growing too fast

This week I have had more growing pains than I expected. My back, stomach, ribs, and pieces that I didn't even know exisisted on my body have been stretched, and from what I can tell will continue to stretch for the next 41/2 months. Wow.

I even went to the drs b/cs of all this stretching, but apparently its all normal. I noticed today after my yoga class that I felt much better, the stretching and positions I forced my body into really helped to work out some of those kinks. The stress I've been under since Thanksgiving also probably hasn't really helped anything either.

But, its almost time for Christmas break, a nice few weeks off, and in a couple of weeks I get to find out if Cucumber is a boy or girl, hopefully not both.

Until then, I'm dealing with the stretching, gas, and quickening movements and just trying to keep it all together as best I can.

***
Cucumber seems to really like my left side for flips and movement more than any other side. Cool.

How Amazing...Week 19

It does not seem like it should be week 19 yet, I feel like it was just Saturday morning and I woke up knowing that I needed to take a pregnancy test. That could not have been 3 and a half months ago.

That day my life changed, and it was so weird, so odd. I'd been feeling moody and grumpy, but attributed it to my period starting, PMS. But the period never came. One Saturday morning I woke up after the weirdest dream* and just knew that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I had one, because I'd had a moment or two before where for a minute I thought I might be, but wasn't. So, I got up, went into the bathroom and peed the stick. Within two minutes there were two lines. Two lines.

H was stretched out asleep on the living room floor, and I immediately woke him up. I didn't shout or yell, it was just a hushed, "H, I think I'm pregnant." He was groggy, but got up and stumbled into the bathroom with me. I had to get a second opinion on the pink lines. After we both decided it was pink, we then decided we needed to go to Target and get at least 2 or 3 more tests, just to verify.

I think what shocked me the most about the entire thing was just the fact that I felt no different physically. I was my same self, just with PMS symptoms, but other than that just fine. That lasted for about two weeks only, then the morning sickness began to settle in.

Now, I'm 19 weeks along and feeling pretty darn preggo. My body is changing right before my eyes, its so weird when I look at myself now, because its like my face, but the body is just weird, different, bigger.

An interesting aside:

My mom and H were talking before Thanksgiving about how 'well' they thought I was handling the pregnancy. Both seemed to be relatively shocked, due to the fact that I had not panicked a great deal and was handling things like doctor visits, getting blood drawn, and the prospects of labor pretty well. They then went on to discuss my weight gain. I've put on a total of 10 pounds. They both agreed most of the weight has gone to my boobs.

That I'm sure, was a weird conversations. Husbands and mother-in-laws should not discuss wives/daughters boobs.

hard times

I'm having a hard day. Yesterday was a bit scary. I kept feeling this weird tingly sensation under my right boob. I'd noticed it over the weekend, but couldn't tell if it was really something or just me and my crazy ole head. But yesterday I noticed it again when I was at work typing. So I called the doctor and they were able to get me in right away. Strangely enough, I wasn't nearly as worried as I thought I would be, I was only slightly-panicked. The nurse got the baby's heartbeat again, took my urine, blood pressure and had me to sit on the table to go over my symptoms and wait for the docotor. Dr. came in and felt around, poked and prodded only to tell me that because of my growth spurt (tummy, boobs, etc) and my posture, I'm probably cutting off blood to a nerve in that area, nothing to worry about he says. I just have to constantly remind myself to sit up straight. That is hard.

Its also difficult because I'm having to sleep on my left side now. Or my right, but the left is better they say b/cs this is a way for the baby to get more blood and nutrients from the placenta. Prior to the pregnancy I was totally a tummy-back sleeper. Sometimes I wake up and catch myself and panic because I've flipped over on my back. So what I've done now is to put lots of pillows around me on either side, makes it almost impossible for me to turn over without kinda waking myself up a bit to readjust and get the pillows right, which makes me think twice about sleeping on my back/tummy and gets me to sleep on my side. However, as a result of this new side-sleeping endeavor my side aches and feels all crampy.

Okie- so I feel guilty for so much complaining, lets try to balance this out.

Good: Baby is healthy.

Bad: I hate work.

Good: Work allows me monies to save for un BeBe.

Bad: My left side feels like a lumpy old tree.

Good: The Baby got plenty of fluids and nutriets last night while I was sleeping.

Bad: I hate doctors and yesterday panicked when I began to think about going into the hospital for birth.

Good: If I can continue with yoga and keeping myself fit, then I might not have a bad labor.

Bad: Labor is meant to be work intensive.

Good: You get a baby out of it.

I'm trying!

quickening

For the past couple of weeks I've felt like there is a loose marble or actually, lemon, rolling around in the bottom of my gut. My guess, and what the books are telling me, is that this is Cucumber. Sometimes I feel it more than others, usually after I've had a meal (especially something heavy, pasta, big salad, dessert). Its such a weird feeling. I can't really describe it, but its like what a ball looks like in water. How do you describe a feeling with what something looks like? I dunno, but thats the best I can come up with. It makes me feel so amazing. Amazing. My word for this entire process. But right now I just felt it a couple of seconds ago, its just a flash. The doctor says I won't feel anything hard and fast for at least another 2-3 weeks, but this is pretty darn cute.

Freedom

I've included a new little ticker countdown, this one is a countdown to freedom.
I'm learning something that my dad has been trying to tell me for the past four months. Once you find out you are pregnant, your life does change. Whether you want it to or not. I'm having to deal with some things that a year ago I would have totally walked away from just because I could, just because it was me, and I would have found another way to get by. But now, because I'm a parent-to-be, its different. Sacrafices start early, but when I think of Cucumber, this is a small price to pay.

So, I'm chugging along right now- up hill, sometimes sliding back, but trying to move like the little engine that could- not because it wants to, but because it has no choice.

Week 17 Doctor Visit

So- my doctors visit went well today, thus far. The nurse had a hard time at first finding Cucumber's heart beat, but apparently that is because Cucumber likes to evade the Doppler mic. I guess no future MC in my belly.

I've gained a total of 9.5 lbs and my blood pressure was actual normal- gasp, normal, there is no way this pregnancy could actually turn me into a normal person, or could it?

We also had more blood work today to check for genetic disorders, which I pray turns out all good. The next visit is in 3 weeks and we get the mega ultra-sound done, to determine how Cucumber is developing and growing, and if Cucumber is a boy or girl!

Can I get an oh-yahy? Lil' John style please.....

Waffle House of Faith

Reading back over a previous post and comment I can't help but to laugh. Lets just say I've been down many a path when it comes to this, or to keep with the waffle pun, I've tried lots of different toppings on my waffle, there was the regular waffle with just butter and syrup, the sprinkling of sugar, and then the chocolat. Mmm, okie not sure where I was going with that one, but hey, I'm trying to be creative.

I was brought up in a house where my mother converted to Catholocism in the early 1970s when she married my dad. She had been raised Baptist, but felt that it would be good for the family to be 'one thing'. This is truly ironic, because it didn't turn out that way at all. My dad is a strict Roman Catholic, a pre-Vatican II baby. My early memories of going to church involve us leaving our house on Sunday evenings to atttend the 5:15 mass. For some reason I only remember going when it was cold, winter or fall, I don't know what we did in the summers. But it was cold, and always dark . The church, at the time, didn't have the same bright lights that it now has, there where tall candle like light fixtures that hung from the ceilings and cast shadows on the alter and down the isles, but it was never bright and cheerful. We would always sit in the same place. The church has a cross shape, with the altar at the head and wings of seats along the side. We always sat in front of the St. Joseph statue, the patron saint of families. The church was drafty, its a huge cathedral and actually gorgeous, despite the morbid picture I'm probably painting. I would sit in between my mom and dad and squirm around in the pew. There was singing, but not the clapping, swaying singing in my grandma's church, this singing was sharp and nasal-like, I remember wanting to know the words, but never quite figuring it out.
My mom would want me to sit up straight and listen, but it was hard for me to sit against the hard pews. My dad would tell her to not worry and let me sleep if I wanted to. At communion time, I'd either walk up with one of them, or stay in the pew. Wanting so badly to partake of the bread and wine, but still having no real idea what it was all about.
At home, I'd often pretend to be a priest. I would take my mom's silver plates out of the curio and put toasted bread on them, the host. Then I'd take a wine glass and get grape juice, the blood. I would pray over the bread and juice and then proceed to give myself communion over and over again until it was all gone.
Most Catholic kids take their first communion around 7 or 8. I didn't do mine until I was at least 10 or 11, I'm not sure why. I did it with my cousin, who was about 8 or 9. I don't know why my parents waited. But its funny because a couple of years ago my cousin laughed as she told me she remembered that when we went through the classes, I questioned everything. I don't remember that at all.

In high school I wanted to be different so to make myself seem like the 'minority' in a Catholic School I would just tell everyone I was Baptist. I wnet to church with my grandma and mom on the weekends (note here, my mom stopped going to Catholic church after I was about 8 or 9, though my bro and I were both Baptised there and had our first communions). I also enjoyed Vacation Bible school, there just seemed to be more fun involved and more kids my age at the Baptist Church. Spiritually, I don't think I was really growing, but my social life sure was.

Skip ahead a few more years, and in college I some how became a religous studies major. I took classes on Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, and the philosophy of Eastern and Western Philosophy. My mom says thats when the trouble started because I began to question everything. I'd always gone to Catholic Schools and we were taught about other religions, so I wasn't ignorant about them, but I became increasingly more curious about other faiths, much to the dismay of my mother and grandmother. But what always confused me, was the fact that my mom converted to a sect of Christianity because she thought it would be 'easy' for the family, and it didn't really stick, she always felt more at home in her old church. What was so different from my questioning and learning about other faiths?

I don't think my faith has waffled- I have always maintained a belief in God, but the system or systems is what gets me sometimes.

At one point, I totally knew where I was going with this, but after eating 6 slices of Pizza Hut pizza, I'm too far gone.

Pregnancy Week 17

Well-this is week 17 and seeing as how i've been trying to start (we'll I've started two), so start and keep a pregnancy journal, I decided maybe I'd use the blog as a combo deal.

So- here are my updates and thoughts for this week:

Cucumber, as we call said baby, really has been good this week. As if Cucumber could be bad invitro. If you look at me from the front you really can't see any difference, but from the side, there is a pouch. And oh boy, if I'm naked. Yeah, its kinda scary.

At night, for the past 2-3 weeks, I've had cramps in my legs at night that often cause me to cry out in pain. Then when H doesn't respond, I scream louder. Yes, I am a drama queen. I scream partly becuase of the pain and partly because I'm angry that he gets to sleep soundly and I feel like pooh-pot.

Eating, about normal, I've not gotten that sick feeling anymore, except when I get really hungry, so its like I can't let myself get hungry, so I try to eat as much as I can. Doritos, cookies, tofu, and yes french fries and subs.

I have felt random tingles the past couple of weeks, and I think its the fluids and Cucumber moving around, it feels weird, like a ball rolling in water. But cool, very cool.

I'm going to try and update this weekly and as soon as I get a digital camera, I'll take pics too. Wow! A big brown belly, I know you all can't wait to see that one!

I'm going to go back and post date-some comments because I want to try to do this right, not half-ass like many of my endeavors. So, I'll admit to that now, I'm not trying to cheat.

lil-bit-o-this-lil-bit-o-that

Well this week I got hit with a curve ball. Several. One big one and several small ones. I sincerely believe that when we make plans, God laughs. A good hearty laugh, and I don't mean that in a sarcastic way at all. But this has been one of the most difficult things that I've had to learn, and I am still learning this. I am not in control. Do you read that Ilnizzzah? You are NOT in control. Yes, you can decide whether or not to eat pizza or a sub for lunch, but there are many things you can not decide.

That can be o.k.

It will be o.k.

I've learned this week that I have to step back sometimes and let God decide what is going to happen because the more you hold tight to what you thought you wanted or what you want to do, the more you close your fist on your plans, the more you don't allow for anything else to enter into them. See, I have this tendency to decide something and the REFUSE to let go of it. No matter what, I just don't let go. Well, it just so happens that this continues to happen to me, oh so very often. First with one thing, then another. But I think I'm getting it now. As I look back on my life, so much of what has happened to me, so many of the people I've met, the work I've done, has just kinda fallen into place. There are so many awesome things that have happened to me and I could have never in a zillion years planned them. So who did?

That would be, HE.

And this time, I'm going to turn over the reigns early, cause I'm at a point where I don't know what's going on and where I'm supposed to be. I just know that there has to be a plan, somewhere, a path and I'm going to trust that light will shine and show me the way.

Commitment

Had an interesting conversation with my dad two nights ago. I'm amazed because growing up, I never thought he really knew or understood me. We were discussing my fears about becoming a mother, my dislike of work, and my fear of never returning to school*.

Well, he told me that I had no faith and that I'm not grounded. Then he recounted and said that actually there were two things I was grounded in, my husband and my education. He was so dead-on with that it wasn't funnny.

With everythign else I'm a waffle, just not certain about much of anything. I don't know what has caused me to be this way, but its just so true. I love my husband more than life itself and I love education as well. Through my husband I see goodness, with education I see liberation.

Now, this is not to say that I don't believe in anything outside of myself, husband, and education. I would like to say I'm a person of faith (just not sure which one). I find truth and beauty in so many different paths that its so difficult for me to find one that makes me say, this is it! My mother has told me that this is what I get for immersing myself in academia-learning a little bit about everything and questioning/doubting-but istn't that a part of finding faith? Didn't St. Augustine do this? Aristotle? Isn't this how you find out what you really believe?

I guess that I'm also thinking about this now because of the pregnancy and because my family wonders which holidays to buy Cucumber presents for. I've assured them that they should go ahead and buy for all. Except Kawanaza.

I'm such an ass.




*Note, I'm not gonna start a PhD in the Fall of 06 at the moment. Details to follow at a later date.

Things you may not have known....

I am tired today. So tired, that I'm almost at that point where just about everything seems funny, except for the fact that I am battling serious indigestion. I should probably admit to the fact that not all of this can be blamed on Cucumber*, I did in fact have Kofta Curry for lunch. My taste for food has changed drastically over the last few months, foods that I normally love, I can't stand. Most of what I eat (and enjoy) has to be filled with tomatoes, cumin, tahini, vinegar, or any combination of sharp serious spices.

Interesting huh?




*Cucumer=baby, because we don't know the gender just yet, so we settled on Cucumber.

Dadspeak

For years my brother and I swore our dad spoke a different language. We call it dadspeak. Some of what he says his totally inaudible-this happens when he gets really excited or worked up-and some of what he says is just a unique mixture of words and phrases that mean something to him and often nothing to the rest of us because we can't translate.
Up until a couple of years ago, I never bothered to even attempt a translation, I've translated Italian, Spanish, and some dialects of English, but never dadspeak. Then I decided I wanted to start telling stories, or writing stories, no scratch that telling stories and then hoping I'd start to write them somewhere, someday, about my dad. So, I started keeping notes about things he'd say. This weekend was priceless, got some good material:

Dadspeak: "If you gon' be holy, be holy, if you gon' be sin-boli, be sin-boli."
Translation: "You can't serve two gods."

Dadspeak: "Prepare for War in a time of Peace."
Translation: "You have to anticipate that at any given moment, the entire world is out to get you. Be paranoid, be very paranoid, and always plan accordingly.

Random Memories

Sade, Smooth Operator

This song came out in 1985, I was 7 years old and I remember riding in my dad's blue pick up and hearing this song. It was a Saturday evening. He was humming, quietly for once, and we were on our way to the Lotus Garden, a small Chinese restuarant on the other side of town from us. I knew his order by heart, beef and broccoli, shrimp fried rice for me and my mom, an orange, and fortuune cookies for me.

I sat on the passenger side and there was no radio installed in the truck. He would either play his music from a tape recorder, or a bike radio. Now, bike radios look like this but they used to look like this. The radio would be propped up somewhere in the truck, usually on the seat in the middle. I remember listening to this song, and riding along Broad Street and seeing the Sauer's lights. At that time I felt like the city was so big, so bright. It probably took only about twenty minutes to get to the Lotus Garden from our house, but it felt like a long ride, like when you crossed over the bridge it was a different world. Everything is different at night though, usually falling into one of two extremes: really good or really bad. Chinese food, listening to Sade, and riding in that old blue truck was good, really good.
***
Mos Def, Respiration

Now, DH (then my boyfriend) lived in that city, on that side of the city right on Broad, less than two blocks from Lotus Garden. And its different now, because the city that I thought was so big and bright now just looks dirty and tight. I feel boxed in, walking the streets I've walked for years, but no longer discovering anythign new or exciting about it.

Instead, what I discover is that people pee on the side of the Subway restuarant, its easy to shut down a city block when you think that floor polish smells like gas, people kill themselves and others in the middle of this street, and men with no legs sit and watch. Those nights were bad, but like Mos says, "You can feel the city breathing, chest heaving."And its true, on those nights the city fought for air, to try to catch its breathe, but there were nights where breathing did come easy.

At the Subway, we find owners who wash their hands, knives, and sandwhich board before they make our sandwhiches and make sure that we don't get no pork on our forks. We find old men who watch out and make sure don't no funny business go on in the buildings, and we also find each other. We are strong because we have to live in this city and we have to watch one another because we are still breathing.

Er-thing is all messy

-in my apartment
-on my desk
-in my head

So, we are moving this week, a temporary six-month move we hope, to a larger first floor apartment to make room for my growing stomach and whats inside. But, the problem is we are trying to move while both working full time jobs, DH going to grad school full time and myself teaching one course. Why-pray-tell are we doing this to ourselves? Everything has been so crazy in the apartment the last couple of days its not been funny. I mean there is stuff er-where. We've been boxing books (most of what we own) and storing some at my mom and dad's house. We've sworn to ourselves that we will only take two boxes of books with us to the new apartment. Two! This is out of a good Twenty! Just two! I've been hiding some randomly in my boxes of clothes. he.he.he.

I'm just trying my best to focus on taking care of myself and the baby. Its hard because I'm just so accostomed to living a fast-paced, stressed out life.

I'm just concerned....and I don't feel like I even have the time to stop and evaluate.

So much on my mind....

I just can't bear to put it all down here....not today...not right now.

i have decided:

i dont want to feel like gregor anymore.

any suggestions for the following prblems?:

1-still feeling worried about managing a baby and a phd

2- still worried about moving miles y miles away

3-hating the work i do

4- tired and don't feel like i can catch up with the housework, workwork, schoolwork, and movig prepwork.

5-having a hard time making one decision and sticking w/ it,

but i do know this much is true, idont want to eel like a bug anymore.

bugs of lore

um, so, i'm back to feeling like a roach again. i don't know what did it to me, but i got up this morning after a night w/ leg cramps and poor sleep, and just felt like a roach. i did not want to go to work, once i did i got there late and was not pleased w/ myself (nor was anyone else). i know from experience and adivice from other bloggers such as dooce that you have to be careful what you say, so i won't say anything more than the fact is i feel like a roach again.

there is just so much going on right now, that whenever i feel like i have moments of clarity, and they are really rare, but i do have moments where i feel like i know what i'm doing and how i'm going to do it. but then i have days like this where i doubt myself to all hel and all i want to do isbe at home, except i dont even feel comfortable at home now because its dirty and messy and i dont have the energy or time to clean and paint and rearrange the way i'd like to. so, like gregor, i sit and feel like i'm rotting with an apple in my back.

i think the thing that gets me the most about kafka's metamorphosis is just the fact that gregor keeps trying to move, he is freaked out by himself at first, but then he keeps trying to get himself up to go to work, he's like on auto-pilot, or is he? does he maybe just want to keep up with his routine because that is all that he knows, he doesn't know anything else and at a time where you become something you weren't, it stands to reason that you would want nothing more than to hold on to some routine, some string that is normal. but no,not quite because we are also told that gregor has held on to this job because of his parents, because of someone else,


"If I didn't hold back for my parents' sake, I'd have quit ages ago. I would've gone to the boss and told him just what I think from the bottom of my heart. He would've fallen right off his desk! How weird it is to sit up at that desk and talk down to the employee from way up there."

so he didn't like the job in the first place, but feels like he hastokeep on because of his folks, but what happens, what apprecition does he get, after all, he ends up being confined to his room and treated horribly by has family. why does this change occur? why does he put himself through this?

why do i still feel like a roach?

November 1

I don't even really have the time to write- there is so much going on right and now and so much I do actually want to blog about, but there is no time right now! So here is a list, my way of trying to remember and hoping I'll come backto them:

1. homes
2. dad stories
3. work and what work is and is not

Must remember to write!

An Open Letter To: Myself

Hey dude-whats up:

You know, you didn't even want to blog tonight, I know what you wanted to do, crawl in the bed and read Kafka again, that's what you do when you feel down. You read Kafka and try to put yourself in the place of Gregor Samsa, lying on your back just as he did, and feeling like you don't belong in your own body. Well, I'm glad you opted to force yourself up and come write, because even though you don't feel like it right now, this will probably make you feel better.

Things are rough right now. You work 40 hours a week, plus an additional 5-10 teaching and preparing for class, you aren't used to that much work, combined with the pregnancy, its a lot. Not to mention that there are still house responsibilites and relationship responsibilites, you feel overwhelmed, and thats okie too, but you can't let this get you down.
Okie, so you can have some nights where you come home and do nothing but eat rich creamy ice cream and drink ginger ale, but you can't do that every night, and you can have some days where you throw your clothes around on the floor and kick shoes just because they are in front of you, but you can't keep that up or you'll never be able to find matching shoes and the fact that when the shoes end up getting the walls dirty pisses you off even more, suggests to me that you need to stop it. Now.

So, lets examine where your feelings of fear are coming from, and yes lets do it in cyberspace where all can see, because after all, this is supposed to liberating.Liberation, your favorite word. Well, there is the fact that you are responsible for bringing a brand new person into the world who will depend on you to teach them, love them, and care for them, for 18+ years, at least. Now, you have worked with kids before, have numerous cousins and have the uncanny ability to recall Mister Rogers' songs ('Your body's special and so is mine,' 'I'm a man, who manufactures, who manufacutues chairs, I'm a man who manufacutures chairs, I'm a man, who manufactures') and you still remember the name of all the creatures from the New Zoo Revue (Freddy, Henrietta, who could forget!) And above all else, no matter what you think, you are caring and compassionate and you've secretly wanted this for a very long time.

What else is there? Oh yeah, the PhD. Not to fear...you just got an email today from a PhD mom today who gave you tons of support and encouragement. You will no doubt have some very hard days, and some very good days. You will have days where you cry and stomp and throw books (much to the chagrin of baby I'm sure). And you will ponder the question, "Why the hell am I doing this?" But you know why. You know exactly why, everything you've done up to this point has guided you in this direction, to complete this degree and to work and to teach and to research and to help other folks out there who need it. You were given the ability to communicate and write and to show others how to do that and just why its such an important thing. What does my umi say? Let your light shine.

Why does moving bother you so? Because you've never done it before. You have never been out of a 10-15 mile radius of Terminal Avenue. That would be scary for anyone, but you got to break out of this, what are you going to teach your kid? You have to lead by example now, no more looking to others to do the dirty work for you. You are not leaving them forever, and hopefully once school is over and you have this degree behind you, you will be able to choose to come back closer to home, because you will actually have the ability to be competitive for jobs. Imagine, people might actually want to hear about your research interests, and you can talk about McLuhan and Burke until they run out of your ears.

And finaly, its easy to get discouraged, and its okie to cry, and to read Kafka, but you gotta pull yourself up too. Let your passion take you over again. You've got a very important person that you need to prepare for now, and part of that prepartion involves getting your own self in check. All you can do is the best you can with what you've got right now.

Now, if you still wanna read Kafka and pretend to be a roach, go right ahead, but I'd suggest listening to Mos and doing a two step.

Peace-
ilnizzzah

its raining its pouring

and i'm bout to be snoring.

There's a good rain tonight, a cool misty one, the kind that makes you want to nestle in your bed and go to sleep. I finally had enough energy to do the dishes and clean my living room, WITHOUT stretching out on the sofa afterwards. Went to the drs today and they even moved my due-date up, by three days, but still that's a bit sooner! The dr also said my morning sickness should be over and my energy level returning, thank heavens.
Had another ultrasound today and the baby didn't like it, only 14 weeks old and it was shaking its head no, we could see it moving back and forth as the dr would press down on my stomach.
Fiesty.
I love it!

Week 13 Doctor Visit

This was the first visit I had where I was actually able to meet the doctor and both H and I were especially happy. He spent a good amount of time sitting down and talking with us about how things were progressing so far. He actually delievered one of my other doctor's babies so immediately I felt at ease with him.

Apparently, there was some problem with two-different due dates being listed on my chart so we got to do another ultra-sound. The baby did NOT like this idea at all. As the doctor pressed down on my tummy with the wand, the baby moved and shook his/her head. Now, I know this was not a voluntary movement (they don't start that until the end of the second trimester), but still how adorable! How fiesty!

So You Wanna Be Startin' Something?

I can remember a time when Michael Jackson was my everything. I had posters, stickers, jackets, gloves, records, and I even did a curl in my hair (though I must admit that came much later than when Micheal did his). But tonight, I'm feeling nostalgic and listening to the Thriller cd and allowing myself to get swept away in 1980s Michael, when the weird things about him were actually cute.
I find that I get in these moods of wanting to go back or remember old things when I feel most down during the present. I'm very unhappy with work, worried about the upcoming move I've got and am just going through so many changes at once that I feel like my head is spinning, but I remember a time when I would go to Pizza Hut on Friday night, listen to MJ on the jukebox, eat pepperoni pizza, drink coke, and everything was ok. I know I was a kid and I know that life is complex and blah blah freaking blah, but I just find those memories so comforting right now. At a time where there is just so much going on and I feel so not comfortable, I think about things like those Pizza Hut nights.
But its weird how memories can come dancing back in your head, sometimes you look for them and sometimes they come on their own. Another example, today I went to McDonald's (I know, but hey, I'm three months pregnant, thats my excuse) anyways I was taking a sip of my iced tea and there was just something about the straw and the drink that took me years back. McDonald's has always used really wide straws with the yellow and red on the sides (I think I got the colors right, correct me if I'm wrong). But the tea and the straw just made me think about going to McDonald's as a kid after school. And all these memories rushed back, in no particular order: eating after school at my gma's house, my grandpa's truck, dancing to MJ, playing in the backyard. I love it when things like that happen, but only when the good ones come rushing back.

Big Timers

When I was about 7 or 8 my dad won the lottery. The BIG lottery. He's always been one who enjoys gambling, though he never did it at the expense of the family, he only used extra money he got from side jobs. Well, he'd take the bus up to Atlantic City, do the casinos and on the way back buy lottery tickets where ever the bus would stop off. I don't remember, but I think it was a Maryland ticket he bought that won.
The night we found out he'd just come home from a 3-11 shift and his eyes were bigger than usual. My mom and he were in the kitchen and I must have wandered in to the conversation. He had a cig tilted out the side of his mouth, my mom was at the table, he was leaning against the sink. Now, most people if they'd just found out that they'd won the lottery would be totally amped, jumping up and down, planning vacations, new cars, homes, etc. But not my dad, no sir-ree-bob, not my pops. He was preparing his stratagy. He was planning on how we'd break the news to everyone, when and where we'd relocate to, and how we'd need protection from would-be kidnappers and thieves. Strategy.
The next day we went to visit my grandfather (dad's dad) and I remember on the way over to my grandparents house my dad did most of the talking, still strategies about his next move. At my grandparents (and for some reason it was sweltering in there, I felt so sick I thought I'd pass out) he and my grandfather went upstairs to continue talking while my mom and I were downstairs. When we left it was decided that we would tell NO ONE until we knew how much the winnings were.
A day later (and a dollar short, and I mean that quite literally) we found out that so many people hit the jackpot and the lesser prizes that our slice was not hardly anything to warrant kidnappers coming after us.
I don't think as a kid I ever really grasped how much that would have changed everything, where I went to school, who I met, what I do now. I rarely even think about what happened or what could have happened, not unless I'm trying to think of a funny story to tell friends and entertain people. Or, when I play the lottery.

I'm an administrative Ass

Just in case you wondered what my job title was:

Administrative Ass.

Tree and the Library

Tree asks the question:

"Which books do you hate that you're supposed to like? or Which books are you afraid to admit to not liking?"

Well I wanna start with my top fav "classic" books of all time(s):

To Kill a Mockingbird
Heart of Darkenss *most bestest*
The Scarlet Letter

Now the ones that I didn't like but pretended to like because I thought all English majors HAD to like them:

-Anything Dickens
-The Brontes
-Moby Dick (didn't even read it)
-Faulkner, yes I said it, Faulkner

This is liberating!!!!!

rent-a-Negro

I saw this author, damali ayo, read from her book How To Rent a Negro on CSPAN this weekend. I have to admit, at first I didn't get it, but after looking over the website, this is just hilarious.

If you got to the website there is an actual order form so that you can rent your own negro. She even lists all the different events and uses for your rental negro. My personal favorite is the Informational rent-a-negro section:

"Informational "I want to know more about being black, so do my friends and colleagues. It always seems like I say the wrong things when I meet black people. I just want to learn, help!"

I went to a predominately white high school and always felt like I had to be what I call la voce de los Negroes de world, or the voice for all the black folk in the world. (Pardon my chopped language skills) I remember whenever anything happened to a black person people would turn to me in class and say things like, "Do you feel the same?" "I'm sorry about slavery, this makes me sad!" or "Did you know him/her?" That last comment was the most priceless one.

In my senior year I took AP government and some Black government official (don't remember who) died. During class the teacher announced it and then turned to me and personally apologized. I was like, "um, okay, but I didn't know this person." And she goes, "oh, but what a loss for your people." Just priceless.

A lot of times though people had a hard time with me in high school. They couldn't understand how I can tote Malcolm X's autobiography in one hand and rock out to Dave Matthew Band all at the same time. I love dichotomies. I think that it was because I went to a predominately White school that I became a strong person and learned a lot about race issues. For the most part there were no horrible events or name-calling situations, but there were tense moments, like the year during Black History month when I wanted all the Black folks to come to school wearing dark shades and black berets, but other than that things were pretty smooth.

Then, came college. I went from a very small private Catholic High School to a large state University. Diversity was er-where. And in a good way, but it did make me question myself a lot more. All of a sudden I saw all kinds of brown folks from all over, and I didn't quite know how I fit in. My experience of being Black in America was vastly different from some of the other people I met. While I felt like I had good practice in explaining Black things to non-Black people, I also realized that there were lots of Black things/experiences I hadn't had and that there was no ONE Black experience.

Things changed even more when in my sophomore year I met my husband. I never had an issue with dating people from various backgrounds, but I'd also not dated a whole lot either. DH is White and when we first started talking I was just happy to have someone to talk to who wasn't trying to jump in my pants after the first week. We talked and talked and talked and I was amazed that I didn't have to explain "Black stuff" to him, we connected on a level that I'd never connected w/ anyone one before in my life. My family loved him, especially my granny who always told me that a man should be a couple of years older and a couple of inches taller (he satisfied both requirements nicely). Never once did my family talk about his white-ness, it just was not an issue.

After we'd been going out for a couple of months and talking on a pretty regular basis DH confided in me that his family was a bit bothered my brownness. At first I didn't sweat it, I'd had friends in high school who had parents/grandparents like that and for the most part, they were nice (fake) when I met them and that was it. Well, we weren't planning on getting married or anything (lol) at the time, so I didn't think too much of it. Then, it became a problem. We'd have to do two birthday parties (I couldn't come to his) and split Christmas (he'd be w/ his folks and then come over to be with mine). Sometimes it would make me so angry, especially b/cs of the fact that these people knew NOTHING about me. NOTHING. Except that I was brown and a woman, so who knows, they prolly thought I was a jezabel.

Once or twice I would randomly met them, they'd stop by his house and I'd be there, or we'd 'happen' upon them and I never felt so ignored in all my life. I mean I felt like I was invisible. Invisible, like my skin, my bones, my eyes, my soul did not exist in front of them. Once, we were at the mall and saw one of his cousins. The cousin came up to DH and started to talk, I turned around the corner, the cousin saw me and RAN out of the store, never looking back. Guess that's what a spook does.

But time went on and we were serious and the love I had (and have) for him outweighed the ignorance. So we started planning a wedding. Not knowing who would come or what it would become, we didn't know if there would be a royal rumble or the celebration we truly wanted. Eventually, magically almost, and I mean wand-magic style, DH's family came around (well, some of them) and they started to participate in the planning events for the wedding. At times this was a bit awkward because it was like first they were off, then they were on and no one ever mentioned the off period. Ever.

So now, with a baby on the way, I think about all this again. Especially because now I feel motherly instincts kicking in and I don't want anyone to say or do anything to my child or else I'll have to pull out my Crouching Tiger techniques. But I wonder, I just wonder what this child will face and have to deal with. I know that at home, in my house there will be nothing but love and constant reassurance that you are a HUMAN first, and the other stuff people may use to define you but you don't have to buy into that. Is it possible to do that, or is this wishful thinking?

Its not easy being green

The past two days have been a bit rough for me. The combination of pregnancy-morning craziness-work-teaching-and trying to orchestrate a grand move alongside the grand entrance of un bebe is driving me crazy.

I feel like I've got so much to do, and that's because I do have so much to do. The one class I'm teaching is reaching a critical point in the semester which means I have to dedicate more time to them. Work is going okay, but I'm just not accustomed to being in one place for so long each day. Anybody seen the movie Office Space? I'm the guy who beats up the copier. Working in an office is very different from what I did in the past, very different. There are certain things I've had to learn and things I'm trying to learn. I have found though, that I do prefer the classroom. As for the morning stuff- I spoke to soon when I said that I was feeling tons better. Yesterday morning was rough and this morning was even rougher. I just wake up with this miserable green feeling in my stomach and mouth ( I know that's weird, but I associate feelings with color, so bear with me). Its not until about 9 or 10 AM that I actually feel better, like a normal functioning person. This makes it very hard b/cs I have to get to work by 8AM and most nights I'm not able to go to bed until 10 or 11. On the rare occasion that I can go to sleep at 8 or 9, I wake up feeling much better.

But, this to shall pass, or that's what the books tell me.

I need a vacation. In a nice warm climate. With good cold iced tea. And good books. And a huge plate of fried chicken with honey b-b-que sauce and a side of collard greens with vinegar. And brownies and chocolate cake for dessert. Oh, and a pot pie would be nice.

An Open Letter to Those Folks Who Write Pregnancy Books

Hello,
I am writing because your books are pissing me off. You might chalk that up to whatever chapter you have on being 'hormonal' and having 'mood swings' but I beg to differ. I'm just pissed. I'm angry because lots of what you say is very difficult for women like me to do. Who am I you may ask? Well let me try to give you a mental picture:

-I am a woman in her late twenties.
-I work a full time job and a part time job in order to be able to afford decent housing conditions.
-I have a husband who also works a full time job and goes to school full time.
-I do not have a maid, nor do I have members of my family who can come over and clean and cook for me because most of them work full time jobs with families.
-I am educated and I do want a healthy baby and pregnancy but I think that some of the information given and some of the folks who have pregnancy related courses are full of pooh.

Now, why pray tell do I think that way? Well, the fact remains that some of the advice given is good, very good, and extremely useful, but some of the suggestions given are not for us working folk.

For example, 'take frequent naps to avoid feeling tired during the first trimester.' How is someone who works 8-5 supposed to do this? I mean honestly, yes the solution makes sense. If you are tired, then take a nap. But its not feasible for working folk to do that.

Also, another favorite, 'take yoga and exercise classes to help your body,' well that's just fine and freakin' dandy but most of the classes are offered during the week during the day! Who may I ask is this catered to? Not working folk. I was fortunate enough to find a yoga center that actually has Saturday prenatal classes (but there is only ONE).

I'm not angry b/cs I have to work (which I know some people might think) but I am angry that some of this stuff presupposes that you aren't working, or can flex your time so that you can participate.

Where are the books on the working woman's guide to pregnancy? Where fore-art-thou?

And I am NOT hormonal.
I hate that word.

Women in Academia

My dear friend at Cheese & Responsibility has posted a response to my response, well really to the article I blogged about on 10/5/05 "oh my gosh this is so cool," and I feel a need to post more about it b/cs the posting by Tree of Knowledge does a much better job of elaborating on the problem and how this proposed solution would/could/would not/ work.

Tree of Knowledge is right on with this idea:

"I mean, mothers have a tangible excuse - a child that depends on them and a culture that believes that mothers should be primary care givers. But doesn't the same problem exist for women who are not mothers and men, both fathers and not? Doesn't the rigors of academia break up marriages and turn relatively stable people into alcoholics? Isn't there this, often true, stereotype of professors being absent minded and out of touch with reality? Haven't we all been to department parties where no one has fun because all anyone has time for is their research? We're (I'm including non-tenure track profs and grad students in this) trained to believe that we are supposed to devote ourselves to our research for the rest of our lives, but why?"

I agree, and this new rule/idea is not going to change that. The Ivory Towers have long been associated with folk who don't know what 'real life' is like (or some who are perceived to not care), long hours, and the idea that you must sell your soul and anything else you've got in order to gain a seat at this table. We are trained to believe that research and publication is the end goal and that you sacrafice whatever you need to sacrafice in order to get there. I believe thats why some folks do get divorces, don't have kids (even if they once wanted), and don't know how to use a copy machine. *(see note below) In lots of ways academia does remove you from the 'real world'. After graduate school, where you've spent anywhere from 4-8 years working on a research project, if you are fortunate enough you will go into a tenure track job as an assistant professor. Once there it is your duty to balance the following: more than likely, a new move, new professors, new department (new orders to learn), new teaching responsibilityes for new courses you've not taught, and you have to start thinking in terms of your publication and service to the university and community. Thats quite a load. Now, figure that most folks are in their early 3os at least when they finish and you've got a host of other issues to put into the mix (partners, kids, aging parents, etc).

I don't know who academia was created for, but with the way things are going some things will need to change. I see this new idea of part-time tenue as a very small step, but hopefully one in the right direction.

Tree of Knowledge also writes:

"We should not have to decide between family and work. That is a choice that isn't even plausible. It pisses me off so much that women have been forced to make this decision for years and derided regardless of which choice they make. It pisses me off that men have never even been given the choice. How many men do you know who gave up work for kids? This is one reason why I knew I wanted to marry Husband; I suggested that he stay home and raise the kids while I worked, and he said ok."

Again, this is choice I've dreaded and its mainly because I actually thought I had to make a choice. In some ways you do, but in other ways I think we can try to control this. I know that for many women (in and outside of academia) there are times when things at work have to slip or slide by because of whats going on at home, but I don't see this as being neglectful to your work. Though some might try to argue that, but b/cs society has impressed upon us that the mother needs to care for the children many of us do this, and some of this do this just because there is no one else to help. Not every woman is fortunate enough to have a partner who will take some of the 'home front' responsibilities that are typically viewed as women's work. Like Tree of Knoweledge, I'm so fortunate that my husband supports my education, my work, and my childbearing choices.

As a mother-to-be and a PhD-to-be these are all issues that keep me up at night, really they do. I've had conversations with folks from all walks of life to get views, opinions, and advice, but what it all boils down to is that you have to learn to separate yourself from some of those demands imposed upon you by allthose outside forces ('academics, husbands, wives, publishers, moms, dads, uncles, grannys, or as my good friend lil'John says, "er-body").


*I have found that some professors are so into their research they forget about things like: how to use a copy machine to make one copy, how to say hello when someone speaks to you, and my all time favorite, how to call people by the CORRECT name.

blog

how come when you do a spell check, if you have 'blog' in your post, the spell check doesn't reconginize it? It wants you to say: bloc or bloch or blows or bloke?

you'd think that a blog would have blog.

u got blog?

oh my gosh....this is way cool

So one of the things that I often think about because I so badly want a career in academia, is the fact that I also want to be a mother, wife, and human (not saying you CAN'T be). I just mean to say, I want to be able to pursue other interests as well.
Going to school for a Phd is challenging enough, but once you finish there is still the ye ole tenure that you must try to obtain if you want to settle yourself into a research place/space.
This article explores how many universities are trying to change their policies to allow women more flexibility.
Some might argue (and I've actually heard this said) that it should all be 'equal' (that word is a sticky one). By equal, at least in this particular instance, the person meant, if men have to have 5 years of continuous service, publication, etc then women should to. Okie, I don't disagree, but the fact is, men can have children (if the choose) and not get penalized for it, if a women does then often times b/cs there is no maternity leave worked into the system (at least not a formal version) they have to take a leave and sometimes this does affect their tenure.

It seems like the plan this article described would extend itself to helping a lot of folks at different stages in their lives:

"Part-time policies are designed to appeal to fathers, people with
aging parents, and professors nearing retirement. Still, many proponents see
mothers as the prime audience."

The article does go on to say that things aren't perfect with this new system:

"The part-time schedule makes it hard for her to keep up with everything. It took her two years to help a student turn his master's thesis into a publishable paper because she could never find a few days for the project. She doesn't have time to travel to give seminars that would burnish her reputation, and she wonders whether, over the long term, her career will have a lower trajectory than it might have had"

*** **** *** ***

I don't know, I'd like to think that with more women entering the 'world o academia' things would change, but will they? What if some folks don't want them to change (including women)? I don't know...I have lots of feelings on this subject, as a mom-to-be, I'd like to think that my having children now, or in the future or whenever won't affect my academic career, but I also think that in the back of my head I'd just 'accepted' that it might. One of the reasons I enjoyed teaching in a community college and had thought about doing it long-term, post Phd, is because there is not a great amount of emphasis placed on the notion of 'publish' or 'perish'. But I do love my research and would love to have a schedule (and funding) that would allow me to research, write, present, and publish. Here goes that question/problem I've always seemed to have with balance.

I'm interested in hearing what others think on this... and be sure to check out the article from the Boston Globe.

What is your Blogging Voice?

In my discipline (composition and rhetoric) -can I actually claim a discipline yet, that sounds so scholarly-anyways, in comp and rhet we talk about voice. When students write we ask them to put their voice on paper, with some exceptions of course, or modifications. There are books on how to find your voice and tons of different pedagological approaches. What I notice, in my own writing is that my voice is not consistent, I change things based on the audience I'm writing for. Well, this is a kind of -duh- statement for most folks, but I'm puzzled by the blogging voice.

Some people, myself included, start a blog without a real audience or purpose. I started this blog this past summer because I'd been reading blogs like dooce and academic blogs as well. I wanted to find a way to put my thoughts out there, but really didn't keep up with it and I think one of the reasons for that was because no one (aside from a random stranger) was reading my blog. Now, I write in a journal almost every day and I do that religiously even though no one is going to read it, so whats the difference?
--> For me, one difference is that my voice in the journal is not my voice on the blog. My journal voice is much more personal, unreserved, uninhibited, hell who's gonna read it! But, the blog is different, even though I didn't think I had any readership/audience, there was still that chance. And even now, that I have a small circle of blogging friends, I find the same holds true, I write, but I think I have a different voice.

Does my blogging voice sound like my 'real' voice?
And as my dear husband would ask, does it matter?

Things that Make me Feel Good inside

*When former students come back and say 'thank you'.
* When the dogs snuggle in the bed and don't try to eat the pillows or blankets.
* Reading something good.
*Reading something good I wrote (this doesn't happen very often).
* Taking walks in the fall.
*The fact that I've actually consistently written in this blog-o-sphere place.

If your happy and you know it...

I loved that song when I was a kid, "If your happy and you know it, clap your hands!" (clap) (clap)

Its too bad that as adults we don't do more showing how happy we are, especially at work. Maybe thats because for most of us, work is not a place where we are happy. I think about all of the sacrafices my parents made for us (my bro and I) and I'm amazed, but I'm learning to see and understand them. My dad worked for 30 some years in a job that I'm sure at times he didn't give a fuzzy rat's ass about, but he did it so my bro and I could go to great schools. Just imagine though, what it would be like if you were able to work, love it, and get paid ( a fair wage)for what you do. Can that happen? Is it possible!

I think about that a LOT now, especially because I'm now working in a field that really isn't my area of choice. But I do it because I have to do right now and I'm okie with that. But I do dream about one day having the job I really want.

Modest dressing

This post from Tree of Knowledge made me think about the changes in style/dress I've gone through. Now, I went to private school K-12 which meant I wore The Uniform. Plaid skirt, peter pan color white shirt, white socks (knee-hi in K-4), brown shoes, no fancy hair/make up/jewlery. I didn't mind it that much because its just something I always did, however when I went to college I went from one extreme to the other.

Freshman: tight fitting, tried hard to wear what was 'in' on a K-mart budget this was very hard and it meant that I usually just looked like I was trying to hard on a K-mart budget.

Sophomore: didn't give a frrrrruck. sweats, sandals w/ socks, jeans, t-shirts, tennis shoes. I really didn't care, but sometimes I still liked to dress up and look a little 'girly'.

Junior: MODEST to the nth degree. went through a bit of a stage where i didn't want to show anyone anything. long skirts, long sleeve shirts, loose pants, etc.

Senior: Modestly modest. what does that mean? I continued with my modest dress but dried to look more stylish and less like a gray blob (all my clothes were gray or black or brown).

Grad School Year one: Modest, w/out the caring of being stylish

Grad School Year two: too busy trying to figure out my thesis, didn't care what I wore. The first new outfit I bought I got for my thesis defense. Ha! And it was all black.

As w/ lots in my life I tend to move in extremes, from one side to the other first all the way over here, then all the way over there. Now, I kinda have to look 'decent' because of where I work, but I don't think I'll ever go back to the pre-modesty stage (not unless I become one of those moms who wears the real hip clothes to her kids school functions, doubt it though). I think the more aware and comfortable with my body I became, the more I felt like I didn't have to show it to anyone. Its mine, and I respect it this way. Thats not to say that there is anything wrong if you like wearing short skirts or shorts, or whatever, but this is just where I am most comfortable. Sometimes DH says I dress too old, or blah, but it has taken me years to be able to get to the this point of dressing and being able to say, I don't give a fuzzy rats ass what anyone else wears, this is what I like.

So, if I want to wear a white-t fresh from the white-t man, or a Polo shirt, I rock what I wanna rock.

Nuff said.

its 5'o clock

What are YOU doing this weekend?

:-)

little bit o this and little bit o that

I'm feeling heavy and tired today. Wanting badly to start my weekend and enjoy the cool weather that has settled upon us. I'm not feeling particulary motivated to really do any housework, cleaning, shopping, or reading of papers; but I do realize I've got all of that plus more to do.

I love calendars, planners, etc. They are so much a part of what I enjoy about school, being able to make a schedule, plan assignments, look into the future with the flip of a few pages and figure out what your gonna do next. The older I've gotten, the more I've realized that is not necessarily the way things go. In fact, most of the time things don't go like that at all. When I look back on things (mainly major important events) I am astounded at how little I actually had to do with the planning and implementation, sometimes the cosmos just all work together and bring you something wonderful.

I'm in countd0wn mode for a lot things right now, a new person on the way (april 06), a phd program, a move, and a new role in life. And I'm looking at all of these things and realizing that in some ways, I had very little to do with how it all came together, it just did.

Selling White-Ts

Have you ever met anyone who sells white-t's for a living? If not, your missing out. White-t salesfolk happen to be the most persuassive people alive, you could totally have your class do a rhetorical analysis on the use ancient rhetoric when trying to sell a white-t.

Here's just a snipet of a White-T sale conversation:

White T man: Yo, what's up man, I got some nice fresh white-ts for sale. You trying to look?

Guy: Naw, man. How you doing today? They got you scramblin'?

White T man: You know I'm living, just trying ta make a dolla, holla!

Guy: I hear that, ya family doing okie?

White T man: Don't you realize I got the freshest white-ts? You aint gone find non any better than this, nice loose fittin ones man. No tags to be scratchin up ya neck.

Guy: I hear ya, but I'm not trying to put no dough out there today.

White T man: You know dem white-ts you be getting fron Kmart? They ain't got nothing on my white-t's. Des ones is fresh mayne!

Guy: Yeah.

White T man: You know, I get des ones right from the maker. They get des joints from up in NYC. Fa real mayne, and you know dem NYC folk is gone have fresh white-ts.

Guy: Yeah, but just not today mayne. I ain't got the NYC dough.

White T man: Yeah mayne, I'm just trying to make some money mayne. I got kids you know. Three.

Guy: Oh word, I hear yah, we all trying to eat.

White T man: Yeah mayne, and the lil ones got ta eat. Thats why I like selling these white-ts

Guy: Yeah I know. (pauses) (sighs) I'll take a three pack.

should explain the title

I just realized I didn't even mention rolls in my last post even though i titled it roles and rolls. thinking about roles made me think about yummy hot buttered rolls that my granny and mom make.

Sorry, just hungry.

Thinking about roles and rolls

This post over at Cheese and Responsibility really made me think about the various roles that I've assigned to myself and those that have been assigned to me by others (parents, family, husband, environment).

It was this portion of C&R's post that really stuck out to me:

Basically, I still exist in that bifurcated pre-adolescent state where you feel like a princess but live the life of a scullery maid. I was never one to really want to be a princess. I wanted to be a pirate.

I can identify with this on so many different levels. As I child I was a complete and total ham. And I mean that in the porkiest way possible. I loved attention, thrived off it. I would dress up in my auntie's old skirts and high heels, grab a bed post (mic) and stomp out Diana Ross tunes. I liked to play school and always be the one in charge, my favorite part of this activity was putting students out of the classroom and making report cards for them to take home. However, I never wanted to be a teacher. I guess at the time, I didn't think there was enough authority or power attached to it. So, like most kids I wanted to be an astronaut. I was determined. I'd build space shuttles with blankets, boxes, sheets, chairs, wood, whatever I could find. I'd use a play cash register as the 'buttons' and fly off into space. I stuck with the career choice of astronaut's for quite some time, then it shifted and I wanted to be a housewife. I'd cook in my kitchen, make pies out of dirt and grass, rock my dolls and diaper & wash them. I'd even give them hair cuts. This lasted for a bit, then I decided it was a doctor I needed to be. I wanted to wear a white coat, have a pager and have people shout my name.

The one fantasy I remember the most is that as a kid I'd play in my grandma's backyard in this alcove where tree limbs grew together and created a mini cave of sorts (well, a tree cave) I would pretend to be a maiden who had to fix rock stew for the forest creatures. I'd travel up and down the small inclines in my grandma's backyard, pretending they were mountains. I'd sneak and get water from the fountain, slosh it around and cook with it. I would dance in the middle of the yard with elves and witches and wizards. I loved pretending that I could live in a forest, in a cove of trees, with a lake, and everything I'd ever need right there.I think I forgot to mention that I'd do this all while in full costume, usually a long skirt or dress, because that's what all maidens wore, and sometimes my ballet shoes.

Looking back on it, its interesting to see how I moved from one phase/stage to another and this continued throughout elementary-middle-high school-college-grad school-now. In high school I wanted to be the center of attention, in college I kinda faded to the background and was happier their. But my career choices still mirror this weird dichotomy of wanting to be important, powerful, and honor simplicity. As an undergraduate I thought I wanted to be a doctor (an orthopedic surgeon), then I thought I wanted to be a teacher, then a lawyer, then I feel into the teaching thing with volunteer work I did. Initially, I wanted to teach high-school or elementary, but got a taste for teaching at the 2 & 4 year levels and was sold. I thought that a masters degree in my area (composition) would help ensure me an instructorship position, but it didn't. I fell into semester after semester of adjuncting, until I had to make some life decisions and get a full time job and adjunct in the evenings. I'm back at that issue of power now. I feel so powerless that I hunger and long to go back to school to finish my degree. But with that degree comes even more responsibility (and power). Responsibility and stress, and I'm at a point in my life where I no longer (thankfully) put myself first always. I've got a family to think about now, and that makes me ask myself whether or not this is something I still want.

Truth be told, on a day like this, I want nothing more than to dance in a field with fairies and wizards.

not much to say....

I've not said much about the class I'm teaching this semester. I don't know if thats a good thing or a bad thing. I've got one section of a second-year composition course with 25 students. The end goal of the course is to have students write a research-argument essay. So far the class has been going along as most do, not much to say at all.

As for my own goal of reviving a chapter or two and publishing it from my thesis, not much to say at all there either. I enjoy the research but its the writing that actually gets me. I could read and research for the next 100 years and never feel compelled to actually write one sentence! Writing is a painful activity for me, I don't know why. I like to be challenged, love to read, but the act of writing reminds me of what it used to be like when I had a tooth that was about to come out. My PaPa pulled all of my loose teeth when I was a kid. He'd come home in the evening from work, I'd dance around the living room floor, pulling at my tooth and tasting bits of blood and the open gummy feeling that a loose tooth leaves you with. He'd go to the kitchen sink, wash his hands and tell me to stand in front of him as he sat on the sofa or in the kitchen. I'd stand and let him shake the tooth, then I'd dance around the room some more and complain. Then he'd say, "Come on and let me get that tooth out!" My grandma would be in the kitchen making dinner and would try to persuade me to let him go ahead and do it and get it over with. So finally, after much dancing and pulling and jiggling the tooth around I'd sit on the couch and my PaPa would take a piece of string and wrap it around said tooth. He'd rock it back and forth carefully with his finger and then jerk the string, out the tooth would pop, into his hand. I'd go to the bathroom and wash my mouth out w/ salt water. I always loved the way it would feel when I rubbed my tongue over the open toothless groove. Smooth, salty, gummy. But I hated the tooth-pulling process.

So, how pray tell you might ask, is writing like getting your tooth pulled? Its that dance act I used to do, the anticipation, the wanting to have the tooth pulled, but at the same time not wanting to go through with the process needed to get the tooth out. Thats what writing is like for me, there is so much drama involved (all from me) and I dread it. Once I'm done, its a marvelous feeling, but its that dance that gets me.

Virginia Oddities

My dear friend gave a beautiful post about Hawaii Oddities and so now I've got to follow through with some Virginia ones:

-People wear shorts and flip-flops year round, at any hint of sun and then complain when they are sick and their nose is oozing green snot.

-The colors in the sky over the industrial plants are VERY distinguishable, usually orange or yellow.

-I would not suggest walking in the grass without shoes, you are liable to get your feet cut on broken glass.

Ahhhhh the beauties of the city.

8 Week Prenatal Visit

My first pre-natal visit. I felt like I was signing up for the military, all the questions, forms, sticks, tests, pricks, yikers, but it is over and all is well. Very well.

I am weighing in at....172 lbs! I can't believe it, well, yes I can. Too bad none of this is baby fat, but all my own. Its okie though, the baby will have much to snack on. hehehe

We had an ultrasound done, no one told me it was the kind where they have to insert something, ugh, I was in for quite a shock when the lady handed me a wand and asked me to cough. Well, she didn't ask me to cough. My shock subsided when I was able to see a tiny moving speck on the screen, one baby, with one heart beating at 184 beats/min. Amazing. No words to describe it. The ultra sound tech turned the sound up on the machine and I thought I was listening to my own heart beat, when she told me it was the baby's I could not believe it. I have two hearts beating inside me and I'm not on Ripley's Believe it or Not. Amazing.

We had to answer tons of questions about our health and histories, and then we got to ask tons of questions, like:

-What about constipation?
-Just how much should a pregnant woman eat?
-Is it bad to want ham and fried eggs? *Please note, I did not eat fried eggs and ham, I will not eat them, Sam, I am. (couldn't avoid that)
-When will the morning sickness end?
-Just how bad is stress and anxiety for babies? *Please note, I am doing yoga and about to start double doses come January.

They finally let me go after two hours of testing, questioning, three vials of blood, and a bag full of freebie baby stuff.

Now I have two baby pictures. Both show a gorgeous kid, and smart too. I can tell already, this baby is going to be the world's next rhetorician!

Answer me this, please

How can you make a living doing the thing you love the most, but fear the most?
I've been teaching now for 3 years (sometimes paid, sometimes not paid) at different types of learning institutions. I've taught composition, literature, 'developmental' writing, and taught various levels of ESL. I love teaching. I love the interaction, the learning, and the sharing that goes on in the classroom. But what I'm learning now, is that the politics involved are spooky. I'm not a good politikal (said in my southern drawl) person and I worry about that. I worry about tenure, reviews, publishing, coming up with some snazzy new theory regarding new media and rhetoric, actually writing something that DOES get published and doesn't just sit in my head or on my shelf (i.e. my thesis). I worry, and I worry, and I worry some more.

Do I want to be an ad-junc-t (all day juggling underpaid no clout tatall) for the rest of my life? NO

Do I want to learn more about rhetorical studies and media?
YES

Do I want to worry about whether or not I'll make publishing deadlines for tenure?
NO

Do I want to have job security in a job I love?
YES

Why do I even bother worrying about stuff thats not even here yet? I've got a year before I go to school and I think I'm a bit afraid. Afraid I won't be able to balance work, writing, a family, and myself.

Today is one of those days where I wish I could force myself to write. Force myself to meet deadlines for CFPs. Where I wish I could have been hired as an instructor so I could still do what I love and actually get paid a decent amount of money to do it.

I should have been an engineer.

what i could really do right now:

(in no particular order)

1. drink a large glass of southern style iced tea.

2. sit on a nice verandah

3. continue reading my new book by monica ali.

Eat the food Tina!

I finally got to see Napolean Dynamite, I must admit I first avoided this movie like the plague because so many of my students loved it, I thought, it can't be good. But, my cousin and brother brought it over a couple of weeks ago and insisted that I watch. We only skipped around to certain parts, but I got the dvd back from my cousin just the other night and decided to watch from beginning to end. I loved it. The moon boots, the hair, the language, the setting, everything.

My brother and cousin both now hate the film because they say Napolean was a looser and just didn't realize it, but I see it in just the opposite. Napolean was whoever in the 'freak' he wanted to be. And I liked him for that. Plus he just reminded me so much of myself, dance moves, loving tater tots...ahhh those were the days.

If you are interested in moon boots ( a 2005 version) check these out. If like me, you prefer the old school version, check this out.

guess who's biz-ack?

Well, because I was always the kid on the playground who wanted to *really* do something after all the other cool kids did something, I've revived the blog again.
A good friend has sent me a link to her blog. And b/cs she's doing it, I want to do it too.

Its been a number of months as you can tell from the last post, since I've written, so we'll see if this new blog-community keeps me motivated.

blogging grounds me

Its been so long since my last post that I don’t even know where to start. So much stuff has changed and I’ve also felt so many needs to blog during the past week, but because of my new work and the fact that I’m in front of a pc for like 8 hours a day, I don’t feel much like being in front of the pc in the evening. So, because there is so much, I’m just gonna try to list things to get them out of my head and in the blog so I don’t forget which direction I’m trying to take here:

New job: I am very happy to say that I am now working full time with benefits! No complaints. Looking back at my other posts, I have NO reason to complain. Nada.
Directions: I’ve got a lot of things that I want to blog about. I’ve been thinking about gender and power (language). I’ve been thinking about identities and how we construct our identity through names. I’ve also been thinking about how I might use a blog in my classroom. Well, technically I’ve not been thinking about that, but I am now.
Staying focused: whether it be through blogging or yoga or whatever, I’ve got to find ways to keep myself grounded. To help control my mind better. I’ve been suffering a great deal with anxiety and stress (mostly self-imposed) but I have come to a point where I totally know that I need to find a way to stay in control of all the flux and craziness that goes on in my head.
One day at a time: Its amazing how much validty there is to this old saying. When I start to get really overwhelmed I try to think of it like this and it does help. Really.
Focus: New work. Money. Study. Writing. Reading. Blogging. Preparing for my CNY move. 1 year to go.

i needed to do the wash

we live in an apartment complex w/out washer/dryer hook-ups, which means we frequent the local laundry. well, with an icky rash this week on my stomach and the dog's skin problems, i've had two bags of laundry sitting beside the bed for the past couple of days. dh said we'd get up and go down to the 'nice' laundry tomorrow morning, but i just could not stand looking at those dirty clothes any more. like the character in the Gap Creek book.

maybe i'm not as zainey-brainey as i thought...

There is a dude in Nevada who says he can summon UFOs. Wow.

He calls himself a prophet and said the Old Testament taught him how to summon UFOs. According to his site, he is going to go on a UFO-summoning tour. Hmm.

Not too much to say bout this one.

a formal announcement to get this out of my head!

i can honestly say that i both love and loathe the internet. i love the fact that i can get info quickly, look up random stuff, have a conversation via im with a friend, but all the same i hate the fact that i can look up ANYTHING! there are no barriers and for a self professed hypochondriac (probably didn't spell that correctly) its horrible!

arghhh....they should have online doctors, so you can scan your problem/image in the pc and they can look at you that way. they practically do that already with outsourcing.

must control my wiley internet searching ways.

from SOHH to the world of academia

I'm in no way a pro at the blogging world. I've been reading blogs for longer than I've been writing on one; but what surprises me is how quickly this community of bloggers and readers has caught on. To be honest, I had no idea how long blogs had actually been around. A quick google search seems to show that blogs have been in exsistence from round 99 or so. Rebecca Blood, author and blogger has a great history on her site. I think that one of the reasons I enjoy blogging is because there is that chance that someone outside of the folks who know I blog, will actually read and respond to something I've written, so I'm forced to think about audience.

Blogs have grown in popularity, one of the non-acadmic blogs I love reading is Dooce which chronicles a mother raising her two year old. This blog is great, the writer is funny and honest, she's got archives that also date back to before she had a kid, so lots of folks can jive with her feelings and experiences on many levels. I just finished reading an article about her and others from the BBC website that talks about how the net changes our ways of creativity.

Well, what I'm wondering and thinking about is how the net has changed modes of communication for African-Americans to participate in rhetorical discourse. For so long our voices have been silenced in so many arenas, and because of socio-political reasons we have not always had the benefit of keeping up with new technologies, but as the net and pcs become more and more like a TV (one in most every house) is this changing how we participate in the world around us?

For example, I know of lots of young folks who participate in forums and discussion boards about music, but I can't also help but to think that some of these forums and boards also bleed over into other areas as well. SOHH for example, seems to have lots of places to discuss a broad range of issues. There have been lots of discussions about how race is viewed/is an issue in cyberspace. Not always because of what is presented on line, but because of who has access to the information, who can synthesize and respond, and who reads. USC had a conference dealing with some of these issues awhile back, they are asking some of the same questions.

I dunno, I'm interested in why some people dismiss the importance of being net savvy, and I'm really interested in how younger folks are gonna claim the net as a place to participate in the world around them. I just took a peek at one such converation over on SOHH concerning Oprah.

I think that BBC article has it right, the net and modes of communication and creativity are just gonna keep changing and thats what its all about. The problem I see is that because of socio-economic issues too many of us might be left behind.

VA's finest

D'Angelo was probaly at his finest back in the late 90s. Now, he has been plagued by a series of most unfortunate events. The local news reports that he is in fact getting some help. My bro, who could quote to you every song this man ever made, co-signed on, or hummed in his sleep is jumping for joy at the fact that he is getting help and about to put out something new.

I'm just happy the man is getting help. He could never sing again, but he needs to conquer his demons.

thinking about my thinking

Ilnizzzah's Blog-o-sphere

I have done something I don't usually do. I read over previous blog postings (not all of them, but a few) and I think that I'm coming to some new answers for myself.

I wrote this on 7.15:
but i feel like i'm standing at a crossroads now, trying so hard to decide what i want to do next and the truth is, at this point i don't know. what i thought for so long, what i thought i wanted i'm uncertain. as i look at new opportunities and prospects that have been presenting themselves, i'm not quite as certain i *know* anymore.

Well, now that I think about it and process a bit more, I'm not sure that is true. I still know what I want, still know what I'm working for. The problem is that I get caught up in short term vs. long term goals. I also read when I wrote
because i want to start living my life for myself, and not for other people. because so much of my life has been doing what other people think is right or appropriate,

Now, while this is true, very true, what I also need to realize is that there are folks out there who have been doing this thing called living for far longer than I have existed. So, lots of time there advice is based on experiences that I have yet to have, which gives them far greater reach and potential to make decisions or to see things that I can't.

I'm thinking now. I'm thinking that it might not be quite as complicated as I thought it was yesterday.

doing the laundry is a wonderful thing

Robert Morgan, author of Gap Creek, created wonderful characters in this book. My mother in law gave it to me a couple of weeks ago and I just picked it up over the weekend, but I’ve not been able to put it down. Morgan weaves a tale of a young couple struggling at the turn of the century to live. They are both mountain folk who don’t come from much, but the wife is extremely resourceful. At a young age (I believe she is only 17 or 18) she is able to learn how to manage a household and a husband. She has to learn to be his rock (without him knowing it) and at the same time, she is struggling to come into what it means to be a woman.
At one point in the book she talks about why she likes washing clothes. I love this part so much, because it resonates with something I’ve felt for such a long time, but just haven’t been able to put into words:

There is something chemical about the heat of washing, like the fire burns away filth and the soap turns the dirt into something clean. The bitter sopa melts grease and soil. The slick soap eats away filth and oily stains. Much as you hate it, doing washing makes you feel you're starting out new. You have put your face in the smoke and steam, and your hands in the dirty slick water. And then you lift the pieces out and rinse them in fresh water and wring them out in the wind. (61)

***Now, I'm not washing clothes by hand like they did back then, but for some reason, I still feel this way. Washing clothes, going to the laundry makes me feel good. Like I'm really getting something done, starting new. Its like a bapitism.

no complaining....for right now

i remember some time ago where i heard you should keep a 'thanksgiving journal'. well, today i am going to start by listing things that i am feeling very thankful for:

1. shelter: i complain about my apartment, but we do have central ac/heat and you need it in this virginia humidity.
2. cool sheets, warm dh, and warm puppies
3. cereal
4. a hair appointment that will mean i get my hair washed and i don't have to do it!
5. a day with 0 pressing things to do

Thank you God! :-)

aloha

this evening DH and I said bye to a really cool couple headed to Hawaii for grad school. The husband is a painter (and a very awesome one at that) he was ever so kind to give us two paitings, I'll post a link to his website as soon as I can. The wife was a good friend, we went to graduate school together, graduated together, and have taught together for the past two years.

they lived about seven or eight blocks away, so really in the same neighborhood. now they'll be miles and miles and miles away from us. i will miss them.

we are at an age now where most of our friends are either settling down (marriage, house, kids) or moving on to try different things, several of my friends from school are leaving this summer for graduate school in the fall. we still have one more year before we head to CNY and its hard because there aren't lots of folks around (well, my family counts) but still, its like the feeling you had as a kid, when everyone's parents came to pick them up from school, but you are the last kid on friday evening to be picked up. yah know your parents are coming...you just don't know when.

how do I compose thee, let me count the ways...

When I write in my journal, I don’t do any pre-meditative writing. Usually, I just open up the page and let it all come out. I also don’t normally re-read that writing, ever. There have been a couple of times where I’ve gone back and done some reading because I wanted to try to track down a certain day, or I was just board, but normally that’s just it, I do the writing, and leave it.

Now, when I’ve got a paper to write for school, work, publication, etc the process differs greatly of course. Usually I procrastinate (which I’ve recently learned from faculty in departments outside of Humanities is really a faculty thing to do), but I try to think in my head about what I want to write, who my audience is and what the end product should feel like. Then I start by making a list. The list can be long or short, but usually just outlines what my goal(s) is(are). If I’ve got a specific question that I’m trying to answer, I normally go over it and try to break it apart so that I can figure out what kind of answer I’m looking to get. Then, I do my research if necessary. Next, I start to write. I don’t usually have a preset agenda with this writing, its more or less just to get everything I have in my head about the subject out. Sometimes I read over this writing, other times I’ll have DH look over it and see if he can pull any seeds of good thought out of the pile of manure. And most of it is manure, but I still have to see the poop in order to figure out what I’m doing. Or maybe a better way to put it, is to see what I’m thinking. This process occurs so many times its not funny, more reading, more re-writing, more talking, more reading, more re-writing, until I’m close to a point of completion, then I start to read my work aloud and work on the more superficial level of fixing it up. Peter Elbow discusses this in his Introduction to Writing Without Teachers (1998, Second Edition). Elbow writes:

I had to write down without stopping whatever came to me in my thinking about my general topic, and above all I had to stop worrying about whether what I was writing at the moment was any good. I had to invite chaos and bad writing. Then, after I had written a lot of thinking, I could go back and find order and reassert control and try to make it good. (xviii)

I don’t think I really realized how important this step is for my writing process until I read Elbow. Another Elobowian thought that I’m just coming to realize is the idea that writing is a process that should free you:

Writing is, in fact, a transaction with words whereby you free yourself from what you presently think, feel, and perceive. You make available to yourself something better than what you’d be stuck with if you’d actually succeed in making your meaning clear at the start. (15)

I think this is important not only for growth in professional writing, but also with personal more ‘emotional’ writing. (I put that word in parentheses because all writing is emotional, but I just can’t find a better way to express what I’m thinking). So often I feel like I don’t get much out of my journal, but as I said before, I don’t go back and re-read or more importantly RE-THINK what I’ve written, its just there and that’s it. Now, I wouldn’t necessarily go back and change what I’ve written or erase anything, but it could be valuable in both a spiritual and emotional way to read and then write about what I’m thinking, as a way of growing from that original thought.


Something interesting I’ve noticed with my blogging is that it seems like I do a combo of both composing methods. Its part “let it all dump out of my head,” and part think, write, read, think, re-write, read, re-write, publish. I’m interested in how blogging might change the way we think about writing, or the process we use. In some ways, I like my blog better than my journal, but there are definitely things I wouldn’t blog about that I would journal about. Though, I have noticed here lately that my journal has become a place where my primary focus =s worrying, so its good for my mind to have a place where I can think about something else, or write about something else. Not that I haven’t vented worries and frustrations here.

I just can’t help but to notice I would have never journaled this entry. So is a blog just what you make it? What makes it different from what you do in a journal? Is it what is written or is the blog inherently different from a journal?
I don’t quite know exactly where all this came from today. I was talking with a friend who graduated at the same time I did with her MA in English (she was lit, I was comp/rhet) and I told her I was a bit afraid of how I’d do in after a PhD program, when you really have to write and publish. We both agreed that it feels easier when you have deadlines imposed upon you. But, I’m not in school and with one year before I start school, and being 2 (3 years) out, I really feel like I need to do more writing. I don’t even want to say at this point that the blog will serve as a place for me to do that, but who knows.

Welcome to Busey World

so, i'd never heard of him before until last week when i was watching VH1's celeb fit club. but i guess he's an actor. gary busey is a very interesting man, he does this cool thing with words where he makes acronyms. there doesn't seem to be any real rhyme or reason, but he just randomly does them.

Last week he did several, I only remember one though:
FEAR: False Education About Reality

I don't know what it is about this dude, but he is just way cool. There is just something about the random-ness of the acronyms and the fact that everyone on the show thinks he's a bit odd, but the acronyms really make sense.

i'll keep updating because i'm watching right now and i don't want to forget any of them.

sunday nites

sunday nites have always been hard for me. i don't exactly know why, but i think it has something to do with the fact that as a child i once had to go to the emergency room on a sunday nite. it was late, cold, and dark outside. the er was warm, white, and bright. i'd been suffering with stomach pains that would not cease (later, about a year later, we found out i had a spastic colon). but i think for the longest time i've just associated sunday nites with that one evening in particular. sometimes it really bothers me, and other times it doesn't.

blogs make me depressed

the first time i ever read a blog before was when i was waiting to hear back from the school i applied to for a phd program. because i was so nervous and anxious, i would read everything i could on the school. this included faculty and student webpages, and inevitably, blogs. reading the blogs did provide me with some interesting info on how the administration worked, the application process, beurocracy, etc. it also gave me a good look into what students were like.

well, reading the blogs also hurt me. lol and that was because of much of the insecurities i have. as a perfectionists i constantly try to compare myself to others who are where i "think" i should be. i know, its sad and sick, because i'm a 27 year old woman, but thats just the way it is.

so, of course because i saw that everyone in that program had a blog, and that lots of other *important* folks had blogs, i figured, that means i need a blog! and so i've started at least 3 or 4, this one i was actually gonna trash and try to start a new one, but i thought no, i'm going to try to keep plugging away, and i'm going to try to do this for me. not for anyone else.

i've noticed that i seem to read blogs or blog on my own mostly when i feel down on myself. its like i do it for some weird kind of punishment, to show myself that i'm not doing nearly as well as everyone else. how crazy is that? i know, again it makes no sense. but you know what? i'm working through this, i really am trying to. because i want to start living my life for myself, and not for other people. because so much of my life has been doing what other people think is right or appropriate, and its not to say that i am really sorry about that just because i have done a lot, and lots of it has been good.

but i feel like i'm standing at a crossroads now, trying so hard to decide what i want to do next and the truth is, at this point i don't know. what i thought for so long, what i thought i wanted i'm uncertain. as i look at new opportunities and prospects that have been presenting themselves, i'm not quite as certain i *know* anymore.

i've been through a lot with the job market here latelty, applying for postions and getting rejected, has made me wonder what it is that i really want, and how bad do i want it? a lot of the questions i'm asking myself are difficult to answer. but i have to. i don't know what i want anymore and i've got to work hard to come up with some answers.