the rules, part two.

i bought these pants. i had a coupon. they were $18. they are versatile. these were my thoughts. and they don’t look like jeans, which was the problem with the steel grey pair of these that i tried on and pretty much liked. also, i think the brown ones looked better, but i have no perspective.

(good news? a solid size, size and a half down.)

now, the ultimate question: what do i wear with them?

I skew very matchy matchy, but i know this limits me. i need ideas. and shoes. shoe ideas.

basically, i am your mannequin. dress me.

(did that sound weird? sigh. i need to do something productive now.)

twenty-seven and counting.

read the post below. it’s way zen.

this one? not so much that way. fair warning.

so, i thought the job list was a one-time deal. you know, people publish their positions ONCE on that quarter’s job list.

nope.

it gets updated.

every week.

so now, every couple of days, my director sends me another job that she’s heard about, not even from the job list, which i haven’t checked since monday but imagine will have four hundred and eighty seven thousand more entries for me to wade through.

every week.

and every listing that she sends me is, of course, perfect for me.

all this to say that, as each job comes in, i begin to feel a little more weight lodge quietly yet firmly in my chest.  because, see, i could deal with twenty five jobs.  but it’s going to be much more than that.  looking for a job is a job in and of itself. i knew that. i just didn’t realize that it was going to require organization like this.  and effort like this. and money like this.

and confidence like this.

i don’t know how to do it all.

i mean, i have to, but i don’t know how.

i want to, but i don’t know how.

any courage is a fear.

i have nothing to say and everything to say.

ever been there?

i was going to tell you a story about mud, and how i’m trying to think of slogging through my metaphorical batch as this rather than how i normally do, which is an epic battle of me against the elements.

which can get rather exhausting, if you don’t know.

but that story was boring, and so i lost interest.

i have very little interest in things that waste your time or mine right now. even what may seem frivolous, a picture of frozen peas or a bulleted list of what’s on my mind, is important.  you have no concept of how crucial a small ziploc bag of frozen peas is to my life right now.

as is four or five different boxes of assorted cereals, but i digress.

i am struggling, fighting, pushing through. i thought i would hit my stride. i did, actually. wind in my sails.  spring in my step. insert other hackneyed phrase here and that was me last week.

but now i have to push hard again to move at all.  i wish my strides were longer or that i weren’t quite so often caught off-balance by life.

and then i read things like this, and i’m not quite so worried about that anymore.

as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
-long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men’s hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
-long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common’s rare and millstones float
-long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy’s the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts and thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
-time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough

–ee cummings

my lateral collateral ligament thanks you.

(also, as a side note, if you are not watching fringe, you’re INSANE. that is all.)

monk i am definitely not.

however, i am pretty sure that i figured out who the beastly reviewer was.*

and i’m now not surprised nor nearly as offended.**

i am still, however, wading through proverbial academic mud as i attempt to finish this small snippet of a chapter for which i have lots to say, only a miniscule portion of which of which makes any coherent or recognizable sense.***

the gothic chapter. let’s call it a quilt, because i’ll be sewing these pieces together with the thread of prayer later this week.

you think i’m kidding.  aww.  that’s cute.

also, note to self: you know you’re way past hungry when you think you’re eating a small snack before getting back to work, feeling oddly muted and possibly electrolyte-deficient and so drinking some really disgusting drink meant to replenish said electrolytes, and you nearly DIVE for the small piece of triscuit that snapped off and fell somewhere on your shirt.  because that piece of triscuit, in your clearly deprived brain, is the key to all happiness here and abroad, now and in all futures you can imagine.

in cases like these, may i make a suggestion?  just eat a dang sandwich already. goodness.

*no privacy laws were broken, bent, or assaulted in any way to find out this information. i just plumbed the depths of my mind and remembered the distinctive handwriting. because, folks, i got skillz.  i do it every semester.

**this guy didn’t know who chris brown or ne-yo was, kissed up to me all semester, and had an overinflated sense of self.  and i figured out that the other critique that sounded suspiciously like his? girl who sat next to him who pretty much spent the entire semester trying to impress him with her brain.

***considering the fact that i think most of what i write is utter and complete crap, take that as you will. it’s possible that it actually makes a heap of sense.

reeling.

from a student evaluation of the summer term:

“Far, FAR too much emphasis on student participation, to the extent that she was barely the teacher, but more of an umpire choosing who would speak next. This was shocking in an upper division…class, and made me wonder if a) she knew the material or b) should instead teach high school.”

and, from the same student evaluation…

“Again, I cannot emphasize enough how little teaching was done. The course would have been the same had she simply written a topic on the board and left the room.  A huge amount of critical information might not have been conveyed at all.  I felt I could have learned as much in a book club.”

super start to a day that i had hoped to be incredibly productive, and gosh i’m so glad i got to read that before i went to my meeting with my director who is probably going to tear up my job search documents and tell me that i haven’t a shot whatsoever at getting any of the jobs that i selected.

to be fair, i ought to tell you that this was one out of 23. another student said that a more cohesive critical frame could have been presented related to the topics, and i know that’s one of my weaknesses, especially in a summer class when i am trying to write a dissertation and prepare for an every day class.

but still. i feel like i got punched.

ugh.

twenty-five.

the job list came out on friday.

i just looked at it now.  had to make my own username and password, as if i somehow have the right to be perusing jobs.

twenty-five of them fit me pretty well.  if i expanded my borders, a few in canada might have as well, but i like america and would like to stay here.

about five of them were MADE for me.

and not a single one of them is in north carolina.  my mom will be horrified.  i suppose i can placate her by telling her it’s only one of the job lists.

now i get to gear up to send pieces of my heart and hope in envelopes headed from sea to shining sea and prepare myself for the results.

sigh.

also, i REALLY need to finish my dissertation.

where my head is.

“i envy your students.”–a man who heard my presentation to the jane austen society.

it went well. i presented a portion of my chapter and, for the most part, it was received quite well.  i was asked questions and i answered them easily.  i got some good ideas. and i looked cute (nice black pants which i got to wear because i fit into them hooray, white shirt, black heels, cute necklace…it was a good look that i will probably use again for my conference in detroit in a month).

“the jane austen chapter is marvelous.”–my director.

i got through all of my job documents and the revisions of my two chapters.  i meet to discuss the job documents with my director on tuesday, and full expect to have to tear them up and rewrite them again based on her suggestions, but they’re at least done. the first draft is always the worst.  creating something from nothing is much more difficult than anyone makes it out to be. i sent her the chapters, and she sent them back with an email that included that line.  it didn’t suck.

“after you’re done with this book, you should think about…”–a member of my committee, talking to me about the potential of extending my dissertation topic post-railway revolution.

it blows my mind to think of potential future projects, since the dissertation has consumed my life for nigh onto three years now.  but there is potential–great potential–for future work related to my topic.  that’s happy.  that’s very happy news.

of course, all of this is tempered by the fact that i didn’t get nearly enough done today, i feel like i have climbed mount everest in hill intervals on the treadmill, i’m behind (again), my director’s revisions to the chapters i thought were basically done involve needing to read…A LOT, and i have no idea how to start writing the next portions of my chapter.

but, y’all, this week has been one of fierce productivity.  and it hasn’t resulted in me losing the will to live, being a total witch to those around me, or scaring my mother to death by being down all of the time.

no, i’ve done it all with a smile on my face.

seriously.

so odd.  i don’t know what happened.  some kind of switch got flipped. i hesitate to say that, for fear i might curse it, but how can you curse something that is your own daily choice?

you can’t.

so here i am.  i’m working hard.  i’m checking things off of my list.  i’m making use of all of my time.  i’m exhausting myself physically and mentally and it’s awesome.

i’m EXCITED about what’s to come.

i just sort of wish that didn’t have to come with big piles of more boring things to read.

oh well.

where are the rules and the $5K when you need them?

who wants to be my personal stylist?

no, seriously.

the things that routinely go through my head when choosing clothing to wear to, say, my job as a tutor on campus revolve around cleanliness, if i have a pair of $2 flip flops that match or sort of match or don’t even remotely match it, if it’s comfortable, if it will give me heatstroke as i am crossing campus, and whether or not i have worn it before.  like, you know, recently.  as in i don’t want to be that girl who keeps wearing that oxford university shirt even though i have two and they are comfortable and i can wear purple flip flops with them and do you see my dilemma?

every day that’s not a work day,  it’s pajamas and workout wear.  because i work out and then sit in my desk chair all day being brilliant, and if i can do that with turtles or rabbits on my legs, i will do it and be glad.

because seriously, folks, i have time to worry about my wardrobe like not at all.  i mean i want to.  i’m a girl. i want to be cute and adorable and put together all of the time.  i watch what not to wear like every other self-respecting shlub and wish that i could have the genetic disposition that allows me to put purple alligator handbags together with some non-matching outfit and have it look spectacular.

i also wish i had the funds to make that possible.

but that’s another topic entirely so ANYWAYS.

what was i saying?

oh. stylist. need one. right.

i do need new clothes. i believe that i have talked about the need for suit shopping before (mom has graciously offered to take my clothes shopping for my birthday, which is exciting but probably won’t happen until JUST BEFORE INTERVIEWS after christmas and that’s just too far away).  but clinton and stacy have taught me this much: when i do go suit shopping i will be looking for SUPER! SASSY! FUN! things to wear under it, but let’s be real–a suit’s a suit.

as for the rest of my clothes?  i kind of need help.  my jeans are all getting too big and that’s really all i ever wear (i know, i know, i know. i’m old enough to not wear jeans all of the time. i get it.) and now i feel interested in purchasing other things but part of me is like “why buy clothes now when they’ll all just be too big in a few months anyways and when you never wear anything but pajama pants anyways, smart one?”

sometimes my inner voice is kind of a smartaleck. right, but still smartalecky about it.

but i’m looking ahead because i am nothing if not a PLANNER.  and within the next, say, month and a half, i would like to have some solid pieces that can mix and match and do amazing things to my butt.  two of those three wouldn’t suck.

i’m kind of preppy, y’all, with some weird eclectic flair. after all, i did buy and do wear zebra striped flats.

basically, i’m a pathetic heap of sassy just waiting to express itself but can’t manage to find a way to do it well.

anybody want to go shopping with me?

when the world stopped turning.

i was in my classroom on september 11, 2001.

i was a 23-year-old teaching seventh and eighth grade social studies and english.  my 12- and 13-year-old students were, at the moment i heard, working on a project that required research.    they were scattered all over our tiny charter school building with their laptops, seeking room to spread out, using the wireless internet, and quietly working.

i remember it as clear as anything, how the receptionist passed the printed internet news story over to me, how all talk of it was in hushed whispers, how i stared at her and the paper without comprehension.   mostly, i remember not knowing what to think.

i don’t remember much else from that day. i remember the day after, when we talked to our students about it. i remember their fear and my fear as i tried to be strong and brave for them. i remember crying in my car that afternoon, driving home and listening to npr.  i remember the days following, when i lined up to donate money to the red cross. i remember the patriotic sign our school made using solo cups and a chainlink fence.

but i don’t remember anything else about that day.  i don’t remember what i did with my students when i had to pull them off of their project, not telling them why–administrative decision, not mine, although i’m not sure i would have known what to say.  i don’t remember what i was wearing or even what project they were working on.

i’m sure that lots of bloggers everywhere will be recollecting, remembering, paying tribute. that’s how it should be.

there are moments, i think, in your life that are at once culturally, historically, personally significant.  the world changed that day. it’s hard for me to remember what it once was. that saddens me.

for my mom it was president kennedy’s assassination. she can narrate it in eerie detail.

for my grandpa it was pearl harbor.

for me, it was a quiet day in september, when the air was beginning to take on a trace of fall and i was charged with maintaining the illusion of a world that existed at 8 that morning but didn’t at 1 that afternoon.

i’ll never forget it. that’s the way it should be, i think.

but in some ways, i wish i could remember september 10th more.