy disgusting things in the world enter my mindspace and I just couldn't even.
This was not just a bug that you could smash, wipe up and then go about your life. This was a creature. An animal with a heart and eyes and a little brain and little slimy creature bones that could be broken. I'm pretty sure hubs was just as grossed out as I was, but he was kind of matter of fact about things. First things first, eliminate distraction. He told me to go into the other room where I commenced to ball up on the couch with an afghan, shuddering in disgust. I figured he was going to scoop the little guy up somehow, maybe with a dustpan or something and throw him back outside. But then I saw homeboy pick up his church shoe. Oh, snap! He ain't playin no games! Somebody was about to get sent to salamander heaven. But then, I imagined salamander guts on our carpet and went back to shuddering. A moment later, he came back out and got a gignormous wad of paper towels, and then emerged with the balled up wad (avec salamander dedans) and went outside to dispose of it in the dumpster.
Slimy, disgusting little creature disposed of, I had questions. The first of which involved the prospect of creature guts on the carpet. Apparently, hubs didn't 100% obliterate it, but hit it just enough to stop it. Stop it from moving and breathing, that is. But was there any blood? Salamander innards and juices? What did it look like where you hit it? Yes, the same one screaming bloody murder and shuddering in disgust now had to know all the dirty details. No juices or innards, but it was "a little torn up" where he had hit it with the shoe. Ewwwwwwww. SO gross, but somehow hilarious and morbidly satisfying to know.
Now, when I want to make him laugh, I just call him "salamander killer." Amphibians, beware!
Sunday, November 08, 2015
The First (of Hopefully More) Adventure(s)
I'm sitting at the window of a small-town local coffee shop with hubs during a Sunday inter-service afternoon work session...what ends up going down when you're PhD students who go to a Pentecostal church which still does the two-service thing. It's rainy and gray, but nothing a toasted marshmallow s'mores latte can't brighten up. My husband is adorably hunched over his laptop, doing what he calls "coding." Linguistics stuff. We know enough about each others' stuff to understand it, but our fields are different enough for us not to be all up in each others' academic space. This is fabulous relationship-wise, but also positive when it comes to both of us having to find jobs in the same (geographic) area. Speaking of which...
This is how the academic job search works:
1. Apply (duh)
2. If they like your application, the institution will conduct a preliminary interview with you, usually a video conference.
3. If you make the second cut, the institution will fly you out for a campus visit. The campus visit includes you having a ton of meetings with faculty and students, you'll teach a class, present a "job talk," have a campus tour and have another formal interview. It's like a date. They're trying to see if you're a good fit for them, but also trying to "show off" so that they will present themselves as desirable to you. At this point, you're usually competing with 3 other candidates who have also been offered campus visits.
4. If you make the final cut, they will make you an offer, at which point negotiations usually come into play.
5. If you accept the offer, pending your graduation, at which point you'll have a PhD in hand, you'll sign on the dotted line and have an official, bona fide job! Whoo-hoo!
So far, I have made the first two cuts with a particular institution I mention here. So, a week from today they're flying me out to participate in round two of the Academic Dating Game.
I'm excited...my first call-back has now become my first campus visit. This place had the earliest application deadline, and I suspect they're trying snatch people up before the Academic Dating Game commences in full force in the spring. However, I must admit that there's a part of me trying not to feel overwhelmed. I feel the weight of things. I feel the unpredictability of things. I'm confronted, once again, with the fact that, try as I might, I can't control my life.
I naively thought that once I got married, the variables of life would be settled. Or, at least, more settled than they were when I was single. What I see now is that each point of "settling" actually opens up an entirely new set of variables.
This is how the academic job search works:
1. Apply (duh)
2. If they like your application, the institution will conduct a preliminary interview with you, usually a video conference.
3. If you make the second cut, the institution will fly you out for a campus visit. The campus visit includes you having a ton of meetings with faculty and students, you'll teach a class, present a "job talk," have a campus tour and have another formal interview. It's like a date. They're trying to see if you're a good fit for them, but also trying to "show off" so that they will present themselves as desirable to you. At this point, you're usually competing with 3 other candidates who have also been offered campus visits.
4. If you make the final cut, they will make you an offer, at which point negotiations usually come into play.
5. If you accept the offer, pending your graduation, at which point you'll have a PhD in hand, you'll sign on the dotted line and have an official, bona fide job! Whoo-hoo!
So far, I have made the first two cuts with a particular institution I mention here. So, a week from today they're flying me out to participate in round two of the Academic Dating Game.
I'm excited...my first call-back has now become my first campus visit. This place had the earliest application deadline, and I suspect they're trying snatch people up before the Academic Dating Game commences in full force in the spring. However, I must admit that there's a part of me trying not to feel overwhelmed. I feel the weight of things. I feel the unpredictability of things. I'm confronted, once again, with the fact that, try as I might, I can't control my life.
I naively thought that once I got married, the variables of life would be settled. Or, at least, more settled than they were when I was single. What I see now is that each point of "settling" actually opens up an entirely new set of variables.
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