So, I normally hate celebrating my birthday. Well, that's not quite true. I used to love celebrating my birthday; I would look forward to it as soon as Christmas was over. After Phillip came into our family, though, I came to fear my birthday. It seemed like every November 10th something would go horribly wrong - I couldn't even have a birthday party without a disaster happening. Eventually, I got to the point where I refused to let anyone acknowledge my birthday, and I would have nightmares about all the things I thought would go wrong.
Over the past three years, I have been trying to work past those fears by trying to celebrate my birthday. It's been ... rough. Last night, though, major progress was made. Several of my friends and I went to see Wreck-It Ralph, which is about the geekiest movie I have seen in a long time. We hooted, hollered, and laughed throughout the entire movie, and not once did I feel afraid. It was like being a kid again: I was excited, happy, and animated. After, three of my friends made me a birthday dinner (cake included). I ... have never been so surprised in all my life. (I'd never tell Nathanael, Kimmie, and Katie, but their offer to make me dinner made me cry.) Then, we played Cranium and just had a really marvelous night.
By the time I got home, I was too tired to have nightmares. And, really, it was one of the best nights I have had in a very long time. I am so blessed to have the friends I do, and I think (just maybe) birthdays can only go up from here. This year is going to be awesome.
Thank you Lian, Laura, Katie, Kimmie, Nathanael, Bethany, Katie, Caitlan, Nicole, Lauren, Jessica, Brandee, and all my other wonderful grad school friends. You have made one of the hardest times in my life an amazing adventure. To my other friends and my wonderful family, thank you for loving me and sticking with me. You mean the world to me.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Seattle Adventures
This past weekend, I was able to attend the Pacific Ancient and Modern Language Association Conference in Seattle. I was presenting a piece of my thesis on the Literary Monster as Message panel, which was pretty exciting. As per request, here follows my brief recital of my adventures.
When I left home, it was three in the morning. My flight left before six, and I had to leave myself enough time to make the hour drive. I made it easily through security, and in no time I was settled on the plane. I hate flying--it always makes me feel sick--but I was so tired I did not care. To say I slept like a rock would have been putting it lightly. It was well into the afternoon by the time I made it to my destination (I had a three hour layover in Houston) and found myself making my way towards the light rail. I ended up in the company of an older woman, who had come to Seattle to see her son; I helped her navigate the rail system, and my own worries about traveling in a strange city were placed on the back burner.
Getting off the train, I found myself in a ... difficult position. I had been unable to use my wheeled luggage, because its handle had broken, and so found myself carrying both my laptop bag and my carpet bag a mile through the city's heart. Every step seemed to be moments away from danger, since so many eyed my possessions as though evaluating their worth and ability to be stolen. By the time I arrived at Hotel Five, I felt dead on my feet. Check in went quickly, and soon I was collapsed in my room. But, as such things always go, I had to find food. I eventually made my way to a nice little Mexican restaurant, where I ate a spicy beef burrito. (For those of you who know me, this instance is particularly stunning, since I am known for loathing spicy food.) When I made it back to my hotel room, though, I was surprised to discover that someone had hacked my Paypal and used $120 of my money to buy Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes. I was upset almost beyond consolation. (I am still waiting to hear back on whether or not I will get my money back.)
When I finally fell asleep, I spent the night tossing and turning as nerves ate at me. In the morning, riding the bus proved to be an adventure. Drunken stumblers, vomit, and even someone smoking weed added a distinct element of local color to the ride. By the time I arrived at the conference itself, I was expecting who knows what--perhaps more trouble. After the first panel, I was able to meet one of the other members of my panel, and we decided to get lunch together. We talked about monsters, phd programs, and the eccentricities of Southern life. It was fun. I felt better about my presentation, if only because I would not be in a room of total strangers.
My actual presentation was, in many ways, laughable. Since it was the first panel on the last day, no one came. Well, that's not true. The moderator, the head of the panel, another presenter's husband, and one other scholar attended. I felt ... let down. I had expected this conference to be as magical as my visit to the Ohio Valley Shakespeare Conference, but it wasn't. It was proving to be an entirely different experience. When it came to lunch, Katie and I decided to go to lunch together. While I had been waiting for her, though, I noticed another girl. She was talking to someone about Middle English, but was soon abandoned. I decided to invite her to lunch, and she was so relieved. We ended up hitting it off, and she is also applying to one of the programs I am looking at.
By the end of the conference, I had gained new and exciting friends. More importantly, though, I had discovered an idea. I am going to try to function as an editor a book--a collection of essays on a particular subject. We'll see how it goes or if I'm just plain crazy. A pending publication, though, would be an amazing standout on a phd application.
When I left home, it was three in the morning. My flight left before six, and I had to leave myself enough time to make the hour drive. I made it easily through security, and in no time I was settled on the plane. I hate flying--it always makes me feel sick--but I was so tired I did not care. To say I slept like a rock would have been putting it lightly. It was well into the afternoon by the time I made it to my destination (I had a three hour layover in Houston) and found myself making my way towards the light rail. I ended up in the company of an older woman, who had come to Seattle to see her son; I helped her navigate the rail system, and my own worries about traveling in a strange city were placed on the back burner.
Getting off the train, I found myself in a ... difficult position. I had been unable to use my wheeled luggage, because its handle had broken, and so found myself carrying both my laptop bag and my carpet bag a mile through the city's heart. Every step seemed to be moments away from danger, since so many eyed my possessions as though evaluating their worth and ability to be stolen. By the time I arrived at Hotel Five, I felt dead on my feet. Check in went quickly, and soon I was collapsed in my room. But, as such things always go, I had to find food. I eventually made my way to a nice little Mexican restaurant, where I ate a spicy beef burrito. (For those of you who know me, this instance is particularly stunning, since I am known for loathing spicy food.) When I made it back to my hotel room, though, I was surprised to discover that someone had hacked my Paypal and used $120 of my money to buy Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes. I was upset almost beyond consolation. (I am still waiting to hear back on whether or not I will get my money back.)
When I finally fell asleep, I spent the night tossing and turning as nerves ate at me. In the morning, riding the bus proved to be an adventure. Drunken stumblers, vomit, and even someone smoking weed added a distinct element of local color to the ride. By the time I arrived at the conference itself, I was expecting who knows what--perhaps more trouble. After the first panel, I was able to meet one of the other members of my panel, and we decided to get lunch together. We talked about monsters, phd programs, and the eccentricities of Southern life. It was fun. I felt better about my presentation, if only because I would not be in a room of total strangers.
My actual presentation was, in many ways, laughable. Since it was the first panel on the last day, no one came. Well, that's not true. The moderator, the head of the panel, another presenter's husband, and one other scholar attended. I felt ... let down. I had expected this conference to be as magical as my visit to the Ohio Valley Shakespeare Conference, but it wasn't. It was proving to be an entirely different experience. When it came to lunch, Katie and I decided to go to lunch together. While I had been waiting for her, though, I noticed another girl. She was talking to someone about Middle English, but was soon abandoned. I decided to invite her to lunch, and she was so relieved. We ended up hitting it off, and she is also applying to one of the programs I am looking at.
By the end of the conference, I had gained new and exciting friends. More importantly, though, I had discovered an idea. I am going to try to function as an editor a book--a collection of essays on a particular subject. We'll see how it goes or if I'm just plain crazy. A pending publication, though, would be an amazing standout on a phd application.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Clipped Wings
Today I woke up to the sound of landscaping. Hedge trimmers, lawn mowers, leaf blowers... Yeah, they were out in full force. I have gotten used to this particular sort of wake-up, though, since it happens every other week. I crawled out of bed and got ready for the day (something I have to do while still possessing the motivation). Evie wiggled at me in anticipation as I came out of the bathroom: She assumed we were going on a walk. Lucky for her, she was right. I clipped on her leash, and we walked out into the morning light.
As we were making our rounds of my apartment complex, we came across one of the saddest things I have ever seen: A butterfly's wing had been clipped by an edge trimmer. Its body was entirely unharmed, but the wing was damaged beyond repair. As it fluttered pathetically across the sidewalk, I felt my heart sink. When I was a little girl, I would frequently capture butterflies and put them in jars (with holes in the top and a little thing of honey in them). They never survived more than a day or two. Seeing the wounded butterfly at my feet, I thought there was not much I could do to save it. But, I could at least make it feel better. Picking it up, I carried it over to a nearby sea of flowers. I carefully set it down in the center of them, and it seemed to settle down immediately.
Staring down at the butterfly, I thought of my own life. There are many times I have felt ravaged and broken--sometimes it was my own fault, sometimes not. In those moments where I felt like giving up, someone usually came along and helped me get to a safer place (physically or emotionally). This realization was nothing new. The new element, instead, was the thought that I chose how to respond to that help. The butterfly, as I carried it, remained perfectly still as it perched on my finger, and it even struggled towards one of the flowers in order to eat. Even though its fate was all but sealed, the butterfly was not about to give up. If something so small could have a fighting spirit, why not me? Just because life has sometimes dealt me a bad hand, it does not give me permission to wallow.
Sometimes I think that the struggle is worth more than the damage or the outcome. Life is more valuable when we have to fight to make it worthwhile.
As we were making our rounds of my apartment complex, we came across one of the saddest things I have ever seen: A butterfly's wing had been clipped by an edge trimmer. Its body was entirely unharmed, but the wing was damaged beyond repair. As it fluttered pathetically across the sidewalk, I felt my heart sink. When I was a little girl, I would frequently capture butterflies and put them in jars (with holes in the top and a little thing of honey in them). They never survived more than a day or two. Seeing the wounded butterfly at my feet, I thought there was not much I could do to save it. But, I could at least make it feel better. Picking it up, I carried it over to a nearby sea of flowers. I carefully set it down in the center of them, and it seemed to settle down immediately.
Staring down at the butterfly, I thought of my own life. There are many times I have felt ravaged and broken--sometimes it was my own fault, sometimes not. In those moments where I felt like giving up, someone usually came along and helped me get to a safer place (physically or emotionally). This realization was nothing new. The new element, instead, was the thought that I chose how to respond to that help. The butterfly, as I carried it, remained perfectly still as it perched on my finger, and it even struggled towards one of the flowers in order to eat. Even though its fate was all but sealed, the butterfly was not about to give up. If something so small could have a fighting spirit, why not me? Just because life has sometimes dealt me a bad hand, it does not give me permission to wallow.
Sometimes I think that the struggle is worth more than the damage or the outcome. Life is more valuable when we have to fight to make it worthwhile.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Internal Triptych
Over the past day or so, I have been reading over one of my journals. It begins in the February of last year and covers up until this summer, so it has a pretty good span of time under its belt. Reading it has been a very interesting experience. And yes, interesting really is the best word for it.
At the time I was going through applying to graduate school and pining after a boy, all while trying to keep my head above water in school. I think one of the things that has amazed me most is the enthusiasm I displayed in my writing then. Everything was about how I hoped I would be wanted in return (by both boy and grad programs) and just how lucky I was to be at that point in my life. I constantly mentioned my Heavenly Father's goodness and trusting His will to be the right course... Looking back, I was so happy and so excited about just about everything.
That person from a year and a half ago is still a part of me. She is quieter in the face of grad school--it is a bit harder to be enthused and happy when you feel like you're constantly running down hill in pursuit of a wheel of cheese. But, I had forgotten about her. It was easy to ignore that part of, to just wallow in the difficulties I have faced since that journal began. Because, really, it takes work to have faith and to find things to be happy about. The world is more conducive to negativity than optimism, and it probably will be until the second coming.
The person I have been lately is humbler than the shiny-eyed SUU graduate, but also a good deal darker. The me of now finds it only too easy to suppose that I will not be accepted into a phd program, and that I will wind up in some awful, dead-end place that will drive me insane. My angst has weighted down my soul to the point that I am even struggling to write creatively. It has been years since I have felt so confined and utterly overwhelmed. The funny thing? It's not even the stress that is making me feel this way. Oh, the work of doing a thesis, teaching, going to grad school, and preparing for a conference is great; don't mistake me there. But, I know it's just ... me. I am screwing myself over, and I hate it. I've even been considering going to therapy or getting medicated for my depression. Maybe then I would feel like I had a fighting chance.
Comparing these two elements of who I have been and who I am has lead me to consider who I want to be. I don't think I can go back to the fluttery senior, but I certainly don't want to remain as I am now (because, really, that'd just suck). The future-me will hopefully still have the humility of now, but perhaps with more of the vigor of the past me. If nothing else, I want to be able to believe in myself, utterly and entirely. Slowly but surely I am becoming a more refined, better version of me; transitioning from one stage to the other, though, is a wench. But, I know I will get there. I will be someone you are proud to know. Eventually.
At the time I was going through applying to graduate school and pining after a boy, all while trying to keep my head above water in school. I think one of the things that has amazed me most is the enthusiasm I displayed in my writing then. Everything was about how I hoped I would be wanted in return (by both boy and grad programs) and just how lucky I was to be at that point in my life. I constantly mentioned my Heavenly Father's goodness and trusting His will to be the right course... Looking back, I was so happy and so excited about just about everything.
That person from a year and a half ago is still a part of me. She is quieter in the face of grad school--it is a bit harder to be enthused and happy when you feel like you're constantly running down hill in pursuit of a wheel of cheese. But, I had forgotten about her. It was easy to ignore that part of, to just wallow in the difficulties I have faced since that journal began. Because, really, it takes work to have faith and to find things to be happy about. The world is more conducive to negativity than optimism, and it probably will be until the second coming.
The person I have been lately is humbler than the shiny-eyed SUU graduate, but also a good deal darker. The me of now finds it only too easy to suppose that I will not be accepted into a phd program, and that I will wind up in some awful, dead-end place that will drive me insane. My angst has weighted down my soul to the point that I am even struggling to write creatively. It has been years since I have felt so confined and utterly overwhelmed. The funny thing? It's not even the stress that is making me feel this way. Oh, the work of doing a thesis, teaching, going to grad school, and preparing for a conference is great; don't mistake me there. But, I know it's just ... me. I am screwing myself over, and I hate it. I've even been considering going to therapy or getting medicated for my depression. Maybe then I would feel like I had a fighting chance.
Comparing these two elements of who I have been and who I am has lead me to consider who I want to be. I don't think I can go back to the fluttery senior, but I certainly don't want to remain as I am now (because, really, that'd just suck). The future-me will hopefully still have the humility of now, but perhaps with more of the vigor of the past me. If nothing else, I want to be able to believe in myself, utterly and entirely. Slowly but surely I am becoming a more refined, better version of me; transitioning from one stage to the other, though, is a wench. But, I know I will get there. I will be someone you are proud to know. Eventually.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
The Tenderest Mercies
Sometimes, life can be very challenging. We can face periods when everything seems to go wrong: death takes a loved one away, a nightmare can become a reality, or we might loose something we value. Disaster is a part of being alive. Luckily, we never have to face these situations alone.
Lately, everything in my life has been going along just great. Oh, sure, I haven't finished my thesis like I wanted to or completed some projects; but, on the whole, I have nothing to complain about. I have money in the bank, great friends, a loving family, and I am even (kinda) dating again. So why this post?
Tonight I was puttering around Facebook long after I should have gone to bed, and a friend of mine sent me a simple message. She said, "Thanks for playing the Facebook games with me." She'd lately joined one or two games I play, and so we've been helping each other out. I thought nothing of the actions--I help lots of people in those dorky games--so I just told her that it was no problem. This opening sprung into a two hour conversation that was very powerful.
I've not really spoken to this friend, except in passing, since high school (so more than five years ago). Her life is a mystery to me, and when the conversation began I had no real emotional investment in it. Sure, it's nice to say hi to someone, but what do you really say beyond that? I've never been very good at conversations with people I don't know intimately, so I felt like a fish out of water. But, what I quickly discovered was that my simple gaming and just being online late at night were very helpful to my friend. She is currently going through a very difficult time in her life--what I refer to as a Hell Year. Right now, she's feeling utterly alone and lost, because the situation in her life is so out of her control. But, I was able to be there for her. Because of the difficulties I have had in my own life, I was in a position where I could offer her advice and comfort; things I hope help her.
I guess what I am trying to say is that, for once, I got to be the person through whom the Lord exercised a tender mercy. Sometimes just knowing someone is there to listen can be more powerful than anything else. Even in the midnight of despair, we're never alone, because God is always listening. And, when God listens, He sends us the people we need, however imperfect a friend they may be.
Lately, everything in my life has been going along just great. Oh, sure, I haven't finished my thesis like I wanted to or completed some projects; but, on the whole, I have nothing to complain about. I have money in the bank, great friends, a loving family, and I am even (kinda) dating again. So why this post?
Tonight I was puttering around Facebook long after I should have gone to bed, and a friend of mine sent me a simple message. She said, "Thanks for playing the Facebook games with me." She'd lately joined one or two games I play, and so we've been helping each other out. I thought nothing of the actions--I help lots of people in those dorky games--so I just told her that it was no problem. This opening sprung into a two hour conversation that was very powerful.
I've not really spoken to this friend, except in passing, since high school (so more than five years ago). Her life is a mystery to me, and when the conversation began I had no real emotional investment in it. Sure, it's nice to say hi to someone, but what do you really say beyond that? I've never been very good at conversations with people I don't know intimately, so I felt like a fish out of water. But, what I quickly discovered was that my simple gaming and just being online late at night were very helpful to my friend. She is currently going through a very difficult time in her life--what I refer to as a Hell Year. Right now, she's feeling utterly alone and lost, because the situation in her life is so out of her control. But, I was able to be there for her. Because of the difficulties I have had in my own life, I was in a position where I could offer her advice and comfort; things I hope help her.
I guess what I am trying to say is that, for once, I got to be the person through whom the Lord exercised a tender mercy. Sometimes just knowing someone is there to listen can be more powerful than anything else. Even in the midnight of despair, we're never alone, because God is always listening. And, when God listens, He sends us the people we need, however imperfect a friend they may be.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Choices, Choices
Yesterday I had a very fun conversation. I was at a wedding reception, and while there I spoke to a friend's mother. Talk about a cool lady! She has always been one of my heroes, so I was very excited to see her again. Her daughter is coming home from her mission in two weeks, and this lead to something of an interesting discussion.
Many of my friends from high school have settled down. Most have been married and had kids, others are settling into their careers, and some have even bought houses. Comparatively speaking, I am a loose cannon. I do not have a spouse, kids, or even a steady job. Instead, I am known as the globe trotting academic. In high school, this particular future would have seemed impossible. I was seriously dating someone I thought I loved, I had no plan for my future, and I was generally just a mess. When I graduated, I was in even worse a state--since I had broken up with my boyfriend the year before and just had...a lot of things going wrong. Over the past five years, I have gained both direction and a steadiness of personality, which in turn has transformed me into a different person. (This does not mean, however, that I am remotely near perfect. Far from it.) The people at the reception all commented on how I had changed, and that the change was for the better.
How did this become important in talking to Laura's mom?
Well, Laura chose to go on a mission. Unlike many other young women, she decided to put off the husband hunt in favor of serving the Lord. I'm extremely proud of her, and I could not help but tell her mother how I felt. Laura's mother countered with how impressed she was with me. "You have decided to seize the adventure," she said, "and you are going to change the world. Even if you never have a family of your own, you will make a huge difference in the lives of others." Last night was the first time I had really considered that: Some part of me had always believed that I would never be able to face my old friends without a man on my arm. But, there I was, solo and happy. The choices I have made in the past five years have helped me become someone independent, confident, and calm. While a husband would be nice, having a man is not the point of my life. My students and my faith have become more important to me than anything else; a man is more of a bonus at this point. Others who knew how I was were able to see the change, something I had been unable to do. My perspective on life has changed so slowly that I never even noticed it as happening.
I know there are days where my friends and family question the decisions I make--I frequently doubt them myself--but last night I saw they were not flippant or pointless. The choices I've made have helped me become a better person, and I know that it's not my genius at work. God has directed me where I've needed to be over the past few years, and slowly I am becoming the woman He wants me to be. Life couldn't be better, and I can't wait to see what happens next. All I know for sure is that applying for PhD programs is going to be yet another adventure.
Many of my friends from high school have settled down. Most have been married and had kids, others are settling into their careers, and some have even bought houses. Comparatively speaking, I am a loose cannon. I do not have a spouse, kids, or even a steady job. Instead, I am known as the globe trotting academic. In high school, this particular future would have seemed impossible. I was seriously dating someone I thought I loved, I had no plan for my future, and I was generally just a mess. When I graduated, I was in even worse a state--since I had broken up with my boyfriend the year before and just had...a lot of things going wrong. Over the past five years, I have gained both direction and a steadiness of personality, which in turn has transformed me into a different person. (This does not mean, however, that I am remotely near perfect. Far from it.) The people at the reception all commented on how I had changed, and that the change was for the better.
How did this become important in talking to Laura's mom?
Well, Laura chose to go on a mission. Unlike many other young women, she decided to put off the husband hunt in favor of serving the Lord. I'm extremely proud of her, and I could not help but tell her mother how I felt. Laura's mother countered with how impressed she was with me. "You have decided to seize the adventure," she said, "and you are going to change the world. Even if you never have a family of your own, you will make a huge difference in the lives of others." Last night was the first time I had really considered that: Some part of me had always believed that I would never be able to face my old friends without a man on my arm. But, there I was, solo and happy. The choices I have made in the past five years have helped me become someone independent, confident, and calm. While a husband would be nice, having a man is not the point of my life. My students and my faith have become more important to me than anything else; a man is more of a bonus at this point. Others who knew how I was were able to see the change, something I had been unable to do. My perspective on life has changed so slowly that I never even noticed it as happening.
I know there are days where my friends and family question the decisions I make--I frequently doubt them myself--but last night I saw they were not flippant or pointless. The choices I've made have helped me become a better person, and I know that it's not my genius at work. God has directed me where I've needed to be over the past few years, and slowly I am becoming the woman He wants me to be. Life couldn't be better, and I can't wait to see what happens next. All I know for sure is that applying for PhD programs is going to be yet another adventure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)