Me, in my head, "In My Place"

In my place, in my place
Were lines that I couldn't change

Post-marriage family gatherings.  New nieces and nephews smiling, teeth coming in.  A preemie plumping up, he looks just like her brother.

What do you do on a rainy day?  We have Starbucks gift cards from my new sister-in-law.  I have online class quizzes to grade, discussion boards to check, oral exams to open back up in an effort to show professorial grace to students who have confessed and repented over email.

Last weekend was my family.  Well, it's our family, isn't it?  My dad's a big brother.  I get it, I'm a big sister.  Still bossy, wanting to be "responsible."  I have a little brother who's always a little brother in my head.  Even though the little brother is a year older than my husband.  Might as well get over it.  Uncle (dad's little brother), cousins, more cousins.  They were all at the wedding.  Back for a Father's Day family reunion.  This family weekend didn't end with bringing home leftovers for the road.  It ended in my dad opening up the church and baptizing his little brother.  My dad's a big brother.  He's the oldest, like me.

My dad must get over the fact that I am a married woman over thirty.  That's my daughter.  In the arms of another man.  Really?  As if my dad were my boyfriend and I left him for some other dude.  It's like, dude, you're my dad, and the "other man" is my husband.  Fact.  You married us. You signed the marriage license as the officiant.  Remember that?  It's like, do you want grandchildren or not?  How do you think they're going to get here?  It's not going to be because my husband gave me a long side hug.

This weekend is his family.  Our family.  A long road trip broken up with stops, snacks, punk rock and NPR.  I realized they're starting to feel natural.  He looks just like his brother.  When I saw his brother in the swimming pool with the kids, I thought, that's how he's going to be with our kids. Seeing the same things in his brother and his dad that I see in him.  Mannerisms, forehead shape, bespectacled and bent over digging out chocolate icing-covered brownies.

Curly-haired niece (former flower girl) and nephew (former ring bearer) on either side of me bringing book after book.  I read with voices and outlandish expressions.  They sit in rapt attention.  Okay now, give Aunt Chantell (they say "ant" and I say "ahnt," just like they say "pop" and I say "soda") a break.  But I don't mind.

This is what I wanted to say during our visit to the young adults' bible study that I didn't say but finally felt compelled to say at the end: The reason for marriage is for us to understand what a relationship with God is.  That's another one of those things I've heard before, but that I know now.

I'm used to singly feeling my feelings.  Just staying in my own head and letting things rage on there.  Cry if I have to cry.  Worry if I have to worry (which I don't have to, but...you know).  Do my thing and maybe call a friend and bother her about it.  But I have a husband now and now my feelings can spill out and affect him.  If tears run down my face and he's there, he will wipe them away with his own hands.  Marriage forces you to be vulnerable.

There's still a part of me that is afraid to be vulnerable.  There is still a part of me that tries to take on this too-big responsibility.  There is still a part of me which feels like I have some fixing up to do and some sorting out to accomplish before I can allow myself to be loved and accepted.  But that's where the truth of it is like what God is: I'm already loved and accepted.  It's already a done deal.

Very soon, I must deactivate my Facebook account for a long while.  There are so many voices and distractions and I have so much to do.  I feel like I've been squandering my focus and attention.  I have to re-prioritize.  I have to get out of my head, get words on paper and stop being afraid to be honestly me.

One Month Milestone

I've been married for a month already.  Really?  That was fast.

Husband's been going out of town doing fieldwork for his dissertation project (yes, already) so since he wasn't sure whether he'd be back before dinnertime, we had a monthiversary breakfast at this ridiculously good breakfast place.  It's actually the same breakfast place we went to when I met his family for the first time and the same breakfast place we went to the weekend he met my pops for the first time.  Come to think of it, later on that same day he proposed to me.  I'd already met all of his folks, he had finished meeting all of mine...what else was there to wait for, I guess.  Here's one thing I know about my hubs: When there's something he's decided upon or that he's working towards, he don't play no games.  Old boy put me on lock quick.  I ain't mad at him. 

He'll text me in a little while to let me know whether he'll make it back for dinner.  If he does, I'll cook a special one-monthiversary surprise.  If he doesn't, I'll have leftover chicken stir fry.  Win-win.

So, I'm teaching an online class...going okay.  Some technical hiccups, but so far so good.  I've got to stay on top of it.  Doing editing for my prof (nice extra $$) and small translation projects on the side (more nice extra $$).  But the one thing I MUST do has been getting lost in the sauce.  It begins with a 'd.' And it is the bane of my existence.  I just can't emerge from this summer with nothing done towards my next chapter.  Ugh.  I just can't.  

Here's something I realize.  Like, I've been wanting to get married for the longest time, and now that I finally am, I'm super happy, but it honestly feels like regular life.  Because it is.  Like, I haven't transformed into some kind of ethereal being or anything.  I'm still the same me.  It's just that I'm continuing to be the same me alongside my husband.  I'm not saying that our marriage hasn't taken some adjusting to and that it won't continue to take adjusting to.  But I'm saying I don't feel like this brand new, ultra-spectacular me that I have to get accustomed to being.  Getting married felt exciting, but it also felt natural.  It's almost like, my now-husband came into my life, and soon he just became a normal part of my life and I couldn't see my life without him being a part of it, so, naturally, I married him.  That's really how it feels.

Here's something else I realize.  Something else I've wanted for the longest time is to become a mother.  But now that the possibility of becoming one is very scarily stark and tangible and real, I feel myself doing some backpedaling.  I know I had said dat...ummm.  Yeah, I had said...see, I need to think about it, den I letchu know.  I want to have kids.  We both do.  But it's like, darn.  Bringing a tiny, defenseless little human being into the world is no joke.  It's not like we don't have support. My mother, for example, is salivating with grandma hunger.  She is going to be a ride or die grandmother.  I don't even want to think about it.  Seriously though, I'm really thankful we have such supportive families and church family who would be there for us 100%.  But what I'm saying is that I feel like if I have a kid, I am going to be turned inside out and exposed for the inconsistent, contradictory, insecure person I am.  All my anxieties are going to come spilling out of me like marbles because 1. I have the capacity to reproduce and I do not want to reproduce the worst in me, 2. I don't want terrible truths about the world we live in to steal my baby's sunshine, and 3. Having a baby is going to change my relationship with my husband.  

Just like getting married isn't all about a pretty white dress and new toasters, having a baby is not all about cute maternity clothes and getting one of those slings (although I'm super getting one because they look awesome, with the baby all wrapped up in it against the mom).  I'm totally okay with waiting.  I come from a line of fertile women and I'm still on the green side of 30, so it'll be quite all right.

Welcome to the latest edition of "Passive-Aggressive Answers to Annoying Questions"

So, how's married life going?

Really?  It's going horribly.  Oh, my God, it's misery.  It's SO hard.  I hate it.  It's the worst.  I mean, seriously.  Like, what do you expect me to say, other than, "um...good?"  Like, what other kind of answer is there?  It's going pretty much the way I thought it would.  There's a dude I love living with me who gets special privileges.  That pretty much sums it up.

Have you guys gotten into an argument yet?  Aww, you're still in the honeymoon phase, but you'll see...just wait!

Ugh!  Will you sit down and shut your unfunny mouth up?!  Ugh.  Number one, it's none of your big fat business whether we've gotten into an argument, first of all.  And secondly, like, do you really think we've never had a disagreement ever in the history of our relationship?  Please.  And it didn't stop us from getting married, did it?  Get outta here.  I cannot express how annoying it is for people to come around with this patronizing attitude as if we're just in some kind of blissful otherworld right now just obliviously floating around on a love cloud until the other shoe finally drops to jolt us into the grim, gray, harsh reality of "real life."  Get yourself outta my face with that.  Go saddown somewhere with your old wrinkled up boring spouse and your jaded marriage and let me enjoy my brand new, super hot hubs without your prophesies of the impending end of our honeymoon phase.

So, are you guys planning on having kids?

If someone asks me that one mo' gin, I swurr...like, get up out of my reproductive business!  Who died and made you my OB/GYN?  Seriously.  I mean, when and if we have them, are you going to feed and clothe them?  Are you going to buy their diapers?  Are you going to potty train them?  Are you going to set up their college funds?  Aight, den.  Plus, can we live?  Like, can we learn what being married means first before we start piling buns in the oven?  And on top of that, are you going to write my dissertation?  Are you going to give me and/or my husband a job?  Like, the aforementioned things are going to have to happen so that we can support these hypothetical desired children.  So, unless you're going to contribute any energy or money into facilitating my hypothetical children's arrival into the world, you 'ont een need to wurry bout it, tho.

-versary

This past Saturday was our two-weekiversary.  We spent it at another wedding, one of husband's professors.  So, we ended up seeing a bunch of other people in the department who also went to our wedding, still giving glowing reviews on how "wonderful" and "beautiful" everything was.

This coming Sunday is our engageiversary.  June 7 last year is when husband proposed to me.  Good Lord.  We were engaged for 11 months before we got married and dated 8 months before we got engaged.  Say what you will.  When it's right, it's right.

We've already celebrated our first -versary, which was our coffeedateiversary.  That's October 21, the first time we ever spent time together.  We went back to the same coffee shop, and it was probably the most beautiful, sweetest milestone I've ever celebrated.

The only -versary we haven't officially celebrated is our kissiversary.  Yes, I remember the exact date of the first time we ever smooched.  But some things must remain secret and sacred.  Plus, I don't want anyone to judge the time span between it and the initial coffeedateiversary.  Some people might think it's too long and some people might think it's too short and I'm just going to leave it to the imagination.

Name

I'm in that in-between stage where I am so ready to officially be Chantell Marriedname, but I can't move a muscle until that marriage certificate comes in the mail.  I changed my voicemail as soon as I thought about it.  "Hi, you've reached Chantell Marriedname, I'm sorry I'm not available right now..."

I'm in this amorphous state.  Like, if I write any checks from the bank account I've had since I've had a bank account, well over a decade, I have to sign them Chantell Maidename.  Anything "official" that I sign right now or anything that I own that has my maiden name on it will have to be that for now.  I'm only going to be a student here for another year, so do I have to go through the trouble (and expense) of getting a new student ID?  For the class I'm teaching this summer, I'm still Chantell Maidenname, because I was that when I was assigned the class, so that's the name the class is under.  I know my departmental mailbox is going to have my new name in the fall since I've made it public that I'm changing my name.  My FB name is that married girl's trifecta of Chantell Maidenname Marriedname.  That's probably going to be the name I publish under as well.  For little cards and things and whatever personal things I sign, I am totally Chantell Marriedname, marriage certificate in hand or not.

But when I graduate, when I get my diploma (in Jesus' name, by this time next year) will I have Chantell Middlename Marriedname, or Chantell Maidenname Marriedname printed on it?  I completed a good bit of this program before I even met my husband, so part of me wants to honor the me that did that work.  But my middle name is my middle name (and also my grandmother's name) and isn't that a part of the "me that did that work," too?

And what about my email address?  Will it still be partoffirstnamemiddleinitiallastname@gmail.com?  Or will I change it, too, to a married lady email address?  I've had the same email address for a super long time.  There's a part of me that just wants to keep it as is.  But if I'm planning to change my name legally, wouldn't it make sense to change my email address as well?  Sigh.

What Am I Doing? or The Commencement of the Gradual Transformation into My Mother

I blame the vacuum cleaner.

Ever since I got that thing, I have been obsessing even more than usual over specks on the rug.  I've also been wanting to wash everything.  Clothes, bedsheets, my husband's gym bag.  I want things to be clean and in its place.  I will not put the breakfast sandwich maker away until I am assured that every speck of stray food has been cleaned off, even if I have to dig between the grooves with a bread knife.

See, when my mom and dad moved into their new house, I made fun of my mother for being a maniac about keeping things completely unscathed.  If she discovered a scuff mark or if there were any moisture left behind on her counters...oh, Lord.  Even before then, she would start wanting to clean up at inopportune times, like, if we were about to go somewhere, she suddenly wanted to dust the side tables and water the plants.  Like, do you have to do that now?  Can't it wait?  But now, scarily, I realize that I understand.

The day I got that vacuum cleaner, I opened up the box, put it together like a G and the next day, I vacuumed the heck out of everything in sight.  I self-deprecatingly joked with husband about how obsessed I am with vacuuming and keeping everything spotless now, and he jokingly said, "Uh-oh, you're becoming like your mom," and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  Oh.  Snap.

Like, you see your parents as these idiosyncrasy-laden, yet lovable people and think you're worlds apart from them.  "Our lives are so different, Mom.  Don't compare things now to how they were when you first met Dad.  Gosh, by the time you were my age, you had three kids already."  Oh, Mom.  Eye roll.  But then you're faced with this feeling of inevitability, this worlds-apart-from-you momness slipping from between the cracks unbeknownst to you into your subconscious actions, inescapable, the momness ingrained in you, manifesting itself as a result of your Mrs-ness.  Before you can even ask yourself What am I doing?  you've already unthinkingly done it.

Today, I had to put our brand new comforter set on the bed, and I had to wash the old sheets (and therefore, I had to wash everything else that needed to be washed).  I had to do it today.  In the middle of fluffing out the new comforter and putting the new decorative shams on the pillows, I felt this mommy feeling.  I felt almost like I was watching myself go through these domestic motions with the same "maniacal" determination that I used to ridicule.  Like, someone was saying See? Now you see, don't you?  And all I could say in response was How else could I have known?

On the 10th Day of Marriage...

Settling in.  Still waiting for the marriage certificate to arrive.  That new shower curtain and those burgundy rugs makes the bathroom look almost palatial.  New toaster (4 slices!), new blender (husband's morning shakes), an electric can opener, a waffle maker, fluffy towels, and on and on.  Let me tell you: I sliced a lemon with a new knife so sharp it was like cutting with a miracle.  Jesus turning the water into wine with lemon wedges.  Bed Bath and Beyond go hard, tho.

Then husband put together our little three-tiered shower caddy like a little fix-it husband putter-togetherer.  And then drinking coffee out of our matching Mr. and Mrs. mugs.  And reading our little couples' devotional.  And going WalMart shopping and including his particular little likes: bananas, clementines, reduced fat Wheat Thins, unsalted pretzels, and I even threw in a Hamburger Helper for good measure.

I'm in vacuum cleaning heaven.  Shark.  Not the sharp-toothed water-dweller, the vacuum cleaner (and I just found out that husband says "sweeper" for vacuum cleaner) that has super suction, seamless swiveling, a lift-away feature for easier access along with attachments for crevices and upholstery that will bring tears of joy to your dust-despising eyes.

Leftover rehearsal dinner chicken parmesan.  Froze those buddies up before the honeymoon.  Come back, defrost, enjoy.  But most of all, leftover rehearsal dinner pumpkin bread pudding. That cream cheese icing on top, all gooey and good.  

Waking up, seeing him open those sleepy, little boy eyes (he looks like a little boy when he first wakes up) and an immediate smile spreads across his face when he sees me watching.  A freckled arm wraps around me and holds me close.  I notice the color of his freckles is the same color as my skin.  I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.

0 Days

0 days.

So, this is my last blog post as a single woman.

Guess I'll finally have to change my blog's tagline.  "Newlywed girl meets postmodern world"?  Nah.  Doesn't have the same ring.

Part of my blog's theme heretofore has been the ups and downs of singlehood.  Being a single girl has been part of what's given my blog its particular character since I started it in 2005.  Now, 10 years later, here I am, packing for my honeymoon and not getting any sleep because I'm too nervous and excited.

While I'm beyond ecstatic about getting married and sharing my life with someone I love, I feel like it's the end of an era.

Here's to new beginnings.

5 Days

5 days.

Marriage license obtained.  All that's left to do is for Pops (officiating) to sign it with the power invested in him after the ceremony and abracadabra, we're legally married.  It was so weird.  Like, all this time wanting to get married and now when I have the license in hand, no turning back, I'm like...excited, but at the same time, not able to fully grasp it somehow.

I made a veggie pizza that is ridiculous.  Sauteed some green, yellow and orange bell peppers (on sale at Kroger), sliced up a tomato (on the vine) and along with the usual tomato sauce and mozzarella base, topped all my ingredients with a little bit of extra shredded mozzarella and crumbled goat cheese.  Ridic.

Still haven't even gotten started on writing my vows.  What am I doing?  My fiancé is a super duper vow writer, almost done with his, and here I am, a lazy sack of non-vow-writing bones.  I'm just praying that I get hit with a jolt of inspiration really really soon.

This is what I know.  It. CANNOT. Rain.  No, ma'am and no, sir.  All the nawls there ever were in the negative no of not.  It cannot.  It can NOT.  The 10 day weather report talking all this yang yang right now and I'm going to need it to stop.  I rebuke weather.com and its weather report being used of the adversary talking about some scattered thunderstorms.  Oh, no it ain't.  I shall believe the report of the Lord.  I claim clear skies in Jesus' name.  If ye shall ask anything in my name,  I will do it.  I am asking (for real) right now, in Jesus' name for no rain on my wedding day.

Here's to inspiration and clear skies!

10 Days

10 days.

Huge stack of final exams cackling at me, daring me to even start grading them.  I have a half-baked online class waiting for me to click, add, upload, screencast.  Students emailing me making up stories about how they neeeeeed to get into this online Spanish I class to graduate.  Really?  In no existing program at this august university does anyone need Spanish I to graduate.  Get outta here with that.

One last session of marriage counseling scheduled tomorrow.  Why does it make me so nervous?  Why is the idea of the ceremony still making me so nervous?  Why can't I peacefully exist and peacefully and gratefully usher myself into my blissful, perfect, prized life as a happy, blissful perfect wife?  Why can't I be gushingly happy and wake up every morning shedding tears of gratitude, thanking my lucky stars that I finally found a man and that he's so cute and that he's gonna be my BFF for life and we're going to be happy in our little happy happy life and have cute, fat little happy babies who are going to be SO BEAUTIFUL since...you know.

My wedding dress.  What is it going to look like?  Omigawd.  And the marriage license.  And what kind of shoes am I going to wear?  And, Dad, do you like this song for our father/daughter dance?  Are you guys going to sing? Omigawd.  Can you imagine me trying to sling a guitar strap over my wedding dress?  Please.  He'll play and sing, but I'm just going to sing.  And what are my colors going to be?  And can children come?  Oh, I'm so sorry I forgot to RSVP.  Can I still come?  Rehearsal dinner.  Rehearse and then dine.  Lingerie shower.  A shower of lingerie.  Omigawd.  There's the big day, but the big night is coming up, too.  Heh, heh.  Hint, hint.  Yeah, yeah, I get it.  You're so funny and original.  I'll go ahead and say it, since it's so funny.  Sex.  Wedding night = sex.  My husband and I are going to have sex.  We're getting married so we can have sex.  There.  I said it.

Announcement to my enlightened colleagues: Yes, I have made the heart-wrenching decision to succumb to the hegemonic clutches of the white, male, straight, privileged, racist, classist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, capitalist, colonialist, nationalistic, fascist, murderous, douchey, bromancified, American-speaking, fratboyish, beer-drinking patriarchy to change my last name.  I shall lay down my maiden name, the name of my truest self, the name that represents my authenticity as a real woman (even though it, too, was forced upon me by the patriarchy) and sacrifice it as a martyr to the cause of fully becoming a subservient sellout.

I don't want to just want my wedding day to come and be done with.  I don't want to want that.  I want to enjoy it.  I want to tell the contradictory, worrying, hyperactive, dramatic, obsessive part of my brain to calm down and shut up and chill out and please, just for once, let me live.

12 Days

12 days.

We've almost paid everyone we need to pay.  People are still secondhandedly announcing their possible intentions to come when the RSVP deadline was April 15.  We got galvanized buckets on sale for 50% off at Hobby Lobby to line the aisles with baby's breath and/or sunflowers.  I never imagined that buying buckets on sale would ever be even marginally tied to any sense of personal satisfaction.

We're writing our own vows.  I haven't even gotten started on mine yet.  Of course my guy is well on his way to finishing his, despite the many other papers and projects he's working on now.  He's such a poetic, creative soul.  I love that about him.  It's overwhelmingly endearing and super sexy at the same time.  I mean, I was proposed to with an original song and poem.  I'm sorry, but nothing can top that.  I am completely convinced that I have the best proposal story ever.  I have a creative side, too, but I'm just so...sort of floating around in the ether right now. I need to find the presence of mind to do it.  Soon.

I don't know why, but we're this close to The Big Day, and I still can't picture it.  Like, I still can't wrap my mind around wearing a wedding dress and walking down a grassy aisle on my father's arm.  I can't picture standing below a sunflower-entwined dark wooden arch with a lily pad pond in the background while we say our vows.  I can't imagine riding away in a horse-drawn carriage with my new husband.  All of these things are going to happen.  But it still doesn't seem like it is going to happen.  For some reason, in a way, I know they're going to happen, but it feels like they're going to happen to someone else.

I'm trying to enjoy this time and not let my temporary dissertation-writing hiatus get to me, but I can't help it.  I am a non-productive helium balloon while my fiancé is a well-oiled, paper-typing, project-finishing machine.  I've spent the past few days eating apple cinnamon instant oatmeal and watching BuzzFeed videos while he's been running statistical analysis of his "tokens" on R.  I know that once the wedding is over and we get back from our honeymoon, I will have to kick it into gear.  I'll be teaching an online class, writing an additional chapter and editing a manuscript for a professor.  I'm just in this cloudy otherworld right now and I just have to accept the fact that I'm in it and will continue to exist in it for a little while longer.

While there's a part of me that feels this nebulous almost detachment, there's another part of me that is experiencing this heady, adrenaline-laced sense of expectation.  Every time I look at him, I have this impulse to examine him to the point of abstraction.  How his freckles sprinkle over his upper cheeks.  A couple of eyebrow hairs that are lighter than the rest.  Long, dark lashes blinking slowly.  That scar on his right elbow.  His dimple on the right cheek.  His fingers are more than twice the size of mine.  I wear a ring size 4.  He wears a size 11.  He has this way of biting the corner of his bottom lip.  Somehow, each of these mundane details are like tiny miracles.

17 Days

17 days.

I went to one of our favorite coffee spots with my fiancé yesterday and ran into one of my old students.  No, not one of my old students since I've been teaching in my current program, but one of my students from my very first teaching job.  When I taught her, she was in middle school.  Now she's graduating from undergrad, is about to start a grad program at another school and is getting married a mere year after I am.  Did you hear me?  One of my former MIDDLE SCHOOL students is now going to grad school and getting married.  Encountering her brought on this strange, contradictory mix of feelings: I felt super old, I felt like I had come a long way since the years of my first teaching job, yet I also felt like somewhat of a late bloomer.  All these years and you're still in school? You're finally getting married, wow, can you believe it? In some ways, I feel like I've been precocious throughout my life, and in other ways, I feel like I've been the last to arrive.  This funny thing called life.

I never anticipated how ambivalent I would feel about having a wedding ceremony.  By extension, I never anticipated how ambivalent I would feel about the idea of getting married itself.

I was talking to my very good friend who's been there and done that and she said that sometimes you have to stop and ask yourself a few questions to remind yourself of why you're making/you've made whatever decision to stop the ambivalence from overwhelming you.

Do you want to have a ceremony?  
Answer: yes

Even though I have justice of the peace fantasies, even now, I've convinced myself that ultimately, this ceremony is going to be worth it.  It is going to be a rare moment where the people most important to us in our lives are going to be there, all together.  It's going to be stressful, I know...I mean, it already is, but I'm going to be glad that I shared this time with everyone and I'm thankful that so many people have gone out of their way and made sacrifices to come and celebrate with us.

Do you want to be married?
Answer: yes

I've always wanted to share my life with someone.  It wasn't so long ago that I sometimes struggled with loneliness.  I learned how to cope with it and I think I even got used to it, but every once in a while, I would be reminded that having a life partner was something I longed for.  I also have always wanted to have a family, and having and raising children is not something I've ever dreamed of doing without a husband.

Do you want to marry your fiancé?
Answer: yes

I love my fiancé, and he meets my needs.  He loves me the way I've always dreamed of being loved by someone, he is Spirit-filled and committed to being a part of the church together, he wants to have a family, and he is willing to try.  Of course, there are many other qualities about him that are positive and many other things about us both which bring us together, but the things I mentioned are the necessary ones in order for me to commit to someone and stay committed to them for life.

(Sigh.)  Everything is happening so fast.  I think everything will have to just happen, and then I will take time to reflect on it so I can process it all.  It's just difficult to completely process things right now.

Repondez, S'il Vous Plait

R.S.V.P.  A common abbreviation for the French repondez, s'il vous plait.  Often used within the context of event planning, a common courtesy asked of those invited to "respond," indicating to the event planner whether said invitee is attending.

Literally: Respond, if it pleases you.

Naturally: Respond, if you please.

Commonly: Respond, please.

Chantell-ly: For the love of God, let me know BEFORE the RSVP deadline whether you're coming to my wedding so that I can rent the right amount chairs and have the right amount of food.  I certainly don't want to be short of chairs, space or food, but neither do I want to spend more than I actually need to on chairs, space or food.

So, the RSVP deadline was April 15.  And, yes, I am about to get Bridezilly and ranty because this junk gets on my nerves.

To be fair, I get it.  My wedding is not the center of the universe, and people have lives and people get busy and people forget.  The RSVP deadline was on April 15, after all.  I'm sure folks who were waiting till the last minute, as we all so often do, were more concerned about how much they might get back from Uncle Sam than whether there'd be enough salmon pinwheels for them to snack on after my ceremony.  I get it.  I do.

For example, a professor of ours who was invited desired to come, but when she tried to register herself and her guest via our website and found she couldn't because it was the day of the deadline, she let us know and we gladly added her.  That, I get.  A mentor of mine who has assured me she was coming, told me about the dress she bought for it and told me about the tie she bought for her son did not RSVP personally on the website, but since I knew she was coming, I registered her and her family myself.  That, I also get.

This is what I don't get: People who have said BUPKIS to me, not via text, not via email, not via FB message, not via any means of communication and then when my dear mother (bless her heart) emails you (subject line: "Failure to RSVP") to verify, you respond, "Yes, we're planning on attending."  WHAT?  Who is "we"?  How many of you are "we"? When were you planning to let anybody know? Vague as heck after-the-fact responders.  This is what I don't get: People who have RSVPed as soon as the invitation hit your mailbox, then you found out later that you and your guest(s) wouldn't be able to make it after all, but you say BUPKIS to me and just mention it to my mom in passing.  NOT COOL.  Here's what else I don't get: People who told me to my face you wouldn't be able to make it all apologetic, then a couple of days after the RSVP deadline, you just happen to run into my parents talking about some, "Oh, we're going to make it after all!" NAWL.

I love my people.  I love my family.  I love my church family.  I love my friends.  I love y'all.  For real.  I want you to come to my wedding.  I do.  If I didn't want you to come, I wouldn't have invited you.  But folks out here in these streets treating my wedding like a potluck at Ebenezer Baptist Church somewhere your grandmama and auntie go to every 5th Sunday.  No, ma'am.  I say no to this.  I say seet yo'self down to this.  I say all the nawls to this.  I rebuke the spirit of repondez s'il vous plait negligence in Jaysus name!  Just let a sista know.  That's all I ask.  Let a sista know.  And not the day of.

It just frustrates me that people do not get what all goes into planning a wedding.  People don't have a concept of what it means to be less than a month away from The Big Day and needing to turn in final numbers to your caterers and rental places.  People can't grasp the fact that we're also doing 1 million other things and part of the reason we set the RSVPs up the way we did is so that we didn't have to keep track of who said they were coming and who didn't and whose cousin can't make it and all of that rigmarole because WE DON'T HAVE TIME.  Both of us are planning a wedding smack dab in the middle of PhD programs at the end of the semester.  Ain't nobody got time for that.  Nobody understands that.

But one day they or one of their kids will have to plan a wedding, too...then it'll dawn on them.  But I get that too.  Some things you can't understand until you are staring it dead in the face.

T-minus 30 days, a.k.a. The Unveiling of Off the Chainness

Today I woke up and was like, yup.

Today is April 16.  Today is exactly a month away from May 16, otherwise known as The Big Day.

And, by the way, the RSVP cut off date, otherwise known as Tax Day, was yesterday.  But back to today.

Did people fail to RSVP as if my wedding is a barbecue that you can just show up to if you can make it and bring cousin Junebug along with you cuz he ain't have nothin to do?

Did people text reminding me that it's a month away/asking me if kids are allowed/asking if I'm having a "bachelorette party" and suggesting when I should have it/telling me that they might not be able to make it?

Do I still have mad quizzes to grade and do I have to figure out registration and health insurance because I'm not going to be on assistantship since I won this fellowship?

Do I want to crawl into a hole, find a lamp, rub it, and have a magic wedding genie pop out to magically do everything?

Do I want to scream "You lie!" at anyone who dares suggest that The Big Day is "my" day?

Did I squirm in my seat during a meeting today when my upcoming wedding was mentioned and then the conversation quickly turned to name-changing conventions among married women in the U.S. and in Latin America and did I desperately hope no one would ask me whether I was going to change my own name?

Yes.  Yes, I say.  Yes, to all of it.

I know I need to relax and stop being a control freak and just keep repeating to myself over and over "Everything's going to be fine.  Everything's going to come together."  That's what I've been doing, truth be told.

It's just that there's something about today that feels like the beginning of the end.  Like, that the outpouring of the wrath of the wedding gods has officially commenced.  Like, as if this were a 1960s movie set during the Roman Empire and some cart-riding plebeian on some kind of journey just looked up at the darkening sky and a lightning bolt flashed and thunder rolled and this foreboding music began to play and he said aloud, "It begins!  It begins!"

I know I'm going to be happy.  But can I hit a fast-forward button through this end of semester/wedding planning/crunch time madness and not hit play again until my dad says, "You may now kiss the bride"?  That's right, my dad is officiating and my man is going to have to lay one on me dead in my dad's face.  But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

Wedding Jitters?

So, the day is very quickly approaching.

I feel like everything about my perceptions and how I feel things are perceived are heightened.  Things bother me much more easily and things easily make me cry.  Like today, I wanted to leave Starbucks because this old lady interrogated my fiancé about his t-shirt.  "What does that say?  I'm just trying to read what it says. What does that mean?"  Like, who are you?  It's the name of a band you've never heard of and why do you even care other than feigning "innocent curiosity" in order to be nosy and judgmental, you old bag?

I realize that I am also super sensitive about how I feel people perceive us as a couple.  I'm all about noticing how awkward-seeming people are who I think are either uncomfortable with an interracial couple or just don't know how to place us.  So they either just act weird and/or act super nice and go with the fall back "oh, my God you guys are so CUTE."  And I'm over here like, um...thanks?  I'm willing to admit it's probably largely in my head.  In any event, I should just saddle up because I don't imagine it'll be any less awkward when little bambinos come along.

I had a bridesmaid dress-related moment yesterday.  I just had to sit and cry for a minute and then just take a deep breath and get it together because what else can you do except just hope that everything will somehow work out?  And it will work out.  It wasn't even a huge deal.  I just want everything to be done and planned and set up and decided and paid for.  And it isn't yet.  But it will be.

Sometimes I look deeply into my fiancé's eyes.  Not just because I'm in love with him, which I am, but I'm trying to grasp something I feel I haven't grasped yet about him and don't know if I ever will.  It's not like I don't know him or don't feel comfortable with him.  It's not like I don't know his habits, likes and dislikes, what makes him laugh, what annoys him.  It's not like I don't know what his goals are in life, what he's passionate about.  It's just the realization that you can never 100% "know" a person.  You can't read their minds.  You can't go back in time and somehow become them and live their entire lives as them up until this point.  He is a separate person and I can't control what he does and what he does is going to affect me.  It's not like I'm afraid he's going to suddenly do a bunch of weird stuff...I mean, if I felt that way, I wouldn't marry him.  It's just that there's a sense of the unknown about entering into this phase of life.  I don't know what being married is truly like.  And I won't know until I'm there.

The Couple of Things I Was Thinking About Today

So, I turned 33 without major incident and my sweet fiancé turned 28 a few days later.  Yeah, I thought I was attracted to older guys, but this young'un comes along and all of that goes out the window.  A cougar and a Bridezilla rolled into one.  Ah, well.  I had a nice birthday dinner.  See?

Anyway, I was thinking about a couple of things today. The first is this: You don't really know until you're there.

What I'm saying is that I've had ideas about things.  How things were supposed to be.  How things were supposed to happen.  Well, being in a relationship, for starters.  To say that I idealized things is accurate, but incomplete.  It's not as simple as idealizing.  It's more like, there were things I didn't anticipate.  And by that, I mean challenges as well as benefits.  What I'm saying is that things are much more dynamic than a two-dimensional, linear sequence of events.  It's like I had this static, predictable, sequential model in my head, and what's happened (happening) is this multidimensional, infinite set that has a pattern I haven't quite figured out yet.  It's like, what I thought would happen (or was supposed to happen) is 1+1=2, but what ended up happening is pi. You see?  I can only speak metaphorically because it's the only way to make what I want to express have any semblance of sense.  It's exhilarating but scary because I'm giving up a bit of the control that I'm so used to having.  Or so used to thinking that I have.  Being a control freak is next to impossible in a relationship. In the end, I'm constantly reminded of my need for God.  I believe that every step we take is somehow tailored to remind us that we need Him and that we were never meant to go it alone.

The second thing is this: I hope I never forget how it was.

I hope I never forget the loneliness I struggled with at times.  I hope I never forget an extremely low point in my life where getting out of bed was what I dreaded every single morning.  I hope I never forget the longing that I feel now every time I have to say goodnight to my fiancé.  It is so ridiculously easy to take things for granted.  It's scandalously easy.  I don't want to fall into that trap.  I don't ever want to take my husband-to-be for granted.  I want to treasure every minute I have to spend with him and not just assume that his presence in my life is a given.  The good has definitely outweighed the bad in my few decades on Earth.  But remembering the negative is just a reminder to cherish the positive.

Tomorrow's my birthday. Yay!

Tomorrow's my birthday and I'm going to be older than I've ever been.  Hee, hee.  And, omg, it's my last birthday as a single lady.  What?

I'm excited because my sweet future husband is really excited about whatever it is that he got me as a gift, and because we're getting dressed up and going to dinner.  I love getting dressed up and going to dinner.  I'm going to wear a dress he's never seen me in before.  Heh, heh.  I teach tomorrow, but I'm bringing candy to class to make it at least somewhat celebratory.  Good candy, too.

You know, what's funny is that my birthday and my sweet future husband's birthday are only four days apart.  I think it's another sign that we were meant to be.  We could just have a birthday week together.

I hope no matter how old I get, that I always feel special on my birthday.

This Thing Called Life

It's a phrase that, when our pastor says it, always causes my fiancé and me to exchange knowing looks and smiles.  It's one of several pastoral catch phrases.  I told my fiancé we should make a pastoral phrase bingo card to play during church.

Anyhoo, I digress.

In this thing called life, things happen that you never expected would happen.  Things don't happen that you always thought would (or should) happen.  It's just part of how it goes.

My 33rd birthday is right around the corner.  Do I need to let that sink in for a minute?  I am going to be the age our Lord Jesus Christ was when He died on the old rugged cross.  But He rose.  Halleluyer.

I was contemplating my birthday's proximity out loud in front of my students and admitted that I have about 15 years on most of them in there.  I teach Elementary Spanish, so most of my students are freshmen.  They looked at me wide eyed.  "No, way, Profesora!"  I was like, "I can show you my driver's license."  You know what they say, tho...black don't crack.  I ain't mad.

Ahem.  Again, I digress.

So, I'm getting older, people usually think I'm 6-10 years younger, and I think I'm ready for 33.  It's a pivotal year, no?  I've got one more year of writing my dissertation before I become a Dr., and I've got 52 days before I become a Mrs.  I can't complain.

Can I just get mushy and gushy and say how much I LURVE my man?  He's what I need.  That's all I can say.  He's what I need.  I never imagined in a million years that I would ever marry this dude.  I'm telling you, I remember seeing him for the first time offhandedly in the computer lab a couple years ago before we had anything to do with one another, and if some angel of light had come down from heaven right then to tell me he was my future husband, I would have been like, "Whuuuut?  Get back to heaven and go saddown somewhere."

I never imagined in a million years that I would get married while in this PhD program.  But here we are.  So much can change in this thing called life.

I applied for a particular dissertation fellowship in hopes that next year I would be able to write my dissertation without any teaching responsibilities.  It's a nationally recognized program that provides funding for a year and also opens many professional doors for the awardees.  I went for it knowing that it was a long shot.  Knowing that it was super competitive, that the odds were against me, that I probably wouldn't get it, but that would be okay, that—

I found out yesterday that I'm an awardee!

Well, well, well.  Something about this thing called life.  I was ecstatic.  I was floored.  I never imagined that I would actually get it.  My super awesome, amazing genius woman professor who is now at Harvard applied for it back in her day and she didn't get it the first time.  I thought if she didn't get it the first time around, then my chances are next to none.

It just goes to show you that you never know.  God does, though.  He keeps trying to show me that I just need to relax.  That I just need to keep moving forward and to enjoy my journey.

Bridezilla

Ugh. I apologize in advance.

1. In less than two months from now, I'm getting married.  Yup.  I have a counter on my blog.  I am so aware of it.  I wake up every morning and think about it.  You (yes, You, probably well-meaning, nameless, composite, passive-aggressive target) reminding me of it is NOT HELPING.  Yes, I know it's soon.  Yes, I'm excited.  Yes, I'm nervous.  Like, what do you hope to accomplish by asking me these things and stating the obvious?  What reaction to these inquiries do you hope to elicit?  You are making me more nervous.  And if you can visibly see that your prattle is making me more nervous, your saying "Oh, I don't mean to make you more nervous!  Oh, I don't mean to overwhelm you!" is even more infuriating, because what else did you expect? Did you think I was going to break into song and dance out of gratefulness for being reminded of what is already branded into my brain?

2. MORE people have tried to invite themselves.  What is this?  A self-invitation epidemic that is plaguing brides-to-be like some sort of annoying, presumptuous, clueless Ebola virus?  Yes, I DO mind that you would like to come.  We have a limited guest list and limited money.  Period.  Ugh, I've already extended invitations to people I probably shouldn't have. People out here acting like going to my wedding is the last step in the plan of salvation.  Go sit yourself down somewhere and stop trying to get all up in my lifespace.

3. And of the people who have been invited, I have this sinking feeling that some are going to fail to RSVP on time (before April 15) and then ghettoly be like, "Aw, you knew I was planning to come!" and then show up and get extra helpings of spinach and artichoke dip.  Nawl.  We need headcounts, people.  We need cold, hard numbers so that we'll know how much seating we'll need for the ceremony and reception.  We need cold, hard numbers so we'll know how much food to pay for.  How much and how many of every little thing we're going to need for everyone.  There is a very simple, streamlined process mentioned on the invitation and outlined on my wedding website for you to sign the heck up.  It only takes a few clicks and typing strokes.  I already have 100 million things buzzing around in my brain.  Trying to remember whether so-and-so mentioned they were coming is not one of them.  We've set that sucker to disallow RSVPs after the cutoff date, so if you're planning to come, let my lovely little online registration process know, not me.  No, we were not dealing with no send in a response card madness.  Extra postage and having to keep up with that junk.  We are living in 2015.

4. I am in a passionate hate affair with myself because I am getting NOTHING done.  I have a dissertation to write.  I have chapters due.  I have things to accomplish, and here I am, inching along like a slothful slug because I can't compartmentalize.  This is beyond procrastination.  Okay...maybe I can give myself a millimeter of credit.  I did turn in a chapter this semester, I am presenting at a conference next month, and I do have an article being published in a forthcoming edited volume.  But it's still woefully embarrassing how far behind I am.  I HAVE to finish in May 2016.  I absolutely have to.

When Things Start to Look Up

A couple of months ago, my fiancé felt led to make a few sandwiches, give them out to the homeless downtown and pray for them.  He asked if I wanted to join him, and I did.

Everyone was very gracious, accepted what we offered them and allowed us to pray with them.  One man in particular was very responsive.  We'll call him Tony.  He sits out on a bench not too far from the Starbucks downtown.  He talked about a friend of his who comes by to chat with him, and I said, "I know it means a lot to you to have someone to talk to."  And he replied, "It doesn't mean a lot, it means everything."  He talked about how people walk by, ignoring him everyday, not even acknowledging him.  He told us about a student who belittled him yelling at him to "get a job."  He said, "I told him, 'Give me one.' If someone offered me a job, I'd take it."  He said how much it means, not for someone to give him money, but just to acknowledge him as a person.  As a human being.  We prayed with him and he cried, saying he was so grateful for our prayers.  From that day on, anytime I've passed a homeless person, I've said hello or smiled and nodded, even if I didn't have anything to give, just to acknowledge them.

We saw Tony again today, and guess what?  He told us someone offered him a job.  It's a part time job doing custodial work, but it's something.  He said soon he's going to open a bank account.  And then his next goal will be to look for housing.  What amazing news to hear!

I love it when things start to look up for people who really need things to start looking up for them.  It makes me feel like they're looking up for me, too.

Bridal Shower. Wedding Dress. Spring Break.

My fiancé and I have been in my hometown since Friday.  We're leaving to go back to the place we call home tomorrow morning.  Several important little events have transpired:

1. My family met his family for the first time.  His mom, stepdad, sister and little niece all came into town for the shower.  I was a little nervous at first, but everything went over quite well and I realized, as I have with many other things, that there was nothing for me to be nervous about.

2. My bridal shower.  My mom and a lot of church ladies came together to make my bridal shower an absolute success.  It was beautiful.  I got to spend time with good friends, I got to see friends I hadn't seen in a while, and we just had a fun time.  We got lots of things we registered for, which was exciting, and I even got a few lacy, racy things we didn't register for (but which are no less exciting, lol!) I'm going to have a LOT of thank yous to write.  I just felt so overwhelmed by everyone's love and well-wishes.  I know that I am truly blessed to have so many people who love me and consider me like one of their own.  To see pictures, click here.

3. My wedding dress.  Done.  I had a final fitting yesterday, and it is completely finished, along with the accompanying veil.  I shall not post pictures of me with my dress on...I can't chance my fiancé getting a glimpse of them.  It's bad luck.  I'll have to make everyone else wait to see me in it just like I'm making him wait.  I'm very happy with how everything turned out.  It's everything I never knew I wanted.

4. Spring Break.  This week.  i.e. a week without having to teach.  That's part of why we're heading back tomorrow...I have so much work to do and I have a deadline hanging over my head (which I'll be very hard-pressed to meet, but I have to at least try).  The longer I'm here with my family, the less I'll get done.  So I have to take advantage of these work-free days to...work.  We've had a lovely time, though.  And we're going to take a little day trip tomorrow before we get back to the grind.

I am sad tonight in a way I didn't expect.  I said goodbye to my brothers, who now live in my parents' "old house," the house I grew up in.  I realized it was the last time I'd see that house, be in that house, before I get married.  It was like saying goodbye to a part of me I was leaving behind.  As we drove back over to my parents' current home, I realized it would probably be my last time coming home to visit before I get married.  It was the most bittersweet feeling.  I spent the better part of my twenties trying to get out of this city, trying to leave it behind.  Southern, syrupy-sweet, cloying, but with the best of intentions.  Reminders of things better left where they are.  Now you're never coming back the same way.  Thinking I never wanted to.  Knowing that things aren't going to radically change, but knowing that they'll never be the same.

Guitar Center

I went to Guitar Center with my fiancé today to hear him play the drums on one of the little (electronic) drum sets they have set up for people to test out.  Even though our relationship began jamming out with each other on our acoustic guitars, he's always told me he feels more passionate about the drums.  In the many bands he's been in and collaborations he's been a part of, he was frequently the drummer.

I heard him play the drums for the first time today.  And he was amazing.  And very passionate.  And the whole thing was just...incredibly hot.

I don't know what it is about music, what it is about the creative process, what it is about collaborating together musically or just observing someone display a musical talent where they are wholly in their element, that is just super intimate.  There's something intangible, something spellbinding about it.

I told him I wouldn't be able to marry him unless I heard him play the drums.  And now that I've heard him...it's definitely on.

Since when did my wedding become "Treat yo' self"?

There is a legendary episode of Parks and Recreation where Tom and Donna have "treat yo' self" day.  It is hilarious and I love it.  Watch the "treat yo' self" segment here.

However, when did May 16, 2015 become treat yo' self for folks?

Like, I'm talking about folks inviting themselves to the wedding without shame.  I'm talking about folks messaging me talking about some "I wasn't invited" and not kidding.  I'm talking about folks proffering their congratulations on my engagement followed by their mailing address as if to say "I know I'm invited so lemme go 'head and give you my address so you can send me an invitation."

Like, what the heck?  When did this become a thing? I would NEVER invite myself to someone's wedding.  Like, I would never even kid around talking about some "I wasn't invited."

How about I just institute a policy saying feel free to invite yourself if you're willing to pay for yourself?  Ugh.  What an (outside) wedding boils down to is renting enough chairs for butts to sit in during the ceremony and purchasing enough food for all the mouths waiting to be fed during the reception.

The side of me that fantasizes about going down to the courthouse and being done with it is starting to sound more and more reasonable.  I wouldn't do that, though.  My fiancé doesn't want that.  And I think it'll be nice.  I know I'll be glad we had a ceremony and had an occasion where our families and friends could celebrate with us.  It'll be worth it.  But I seriously think I will go Bridezilla on somebody if one more person boggles my mind with their presumptuousness.

If you weren't invited it's because a. Maybe I like you and consider you a friend but maybe we haven't been in touch in a while, b. We ain't cool like that, c. You're an ex (more or less), d. We're poor and didn't consider you important enough to put money on the line for your butt to sit and your mouth to eat, and/or e. You got to draw the line somewhere.

I have a shower coming up in my hometown in a little over a week.  I know my dear mom really wants it to be nice and I'm looking forward to it.  Some of my fiancé's family are coming and they will meet my family for the first time.  It will go fine.  I'm not worried about that.  But I do have a sinking feeling that what I may have to deal with is somebody saying something crazy to me at the shower.  And I'm to the point where if anyone has the audacity to say something crazy, I will have to let some of the Bridezilla out.  Seriously.  My wedding is not treat yo' self, and you can't say ridiculous stuff to me and expect to not get called on it.

I have come to the conclusion that there are two things that bring out the crazy in people, and they are 1. weddings and 2. babies.  And even though #2 isn't happening for at least a year after we're married, can you believe that people are ALREADY asking us about kids?  Seriously.  Can we first let the ink dry on the freaking marriage license before you start getting all up in my grill about the state of my uterus?

A blog quite befits passive-aggression, does it not?

There he is.

We're planning on finally mailing out our invitations tomorrow.  So, we spent Friday night and a few hours on Saturday addressing them and stuffing them.  I bought a purple calligraphy pen so that I could make them look cute. We totally did not spend a lot of money on the invitations at all.  The invitations themselves look classy, but none of this double envelope stuff, no bells or whistles.  We did get address labels for our return address.  Let's face it, although some sentimental fools might save the invitations (to be thrown in with their ever-growing piles of sentimental junk), the majority of human beings who receive one will do what the majority of human beings do with paper things that are likely to be left laying around—throw them away.  Why spend extra money on uber-nice invitations when they're going to end up getting tossed?

Friday night we were sitting at my (soon to be "our") table, me using my purple calligraphy pen, him applying return address labels and stuffing them with invitations and our Bed Bath & Beyond registry cards, both of us listening to some background music, when it hit me: We are addressing our invitations.  Our ceremony has been planned and is going to happen at a specific date and time very soon. We are getting married.  There was something about sitting there addressing the invitations at that moment that brought tears to my eyes.  A question came to mind: Did you ever think you would be sitting here at this table addressing wedding invitations with your future husband?  Suddenly, the mundane became surreal.

I'm a crybaby.  Thankfully, my fiancé has gotten used to it and is no longer alarmed whenever tears unwittingly spring to my eyes.  He just smiled and held me while I whimpered, "I just can't believe it."

I always wondered what my husband was going to look like, what kind of man he was going to be.  And while my fiancé held me and stroked my hair, I felt like someone was telling me, "See?  There he is.  This is what he looks like.  This is the kind of man he is."

Exceedingly, Abundantly Above

I got a phone call yesterday that tearfully overwhelmed me.  My friend is having a baby.

We don't talk often.  Once every few months.  When we do, we just pick up from where we left off.  The last time we talked, I was giving her wedding updates and I asked if she and her husband were still thinking about children.  She'd had a miscarriage a couple of years ago and though they wanted children, it had been a while since then and still...nothing.  She's entering her late 30s and was unsure if it would ever happen for them.  She said if it happened, it would be wonderful, but if it didn't, that would be okay, too.  She said they might consider adoption.

But she called me yesterday and told me she's having a baby.  She's far enough along that she felt comfortable sharing the news.  I was overjoyed.  But what really gave me this overwhelming feeling of wonder was that the last time we'd talked, she was already pregnant, but just didn't know it yet.  While she was telling me she didn't know whether it would ever happen and if it never did, that would be okay, it had already happened.  There was something holy and wonderful about that thought.

It made me cry because I was overjoyed for her. It made me cry because it made me reflect on my own "unexpected" experience of crossing paths with my future husband.  It made me cry because it gave me hope.

I see now more clearly than I ever have that things are never "settled."  Finding a life partner is a milestone for sure, but each stage of life brings a new set of questions and a new set of uncertainties.  My friend's news somehow reassured me that God knows where we are, what we desire and what we need at every stage of life.  Her news reminded me that not only does God provide, He goes beyond what we could have ever imagined or thought possible for ourselves.

Ranty. Composition purgatory. Can I just get married already?

I cannot express how much I loathe grading Spanish compositions.   To be fair, so far, my students have done pretty well.  But they just take forever to grade and it sucks me dry of all motivation to do anything.  I absolutely have to finish them.  This is so ridiculous.  They're just stupid compositions.  Why am I being so whiny and lazy about these dumb things?

Every single time I have to say goodnight to my fiancé, I just feel like ugh.  I just feel like crying.  Even though I know I'm going to see the guy again the next day.  I hate saying goodbye to him.  I hate seeing him leave.  I hate not being with him.  I'm scaring myself with how attached I've become to him.  How I can't imagine life without him.  These don't even sound like words that I'd ever type or think that I'd ever use to express how I feel about another human.  Me?  "I can't imagine life without him"?  It sounds like something I would have made fun of at one time because it's just so cliche and overblown and dramatic.  Fresh out of a sappy chick flick.  Verbatim from a poorly-written romance novel.  But here we are.  There are those laid-bare little vulnerable feelings, quivering and teary-eyed and exposed and in awe of what it means to completely hand over your heart for life.

This man.  Him.  He's gentle.  He has handled my heart with such painstaking care.  In the same tender way he holds my hand.  Then presses it to his chest.  Then kisses it.  With those shy lashes and green brown eyes looking right at me.

There's a mental block holding up my brain called "I'm getting married."  When I sit down to grade compositions.  When I think about how I'm going to structure my next chapter.  When I think about the possibility of expanding a paper for submission.  Anything work-related gets sideswiped by "I'm getting married."  I feel like if I can just get married, just become his wife, just get all the wedding jitters and planning and speculation and expectation over with and out of my system, I can settle down into this new stage of life and regain my focus.  Because right now, I'm a barely-tethered helium balloon being battered about by hordes of giddy fluttery butterflies.

Here's something I realized: Last Valentine's Day was the first Valentine's Day I'd ever spent with a sweetheart.  This Valentine's Day will be my first Valentine's Day as an engaged woman.  Next Valentine's Day will be my first Valentine's Day as a married woman.  A series of Valentine's Day firsts.  Well, whaddya know.

More Yay!

At one of me and my guy's favorite little coffee spots.  He is sitting beside me looking super hot.  He has this look of determination on his face while he's engrossed in his work that I find highly attractive.  I can't lie and say his spectacles don't have anything to do with it.  Sometimes I miss him without his glasses, though.  When we first met, he always wore contacts.  But once I hinted that I was rather taken with bespectacled guys, he ditched the contacts.  Once he knew that I preferred the bespectacled look, he was relieved because he didn't particularly enjoy bothering with them.

Anyway, a few more spots of sunshine to testify about:

1. I FINALLY submitted the first draft of my first dissertation chapter.  Yes, it's just a draft (subject to rigorous critique and revision) and I definitely still have my work cut out for me.  This is just chapter 1 of 5. But it's good to be able to get something complete off my hands.  Onward!

2.  An abstract that I submitted to a conference got accepted!  It's going to be a presentation on a section of the chapter I just submitted.  The best thing is that it's right here in my little Georgian home away from home.

3. We received a TOTALLY unexpected, VERY generous wedding gift in the mail.  Well, praise the Lord.  For real.

Here's me super happy while we were eating wedding cake sample cupcakes.  Yes, that's a sunflower.  Yes, sunflowers (even fake, sugar ones) make me muy feliz.

Good Stuff

1. My adorabo flower girl dresses.

2. Eating cupcakes with my guy (wedding cake samples).

3. Getting a much awaited email stating that my article will soon be published in an edited volume! (Published articles are the stars in an academician's crown.  Especially one who wants a job on down the road.)

4. Getting honeymoon arrangements all set.  Eeeeeeeeee!

5. Finally getting pre-marital counseling underway.

6. Using this recipe to make beef and broccoli stir fry that is ridiculous.  I mean, crazy good.  I think it's the ginger that does it.

7. Lemon turmeric tea.

8. Looking into my guy's eyes (greenish brown, long-lashed) and feeling awash in pure adoration of him.  The other day he told me that he was amazed by me.  It was the simplest, purest declaration of affection anyone has ever expressed to me.  And the moment he told me this was under the most mundane of circumstances.  It wasn't in some romantic Hollywood moment while we were under a starlit sky.  It was while he was clearing the table.  This is what I'm thankful for, and what I never realized I needed until him: Someone who effortlessly reminds me of the magic in the ordinary.

Cliches are cliches because there's something universal about them.  Trite as they are, at heart, they contain something recognizable, something nominally true.  And the cliched advice that I used to bristle against with every fiber of my allegedly self-possessed being was "Don't settle for less." Ugh.  To me, it was framed in this desire for (usually well-meaning) people to not see my long-single self make any choices regarding my future mate outside of their ideal.  You have no fraction of an idea of what being me even means, I would think.  What is ideal for you for me may very well not be what is ideal for me for me.  Furthermore, what is ideal for you for me does not necessarily equal what is ideal for God for me.  And lastly, if whatever path I take is not your ideal for me, it most certainly does not equal "settling for less."  That's what I would think.  And truth be told, at the end of the day, it's what I still think.

But here's the kicker: I would now give the same advice to someone else like me.  Don't settle for less.  Don't accept less because you're afraid that if you reject less, more will never come your way.  It's a lie.  And one that I believed at one time.  And while I believed it, it actually took me that much further from being in a position where I was ready to receive more.

Cakes and Ring Bearer Epiphany

We on this wedding train and we gonna ride it out.  It's just a full-on wedding fest up in here.

So, we got our designs and prices all decided upon for our cakes.  I'm going to have a sunflower cake.  (Surprise, surprise), and the groom's cake is going to be a drum cake.  He's so excited about it.  Yes, I'm marrying the adult version of the impossible middle school crush of my dreams.  A former skater dude (hacky sack, et al.) who played drums and guitar in a bunch of punky bands growing up.  He says he plays the drums better than he does the guitar, but I still haven't heard him play.  I told him that I can't marry him until I've heard him play the drums.  How can I say I know him if I've never heard him play the instrument that's even nearer and dearer to him than the guitar?

Here's what I'm excited about, though.  My sunflower cake is going to be on a tree stump.  Yup. I can't tell you how excited I am about this tree stump, y'all.  It's going to be something similar to this. (But better.)  Don't hate.  Appreciate.  It's going to be all rustic and sunflowery.  The excitement is starting to creep into my bones.

And not cake related, but I've been trying to envision what I want my flower girls and ring bearer to look like.  And I just had an epiphany.  I totally want a little suspendered, bowtied, pageboy hat-wearing little nephew-to-be bearing those rings!  Something like this, but grey/iris.  And he is devastatingly cute.  Gives me lots of hope for the attractiveness of my future offspring.

I'm so glad that there are so many church people who are professionals (bakers, florists, photographers, wedding planners, etc.) who are willing to help us and give us deals.  It's really made things easier (and much less expensive than it could be) for us.

Wedding Bands

Yep.  It's all wedding, all day, all the time around this neck of the blog woods.

So we went to pick out wedding bands today.  The same place he went to get my engagement ring.

He told me that when he first went to look for engagement rings, he intended just to start looking around.  He didn't really have an idea in mind. But at the first store he went to, he saw a ring that he just felt was the one, so he walked out that day with a ring in hand.  We figured we'd have a similar experience going to get wedding bands.

We're not flashy people.  Nah, we both just wanted something simple.  I saw one I liked, he saw one he liked, we both liked what each other liked, they both fit out budget, and voilà.  Wedding bands, check.

Picking them out was pretty easy.  We're not picky people.  But then it was like, omg, the rings we're picking out right now are rings we're going to wear for the rest of our lives.  Like, I'm going to have this same ring on my finger when I'm like 50.  (Which, scarily, is not as far off as it used to be.)  It was kind of a sobering moment.

The saleslady was expecting and she said that she just had to get her rings enlarged because her fingers had swollen during the pregnancy.  I said aloud, half to myself, "Oh, wow...that's true.  I didn't even think about that."  My fiancé looked at me and said, "We still have a little bit of time before we need to worry about that."

Calm down, honey.  Let's let the ink dry on the marriage certificate, let's get that dissertation written and let's get that job before we start fretting about pregnancy-swollen fingers.  Yes, ma'am.

Weddington McMarriage

I am on a non-stop, high-speed train to Weddington McMarriage.

This thing is going down.  We ordered our invitations this weekend, and when we hit "submit order" to purchase 150 invitations/envelopes/address labels, I had a "no turning back" moment.  You ain't playin' no games.  Dis yo' man fo' real. 

Right?  Like, there was a date and a time on there.

Breathe.  Not like I'm thinking of "turning back" or that I've ever thought of it since he slipped that ring on my finger.  Nawl.  All I'm saying is like, it's really happening.  I mean, when we first got engaged, I was all like, we have time to decide this and that and we'll think about it later, and now that January is all like, "I'm heeeeeree!" it's been like, BAM!  Wedding red alert.  Wedding date has been like, "Ey! You know I'm comin' up, right? You hear me, girl?"  I mean, seriously, when we got engaged in June, we had literally a year to get it together.  Now we have four months.  Like, whaaaattt??

Why is it still so difficult for me to conceive of myself as married?  This is something I've wanted for the longest, and now that it's no joke, T-minus four months till marriage launch, my brain is still like, "Yeah, so, I'm getting married soon, and....WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???"

Snickery McSarcasm: It means you're going to be sharing a minuscule apartment and a single bathroom with a dude.

Idealista McSwooney: It means you're going to wake up next to the love of your life every morning.

Obsessy McHyper: It means you're going to have arguments and money problems and have to balance career and school and family and church and you're going to have to get used to a bunch of stuff you're not used to because you've lived on your own for so long and omigawd how is it all going to come together?

Realizzy McStraightup: It means you're going to be married.  Please, like you're the first person in the world to ever tie the knot. People have always done it, people are doing it now, and they will continue to do so till kingdom come.  Welcome to life.

Can I be a meanie and rant about things that annoy me?

Meanie Me: Is it mean that when people ask me "How's the wedding planning going?" it slightly bothers me?  I know that it is a benign question just meant to make small talk and convey interest and perhaps even well-wishes, so I just smile and give a perky, vague update.  But the little wave of irritation that flows through me when people ask that is akin to the slight wave of irritation that would flow through me when after spending several months abroad people would ask, "So, how was France?"  Like, ugh.  Like, in both cases, whatever I tell you is just a surface answer because that's all you really want to hear.  Akin to how I feel when people ask, "So, what do you plan to do with a PhD?"  Like, why do you care?  You don't even have a concept of what getting a PhD even means, so when I say, "Be a professor," you still don't get it.  Ugh, I'm so mean!  And please don't say anything about being/not being a Bridezilla.  It's so trite and played out and unclever and takes no imagination whatsoever to come up with.  "Are you feeling like a Bridezilla yet?"  Oh, har, har, har.  Gosh, I'm such a meanie.

Anyway.  Here's something that I kinda want.  It's not a Bridezilla want, since we're on the topic.  I want a horse and carriage exit.  It can so be done, and if it's a little pricier than what we have room for in our budget, I think I have a little ace in the hole to make it happen.  I mean, with my whole medieval/Renaissance dress thing going on, it being kind of a rustic, outdoor deal, and besides, it's unique and sweet and fairy tale-like.  Sigh.  We'll see.

New Year's Post or Better Late Than Never

Well, hello.

It's been a while,  I know.  But so many things have/have been/are happened/happening, that it's just been a task to find the time and presence of mind to sit down and write.

If I don't do it now, at the dawn of the new semester, who knows when I will?

At least I'm teaching two sections of a course that I taught last semester, so no freak-outs to be had.  The only bummer is that I'm teaching on the opposite side of campus from my office and I'm teaching in some funky buildings I've never heard of before.  Forestry?  Who teaches Spanish in the School of Forestry building?

So.  I'm starting out this new year as an engaged woman.  And in four months, I'll be a married woman.  That is off the chain.  Now that 2015 is here, our wedding day seems like it's hurtling towards us.  If I went to France right now for as long as I did in 2010, I would be married before I got back.  I finally got to try on my wedding dress.  There's something about it all that still seems so surreal. There's flower girl dresses to figure out.  We have to meet with our day-of coordinator.  We need to order our invitations.  Who's going to do what during the ceremony? Wedding favors?  How is everyone going to find their way driving out in the deep down country roads to arrive at our rustic venue?  What are the little details going to look like? I wish there were a wedding genie who could just POOF! and all the details would be magically worked out. It'll be here before you know it.

I just got rid of a boatload of hoarder/sentimental junk junkie stuff and bagged up a bunch of clothes that I haven't worn in eons.  There's still so much more to do, to get rid of, to rearrange.  There's a grown man who's moving into my little one bedroom apartment with me in a matter of months and I've got to make space for him. (We're trying to save money, I say!) What is living with a grown man going to look like?  The last time I had a roommate, I was a sophomore in college.  While I'm thrilled about being able to be together 24/7, I'm also a little afraid of the unknown.

By the time we get married, we will have been engaged for longer than we dated.

When we got back to Georgia after the winter break, we found a few gifts that our friends and family ordered for us from Bed, Bath and Beyond waiting for us.  It was so exciting to see things from the registry!  (Especially the Fiesta dinnerware.)

This year I will make more progress on my dissertation than I have up to this point.  I absolutely must.  This year, I will work consistently on my dissertation.

This year, I will have my little veggie garden again.

This year, I will finally learn to knit.

This year, my theme is to wait upon the Lord.  For so long, I've associated "waiting on the Lord" with finding a husband.  Can I just be for real?  I would venture to say that many long-single church girls out there have and probably do associate the idea of "waiting on the Lord" and "God's timing" with finding a husband.  And I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that or making fun of it or anything now that I finally have a man. (Insert sarcasm here.)  All I'm saying is that I feel like I'm in the position to wait on Him even more now because I have more balls in the air.  How is this academic career thing going to work out for me and for him?  What about our future, unconceived (albeit conceived of) children?  How are they going to fit into the mix?  Let's keep it a hundred: Ya girl is not a spring chicken anymore, and if any babies are going to happen, they need to at least start happening within the next two years after I'm married.  This is where "waiting" comes in again.  This is where "God's timing" needs to be acknowledged again.

2015 will be a year of new beginnings.  2015 will be a year of adjusting, trusting, learning, growing and patience.

Finished...sort of

When does updating my blog not involve some form of procrastination?

The semester is over, so I should be breathing a sigh of relief, right?

So, my Spanish class exams and grades are done, submitted, etc.  Yay.

My Latino Literature grades are not yet.  Still need to grade those finals.  And silly me forgot to bring the list of students who did the Cesar Chavez extra credit.  Blast.  So, I sent out a sheepish mass email asking those students who did it to kindly respond to my message that they did.  As meticulous as I am about some things...others never cease to elude me.

Dropped my fiancé off at the airport yesterday afternoon.  He flew out to be with his folks, and I'm going to join him and his family on Friday.  I'm going to be with him and his family for a little over a week.  It will be the first Christmas I've spent away from my family.  But what I have to realize is that his family is going to be my family and my family is going to be his family.

When he doesn't shave, I call him "furry."  What does he call me?  His sunshine.  The bright, yellow sunflower in his life.  When I'm not with him, all I can think about is being with him.  There are so many unknowns.  So many things are never guaranteed.  I could sit and make myself sick worrying about the unknowns, the things I'll never be sure of.  But I can say that some days, all I know is that I love him.  Some days the one thing I wrap around myself and take comfort in is the knowledge that he's going to be there.  For me and with me.

Dissertation chapter one.  (Technically chapter 2.)  Oh, I came so close to finishing the chapter.  I have one section left.  I had a great meeting with my major professor before I left, though, and I can finally say that I'm pleased at the progress I've made.  I submitted an abstract to a conference to hopefully present part of this chapter (the part I'm currently working on), so if it's accepted, that will give me even more incentive to wrap this puppy up.  I feel like I've finally hit my writing stride.  At least with this chapter.  It's a great feeling.  Especially after feeling like I was inching along like a measly little slug for so long.

So, finish up with my Latino Lit grades, (keeping my fingers crossed that my extra credit students email me in a timely manner), get my favorite boots re-heeled (I've worn those suckers OUT), pack up and fly out to a much colder place for Christmas.  Here's another reason me and my guy were meant to be: He just happens to be from the same state my parents are from.

Thankful

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.

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!