We love each other so much. It's incredible. And the best thing is, there's something in both of us that values it deeply. That doesn't take it for granted.
We talk about our unconceived daughter a lot. (Yes, she already has a name.) What we're going to teach her, how she's going to be bilingual, musically inclined, what activities we'll do with her, what games we're going to play with her. Sometimes when we're out and see an adorable little curly-haired brown girl, we say that's how our daughter will look.
We were shopping at Kroger and I bought some body wash that had our little girl's name in it. Then my fiancé started talking about her and said that he would give our little daughter a bath and wash her hair and tuck her in and read her a bedtime story in Spanish. Major swoon. There was something about the image of him washing her hair that just made me feel all the feels.
Wedding planning is turning out all right. So far so good. Venue? Check. Photographer? Check. Caterer? Almost check.
We got time, baby. We got time.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
You Still Have You
My mind wanders. That's something that will never change.
This is something that I've been thinking about for a little while. Now, I know this is in no way original. It may even sound cliché. But even things that are cliché are based in truth. And that is a cliché.
What I want to say is that no matter what station of life you are in, you still have to deal with you.
I am super thrilled to be engaged. I super love my fiancé and can't wait to be his wife. But what I'm saying is that having a fiancé doesn't make me less me. Having a fiancé doesn't make me not get sad about things that the person I am has a tendency to get sad about. I'm still who I am. I am happy. I am grateful. I do cherish this very precious thing we share and that we've built together. But, at heart, I'm still the same person I was before I met him. Falling in love has definitely caused me to re-order a few priorities, but it hasn't caused me to undergo some kind of magical metamorphosis. I'm still me. And I still have myself to deal with.
The whole idea of myself being ultimately responsible for my own happiness is an idea that I finally began to grasp when I was still single and had absolutely no prospects on the horizon. Now that I'm soon to be married, that idea somehow hits home even more.
I do remember how I felt when I struggled with loneliness. It is a very real, palpable thing that should never be dismissed as a mere matter of perspective or mental fortitude. It can surface at the most unsuspecting and inconvenient times and manifests itself as a void that can be literally painful. I know. I remember. But what I wish that self knew was that once you're in a relationship, the terms change, but the ultimate responsibility doesn't.
In a relationship, you have help, so to speak. You have the comfort of knowing that you're on a team and that whatever comes, you won't have to face it alone. But you can never essentially shift the responsibility of maintaining your contentment with your life onto your partner. Not only is that unfair, it's simply impossible for one human being to meet all of another human being's needs.
My tendency to overanalyze, my tendency to give in to worry, and my tendency to indulge the melancholy strains of my personality are all things that I still have to deal with, that I have to come to terms with in my personal relationship with God.
There are things that the most handsome, wonderful, compatible, amazing person in the world cannot fix, alleviate or satisfy. You still have you.
What I want to say is that no matter what station of life you are in, you still have to deal with you.
I am super thrilled to be engaged. I super love my fiancé and can't wait to be his wife. But what I'm saying is that having a fiancé doesn't make me less me. Having a fiancé doesn't make me not get sad about things that the person I am has a tendency to get sad about. I'm still who I am. I am happy. I am grateful. I do cherish this very precious thing we share and that we've built together. But, at heart, I'm still the same person I was before I met him. Falling in love has definitely caused me to re-order a few priorities, but it hasn't caused me to undergo some kind of magical metamorphosis. I'm still me. And I still have myself to deal with.
The whole idea of myself being ultimately responsible for my own happiness is an idea that I finally began to grasp when I was still single and had absolutely no prospects on the horizon. Now that I'm soon to be married, that idea somehow hits home even more.
I do remember how I felt when I struggled with loneliness. It is a very real, palpable thing that should never be dismissed as a mere matter of perspective or mental fortitude. It can surface at the most unsuspecting and inconvenient times and manifests itself as a void that can be literally painful. I know. I remember. But what I wish that self knew was that once you're in a relationship, the terms change, but the ultimate responsibility doesn't.
In a relationship, you have help, so to speak. You have the comfort of knowing that you're on a team and that whatever comes, you won't have to face it alone. But you can never essentially shift the responsibility of maintaining your contentment with your life onto your partner. Not only is that unfair, it's simply impossible for one human being to meet all of another human being's needs.
My tendency to overanalyze, my tendency to give in to worry, and my tendency to indulge the melancholy strains of my personality are all things that I still have to deal with, that I have to come to terms with in my personal relationship with God.
There are things that the most handsome, wonderful, compatible, amazing person in the world cannot fix, alleviate or satisfy. You still have you.
Tuesday, July 08, 2014
The Impossible Desire to Be Understood By All
I'm laughing at the title of this post right now because it seems like the title of a 90s teen angst-filled miniseries. It sounds ludicrous, but it's the only thing that comes to mind for now.
I have to constantly fight to repress this adolescent idea that I am utterly singular, that my experience, my position, this place in which I find myself, is utterly unique. I really have to let that go. Because if I don't, I will constantly contend with this existential sense of "why me?" that is pointless and emotionally draining.
Nevertheless, the idea that anyone who knows me would look at me, look at my choices, look at this place in which I find myself and "not understand" is somewhat distressing to me.
Why do I insist on expending mental energy on thinking I could satisfactorily answer other people's whys?
I did something that only social media addicted people would ever conceive of doing: I checked to see if a particular person I more or less grew up with had "liked" the announcement of my engagement or the announcement of the wedding date on FB. Negative. It's a person that I've always considered a friend, but maybe a person whom others always assumed I would end up with and maybe a person who tried to explore the possibility of a relationship in the past.
Can I admit that it bothered me just a little bit? I hate that it did, but I'm just being honest. I began to think about the negative things he was thinking. That perhaps he just couldn't understand why I would reject the obvious, the practically inevitable (to some) and opt for the, for lack of a better term, less conventional. That my decision was so bewildering that he couldn't bring himself to congratulate me in any way or even "like" it to at least show acknowledgement.
Why do I care? I use this particular instance as an example, but perhaps there are other instances that fall under the same or a similar category. Besides, my imaginings of someone else's negative thoughts are just that, imaginings that aren't based in reality and would be better off disregarded. I really shouldn't care. I need to get over it. I recognize that. I honestly do.
When the new semester starts in the fall, I'm going to have to especially woman up and be prepared for encounters. lol. I know I'm being vague, but suffice it to say I'm just going to have to be matter of fact and then just keep it movin.
I keep coming to the same conclusion: I'm going to have to finally learn to own my choices. I'm going to have to learn to deal with the reality that there are some people who won't "understand."
I have to constantly fight to repress this adolescent idea that I am utterly singular, that my experience, my position, this place in which I find myself, is utterly unique. I really have to let that go. Because if I don't, I will constantly contend with this existential sense of "why me?" that is pointless and emotionally draining.
Nevertheless, the idea that anyone who knows me would look at me, look at my choices, look at this place in which I find myself and "not understand" is somewhat distressing to me.
Why do I insist on expending mental energy on thinking I could satisfactorily answer other people's whys?
I did something that only social media addicted people would ever conceive of doing: I checked to see if a particular person I more or less grew up with had "liked" the announcement of my engagement or the announcement of the wedding date on FB. Negative. It's a person that I've always considered a friend, but maybe a person whom others always assumed I would end up with and maybe a person who tried to explore the possibility of a relationship in the past.
Can I admit that it bothered me just a little bit? I hate that it did, but I'm just being honest. I began to think about the negative things he was thinking. That perhaps he just couldn't understand why I would reject the obvious, the practically inevitable (to some) and opt for the, for lack of a better term, less conventional. That my decision was so bewildering that he couldn't bring himself to congratulate me in any way or even "like" it to at least show acknowledgement.
Why do I care? I use this particular instance as an example, but perhaps there are other instances that fall under the same or a similar category. Besides, my imaginings of someone else's negative thoughts are just that, imaginings that aren't based in reality and would be better off disregarded. I really shouldn't care. I need to get over it. I recognize that. I honestly do.
When the new semester starts in the fall, I'm going to have to especially woman up and be prepared for encounters. lol. I know I'm being vague, but suffice it to say I'm just going to have to be matter of fact and then just keep it movin.
I keep coming to the same conclusion: I'm going to have to finally learn to own my choices. I'm going to have to learn to deal with the reality that there are some people who won't "understand."
Thursday, July 03, 2014
Thank you, friend.
Since my closest friends are married, looks like I'll be featuring matrons of honor instead of maids. Yes. Matrons of honor. As in plural. When you've been the maid of honor in the weddings of both of your closest friends...I refuse to choose. Both of them have been instrumental at different points of my life in different ways.
But I want to talk about one of those friends for a moment. She's a God-sent friend. All because of my mom wearing one of those poofy Pentecostal hair bows. This friend prayed for a friend who was a believer, a friend so that she wouldn't feel alone. She got up off of her knees and walked into the student center, and there was my mom in a skirt and the back of her head with that fateful hair bow. When I arrived soon after my orientation session, I joined the tearful chorus. And the rest is history. (The last line was corny and unnecessary and cliché, but that's what I do.)
I was being all un-giddy and slightly unmotivated concerning wedding planning. I just haven't really been into it, as I've mentioned before. Like, I'm excited, but I'm not all...you know, wanting to go to David's Bridal and pick out bridesmaid's dresses and look at accessories and decorations and everything. You might even say I was being cynical and negative. Just thinking about wedding planning made me sigh with a touch of ennui. (You're welcome.) All these fussy little details. All these questions to be answered, decisions to be made, people to deal with. Knowing that even though "it's my wedding," it's kind of not because I'm not paying for it and not just that, but it is kind of for everybody else.
But my God-sent friend came to visit, insisting that we go to David's Bridal. At least to pick out a main color and look at styles of bridesmaid's dresses. So we went, and I immediately got overwhelmed with all the choices laid before me. All the styles, all the materials, all the possible accessories...(sigh). But at least I decided on a color. Iris. (You're welcome.) And eventually I did find a style that I thought was classy and versatile and could be accessorized with either a chiffon shrug or a satin bolero. (You're welcome.)
But then...my God-sent friend wanted me to try on wedding dresses. But my wedding dress is being made. But she insisted. I tried to be a good sport about it, just to try to get in the spirit. I tried on the first dress and it looked very classy and pretty and lacy and everyone oohed and ahhed and I felt like a how I imagine a princess might feel. But then the saleslady put a veil on me. And when I saw myself in the mirror with that dress on with a veil, I just teared up. I'd never seen myself like that before, and I was shocked at how moved I was. Seeing myself in a way that I'd only previously envisioned for other people was profound. A Lacanian moment if there ever was one. (You're welcome.) There was something about seeing myself in a wedding dress and a veil that brought the reality home in a fresh, poignant way. I'm getting married.
I don't know how to explain it, but weddings and wedding dresses and wedding colors and flowers and venues and receptions and honeymoons were for other people. These kinds of things weren't for me. They weren't things I would ever realistically need to be concerned with anytime soon, or so I thought. They were in other people's vocabularies. They were other people's concerns. They were a part of other people's lives. In other people's orbits. Not mine.
It took seeing myself in a wedding dress and veil, as a bride, to realize that these things are mine. That these things are a part of my vocabulary. A part of my life. A part of what is happening to me right now, not in some indeterminate future. I have a ring on my finger and I have a date set. What's happened and what's happening now is what is going to continue to happen: Everything falling into place.
So, thank you, friend. Thank you for helping me to realize that this is a singular time in my life. Thank you for taking the time out to come see me. Thank you for making things special for me.
But I want to talk about one of those friends for a moment. She's a God-sent friend. All because of my mom wearing one of those poofy Pentecostal hair bows. This friend prayed for a friend who was a believer, a friend so that she wouldn't feel alone. She got up off of her knees and walked into the student center, and there was my mom in a skirt and the back of her head with that fateful hair bow. When I arrived soon after my orientation session, I joined the tearful chorus. And the rest is history. (The last line was corny and unnecessary and cliché, but that's what I do.)
I was being all un-giddy and slightly unmotivated concerning wedding planning. I just haven't really been into it, as I've mentioned before. Like, I'm excited, but I'm not all...you know, wanting to go to David's Bridal and pick out bridesmaid's dresses and look at accessories and decorations and everything. You might even say I was being cynical and negative. Just thinking about wedding planning made me sigh with a touch of ennui. (You're welcome.) All these fussy little details. All these questions to be answered, decisions to be made, people to deal with. Knowing that even though "it's my wedding," it's kind of not because I'm not paying for it and not just that, but it is kind of for everybody else.
But my God-sent friend came to visit, insisting that we go to David's Bridal. At least to pick out a main color and look at styles of bridesmaid's dresses. So we went, and I immediately got overwhelmed with all the choices laid before me. All the styles, all the materials, all the possible accessories...(sigh). But at least I decided on a color. Iris. (You're welcome.) And eventually I did find a style that I thought was classy and versatile and could be accessorized with either a chiffon shrug or a satin bolero. (You're welcome.)
But then...my God-sent friend wanted me to try on wedding dresses. But my wedding dress is being made. But she insisted. I tried to be a good sport about it, just to try to get in the spirit. I tried on the first dress and it looked very classy and pretty and lacy and everyone oohed and ahhed and I felt like a how I imagine a princess might feel. But then the saleslady put a veil on me. And when I saw myself in the mirror with that dress on with a veil, I just teared up. I'd never seen myself like that before, and I was shocked at how moved I was. Seeing myself in a way that I'd only previously envisioned for other people was profound. A Lacanian moment if there ever was one. (You're welcome.) There was something about seeing myself in a wedding dress and a veil that brought the reality home in a fresh, poignant way. I'm getting married.
I don't know how to explain it, but weddings and wedding dresses and wedding colors and flowers and venues and receptions and honeymoons were for other people. These kinds of things weren't for me. They weren't things I would ever realistically need to be concerned with anytime soon, or so I thought. They were in other people's vocabularies. They were other people's concerns. They were a part of other people's lives. In other people's orbits. Not mine.
It took seeing myself in a wedding dress and veil, as a bride, to realize that these things are mine. That these things are a part of my vocabulary. A part of my life. A part of what is happening to me right now, not in some indeterminate future. I have a ring on my finger and I have a date set. What's happened and what's happening now is what is going to continue to happen: Everything falling into place.
So, thank you, friend. Thank you for helping me to realize that this is a singular time in my life. Thank you for taking the time out to come see me. Thank you for making things special for me.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
I Love My Fiancé
This may be the most sappy post I will ever write in my life. But first of all, why am I so sappiness-averse anyway? Why do I have this reluctance toward being all dreamy and swoony about being in love? Maybe I just don't want to be annoying. I mean, I do try to keep it real, though. I know my man isn't perfect, and Lord knows I certainly am not. But we're perfect for each other.
I do have this growing sense of feeling like I would get buck with a girl who tried to step to my guy, though. And I never imagined myself as a person capable of actually getting buck. Like, I might in my mind, or joke around saying what I would have said or what I would have done if someone had said or done whatever, but I'm feeling like I actually would let someone know that they needed to have a seat. About a month or so ago, I had a dream that a girl with long, dark, flowing hair sidled up to my fiancé and started giving him a back massage. And in the dream, I grabbed her hair, yanked her away from him and slammed her to the ground. The dream was so funny, because I would never do that, but it was also kind of scary because...would I do that?
I guess, if I had to boil things down to the essence of why I love him, it's because, generally speaking, he has this pure, straightforward sense about his intentions, what he wants, why he wants it and what he has to do in order to gain it. More specifically, I've been in past situations with guys where there was a screen of insecurity shrouding their intentions, or worse, there was a screen of ulterior motives enveloping their actions and words, or even worse, a combination of both. What I'm trying to say is that with him, there's been this openness that's made me feel secure. I feel like I've never had to guess. There's a consistency about him that's comforting and reassuring.
I'm beginning to grasp the idea that my happiness, my pleasure, my comfort, my well-being, is profoundly tied to someone else's. The idea that what he honestly wants is for me to be happy and that being assured of my happiness is what makes him happy is something amazing.
I feel like he gets that what I have to offer is unique. What I mean is that it's one thing to be admired, but quite another to be understood. I don't mean to say that he's a mind reader or something and "understands" every single thing about me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that he doesn't just recognize that what I have to offer and the qualities I have or whatever you want to call them are positive, desirable things, he also understands the value in them. A great enough value to want them to be a part of his life forever. He sees that they're worth commitment and acceptance.
I love him because he makes me feel like all of the things about myself that I feel insecure about are okay. Beautiful, even. It's okay that I cry a lot. It's okay that I overanalyze everything. My hair is beautiful. My skin is beautiful. He sees me in a way that makes me feel like just being who I am is enough.
Then, there are the ways that we fit. I love that we speak in Spanish to each other whenever we feel like it. I love that we play the guitar together and create songs and lyrics and harmonies together. I love that we go to church together and are involved in ministry together and both have a desire to grow spiritually. I love that we're both well-traveled and love exploring new places. I love that we love simple things: picnics, farmers markets, walks in the park, Spanish lattes by the window. I love that one of our favorite things to do is to watch Chopped and laugh.
And, of course, there are those little things about him. His dimpled smile, his freckles, his long eyelashes, the sound of his voice. His glasses, plaid shirts, clean-smelling cologne. The way he throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds when something really makes him laugh.
Finally, I love the way he loves me. Tenderly. He kisses my hand and my forehead and tells me that he loves me, that I'm beautiful, that he's so lucky, so blessed to have me.
I still can't believe I'm getting married. The idea is taking some getting used to. But I can say that I value so deeply what my fiancé and I have. We have so much to look forward to.
I do have this growing sense of feeling like I would get buck with a girl who tried to step to my guy, though. And I never imagined myself as a person capable of actually getting buck. Like, I might in my mind, or joke around saying what I would have said or what I would have done if someone had said or done whatever, but I'm feeling like I actually would let someone know that they needed to have a seat. About a month or so ago, I had a dream that a girl with long, dark, flowing hair sidled up to my fiancé and started giving him a back massage. And in the dream, I grabbed her hair, yanked her away from him and slammed her to the ground. The dream was so funny, because I would never do that, but it was also kind of scary because...would I do that?
I guess, if I had to boil things down to the essence of why I love him, it's because, generally speaking, he has this pure, straightforward sense about his intentions, what he wants, why he wants it and what he has to do in order to gain it. More specifically, I've been in past situations with guys where there was a screen of insecurity shrouding their intentions, or worse, there was a screen of ulterior motives enveloping their actions and words, or even worse, a combination of both. What I'm trying to say is that with him, there's been this openness that's made me feel secure. I feel like I've never had to guess. There's a consistency about him that's comforting and reassuring.
I'm beginning to grasp the idea that my happiness, my pleasure, my comfort, my well-being, is profoundly tied to someone else's. The idea that what he honestly wants is for me to be happy and that being assured of my happiness is what makes him happy is something amazing.
I feel like he gets that what I have to offer is unique. What I mean is that it's one thing to be admired, but quite another to be understood. I don't mean to say that he's a mind reader or something and "understands" every single thing about me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that he doesn't just recognize that what I have to offer and the qualities I have or whatever you want to call them are positive, desirable things, he also understands the value in them. A great enough value to want them to be a part of his life forever. He sees that they're worth commitment and acceptance.
I love him because he makes me feel like all of the things about myself that I feel insecure about are okay. Beautiful, even. It's okay that I cry a lot. It's okay that I overanalyze everything. My hair is beautiful. My skin is beautiful. He sees me in a way that makes me feel like just being who I am is enough.
Then, there are the ways that we fit. I love that we speak in Spanish to each other whenever we feel like it. I love that we play the guitar together and create songs and lyrics and harmonies together. I love that we go to church together and are involved in ministry together and both have a desire to grow spiritually. I love that we're both well-traveled and love exploring new places. I love that we love simple things: picnics, farmers markets, walks in the park, Spanish lattes by the window. I love that one of our favorite things to do is to watch Chopped and laugh.
And, of course, there are those little things about him. His dimpled smile, his freckles, his long eyelashes, the sound of his voice. His glasses, plaid shirts, clean-smelling cologne. The way he throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds when something really makes him laugh.
Finally, I love the way he loves me. Tenderly. He kisses my hand and my forehead and tells me that he loves me, that I'm beautiful, that he's so lucky, so blessed to have me.
I still can't believe I'm getting married. The idea is taking some getting used to. But I can say that I value so deeply what my fiancé and I have. We have so much to look forward to.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Hazy, Dazy, and Utterly Unmotivated
Yeah, so I have ALL of this stuff to do, but I'm spacing out. When I can least afford to.
1. After my summer class cancellation debacle, I (finally) have a job as a "Sellebrity" at Old Navy. It'll do. I get a 25% discount. But flip-flop day (this coming Saturday) is going to be off the chain. $1.00 flip-flops. And people go bananas.
2. I signed an agreement for my article to appear in a collection coming out soon! I'll probably still have to do a bunch of revisions, and even then, it could still get cut, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
3. I'm supposed to be writing a book review and have barely read the first chapter yet. Ugh. Jesus be a motivator.
4. I'm also supposed to be writing a DISSERTATION, people. How many chapters have I even begun to write yet? How many outlines have I lifted a finger to compose and send to my adviser? Ugh.
5. So, there's a wedding that's supposed to be happening. On May 16, 2015. My fiancé is super on top of planning. He created a Google Docs folder for us to have a guest list, a budget calculator, a place to keep lists of venues we're investigating, helpful links we've consulted, etc. He's done most of the legwork of calling and emailing regarding venues, etc. I'm so glad he's a planner. I'm a planner, too. Sometimes. What I like about him is that he's a consistent worker. If he has a deadline looming, he does a steady amount of work before the deadline, minimizing last-minute stress. What do I do? When I have a deadline looming, I procrastinate and do minimal work ahead of time, waiting for a last-minute burst of productivity to kick in and bring me across the finish line right before the deadline hits. Guess which way of getting stuff done is more conducive to wedding planning? Sigh. I will admit, though, I did create a profile on The Knot and have our little website in the works. (Which also has a checklist and other things as a part of the profile.)
I don't know why I'm not feeling giddy about wedding planning. I felt giddy when I got that ring on my finger, but I haven't been like, swooning over bridesmaid's dresses and flowers and whatever else brides-to-be ravish and rave over when planning their weddings. I have an awesome wedding dress story, so I'm glad that's pretty much already taken care of. We want it to be outside, the colors will definitely involve lavender, sunflowers will be prominently featured, and this song will serve as the recessional. Other than those details, I'm not super obsessing over stuff. I honestly wouldn't be heartbroken at all if we just went to a justice of the peace and called it a day. But lots of people who love me would kill me if I did that, and my fiancé isn't keen on doing that, either. So...ceremony it will be. I just get nervous about being on display. Let's be real, if a wedding is anything, it's the bride on display.
What I haven't decided upon yet is whether I'm going to put one of those dorky countdowns on my blog. I probably will. I'm a cynic with a soft spot for dorky, cheesy things like wedding countdowns.
Can I admit something, though? I am kind of excited about changing my plain jane last name. My current last name is the most common last name in the United States. My fiancé's last name is definitely unique and kind of awesome. As a student of literature, I'm kind of nerding out about the prospect of my last name being a poetic form. (And, no, it's not "haiku" or "sonnet." Although that would be awesome, too.)
6. Should I indulge my housewife fantasies and register with Williams-Sonoma? Every time I go into that store, I start having visions of being this perfect housewife who makes cooking show-quality dinners every night.
7. We already have a name for our first child. It's going to be a girl, and we talk about her as if she already exists. Like, I've already informed my fiancé that she will not be drinking any Kool-Aid or be allowed to eat horrible sugar-packed cereal like Cap'n Crunch.
8. I wish I could get paid for being a procrastinator. It's what I do best.
1. After my summer class cancellation debacle, I (finally) have a job as a "Sellebrity" at Old Navy. It'll do. I get a 25% discount. But flip-flop day (this coming Saturday) is going to be off the chain. $1.00 flip-flops. And people go bananas.
2. I signed an agreement for my article to appear in a collection coming out soon! I'll probably still have to do a bunch of revisions, and even then, it could still get cut, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
3. I'm supposed to be writing a book review and have barely read the first chapter yet. Ugh. Jesus be a motivator.
4. I'm also supposed to be writing a DISSERTATION, people. How many chapters have I even begun to write yet? How many outlines have I lifted a finger to compose and send to my adviser? Ugh.
5. So, there's a wedding that's supposed to be happening. On May 16, 2015. My fiancé is super on top of planning. He created a Google Docs folder for us to have a guest list, a budget calculator, a place to keep lists of venues we're investigating, helpful links we've consulted, etc. He's done most of the legwork of calling and emailing regarding venues, etc. I'm so glad he's a planner. I'm a planner, too. Sometimes. What I like about him is that he's a consistent worker. If he has a deadline looming, he does a steady amount of work before the deadline, minimizing last-minute stress. What do I do? When I have a deadline looming, I procrastinate and do minimal work ahead of time, waiting for a last-minute burst of productivity to kick in and bring me across the finish line right before the deadline hits. Guess which way of getting stuff done is more conducive to wedding planning? Sigh. I will admit, though, I did create a profile on The Knot and have our little website in the works. (Which also has a checklist and other things as a part of the profile.)
I don't know why I'm not feeling giddy about wedding planning. I felt giddy when I got that ring on my finger, but I haven't been like, swooning over bridesmaid's dresses and flowers and whatever else brides-to-be ravish and rave over when planning their weddings. I have an awesome wedding dress story, so I'm glad that's pretty much already taken care of. We want it to be outside, the colors will definitely involve lavender, sunflowers will be prominently featured, and this song will serve as the recessional. Other than those details, I'm not super obsessing over stuff. I honestly wouldn't be heartbroken at all if we just went to a justice of the peace and called it a day. But lots of people who love me would kill me if I did that, and my fiancé isn't keen on doing that, either. So...ceremony it will be. I just get nervous about being on display. Let's be real, if a wedding is anything, it's the bride on display.
What I haven't decided upon yet is whether I'm going to put one of those dorky countdowns on my blog. I probably will. I'm a cynic with a soft spot for dorky, cheesy things like wedding countdowns.
Can I admit something, though? I am kind of excited about changing my plain jane last name. My current last name is the most common last name in the United States. My fiancé's last name is definitely unique and kind of awesome. As a student of literature, I'm kind of nerding out about the prospect of my last name being a poetic form. (And, no, it's not "haiku" or "sonnet." Although that would be awesome, too.)
6. Should I indulge my housewife fantasies and register with Williams-Sonoma? Every time I go into that store, I start having visions of being this perfect housewife who makes cooking show-quality dinners every night.
7. We already have a name for our first child. It's going to be a girl, and we talk about her as if she already exists. Like, I've already informed my fiancé that she will not be drinking any Kool-Aid or be allowed to eat horrible sugar-packed cereal like Cap'n Crunch.
8. I wish I could get paid for being a procrastinator. It's what I do best.
Monday, June 16, 2014
My Proposal Poem or The Home Folks
So, this weekend, I finally brought my guy to meet the home folks.
You know who the home folks are. Those church/family folks. Those people who watched you grow up and whose kids you watched grow up. Those people who love you like their own and want to be in the know. The people who comfort and annoy you. Who laugh when you laugh, cry when you cry, and threaten to "come after" your significant other if he doesn't treat you right.
He held up quite all right. Even wore his graduation gift tie on Sunday and made his future mother-in-law smile from ear to ear. He passed the best friend test with flying colors over dinner. He fell in love with the park I've loved for years. He's the last boy I'll ever bring there, that's for sure.
Here's the poem he wrote for me and recited for me when he proposed. He later sent it to me, and I like to read over it, hearing his voice in my mind as I do:
Every morning when I count my blessings, I thank God that I can add you to the list
I thank God for His perfect plan to bring us together, for His perfect knowledge to know that we belong
together. I can’t wait to share my life with you
You have brought so much joy and happiness and purpose into my life, it’s hard to explain
It’s hard to explain how you fit, how you fit into all my days, how you fit
into my life how your heart sings perfect harmonies with mine, how we think the same thoughts at the exact same time
How we smile and laugh together, how I kiss your hand, sometimes it’s the simplest things
That give me the most gratitude, that give me the most joy
Everything that we share together, I cherish
I look forward to walking with you throughout this life, through our ups and downs I will be with you
To know that you’re not alone to know that I’m not alone, what a wonderful feeling
What a feeling of peace
I have never felt this free
Chantell Irene Smith,
Will you marry me?
You know who the home folks are. Those church/family folks. Those people who watched you grow up and whose kids you watched grow up. Those people who love you like their own and want to be in the know. The people who comfort and annoy you. Who laugh when you laugh, cry when you cry, and threaten to "come after" your significant other if he doesn't treat you right.
He held up quite all right. Even wore his graduation gift tie on Sunday and made his future mother-in-law smile from ear to ear. He passed the best friend test with flying colors over dinner. He fell in love with the park I've loved for years. He's the last boy I'll ever bring there, that's for sure.
Here's the poem he wrote for me and recited for me when he proposed. He later sent it to me, and I like to read over it, hearing his voice in my mind as I do:
Every morning when I count my blessings, I thank God that I can add you to the list
I thank God for His perfect plan to bring us together, for His perfect knowledge to know that we belong
together. I can’t wait to share my life with you
You have brought so much joy and happiness and purpose into my life, it’s hard to explain
It’s hard to explain how you fit, how you fit into all my days, how you fit
into my life how your heart sings perfect harmonies with mine, how we think the same thoughts at the exact same time
How we smile and laugh together, how I kiss your hand, sometimes it’s the simplest things
That give me the most gratitude, that give me the most joy
Everything that we share together, I cherish
I look forward to walking with you throughout this life, through our ups and downs I will be with you
To know that you’re not alone to know that I’m not alone, what a wonderful feeling
What a feeling of peace
I have never felt this free
Chantell Irene Smith,
Will you marry me?
Thursday, June 12, 2014
First Things First
So it's been a minute since I've blogged last. Well, not that long. A little over a week, I guess. But it seems like so much has happened since I'd blogged last, and indeed, it has.
First things first: I'm engaged!
Yezzir. Pretty soon I'm going to have to change my blog's little tagline from "Single girl meets postmodern world" to...something else. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.
Anyway, I'm further learning the ropes of "the questions." There are questions that are standard (and often annoying) at every point in life from well-meaning (or not) people:
1. Graduate from high school: Where are you going to college? What are you going to major in?
2. Declare a major: What do you plan to do with a _____ degree?
3. Graduate from college: Do you have a job?
4. Start a PhD program: How long is that going to take? What do you plan to do with a PhD?
5. Be single: Do you have a boyfriend?
6. Get a boyfriend: When are you getting engaged?
7. Get engaged: How did he propose? Have you set a date yet?
So that's where I am on this questions list. I heard that once the marriage actually happens, the question will become When are you having a baby? And after you have a baby, it becomes Are you planning to have any more? But again, we'll totally cross that bridge when we get there.
For now, I will answer one of the "get engaged" questions which is "How did he propose?" Ahem. My fiancé (omg, I still can't believe I'm even using that word!) thinks I start too early in the story, as in, I give too many unnecessary background details, starting with "My parents left around 11:30" (which I concede is wholly irrelevant to describing what he did to propose). He's like, "Just start with being in the garden." LOL. I know I always give a long preamble or exposition or what have you, but that's just how it's going to be. This ain't his blog. Shoot.
So, my parents had come to visit for the weekend. Fiancé had already met my mom (and little bro) but not dun, dun, DUN....my dad. So, parents arrive Thursday. Dad gets...fatherly. Fiancé takes it like a G. He asks to speak to my father outside. (I know, this is like an interracial Jane Austen novel or something) and as I later find out, he asks for my father's "blessing." My father heartily consents and they have an emotional bro moment. Friday is full of fun and Saturday, after we eat breakfast at the best breakfast place ever, my parents left around 11:30. We see them off. He goes back to his place. Later he suggests we get together to play the guitar in the garden. I agree. There's a garden we both love on campus that's near our department where we go to have picnics and play the guitar and stuff. He later comes to pick me up and he brings me a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, so I'm super happy and pumped. We arrive at the garden, go to our special spot. Play a few songs as usual, and then he asks if I want to hear a song he wrote for me. (This is the 2nd love song he's written for me...actually the 3rd he's written about our relationship.) He plays and sings it and it's absolutely beautiful. Then he tells me that he wrote a poem for me when I was in Boston and asks if I want to hear it. Of course I do! He even has music to accompany it. So, he turns on the little music he has on his iPhone, gets up, and begins reciting this AMAZING poem. I start tearing up a little bit because it's so profound and beautiful. Then he gets to the end. The last two lines are, "I have never felt this free / Chantell Irene Smith, will you marry me?" And before I know it, he's on one knee with a ring out.
I completely lose it. I say "yes" and burst into tears, crying quite audibly and just overwhelmingly laugh/crying because I don't know what to do with myself. I mean, I knew he was going to ask, especially after meeting my father and getting his approval, but I didn't know it was going to be that soon afterward! The first thing we did was call our family and close friends to tell them. Afterward, we had a lovely candlelit dinner outside. It was perfect.
Later, we got the ring re-sized, and just out of curiosity, I asked him how long he had had the ring before proposing. He told me he had held on to that thing without giving away one clue for a month and a half! Dude was sitting on the ring that entire time! He was just waiting for the right time. I thought back on my behavior over the last month and a half and I joked with him asking if he had ever felt like taking the ring back. He said absolutely not. And I am glad of that.
First things first: I'm engaged!
Yezzir. Pretty soon I'm going to have to change my blog's little tagline from "Single girl meets postmodern world" to...something else. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.
Anyway, I'm further learning the ropes of "the questions." There are questions that are standard (and often annoying) at every point in life from well-meaning (or not) people:
1. Graduate from high school: Where are you going to college? What are you going to major in?
2. Declare a major: What do you plan to do with a _____ degree?
3. Graduate from college: Do you have a job?
4. Start a PhD program: How long is that going to take? What do you plan to do with a PhD?
5. Be single: Do you have a boyfriend?
6. Get a boyfriend: When are you getting engaged?
7. Get engaged: How did he propose? Have you set a date yet?
So that's where I am on this questions list. I heard that once the marriage actually happens, the question will become When are you having a baby? And after you have a baby, it becomes Are you planning to have any more? But again, we'll totally cross that bridge when we get there.
For now, I will answer one of the "get engaged" questions which is "How did he propose?" Ahem. My fiancé (omg, I still can't believe I'm even using that word!) thinks I start too early in the story, as in, I give too many unnecessary background details, starting with "My parents left around 11:30" (which I concede is wholly irrelevant to describing what he did to propose). He's like, "Just start with being in the garden." LOL. I know I always give a long preamble or exposition or what have you, but that's just how it's going to be. This ain't his blog. Shoot.
So, my parents had come to visit for the weekend. Fiancé had already met my mom (and little bro) but not dun, dun, DUN....my dad. So, parents arrive Thursday. Dad gets...fatherly. Fiancé takes it like a G. He asks to speak to my father outside. (I know, this is like an interracial Jane Austen novel or something) and as I later find out, he asks for my father's "blessing." My father heartily consents and they have an emotional bro moment. Friday is full of fun and Saturday, after we eat breakfast at the best breakfast place ever, my parents left around 11:30. We see them off. He goes back to his place. Later he suggests we get together to play the guitar in the garden. I agree. There's a garden we both love on campus that's near our department where we go to have picnics and play the guitar and stuff. He later comes to pick me up and he brings me a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, so I'm super happy and pumped. We arrive at the garden, go to our special spot. Play a few songs as usual, and then he asks if I want to hear a song he wrote for me. (This is the 2nd love song he's written for me...actually the 3rd he's written about our relationship.) He plays and sings it and it's absolutely beautiful. Then he tells me that he wrote a poem for me when I was in Boston and asks if I want to hear it. Of course I do! He even has music to accompany it. So, he turns on the little music he has on his iPhone, gets up, and begins reciting this AMAZING poem. I start tearing up a little bit because it's so profound and beautiful. Then he gets to the end. The last two lines are, "I have never felt this free / Chantell Irene Smith, will you marry me?" And before I know it, he's on one knee with a ring out.
I completely lose it. I say "yes" and burst into tears, crying quite audibly and just overwhelmingly laugh/crying because I don't know what to do with myself. I mean, I knew he was going to ask, especially after meeting my father and getting his approval, but I didn't know it was going to be that soon afterward! The first thing we did was call our family and close friends to tell them. Afterward, we had a lovely candlelit dinner outside. It was perfect.
Later, we got the ring re-sized, and just out of curiosity, I asked him how long he had had the ring before proposing. He told me he had held on to that thing without giving away one clue for a month and a half! Dude was sitting on the ring that entire time! He was just waiting for the right time. I thought back on my behavior over the last month and a half and I joked with him asking if he had ever felt like taking the ring back. He said absolutely not. And I am glad of that.
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
C'est la vie.
La vie. It happens. Yup, it sho does.
So, I get back from Boston on Saturday, have a sappy movie-quality reunion with my boyfriend at the airport, (you know the kind, first it shows the guy waiting expectantly, then it cuts to the girl who has a dreamy smile on her face riding up the escalator, then it cuts back to the guy who is searching faces in the rush of people getting off the escalator and then he breaks into a smile when he spots her, and then it cuts to them rushing into each others' arms), all giddy with my Harvard t-shirt on and everything. Go to THE BEST vegetarian restaurant in this world, then settle down to watch a foreign film, but I check my email first. And this is where la vie comes in:
Hi everyone,
Regretfully, it appears as though I am going to have to cancel the following summer courses to which you have been assigned, due to insufficient enrollments:
FREN 3030 (52705)
ITAL 2001 (12703)
SPAN 1001 (52817)
SPAN 1002 (12815)
SPAN 2002 (22824)
Unless something miraculous happens with enrollments over the weekend, I will cancel these classes at noon on Monday.
I truly am sorry,
The Department Head
Whaaaaaatttttt?? That SPAN 1001? Yeah, that was me. And canceled summer class = cancelled summer $$.
So, basically, you tell me Saturday that my class that was supposed to start the following Thursday is going to be canceled on Monday. Craptastic.
So what does that mean? That I'm going to have to find a summer job in JUNE (talk about awkward timing), that I'm probably going to have to take out more loans (ugh, shoot me), and that my little happy summer dream of being able to save up a little dough has been ruthlessly dashed.
I let a couple of gangsta tears slip out. I did. I ain't gonna lie.
But it's all good in the hood. I am currently on an apply-for-anything-that-moves job search, and I'm going to take this interim to be productive with other projects. A book review and *coughwritingmydissertationcough* for starters.
Sigh. The most apropos cliche for this situation would be "You never know, God might have something better." And like other cliches that have been oft applied to my life (i.e. "It happens when you're not looking"), sometimes they hold true. You really never know.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Heart's Desire or The Defeat of the Inner Snarker
Delight
thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.
—Psalm 37:4
To a single church girl, this verse often means one thing: Just keep on keepin’ on, and the Lord will
give you a man. Keep comin’ to
church. Keep yo’ head up, don’t worry ‘bout
what other folk say. It’s gonna
happen. In Gawd’s time, it’s gonna
happen, honey.
I admit it. I’m a cynic. But I want people to keep thinking I’m sweet
and not actually consistently fighting to repress my inner snarker. I’m still sweet, though, for real.
Anyway, you know it’s true. Up
there at the altar during altar call, prayerfully minding your own business
when it happens. Those well-meaning
hands placed upon your shoulders. That
well-meaning prayer: “Yes, Lord. She’s
been faithful to you, Lord. Give her the
desires of her heart, God. Bring her
that mate you have prepared for her, Father.”
Sigh. Thanks. But, really?
But, no, seriously, thanks.
Why does everything have to revolve around getting a man? Ugh. Once
God drops that perfect man in my path, presto change-o! Redemption, validation and happily ever
after! Then I’d be able to ride off on
my husbanded way into the blissful sunset.
Boo and barf and so not true.
But let’s keep it 100%. What the
inner snarker tries to act like she doesn’t remember is that one of the desires
of my heart really was to get a man. Inner
snarker trying to act like she didn’t really want a companion. To love and be loved. To have someone to experience life with, to
raise a family with, to grow old with.
Inner snarker in denial.
To be fair, though, I didn’t really want to “get a man.” Nawl.
I wanted to be involved in doing my little thing, amassing experience,
getting my education, creating my own fulfilling world, and in the process
(while I wasn’t looking, ‘cuz that’s when they say it happens) happen upon this
uber-compatible dude. I avoided singles
conferences like the plague. Swore off
even the idea of online anything
until I was facing the prospect of my first cat acquisition.
But I eased through my twenties without any serious prospects. I sailed through the seas of (younger) youth
without getting snatched up (since that was supposed to have happened at some
point—everyone asked why someone hadn’t come along and done that yet. Like I was supposed to know. Aside from the fact that "getting snatched up" did not seem at all ideal). The dawn of old maidhood (in church culture)
was upon me, and I had yet to snag one.
30 was supposed to be the death knell.
And here I was, 30+, still somehow able to breathe. Manless.
I mean, what was I supposed to do?
Create a profile on apostolicsingles.net? Buy a cat? (Disclaimer: I have nothing against online dating or cat ownership. Meeting people online has, for the most part, lost its stigma, and I've known several people who it totally worked for. And cats, I'm sure, are amazing pets.) I had overcome so much to even start this doctoral program. I was finally on an even keel. Sure, I was lonely sometimes, but I was doing
all right. And I had even gone to a
couple of singles conferences without imploding into a mass of sarcastic
goo. I learned a few new things here and
there, one of them being the acoustic guitar.
I was doing all right. I had even
made it through the searing disappointment of moving on from a relationship that was
almost just right. I was doing all
right.
You wouldn’t believe it, but I wasn’t looking. It started with a platonic cup of
coffee. It continued with playing the
acoustic guitar, one of those things I had picked up while I was doing my own thing. It continued right on into the doors of the
church, that place where those well-meaning words were annoyingly prayed over
me while I was prayerfully minding my own business.
Before one of our pre-relationship guitar jamming sessions, I asked my
boyfriend what he wanted to play first.
He smiled a shy smile and said, “Whatever your heart desires.” A spark of recognition, a surge of
adrenaline. Did he just say…? He had no idea.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Boston, et. al.
I'm nearing the end of the first week of my two-week stint as a research assistant at Harvard. So far, so good, even though I haven't gotten as much done as I anticipated at this point. I guess I haven't been totally unproductive. I (finally!) submitted my article on Juan Latino, I toured the African and African-American Studies Institute, I've learned my way around, I've gotten some good ideas (more like little changes/additions) to my project that are really going to help me streamline it, I've gotten a few books related to my project (hopefully ones that I'll get signed while I'm here!). No, it hasn't been completely unproductive.
But ugh. I know this sounds sappy or whatever you want to call it, but I miss my boyfriend in a terrible way right now. It's not like I've never been away from him before, but this is kind of the worst right now. I'm sort of distracted, unfocused, sensitive and unmotivated right now. Skype is great, but still, ugh. I would not do well in a long-distance relationship. Sigh. I'll make it. It's also rainy and gloomy today and I just can't muster up the motivation to leave the house. Hopefully, the weather will clear up tomorrow.
I feel like I have to put this out there for the record. Okay, on Facebook and other venues, people post/share videos of elaborate, cute little wedding proposals. And overall, I think it's cute. Okay, you took time and effort to plan, do a little homemade movie or flash mob or video montage or elaborate set up or whatever to surprise your fiancee. I mean, that's nice. I commend you. But I don't want my marriage proposal to be a youTube-ready event, packaged in such a way to elicit reactions on how clever my fiance is and set up to capture my surprised, tearful reaction. I don't want to share that moment with the world, and I don't want to the world to have access to it. Can I say that? I want it to be what I feel it is meant to be, a private moment between two people who have decided to commit to each other in such a way that they will eventually spend the rest of their lives together. To me, it's such a precious, personal thing, and I don't want the world to have the ability to get all up in it.
Here's something I'm learning. I'm as old as I am and I'm still learning it: Be comfortable with my choices. The church I go to and find fulfillment in. The career path I've chosen. My lifestyle choices. Why should I apologize for being who I am? Not everyone is going to agree with my beliefs, be they spiritually related or politically related or academically related, be they ultra-conservative or ultra-liberal...and that's OK. Not everyone is going to understand the way I live my life, what I wear and don't wear, where I go and don't go, what I do and what I don't do...and that's OK. I cannot operate in a people-pleasing mode. I just can't. It's frustrating and exhausting and just unnecessary. I'm still learning to own who I am and be okay with who I am and be secure in my identity in Christ regardless of what I fear other people may think. I need to take a deep breath and realize that's just how it has to be. And I believe that in the end, people will respect me for owning who I am and owning the choices I make.
But ugh. I know this sounds sappy or whatever you want to call it, but I miss my boyfriend in a terrible way right now. It's not like I've never been away from him before, but this is kind of the worst right now. I'm sort of distracted, unfocused, sensitive and unmotivated right now. Skype is great, but still, ugh. I would not do well in a long-distance relationship. Sigh. I'll make it. It's also rainy and gloomy today and I just can't muster up the motivation to leave the house. Hopefully, the weather will clear up tomorrow.
I feel like I have to put this out there for the record. Okay, on Facebook and other venues, people post/share videos of elaborate, cute little wedding proposals. And overall, I think it's cute. Okay, you took time and effort to plan, do a little homemade movie or flash mob or video montage or elaborate set up or whatever to surprise your fiancee. I mean, that's nice. I commend you. But I don't want my marriage proposal to be a youTube-ready event, packaged in such a way to elicit reactions on how clever my fiance is and set up to capture my surprised, tearful reaction. I don't want to share that moment with the world, and I don't want to the world to have access to it. Can I say that? I want it to be what I feel it is meant to be, a private moment between two people who have decided to commit to each other in such a way that they will eventually spend the rest of their lives together. To me, it's such a precious, personal thing, and I don't want the world to have the ability to get all up in it.
Here's something I'm learning. I'm as old as I am and I'm still learning it: Be comfortable with my choices. The church I go to and find fulfillment in. The career path I've chosen. My lifestyle choices. Why should I apologize for being who I am? Not everyone is going to agree with my beliefs, be they spiritually related or politically related or academically related, be they ultra-conservative or ultra-liberal...and that's OK. Not everyone is going to understand the way I live my life, what I wear and don't wear, where I go and don't go, what I do and what I don't do...and that's OK. I cannot operate in a people-pleasing mode. I just can't. It's frustrating and exhausting and just unnecessary. I'm still learning to own who I am and be okay with who I am and be secure in my identity in Christ regardless of what I fear other people may think. I need to take a deep breath and realize that's just how it has to be. And I believe that in the end, people will respect me for owning who I am and owning the choices I make.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Be Happy
When I listen to this song, I just have to get up and dance:
The best part is the bridge: Can't nothin bring me down,/ can't nothin bring me down...
I'm trying to just be happy. It's kind of hard to do. Not worry about things not being completely figured out, just totally resting in God and enjoying the now.
I really need to be working on this article. In a bad way. But first I have to gush about all of this stuff.
I talked to my professor today about my trip to Boston. I was totally nerding out. She started name dropping like mad, telling me all of the scholars and writers that she was going to introduce me to...oh, my God. I could not contain my nerdish glee. I have to buy a couple of books so I can get stuff signed! I'm really big on getting books signed. I'm going to be in nerd heaven for two whole weeks. I cannot wait.
I am totally enamored. Can I admit that? I love the sound of his voice and the way he says stuff with his Western Pennslyvanian accent. "Are you cool'd?" (How it sounds to me if he's asking if I'm cold.) "I have to go to my office to get this foolder." I love how he adjusts his glasses. I love his dimple. I love how long his eyelashes are. I love the determined look on his face when he's bent over his laptop doing work (and when I'm not, obviously, if I'm observing him). I get to prayer on time on Wednesday nights now because of him. I know who Sufjan Stevens is because of him. We speak in Spanish to each other and directly translate things and laugh about it. Every day I hear that I'm beautiful. Every day I hear that I'm loved. I love that he loves things that I love. Like picnics. Like playing the guitar. Like Nutella. Like cream soda. Like a large one topping pizza from Papa John's on Tuesdays for only $4.99 topped with amazing slightly spicy peppers canned by his mom. I got a tambourine because of him. I can be weird and nerdy and indecisive and hyper and my hair can look terrible and he doesn't care. He says that I'm the best and that he's the luckiest.
I got my official letter in the mail from the Graduate School telling me that I've been officially admitted to candidacy! It's totally up on my fridge right now.
I need to do work. But I don't want to. But I have to. But I want to go to sleep and wrap myself up in my blanket and eat slice after slice of my pound cake. Of course I gave some to my bespectacled, freckled, dimpled guy, but not a lot. I refuse to be held responsible for letting my man blow up. Naw, son. Not gonna let it happen.
The best part is the bridge: Can't nothin bring me down,/ can't nothin bring me down...
I'm trying to just be happy. It's kind of hard to do. Not worry about things not being completely figured out, just totally resting in God and enjoying the now.
I really need to be working on this article. In a bad way. But first I have to gush about all of this stuff.
I talked to my professor today about my trip to Boston. I was totally nerding out. She started name dropping like mad, telling me all of the scholars and writers that she was going to introduce me to...oh, my God. I could not contain my nerdish glee. I have to buy a couple of books so I can get stuff signed! I'm really big on getting books signed. I'm going to be in nerd heaven for two whole weeks. I cannot wait.
I am totally enamored. Can I admit that? I love the sound of his voice and the way he says stuff with his Western Pennslyvanian accent. "Are you cool'd?" (How it sounds to me if he's asking if I'm cold.) "I have to go to my office to get this foolder." I love how he adjusts his glasses. I love his dimple. I love how long his eyelashes are. I love the determined look on his face when he's bent over his laptop doing work (and when I'm not, obviously, if I'm observing him). I get to prayer on time on Wednesday nights now because of him. I know who Sufjan Stevens is because of him. We speak in Spanish to each other and directly translate things and laugh about it. Every day I hear that I'm beautiful. Every day I hear that I'm loved. I love that he loves things that I love. Like picnics. Like playing the guitar. Like Nutella. Like cream soda. Like a large one topping pizza from Papa John's on Tuesdays for only $4.99 topped with amazing slightly spicy peppers canned by his mom. I got a tambourine because of him. I can be weird and nerdy and indecisive and hyper and my hair can look terrible and he doesn't care. He says that I'm the best and that he's the luckiest.
I got my official letter in the mail from the Graduate School telling me that I've been officially admitted to candidacy! It's totally up on my fridge right now.
I need to do work. But I don't want to. But I have to. But I want to go to sleep and wrap myself up in my blanket and eat slice after slice of my pound cake. Of course I gave some to my bespectacled, freckled, dimpled guy, but not a lot. I refuse to be held responsible for letting my man blow up. Naw, son. Not gonna let it happen.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
My Love for Terrible, Corny Things
That's part of what I just texted my boyfriend after I sent him a link to a stupid Natasha Bedingfield video. I'm too ashamed to post it here or even reveal what the name of the song is. It's so corny and awful, but I love it. I love terrible, corny things. Like Scandal. Like the 90s Sabrina with Harrison Ford and Julia Ormond that doesn't have any black people in it. Like Christian rock.
I've had a few days full of traveling, meeting my boyfriend's family and then meeting more of his family on his graduation day, and now impulsively deciding to surprise my own mother on Mother's Day. When I entered the house (I have a key), she thought I was an intruder and she went from muttering a determined, "In the name of Jesus" as she marched into the foyer to her voice raising eight octaves saying, "Chantell! What are you doing here?" and jumping up in down in motherly delight.
We (me & bf) had a little disagreement (that we ironed out). How you gonna spend all this time with my family, then up and say deuces to see yo family without me? We been together more than six months now and I still ain't met yo daddy yet? (My fake rendering of him if he spoke Ebonics.)
Thou shalt meet mine father. Let not your heart be troubled. We shall arrange an appointed time, perchance, the first weekend of June, once mine father hath completed his schoolmastering duties. (My fake rendering of myself if I spoke King James English.)
After speaking with missionaries to France my home church hosted today, I learned that my French officially sucks. They said it was better than comme si comme ça, but I know better. And they say the DELF B2 certification, once achieved, lasts forever. C'est pas vrai.
So, after this little surprise drop-in, I have a week of expanding a 10 page article to a 20 page article to look forward to, then I zoom off to Boston for a couple of weeks. Then I zoom back and do some more work. And some more work. And it never ends. But I ain't complaining, doe.
So, after this little surprise drop-in, I have a week of expanding a 10 page article to a 20 page article to look forward to, then I zoom off to Boston for a couple of weeks. Then I zoom back and do some more work. And some more work. And it never ends. But I ain't complaining, doe.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Exams. Summer.
Just because I don't have to take exams anymore doesn't mean I don't still have to grade them.
Sigh. I'm in the middle one one now. Latino Literature and Culture. The sounds of exam taking silence. The calm before the grading storm.
The next few days are going to be a grading marathon. I'm giving one exam today, one exam Friday, and then we have to have everything graded so that we can leave early Saturday for a long road trip to visit the boyfriend's family. I'm excited but also a little nervous. (What if we get into an argument on the road? What will his family think of me? What if I feel awkward? What if I mess up when we're singing and playing at his brother's church?)
I've got a lot happening, a lot on my plate, a lot of work to do, but a lot to be thankful for:
1. I found out that I won a $1000 departmental award.
2. I was notified that the organizers of a conference at which I presented a paper last month are interested in including it in an edited volume. This is ridiculously fabulous news in a field where publishing something is just about necessary to get a job; however, I need to edit it and expand it in a serious way. And that's going to take a lot of work.
3. I'm going to Boston the last two weeks in May to be my professor's research assistant at Harvard and hopefully be able to take advantage of the libraries, etc. to do some of my own research for my dissertation.
4. I'm teaching a Spanish summer course all June and July.
5. I'm teaching a GRE test prep course all July. (I didn't really want to, but I could definitely use the money.)
In the midst of all of that there are going to be visits with friends and more family meetings...Mom and little bro is one thing, but Dad and middle bro is quite another. At least in my mind.
Anyway, I'm not complaining. And I can't worry. God has helped me keep it together thus far. I have to trust that He will continue to do the same.
Sigh. I'm in the middle one one now. Latino Literature and Culture. The sounds of exam taking silence. The calm before the grading storm.
The next few days are going to be a grading marathon. I'm giving one exam today, one exam Friday, and then we have to have everything graded so that we can leave early Saturday for a long road trip to visit the boyfriend's family. I'm excited but also a little nervous. (What if we get into an argument on the road? What will his family think of me? What if I feel awkward? What if I mess up when we're singing and playing at his brother's church?)
I've got a lot happening, a lot on my plate, a lot of work to do, but a lot to be thankful for:
1. I found out that I won a $1000 departmental award.
2. I was notified that the organizers of a conference at which I presented a paper last month are interested in including it in an edited volume. This is ridiculously fabulous news in a field where publishing something is just about necessary to get a job; however, I need to edit it and expand it in a serious way. And that's going to take a lot of work.
3. I'm going to Boston the last two weeks in May to be my professor's research assistant at Harvard and hopefully be able to take advantage of the libraries, etc. to do some of my own research for my dissertation.
4. I'm teaching a Spanish summer course all June and July.
5. I'm teaching a GRE test prep course all July. (I didn't really want to, but I could definitely use the money.)
In the midst of all of that there are going to be visits with friends and more family meetings...Mom and little bro is one thing, but Dad and middle bro is quite another. At least in my mind.
Anyway, I'm not complaining. And I can't worry. God has helped me keep it together thus far. I have to trust that He will continue to do the same.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Officially Unmotivated
So, I'm ABD. All But Dissertation. It's official. I will get a letter in the mail very soon that confirms I'm a PhD candidate. Yup. I handed all the paperwork in to the Graduate School today.
(Sigh.) Now the real work begins.
I've already had a meeting with my adviser about dissertation chapters and outlines and deadlines. I have serious work to do. I also have papers to grade and will soon have a boatload of finals to grade. Ugh.
I don't feel like doing anything. Ever since my prospectus defense, my motivation to do anything worthwhile has plummeted to zero. All I want to do is sleep, eat big breakfasts and Nutella-slathered everything, watch The Mentalist and read Adichie novels on my Kindle. All I want to do is have picnics and play guitar with my guy.
This is the one time a year I get sick, and not really, it's just kind of a gross head cold where I'm sniffling and congested. Nothing major. I just hate not being able to breathe out of my nose when I'm trying to go to sleep. It was so cute when the boyfriend presented me with an unsolicited box of nasal decongestant tablets. Aww, how romantic.
I love pleasant surprises. Like checking my email and finding that I won a $1000 scholarship. I ain't complaining.
I just don't want to do anything. All I want to do is nothing.
The age-old question: How did I get so far with such reluctance to get things done?
(Sigh.) Now the real work begins.
I've already had a meeting with my adviser about dissertation chapters and outlines and deadlines. I have serious work to do. I also have papers to grade and will soon have a boatload of finals to grade. Ugh.
I don't feel like doing anything. Ever since my prospectus defense, my motivation to do anything worthwhile has plummeted to zero. All I want to do is sleep, eat big breakfasts and Nutella-slathered everything, watch The Mentalist and read Adichie novels on my Kindle. All I want to do is have picnics and play guitar with my guy.
This is the one time a year I get sick, and not really, it's just kind of a gross head cold where I'm sniffling and congested. Nothing major. I just hate not being able to breathe out of my nose when I'm trying to go to sleep. It was so cute when the boyfriend presented me with an unsolicited box of nasal decongestant tablets. Aww, how romantic.
I love pleasant surprises. Like checking my email and finding that I won a $1000 scholarship. I ain't complaining.
I just don't want to do anything. All I want to do is nothing.
The age-old question: How did I get so far with such reluctance to get things done?
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Navigation. Balance.
So, this week is a big week.
I defend my prospectus on Thursday. (The boyfriend defends his Master's thesis on Friday.) What that means is that after April 17, if all goes well, I will be a PhD Candidate. I will be ABD. What that means is that I'm done with all classes, all preliminary exams, all of everything except for writing the bane of every academic's existence: The dissertation. The best dissertation is a finished dissertation, they tell me. I'll keep that in mind.
After weeks having work work work hanging over me, after submitting my prospectus revision last week, things have sort of slowed down. I know the real work is definitely in store, so I should enjoy this mini-breather while I can. There's not too much I need to do to prepare for my defense...talk about the inspiration for my project, explain why I chose the texts I chose, mention my research questions...the rest is just discussion, according to my adviser.
Just as things are progressing with me in the program, things are progressing with the boyfriend. We're starting to meet each others' families and we're starting to talk about our future together. While this is all very exciting, it's also very bewildering.
This is still so new to me...just the idea of what it would mean. What I mean is, not just what "a future" would mean, but how it would affect (and is affecting) my present relationships with my friends and family who have been around long before the boyfriend ever entered the picture.
It's just kind of unsettling, like, I'm walking on this unsteady terrain, and when I take a step, little waves ripple throughout it and I have to stand there for a minute to regain my balance. But just when I think I've steadied myself and take another step, the waves start rippling again and I have to once again regain a sense of equilibrium.
It's hard to explain. I'm so happy and so grateful for what God has done and for what He is continuing to do. I trust Him. But I also find myself getting overwhelmed and wrapped up in the sheer wonder of what it's like to love and be loved. So much so that at times I've neglected others. I find myself projecting so far into the future that I've invented unnecessary points of contention based on the purely hypothetical.
What I'm learning is that once one set of questions are answered, new ones inevitably arise. I will never have a permanent answer.
I need to figure out how to navigate my other relationships in this new reality. I need to learn how to better balance my time with the various time-consumers in the mix.
I defend my prospectus on Thursday. (The boyfriend defends his Master's thesis on Friday.) What that means is that after April 17, if all goes well, I will be a PhD Candidate. I will be ABD. What that means is that I'm done with all classes, all preliminary exams, all of everything except for writing the bane of every academic's existence: The dissertation. The best dissertation is a finished dissertation, they tell me. I'll keep that in mind.
After weeks having work work work hanging over me, after submitting my prospectus revision last week, things have sort of slowed down. I know the real work is definitely in store, so I should enjoy this mini-breather while I can. There's not too much I need to do to prepare for my defense...talk about the inspiration for my project, explain why I chose the texts I chose, mention my research questions...the rest is just discussion, according to my adviser.
Just as things are progressing with me in the program, things are progressing with the boyfriend. We're starting to meet each others' families and we're starting to talk about our future together. While this is all very exciting, it's also very bewildering.
This is still so new to me...just the idea of what it would mean. What I mean is, not just what "a future" would mean, but how it would affect (and is affecting) my present relationships with my friends and family who have been around long before the boyfriend ever entered the picture.
It's just kind of unsettling, like, I'm walking on this unsteady terrain, and when I take a step, little waves ripple throughout it and I have to stand there for a minute to regain my balance. But just when I think I've steadied myself and take another step, the waves start rippling again and I have to once again regain a sense of equilibrium.
It's hard to explain. I'm so happy and so grateful for what God has done and for what He is continuing to do. I trust Him. But I also find myself getting overwhelmed and wrapped up in the sheer wonder of what it's like to love and be loved. So much so that at times I've neglected others. I find myself projecting so far into the future that I've invented unnecessary points of contention based on the purely hypothetical.
What I'm learning is that once one set of questions are answered, new ones inevitably arise. I will never have a permanent answer.
I need to figure out how to navigate my other relationships in this new reality. I need to learn how to better balance my time with the various time-consumers in the mix.
Thursday, April 03, 2014
Submitted
So, I just sent in my prospectus to my adviser.
What do I do with myself? My brain is laughing at me because it knows that I'm not really "done." There are possible revisions, and there's the defense April 17.
There's something in me that won't let me just dive headlong into chill mode. Not yet.
Besides, I'm leaving to go to a conference tomorrow. I guess I should do things that people do before they go on trips. Like clean up. Like pack. Like put copies of the chapter quiz and the class roll in the box of the colleague who's covering for me tomorrow. Like, print out and revise my paper since the panel moderator has promised to "ruthlessly enforce" an 8-10 minute time limit to present. Who does that? All the conferences I've attended have had a 15-minute standard. But whatever. I just pray no one asks me any bewildering questions. I have been bewildered by post-presentation questions in my day with devastatingly awkward repercussions. It's all under the blood now. ThankyaJesus.
The boyfriend left yesterday to go to a conference as well. I guess the Lord knew I needed two boyfriend-free days to give my undivided attention to finishing my prospectus. Well, praise God.
A melange of things have transpired since I've last posted, the most significant of those being that I celebrated my Magic Johnson birthday this past Sunday. And I must say, it was quite a delightful birthday. My mom and little bro came up to visit, met the boyfriend, I bought myself the best cake ever and had an impromptu motley crew of friends over to help me eat it. I was so happy. I was so grateful. I am so grateful.
God has been so good to me. I've had a lot of work to do and I've been a little stressed, but I've also been basking in positivity and productivity. I don't take it for granted.
What do I do with myself? My brain is laughing at me because it knows that I'm not really "done." There are possible revisions, and there's the defense April 17.
There's something in me that won't let me just dive headlong into chill mode. Not yet.
Besides, I'm leaving to go to a conference tomorrow. I guess I should do things that people do before they go on trips. Like clean up. Like pack. Like put copies of the chapter quiz and the class roll in the box of the colleague who's covering for me tomorrow. Like, print out and revise my paper since the panel moderator has promised to "ruthlessly enforce" an 8-10 minute time limit to present. Who does that? All the conferences I've attended have had a 15-minute standard. But whatever. I just pray no one asks me any bewildering questions. I have been bewildered by post-presentation questions in my day with devastatingly awkward repercussions. It's all under the blood now. ThankyaJesus.
The boyfriend left yesterday to go to a conference as well. I guess the Lord knew I needed two boyfriend-free days to give my undivided attention to finishing my prospectus. Well, praise God.
A melange of things have transpired since I've last posted, the most significant of those being that I celebrated my Magic Johnson birthday this past Sunday. And I must say, it was quite a delightful birthday. My mom and little bro came up to visit, met the boyfriend, I bought myself the best cake ever and had an impromptu motley crew of friends over to help me eat it. I was so happy. I was so grateful. I am so grateful.
God has been so good to me. I've had a lot of work to do and I've been a little stressed, but I've also been basking in positivity and productivity. I don't take it for granted.
Monday, March 17, 2014
A Love Song
So, Spring Break is over, I'm back, it's time to hit the grind again.
Sigh.
I am so not ready. Jesus be a motivator.
This is what I really wanted to write about, though: Over the break, my guy got inspired and creative and wrote a gorgeous song for me and about me. He played and sang it for me tonight. I was just overwhelmed and impressed and flattered and grateful. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It brought me to tears.
Sometimes I can't fathom being loved this way. Sometimes it's unbelievable and hard to accept. At times, my inner cynic insists on waving away notions of "meant to be." But what if it truly is?
Can I admit that there is a tiny sliver of me that is terrified?
I want to silence the myriad questions and what ifs that occasionally cloud my daydreams.
Thankfully, I always return to the same fact that I have both doubted and believed: God is in control.
Sigh.
I am so not ready. Jesus be a motivator.
This is what I really wanted to write about, though: Over the break, my guy got inspired and creative and wrote a gorgeous song for me and about me. He played and sang it for me tonight. I was just overwhelmed and impressed and flattered and grateful. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It brought me to tears.
Sometimes I can't fathom being loved this way. Sometimes it's unbelievable and hard to accept. At times, my inner cynic insists on waving away notions of "meant to be." But what if it truly is?
Can I admit that there is a tiny sliver of me that is terrified?
I want to silence the myriad questions and what ifs that occasionally cloud my daydreams.
Thankfully, I always return to the same fact that I have both doubted and believed: God is in control.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Pop-Up Blockers
Google Chrome is my boy. The address bar also functions as a Google search engine, you can set it to block cookies and pop-ups.
But what I'd like to do is enable pop-up blockers in my life. You know what I mean? What I'm talking about are guys formerly in your orbit who are now largely inattentive, but who suddenly pop up out of nowhere. Dude, where you come from?
There's a nice sofa over in the corner and I'd like to cordially invite you to have a seat. Have several seats. Saddown. SEET down. I'd just like to say nawl, son. Nawl.
That is all.
But what I'd like to do is enable pop-up blockers in my life. You know what I mean? What I'm talking about are guys formerly in your orbit who are now largely inattentive, but who suddenly pop up out of nowhere. Dude, where you come from?
There's a nice sofa over in the corner and I'd like to cordially invite you to have a seat. Have several seats. Saddown. SEET down. I'd just like to say nawl, son. Nawl.
That is all.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Next Stop: Prospectus
This is the last post about comps. The absolute last post about comps ever. In life.
I completed my oral defense of my comprehensive exams Thursday and I passed. Comps has been, effectively and forever, put to bed.
I am so thankful. It's another milestone that I am glad is finally behind me.
Now, what I have to look forward to is writing what is lovingly called a prospectus. The prospectus is basically the outline of my dissertation. It will end up being the introduction to my finished project.
If I do everything I'm supposed to do on schedule, I'll be ABD by the end of the semester. April 3, I submit my prospectus. April 17, I defend it. And once I successfully do so, then and only then will I be known as a PhD candidate. All I'll have left to do is write the monster. And once I get a couple of chapters under my belt, I can start applying for jobs. Scary stuff. But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
I'm currently on Spring Break, which is only sort of a break...there's always more work to do. But I'm trying to enjoy time with my family while I try to get a good start on prospectus writing/research.
There are so many things I'm excited about. I'm realizing I can't be afraid to be excited about them.
Things are going swimmingly with, well, let's call him what he is, the boyfriend. Before I left to go home Saturday he gave me a pretty legit box of chocolates and said, "This is for your parents. Tell them I can't wait to meet them." (Insert girlish squeals of delight.)
I'm also getting paid beaucoup money to be my professor's research assistant in Boston in May. I ain't complaining. For the first time in a while, I'll be able to put some money in the bank. Yezzir.
I also got a teaching assignment for the rest of the summer, so I'm set. Super excited.
I'm so grateful. I really am. That's all I can say. I'm so very grateful.
If I do everything I'm supposed to do on schedule, I'll be ABD by the end of the semester. April 3, I submit my prospectus. April 17, I defend it. And once I successfully do so, then and only then will I be known as a PhD candidate. All I'll have left to do is write the monster. And once I get a couple of chapters under my belt, I can start applying for jobs. Scary stuff. But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
I'm currently on Spring Break, which is only sort of a break...there's always more work to do. But I'm trying to enjoy time with my family while I try to get a good start on prospectus writing/research.
There are so many things I'm excited about. I'm realizing I can't be afraid to be excited about them.
Things are going swimmingly with, well, let's call him what he is, the boyfriend. Before I left to go home Saturday he gave me a pretty legit box of chocolates and said, "This is for your parents. Tell them I can't wait to meet them." (Insert girlish squeals of delight.)
I'm also getting paid beaucoup money to be my professor's research assistant in Boston in May. I ain't complaining. For the first time in a while, I'll be able to put some money in the bank. Yezzir.
I also got a teaching assignment for the rest of the summer, so I'm set. Super excited.
I'm so grateful. I really am. That's all I can say. I'm so very grateful.
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