And Etta James Sings...

Aaaaat Laaaaast....

A little infusion of energy and joy along the journey. This morning I subbed an acting class for one of the co-heads of the undergrad department. Was surrounded afterwards by a sizable and delightful group. Students asking for more notes, students asking to be coached on monologues, students asking if I taught an acting class they could sign up for...

One told me it was the best class she had ever taken, another shook my hand and grabbed my arm and told me he felt passionate again about working for the first time in the semester.

I don't like braggarts, so I won't claim that I do anything in the classroom that cannot be done by others but I CAN say that I absolutely LOVE teaching. I love being honest with acting students, and candid. I love being able to dialogue about why I feel the craft I wondrous. I love being in the room with students who love theatre, who crave growth and who will work hard when inspired to do so.

I MISS teaching and directing full-time.

I wish I had thought to ask permission to sub a few times a semester from the time I first got to this department. I think that would have made a difference.

SO eager to get back to work.
What I wouldn't give to have generals and my dissertation in the can.
I am SO grateful for that hour and twenty minutes this morning. I needed that.

Uneasy

I'm worried. About everything.
Sitting here in this apartment in silence. Just got home from an evening at the theatre with some fellow PhDs. Afterwards, four of us lingered in the lobby after the crowd was gone. It hit me that this might be it for me. And yet I'm still in limbo. I left the theatre feeling odd. And sad.

Now I'm here in this apartment which I've let go of. I have to be out before December 1st.
And I am worried. About everyone.

This blog is an anonymous place for me. Insofar as my family and civilian friends don't know of it. Safe place to be honest about the things that have me uneasy.

Here it is. A list. Because I'm Germanic like that...

-My papa has four more rounds of chemo left. He's hurt worse than I realized. He has sores in his mouth that now go down his throat and up his nose. Makes it hard for him to swallow. He is strong and does not complain. Hides his pain. But I know he is scared. He is worried about money. That makes my guts hurt. Strong men break my heart sometimes.

-My mother is maxed out. Her mom has been in the hospital countless times this year. My ma is caretaker to all. She sleeps in waiting-rooms, drives in the night, sits, takes notes, makes decisions. She works like an indentured servant and is compensated miserably. Hers is the only full income and her back is breaking. She doesn't complain. She shields me from the bleakness. A does my pa. But she is scared and exhausted and has worn herself down to sickness. So much so that she couldn't come to my baby shower two weekends ago and still is not ok.

-My grandma was hospitalized again. Pneumonia in one of her lungs. She is now under two week quarantine. She is sad. Cried when her sister left after a recent visit. Said it would be the last time she saw her.

-My husband is nearing the extended date for his operation. Haven't told him but I'm nervous that he pushed it from October to December. Nervous that our little girl will come early and he will not be well enough to take me to the hospital. Or to help me. I'm also terrified about the intensity of the operation. Three vertebrae fused. His blood pressure is not good. His heart. He is saying now that he is worried. Says the reason is the 4-6 month recovery time. He feels he can't lay up that long. He's been busting his ass getting ready. Building a room on the cabin so the baby and I have room. He does too much by himself. Was installing the tin roof today. Alone. Fell off the ladder. The man is hoisting sheets of tin up a ladder to the roof by himself while in so much pain that he literally cannot walk normally. Cannot sleep without groaning in pain every few hours. Moves and stands and sits like he is crippled. Watching him plow through, while in agony...makes my stomach hurt. I will admit here, in this anonymous place, that I am afraid of his operation. My throat closes up to think of it. I keep thinking of my ma in the waiting room the day they removed my father's tumor.

-And I owe work for an Incomplete I got last semester due to a series of unfortunate events which involved the departure of a professor. I carry some of that in the lower part of my guts. That series of events sits somewhere in an uncomfortable interior place. And I have a few more pages for my final to finish. And a play. And missing state taxes to file. And classes to finish. Wanted to be ahead but I am not sure what my final projects will manifest as.

-Can't get clear answers about my residency. Can't get a return call about my insurance. If I cannot get state residency then I cannot afford to give up my assistanceship and THAT should have been solidified weeks ago. Can't have a baby without insurance, so if I lose that now, I am in trouble. Also, I have given up my apartment. If I have to keep the assistanceship, I don't know how I will get by. With a husband in recovery and a new baby and a two and a half hour commute and a car with problems.

-I have come too far, sacrificed too much to jeopardize or prolong completion of my PhD. But how do I pull this all off? How do I study for generals with all of this happening? I already am Queen of Test Anxiety...

-I felt a little too forced in my reassuring of an advisor when he expressed founded concerns about my attempting all this work from a little isolated "town" in the middle of nowhere. It IS going to be rough. I have my husband there. That is all. And I'm not around anyone out there who really understands the work required of me. I'm moving to a place suspicious of academics to finish this race in seclusion. I will have no peers, no resources, no companions.

-I have a tooth ache.

-Oh, and side note...I am HAVING A BABY. In nine weeks. Nine weeks. Couldn't find a female doctor in my new town. Actually, couldn't find a doctor to call me back at all. Couldn't find a birthing center. I thought  I would feel more prepared. Thought I would have a bond with the one leading me through this. I haven't even met the man yet. December 5th I will meet him. I wanted to take classes. And visit the facility where we would be. I have done none of this. I have read books but that is all. I don't know how to feel ready. And I will be so far from my family. And my papa cannot travel. And I am SO excited to meet my girl. I want NO fear to be in the way. I am scared though. I want to know that she is okay. That she is healthy. I wonder how I will do. Can I do it without an epidural? Isn't it better to do everything possible to be strong and present, not numbed or anesthetized? Will I be able to provide her with everything she needs to be 1000% healthy and happy and loved? 

-Can I do this all and also write and defend a dissertation without letting time lapse that will detract from my marketability? I need to get some conferences lined up. Need to try to teach something during the interim. Need to publish more. 

It's ok. This is just normal, right? People have lots going on in their lives ALL the time. I'm not unique in feeling overwhelmed and I am SURELY more fortunate, blessed, loved, lucky and privileged than most. Everything is fine. Everything is better than it seems. 

OH, and I've accomplished one small victory this month. I have gotten in a little exercise EVERY day since I made the commitment on the 3rd to do so. I feel less puffy. I feel stronger. At least there's that. And I have tracked my nutrition all month. Doing well there. Oh, and I get to teach an acting class for one of the co-chairs of the undergrad department Thursday morning. That makes me happy. 

K. Now that I have blogged my guts out instead of reading, I need to crash so I can try to get up around 6am to prep for class. Was gonna get an article and two chapters read, pack my bathroom, grade some papers and do some paperwork. Poor time management but I think I needed to cough up that hair-ball. 

Everything is ok.
Life is beautiful and I am wildly blessed and all is well.

Free

Hmnnn...now that I am no longer REQUIRED to blog, I still kinda WANNA blog!

Huh. Don't mind if I do.

Gonna shift gears a smidge. Now, instead of straining to think of something to say about my scholarly pursuits each day, I'm going to allow myself to FREE-blog it! As my JOB right now is to finish this degree, I am certain that I'll still be addressing issues of the ivory tower regularly, but I'm going to allow myself to stretch out...

Gonna stretch out in that oddly luxurious way that you stretch out when your loved one gets out of bed before you and you have time to roll over on their side of the bed and sprawl entirely out. Mmmmn.

SO, I have a reprieve from classes tomorrow, which means that I am going to shut this operation DOWN for the evening with ZERO guilt over postponing all further productivity until the morning. Tomorrow I will spend two hours on some make-up work, I will finalize my LSU papers to apply for Louisiana Residency, I will follow-up with the insurance folks who never called me back regarding extension of my insurance next semester, I will get notice from the head of the department about whether or not I can expect a visiting artist for my 1020 class, I will write the final two pages of my one-act which I will copy for all members of my class, I will follow with the baby-doctor who has failed to call me back twice now, if I get no answer about the doctor, I will make arrangements to have my baby in the back field by myself, I will get paperwork to my landlord regarding my last month here in my LAST apartment as a single woman, I will contact actors about a play-reading for a local playwright I have been assisting, I will get work done with the play Macy and I are directing, I will get some 1020 grading done, I will return an ARSE-load of library books and I will find out if I have to drive all the way north of Lake Charles to vote Tuesday.

I will also square some benefit issues regarding doctor bills from last year, I will call the hospital and talk to my grandma who I should have called today, I WILL work out for at LEAST 20 measly minutes, I will drop clothes at the salvation army, I will bring clothes for the MFA gals to peruse and OH...I have to go out to the Womens Hospital to get an injection. Apparently, since my blood-type is negative and my husband's is positive, I need a shot to ensure that Izzy will end up with not warring blood-cells.

AND...Izz n I passed our diabetes test, so YAY for us!

SPEAKING of Izz...Mace and Bacot organized a delightful baby shower for her this afternoon. What GRAND gals. It was super sweet!

Ok, going to sleep early!
Sweet dreams

PS: I think I'm going to revise my new one-act for Outworks. Gonna play with some gender-swapping and cut some stuff and add some stuff from a previous project and toss it into the ring.

Blood and Torture

Doctors office BlaughG. 

So, I was called in for some regular procedure blood tests and such and was told that after my blood is taken, I have to drink something and then wait for an hour to get tested again. I thought this whole shindig was going to be over in 20 minutes. I have a BOATload of work to do and NONE of my books or my laptop. Thank God for my iPhone. At least I can bloggit. 

Had to fast since yesterday. I am an inch away from eating the small child across the row from me. 

Ok...school stuff. 

Today I WILL FINISH my final. Mjon called to quash my obsessive over-writing. It was the classic movie bitchslap I needed. 

See below for top movie Bitchslaps if unsure as to what exactly I am talking about:

http://www.ranker.com/list/the-10-greatest-bitch-slaps-in-movie-history/ian-tindell

Anyhow, I am trimming my first section and focusing on important representative shtuff from each country covered. NO MAS on the over-doing it. THANK you, Mjon for the intervention, you are kind and wise. 

It occurred to me today that I should have kept a hard copy of all syllabi I was given for my LSU courses. I am fairly certain that it won't be too arduous a task to get that done but I sure wish I'd had the foresight to start doing that religiously from the beginning. My notes prior to this semester are all over the place. I finally, in my LAST semester, have come up with a note-taking system that serves me well as far as generals prep goes. If only I had started earlier. 

(Just got kicked SO hard from Izzy that my whole abdomen jumped. How CRAZY is that? Baby wants CAKE!)

Ok, must fill out paperwork so they can commence with the bloodletting. How appropriate that they should be torturing and bleeding me on Halloween. 

A Near Miss!!!

Ack! I ALMOST went to bed without blogging! No doubt, I would have made-up with a tardy post tomorrow and I KNOW the world would not have noticed had I missed an entry, but Dr J-Fletch noted the benefits of committing to the discipline of writing a little every day…for one full month. I am not generally flawless with such things. I usually find myself playing catch-up a bit here and there…but I do adore month-long challenges. And there’s just something that makes me happy about not having missed a post yet. With just TWO more required posts and no infractions thus far, it would have gnawed at me had I missed tonight’s entry.

Silly, but…

So, what am I up to today? Chipping away at my LSU To-DO list…

I’ve been working on the “final” for my 17th/18th century course. I seem to have reverted back to some uneasy habits. To be more specific, I am taking FAR too long and making things far too complicated. The assignment, though vague, was to respond in written format to the material covered in the classroom. The task should have taken two hours, the time we would have been allotted for an in-class exam. From what I understand, the response should be roughly 5 pages, double-spaced.

Because we jumped around so much in the class, and because some material was omitted and some material was covered in a hit-and-run manner, I have been unsure as how to approach the assignment.

I finally decided to just follow the syllabus even though the syllabus doesn’t map the track we took in class. I am already well beyond five pages and haven’t gotten a quarter of the way through the syllabus. What I believe I NEED to do, is to be more general. Responding, in detail, to everything on the syllabus would not be possible if I were crafting a written response to the course IN the classroom, with a two-hour limit.

SO…I believe I am going to modify the format and start giving short identification-style descriptions for key practitioners/movements/treatises. Why am I making this difficult for myself when I have so much on my plate? I have two plays to write, grading, class assignments and a boat-load of reading. MUST. EASE. UP.

On another note, I feel shy saying this but I got another nice compliment in my 1020 class this afternoon. After I released everyone, the usual gathering of 5 or 6 random folks gathered to ask questions. I recognized one of the people as having been really engaged and involved in the discussion we’d had. He introduced himself and told me how much he enjoyed the afternoon. Apparently, he has a friend in the class and had heard a lot about me, so he decided to crash the lecture. He was really glowing and specific in his compliments and asked if I’d be teaching the course next semester. It made me smile.

I really hope I can find a class to teach while I am dissertating.
Teaching fuels me.

Voiced

So, each semester, around midterm, I have my 1020 students write a monologue. To get the started, we review a few monologues and talk about structure and purpose and I have them jot a few brainstorming notes about happenings in their lives or the lives of people they know…as fodder for their stories.

I cannot voice strongly enough how very MUCH I love this assignment.

To come entirely clean, I must admit that a portion of my enjoyment of the assignment is entirely selfish. Reading these monologues reminds me of the humanity of the 1020 room. I LOVE teaching. I am not one of those profs who scoffs at the Intro or Appreciation courses. Though I love the intimacy of a small classroom, I don’t need it in order to feel fulfilled. The larger classes are inspiring to me. But it IS easier to lose individuals in the crowd when your class is comprised of 100 or so.

But to sit down with a stack of handwritten monologues…it is SUCH a humbling, intimate experience. I always feel refreshed in my connection to the humans in my room as I read those stories. I understand I risk sounding sappy here, but I am ceaselessly amazed at how well my students write.

I also love listening to the discussion outside the classroom as students in the hall tell each other what they chose to write about. Seems like monologue day is always a day when people speak to each other more than they customarily do.

I LOVE being cognizant of voices. How do I explain this?

I am a HUGE fan of libraries and book stores. When I walk down aisles and scan shelves of books, I am often very aware of the many voices housed within the binding of those books. I imagine these places are full of all the voices speaking at once and suddenly the room sings with every human need.

In a way, the monologues remind me of this. All these people who sit for an hour or so every Tuesday and Thursday in my classroom contain such brave, funny, heartbreaking and powerful stories. And through the course of this assignment, they have VOICES beyond the give and take of our normal classroom discussion.

How LUCKY those of us are who are able to teach within a discipline that gives voice to the human condition.

Jumping Borders

Border crossing seems to be among the hot topics of this scholars’ era I have inherited. From Cyber-Vato to roboticized humans to the subjects of Monday’s reading assignments, the present-day Caminata Nocturna and the Chop Suey Circuit of the mid-20^th century. We seem fascinated by notions such as creating races through the creation of spaces, we are on the lookout for instances of assimilation in tension with cultural pride, we like to talk about the subversive act of departing areas of belonging.

When we look to maps, city limits, district zones and state lines, we can speak with confidence about border crossing because even highly theoretical or philosophical musings somehow seem based in tangible fact when we have a measurable “space” to ground ourselves in. The more porous and less regulated the border, the more ethereal the dialogue becomes. Who can reign in dialogue when we address borders of understanding, borders of memory, and borders of self-identity? It seems that the less stable the actual GROUND, the more abstract we become in our relationship to it.

I am interested in the perpetuation of delineation in instances where the borders are not neatly marked or defined. How can the simple IDEA or SUGGESTION of a border be effective in containing humans be it physically or mentally done? Do we cross “borders” internally? If a fence is not discernible, if no wall or physical barricade is there, what substance are we dealing with? Fear? I can think of instances where fear succeeds in creating borders. Is there anything else? Pride? Can I decide to remain within my assigned spot because I have pride in the culture or place of my origin? The Caminata enactments are reportedly steeped in pride of this kind. If so, is it reasonable to say that the suspicions of those believing the performance to be a dry run for actual illegal border crossing is debunked?

And aren’t all borders imaginary, anyway? I recall, early in my LSU college career, being exposed to material which altered my perception of time. Time always seemed very REAL to me. I live in a society where time is one of the main measurements that regulate my actions. Time dictates when I can and cannot carry out certain physical tasks. It is what ensures that I am in a certain place when I have to be. It is frowned upon if I have a loose faithfulness to deadline, class time, work time. I always felt frustrated with those who claimed that time was not real.  Try living as though time does not exist and you will end up paying dearly. BUT…in a very real sense, time does not exist, it is simply a construct…an agreement. I feel the same about borders. Borders are born of a sense of entitlement, a sense of fear, a need for protection. In the pre-ordered world, did they exist? If we stopped talking about them, would they diminish in power? If border-crossing was no longer a sexy scholar’s topic, would they take over and become unmanageable or would they simply atrophy?

I have no aversion to the border banter, just interested in what might happen if we ceased talking about things we seem to have simply made up in the first place.