done
I’m done. I can’t do it. This dissertation is just so filled with errors and misstatements and awkward language and no thesis or shallow analysis or straight biography. I’m so tired of it.
Turned in my preface yesterday. Need a conclusion and then I can return to the other chapters and start editing. How am I going to get the whole thing to the committee by the middle of January? Dunno. At least it doesn’t seem like I’ll have job interviews to distract me.
Yes, preface, not introduction. It’s slapshot historiography married to opening vignettes and a bit of historical context. There’s no overarching introduction to my thesis or the topics I’m going to cover. I do have a chapter outline I’ve developed for various fundraising efforts, so I suppose I could slap that on there. I don’t like historiography, so I put it off to the very end and then raced through it. Now it pains me to think about it and all the shallow analysis plus all the things missing. (my form of historiography: waves hand at complete field, making huge statements that in their very size and vagueness have wrong elements in them; explains why my stuff wasn’t covered in general field; waves hand at specific field and points out people who do stuff–either explain why mine tweeks that stuff a bit here and there or adds to it or just sits sweetly side by side while its portrait is taken.
*ugh*
In My Grandmother’s World
My Grandparents moved into this house in 1948, a month before my dad was born. It was a little tract home with two bedrooms, no cabinets, and no appliances. They were lucky to find a stove and fridge at an appliance warehouse in the days of low supply following World War II. My grandmother has watched the neighborhood intently for all the sixty plus years that she has lived here and stored up stories about everyone. She always says she is shy, so she is more the observer than the gossip, though when her children come around, she can tell stories for hours on end.
One of the things my grandparents witnessed was the amazing number of immigrants that moved into this area. The population of her town is now majority Asian and while her church population slowly dies off, the Chinese congregation that shares the space is growing (the caucasian minister is head pastor and the Chinese minister is assistant pastor–I don’t know why, other than that the Caucasian congregation was here first). It’s a big huge methodist church on main street that looks more like a Southern California Mission than it looks like any of the churches populating towns in the east. When my dad attended, the church was full up to the balconies, but now there is a small scattered population of gray heads and a very kind minister in the lead. He mentioned last Sunday that he loves the congregation because of how much they live in the moment, because though they fear change they are willing to try, and because of how opptomistic they are. I know my grandmother rarely speaks badly of anyone.
My grandma’s world is made up of all the people that help her. I am attuned to the discussion of race in anyone, so it always fascinates me how she moves through this multicultural world of hers, with some of the same impressions she has held for years, and yet with deep love for many people from other races. These are some of the people in her circle:
Ruth (best friend): White woman still with bright red hair married to a Mexican man for 50+ years, no children, but his numerous nieces and nephews still come to visit her (the one I met Sunday called her Tia).
Laura (helper): From El Salvador. Slightly accented English, but Grandma can understand her because she is sure to speak loudly and slow enough. She comes twice a week to take Grandma on errands (now that she can’t drive, hopefully a condition that will improve as her eyes get better from surgery) and to help with house cleaning. Incredibly warm and loving and Grandma speakings glowingly of her. Drives a bit too fast for G, but G would never tell her because she doesn’t want to be “critical” given how much Laura has helped her.
Emmy (financial adviser): Family from Taiwan. G speaks of her with effusive praise as well and looks forward to her Christmas party (which we went to yesterday) for months. Has helped my grandparents manage to still have money for retirement, even though they’ve been retired for longer than I’ve been alive (Grandpa’s been dead for ten years, but Grandma still receives a small pension from the railroad–he worked for Santa Fe most of his life). At the party, I chatted with a Japanese-American couple who have lived in Grandma’s housing tract for thirty years (though too far away for her to know them personally). They could talk about the house where they all go to vote. After this woman found out my dissertation topic, she asked me why it was possible for Obama to get elected, but not someone with longer roots in the African American part of the United States. I said I thought it was because African Americans with a sense of history tend to come across as too strong for white Americans (think of the broohaha around Michelle Obama’s statement “I’m proud of my country for the first time,” Jeremiah Wright, or Jesse Jackson, none of whom are radical in a black context, but much more radical in a white one). My conversation partner said she thought it was because African Americans had been brainwashed for 300 years that they were inferior and people wouldn’t vote for someone who thought himself or herself inferior. I had just finished reading some of Woodson’s The Mis-Education of the Negro where he argues something similar in order to show why African Americans needed to study black history. What could I say to her? It turned out that she had formed this opinion living in a majority black neighborhood as a young adult for several years.
Tony (gardener and handyman): Family from Mexico. Grandma knows everything about his family–Tony’s dad helped them for years before Tony took over. She tends to treat him as a son-in-law and doesn’t mind paying too much because she knows it goes to his family. She has recommended him to friends and neighbors, so now when he comes to take care of her yard, he tells her everything that’s going on in the neighborhood, since she can’t gather the news herself anymore. G’s an avid gardener, so she still tries to look after her plants, but moves a lot more slowly these days. It helps that the weather is so good here all the time.
Alfonzo and Lionel (car mechanics): Family from Italy. Have taken care of G’s cars for years. They specialize in Toyotas, but take care of G’s Honda anyway. Have told her if she ever needs help just to call. Alfonzo (the father) mostly retired now, so Lionel takes care of her, though he’s not as warm as she would wish. They go to the same church as Laura, which Grandma just recently discovered.
Margarette (hairdresser): Family from Mexico. G has followed her from place to place since she found her ten or twenty years ago. She used to go to a different man, but he started to charge just too much. Now she feels like sometimes Margarette talks to the other hairdressers instead of doing her hair, and sometimes wishes she could go to a different woman in the same shop, but wouldn’t because she might hurt Margarette’s feelings.
And lots of others… (she even has a bank teller she prefers and will wait for that man to be available).
I think this building of community must be how a shy woman from a small town in Washington, who was very close to her family, managed to survive in a metropolis like LA.
I realized that she doesn’t fit into the Chestnuts Roasting song anymore –She’s 93!
Flitting thoughts through my mind
Couple of quick things while I sit in the car down the street where there is internet.
LA Times coverage of the newest gay bishop elected by the Episcopal Church is infuriating. In first article, there was absolutely nothing about what makes her qualified. In the second article (about the Archbishop of Canterbury “chiding” the American Episcopalians) there wasn’t actually any quotes from said archbishop that would explain the inflamed rhetoric of the press. Felt like I was reading some blog online instead of reputable journalism. Is this just the wave of the future or the effect of deep cuts at LA Times since it was taken over by a corporation?
Switching gears
Parents and Grandma want to see that new movie with Sandra Bullock about a white couple raising a black child who goes on to be very successful at football. The poster makes me cringe and I remember Ta-Nehisi Coates reacting viscerally to the movie. Can I get out of going to see it without trying to explain the racial politics of it to my hard-of-hearing 93 year old grandmother? (woke up yesterday with the burning desire to blog about this). One of the reason the fam wants to see it with me is because they know about my interest in black folks and are trying to be supportive. Relooking at Coates, he doesn’t try to get out of it:
I recoiled when I saw the poster for The Blind Side. I didn’t read the book, but I did read the excerpt in the NY Times, which I liked a lot because Michael Lewis is, well, brilliant. But when I found out the film was coming all I could think was “No way am I seeing that.” To some extent I think it has to do with a longstanding beef about how blacks show up in movies. So many of our roles involve us as these kind of disconnected aliens without much attachment to a community. In a lot of those roles we’re often “saved” by the benevolence of white folks.
…
It’s not fair to bring that kind of prejudice, or these kinds of expectations, to bear on The Blind Side. First and foremost, there is no one story, no one kind of narrative. Everyone doesn’t find that kind of support in their community. Some people are, indeed, “saved” by white folks. (You could make an argument for me.) People have the right to tell those stories. I do think, to an extent, this is about how whites often encounter blacks–as individuals and not in the presence of their full community. More than that, I think it’s about how I see the world, and the desire to see films that reflect that.
But like I said, it isn’t right to put that sort of pressure on people who are just trying to tell a story. If I don’t like it, I should go tell my own. Meh. I guess I have to go see the film, now.
Given how depressed I’ve been I should be happy with a little old fashioned, cliched inspiration, but instead the two movies I want to see this “Holiday season” are about deep horror or sadness. There are such differing responses to Precious, from too-close-to-stereotypes to one of the best movies of the year. Also one of the rare times I’d get to see big women on screen in non-comedic roles (abusive and horrifying). The NY Times’ interview of the black gay director awhile ago was interesting, but heartbreaking at one point because of all the stereotypes he had to “get over” yet rather clearly hadn’t at the same time (wow–big women are human too!).
The other one is “A Single Man” starring Colin Firth about a gay professor who breaks up with his (female) lover and stares into the abyss of mid-life, contemplating suicide at least in part of it. It would be so good to see Firth do a serious role outside of type. I still remember how sad Mom was that Firth’s character was gay in Mama Mia. As much as she thinks she’s accepting (and she is compared to her conservative milieu) she’ll make these statements of disappointment… (made one when I told her about Jane Addams as well). Mentioned to mom that I wanted to see this movie when she comes out here…but I didn’t tell her the plot, just that it had Colin Firth in a role rumored to be Oscar worthy. Wonder if maybe my cousin would want to see it with me.
P.S. started higher dosage of meds last Saturday and feeling more stable. Woke up singing a Christmas carol and planning a blog post instead of thinking about knives. Better way to start the day.
Super-cat
My cat is amazing. First of all he’s 14 and a half–only half a year away from being the final age on the age chart in the vets office (it compares human and cat years). I took him on a cross-country journey that required a half an hour trip to the airport, one four hour plane trip, a transfer, an hour and a half trip, and then a 45 min shuttle to our destination. He cried a little bit, but rather than annoying anyone, it just seemed to bring them like flies to his cage to say hi and talk sweetly to him.
He worked at a tiny hole in his cage till it was big enough to push his whole paw through. That allowed me to sort of shake his hand during the second flight. The touch seemed to assure him. For everyone who says that cat’s like territory more than they do their people, well, listen to this: he stopped crying after we got up into the air during the long flight. Then when I got up to use the bathroom and went out of his line of vision, he started to cry right away.
Another new thing I’ve introduced to him is walking on a leash with a halter. We’ve tried this before, but he hasn’t gone for it. This halter, though, is made for cats and has a few advantages. It seems to fit him a bit better, is easier to get on and off than the ones made for dogs, and the leash is a bungee cord, so it never yanks him. He likes to explore the whole outside edges of places on his leash. We’ll see what happens when he gets use to a place. Maybe he’ll be tired of walking around. It’s definitely not like walking a dog, though, b/c he likes to stay by the edges, not on the sidewalk out in the middle of everywhere. So I’m kinda limited to walking around the property lines.
He is also totally adjusted to my Grandma’s house and it’s been just a day. He has found a couple of spots he likes, figured out how to get into all the windows, and knows where all his necessities are (it took me a day to find his dry kitty food, so he got extra wet cat food). And he isn’t crying or destroying anything. He slept on my legs and in my arms under the covers last night. And, unfortunately, he tripped grandma during the night. So he may have to be locked up at night, which is something he hates and tends to vocally protest…no sleep for me.
The only thing that shows he’s a little stressed is that he is extra attentive to where I am and checks on me a lot. Although even that was starting to lessen a bit today. He could sit in the living room while I was in the bedroom without stressing.
Anyway, you probably don’t care, but I am just totally in awe of how much change this cat has gone through with me, and with such aplomb. Burying my face in his coat keeps me from wanting to hurt myself, so it’s totally worth it putting him through this. I’m just so glad I’m not hurting him by doing it.
Good enough
I really like this quote from a NY Times Magazine article entitled “Married (Happily) With Issues”
The goal is mental health, defined as the fortitude and flexibility to live one’s own life — not happiness. This is a crucial distinction. Similarly the “good-enough marriage” is characterized by its capacity to allow spouses to keep growing, to afford them the strength and bravery required to face the world.
Eat Food
I just posted this on FB in response to a friend’s comment that
“There is a disappearance of the faces of the animals when we buy the meat in the stores. The consumer does not know the name of the animal, its family or if it had one, and if it had feelings.”
and thought you might be interested:
Personally, I don’t think that killing and eating animals is the problem, in part because we all die and our bodies feed the earth (especially if we don’t embalm ourselves into the next millennium). The problem for me is when animals are treated so cruelly during the few years that they do live. I don’t know what the solution is, b/c right now we … See Moredon’t have the resources to feed people on free range chickens and cows.
I try to “eat food, mostly vegetables, not too much.” I only eat meat once every few meals, and then if I’m making it (which is much of the time) try to get free range and organic (and usually chicken)…it’s a tiny drop in the bucket and doesn’t seem like enough (esp when we lost income and I dropped the organic milk, though not the free range chicken and eggs).
Numbers and Logarithmic babies and relationships
The latest Radio Lab is awesome. An hour devoted to number–how we come to understand integers (we are naturally logarithmic, they argue), the importance of numbers, and how numbers can relate to relationships.
My friend group and I have discussed the Pirahã, an Amazon tribe that does not have numbers, nor the past tense, nor subordinate clauses. They make a brief showing in the podcast towards the beginning, if you’re interested.
Updated: I added the link the New Yorker story that originally got us interested in the Pirahã. I didn’t realize how much attention this post would get after a link appeared on the Radio Lab blog. I wish some of those visiting would leave their impressions of the show in the comments. Especially if anybody has their own Paul Erdisch number. 
Authorial backbone
My advisor speaks in a way that is utterly confident that everything he says is God’s own truth. I often agree. Many times I disagree. Sometimes I speak up. I rarely get my whole counter argument out before being interrupted, and even more rarely convince him of anything.
Before we met to discuss my first chapter (all that has seemingly read so far), I was utterly convinced Chapter 1 was the most wretched thing, so he could have said anything about it and I would have agreed. Indeed, over lunch I suggested he did not even realize the true depths of its horror. He gave me a few suggestions that I took with nodded acceptance, even though they basically required rewriting the entire first chapter.
Then I went back and actually reread the first chapter. It’s not nearly as bad as he said or I thought. It’s kinda dull and needs some editing–but completely scrapped? No, and definitely not at this stage. I can pep up the writing when it’s time to work on the book.
But the thing that bugs me, and prompted me to write, is when he makes categorical statements about my work that I don’t agree with, such as:
“Why is there so much stuff on interracial relationships in Chapter One? It’s not like that’s a theme of the dissertation.”
Me: Um, actually, there’s a lot of …
Him: “It’s not really that important in your work.”
I made a list of all the different times I discuss interracial relationships in each chapter. It’s there in pretty much every chapter. So is this because I do it somehow more subtly in the later chapters than I do in the first? Or that he is simply bored by it?
I mean, huge chunks of Chapter 3 are devoted to one guy’s letters to his white friend (albeit, I use them to get at the guy’s personal development more than the friendship, but the friendship is definitely there).
*ugh*
Learning confidence and growing a backbone is such a slow process.
(Do you think that we could ever take over the English language so that backbone, which we all have, might replace “grow a pair” and various other euphemisms for male equipment?) I also like “girding my loins” to denote my moments of self-reflected confidence gathering.
“Diversity”
I’m on the board of a blog and conference that tends toward the white male end of the spectrum. Heavily tends. I brought up that we might want to try a bit harder to welcome other types of scholars and it turns out that others made the same point in other contexts. Now we’re discussing next year and it’s becoming a bit of a battle between those who recognize it is politically salient to have “diverse” folks around, but find it kind of annoying and thought they got into this group to avoid that issue and those who believe it is actually highly important (and politically expedient) and those who could care less about how we “look” to the outside world, but would just like to hear from black folks and women and other folks. I think the middle folks have the most power in the group right now, so perhaps we’ll move slowly in the right direction. (One person in the first group brought up “tokenism,” someone in the second group advocated “patient welcoming,” and I pointed out that all the patience in the world would most likely not bring a lot of black folks through the door).
I have two conferences I want to go to every year. One is almost entirely black, the other almost entirely white.
Yep, we’re way past the day and age of segregation.
Two post-docs due in the next 7 days, an intro begging to be written, and my brain almost entirely taken up with personal issues. One can see why I might plunge face first into the sea of controversy represented by this email stream. I think it also backs up my point that while I avoid conflict in my personal life, I’m ok to address it in my professional life (though I don’t come across as confrontational as some).
An Impossible Task? Unique Lovely functional messenger bag
I spent all week in New York with my eye out for a new laptop bag. I saw a bazillion handbags, but none seemed to be quite right for a laptop, a book, and the crap of life. The last day I was there, I found this bag at Flight 001 on Greenwich Ave and came very close to buying it. The inside was a very fun pattern, it seemed to be about the right side, the construction was lovely, and it still seemed professional, while being fun. But I just couldn’t decide if I could live with that green everyday of my life. The internet now tells me what the shop didn’t–that it comes in other colors (including wine red, one of my favs–though I wish I new what shade it is. I definitely lean more towards rich or dusty colors where the designer seems to like bright colors. It says it’s wine, but it looks more like fire engine red).
I also am a fan of the slick men’s leather totes, like this one I saw at Macy’s for three times the price it is here. (I lose out here on the uniqueness, except that I would be a woman toting it).
But then there is my love affair with pattern. The first has pattern hidden away inside, the second has no pattern but the natural grain of the leather, and then there’s this beauty. It’s the cheapest, probably the least professional, but maybe the one I’ll get. Thoughts?
Then of course there are the incredible made-to-order bags from Etsy, like this one:
This particular one may be a bit too small for my purposes. The only thing I worry about with Etsy is the quality. I have only ever ordered one thing from Etsy and I should have realized from the price it would not stand up well, though it was cute for how long it lasted (the zipper was so cheap, the color started to rub off almost as soon as I started to use it). Etsy, for those of you who don’t know, is a site where crafters can sell their goods, so each person offers something different. I will keep browsing the site.
