This is me, on one of my gift mornings a few days ago. I was cozy on the futon at my in-laws, reading an escapey book (Twilight
This morning was a bit more hectic for me. Had to open my computer first thing to check appointments and deadlines. I fear that the peace of the holiday break will soon be over…
I can’t get my right foot wholly wet because I don’t want it’s computer-y parts to malfunction. But I can get the prosthetic footshell and nylons a bit soggy, as I’m doing here. Chasing the waves and enjoying the cold sand between my toes.
When I load photos of my fake foot to flickr (even one as innocuous as this one), I get hundreds of views. There’s a large community of amputee fetishists (called devotees) who are fascinated by such pics. Sometimes I am wary of the attention that such photos garner. Sometimes I just don’t care. Sometimes I am curious about the people who are so interested in me simply because of my missing limb. I suspect that some of my regular readers on this blog may be devotees and I’m okay with that. If you are interested in the whole me (and not just the missing bits) then that seems far less disconcerting than those who simply compile links to images of amputees.
While I don’t completely understand the fascination that devotees have with amputee women, I can recognize that I have my own odd proclivities. Some folks are just more interesting or attractive to me for whatever reason–it’s a personal aesthetic that seems beyond explanation.
But a part of me still feels a bit uncomfortable with the fact that a photo of my feet is of more interest than one of my face.
We spent the afternoon and evening at the beach today. It was just what I needed. Not crowded, a bit cold, and just gorgeous.
The sun setting behind Catalina was so pretty–I wish you could have all shared it with me (this picture hardly does it justice).
Why is it that life seems so clear and so simple when one is watching the crashing waves?
So what I decided to give to myself for the Christmas season? My mornings.
Usually I get up, grumpy and tired, do what needs to be done to get the kids to school, settle in a drowsy lump on the couch and read my email. Then if I need to teach I’ll rush to get ready and head to campus. If not, I’ll read email and fiddle on the computer for a few hours until I’m totally embarrassed that I’m not yet showered and ready for the day.
I was letting my mornings happen to me instead of taking control of them. I decided, starting Dec 15th, that I would control my mornings better. I would spend time making a daily task list, I would indulge myself a bit in a tasty breakfast, get showered, and take a brisk brief walk to my garden before I open my computer. Most of all, I decided to avoid email and google reader until the late morning. So I can get more of my work done before seeing what everyone else in the world is up to.
In truth, none of my mornings has truly worked out this way. Two of the mornings this week I was in so much pain it was nearly impossible to do anything but just sit and moan a lot. But I did avoid email until at least 10 am. One of the mornings I had a phone interview with a colleague on the East Coast at 9 am. I had to get up early to prep for the interview and then had to check my email for updates beforehand. On yet another of the mornings I had to be at the Admin Bldg at 8 am to straighten out a funding snafu (grrr, 3 hours later it was finally settled).
But while none of the mornings have been my ideal, I have worked on making task list for each day and setting mini goals and priorities. I’ve spent less time on the computer and more time in morning meditation (healing meditation!). Tomorrow morning I will be up very early to go see my masseuse friend–she squeezed me into her schedule at a rather ungodly hour. So technically I won’t be following the morning guidelines that I set for myself. But really, is there a better way to start the day [to JW: note that I didn’t say that a massage was better than sex]?
Oh, and one more thing: guess what’s kept me warm and cozy each and every morning? See the scarf in the picture? ;-)
On Monday evening I strained my shoulder, neck and back. So badly that I can’t move much at all without pain (and sleep, sleep where art thou?). It is a good thing that one of the few positions that I feel comfortable in is sitting on the couch at my computer. Because I am now the queen of writing grant/fellowship proposals.
Current count:
HU done–due 12/15 (confirmed arrival this morning after the application was LOST IN THE MAIL for two days)
WH in progress–due 1/2
SC in progress–due ASAP
PF in progress-due 1/10
MH in progress–due 1/15
Christmas will happen. But it may be a bit sparse and unfancy this year (IOW, those cards, if they are to arrive, they will be New Year’s cards). I’m glad to know that Friends will fill in the gaps as needed on both Christmas Eve and Day!
On a happier note: I now have a prescription for muscle relaxants. And if you want to see something funny you should see me trying to walk around our apartment all relaxed like that. One might think that I’d had a bit too much brandied hard sauce on my bread pudding (if you know what mean). And can I say how supremely frustrating it is to have to repeat my words like 3 or 4 times before I can be understood?
And people, I say that the smell of Ben-Gay is pretty festive this time of year. I’m now marinating in the stuff–oozing minty menthol goodness from each pore. Yum.
I am so thinking that I need to buy this tee to wear on Exam days. I think my students would get a kick out of it! I just wish it came in a tee made of organic cotton…
My work history is pretty spotty. Partially by choice, partially by necessity. I’ve never been hired from a cold interview. I suspect that much of the reason why is because of my disability. No one wants to hire a candidate that limps, when there are half a dozen equally-qualified able-bodied applicants in the pool.
One reason I’m in academia is because I think it’s one place where my disability could be an asset, adding some ‘diversity’ to the hiring department. I also feel, usually, that my ideas and my teaching are valued more than my mobility.
Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about the challenges that I’ll continue to face throughout my life as I seek employment and face health insurance issues. I’ve also been wondering at how some of my difficulties/spottiness at mental recall may be related to my cancer treatments. This article about survivors of childhood cancer and their challenges in the workplace hasn’t done much to assuage some of my fears (kudos to TanyaSue for sending the link). Sort of discouraging…but I am hopeful that I’ve chosen a path that will give me the very best odds for success…
I’m not a morning person. I also don’t work well between the hours of 2-4pm. My most productive time of day: 8pm-midnite. Sometimes 10am-noon is good, too.
I like the idea of getting up early in the morning, but it’s unnatural for me unless I can get naps. When I was single and could live my own weird schedule, I stayed up till about 2am, slept until 6am. Then got up and did stuff and went back to bed from abt 2-5pm each afternoon. Then got back up and started the cycle over again.
Unfortunately that is just not a practical schedule for life.
John is a morning person. When we were both at our extremes a few years ago, I would be staying up until 2 am-ish and he’d be waking up at abt 3am-ish. Not very conducive to a good marriage…
People: this is a superlong post. Many apologies. Chalk it up to today being the last day of the quarter. A time for reflection.
I was thinking yesterday about my life experience and how much I’ve learned even though my formal education has been a bit erratic and I’ve never had much of a ‘normal’ job. I have had experience, even if that’s just been cumulatively building inside me without so much of a formal outlet.
And I’ve also been thinking about what I want to do with my life. There’s the mundane question of my career, but then there’s the larger question of what sort of mark I want to leave on the world. What I want to accomplish before I die. What my personal philosophy is and how it guides my actions.
So in the process of muddling over these questions, I made this list of ‘what I wanted to be when I grew up’ at different stages of my life.
*******************
Young years:
I wanted to be a scientist of some sort. I was enchanted by Meg Murray’s parents (from A Wrinkle in Time). I wanted to cook meals over a bunsen burner and have a family and a huge house and a ‘ol dog named Fortinbras. I had this nebulous dream of wanting to “cure cancer.” I often told people that I wanted to be a microbiologist or a molecular geneticist when I grew up.
Middle School:
Entered my own terrible battle with bone cancer. Didn’t think too much about a career, just hoped to live through the end of the year. But in the process I was nurtured and supported by the most amazing and compassionate team of surgeons, oncologists, nurses, physical therapists, etc. That experience forged a stronger desire to go into medicine someday. I wanted to be like those great people who had cared for me. And, of course, I still wanted to cure cancer…There was this added fear, though. Many cancer survivors who had treatments like mine ended up with brain damage and memory problems. We were unsure how that might affect my future academic aspirations. But that same year while I was in cancer treatment I won the school and district spelling bee. We figured that was a good sign for future academic abilities…
High School:
This was a complex time. I was trying everything to see what ‘fit.’ I had a Biology teacher that motivated me like no other. I enjoyed chemistry, too. I learned that I really disliked math, except for geometry. My passions, though, were literature and journalism. By my senior year I was the editor of my school paper (one of the most award-winning-est school papers in the state of CA at that time). I won numerous honors for my newspaper writing. I also read voraciously. You know those lists of books they give you for ‘enrichment’ reading over the summer? I would read every single one of them that I could find in the library system. I did a summer internship with the LA Times, thinking that I would pursue journalism as a career. My junior year I won more awards in the Academic Decathlon than anyone else in the school and was 2nd in the district. As part of the AD experience I gave a speech where I imagined myself as the first woman president. My speech won top honors and I gave it at venues throughout the city afterwards. My political leanings began to galvanize. I worked avidly at the Dukakis/Bentsen campaign even though I wasn’t even old enough to vote. I started toying with the idea of a career in politics.
College:
I applied to 10 or so schools. I selected a different major on nearly every application, totally unsure of what I wanted to do with my life. I ended up in SoCal for various reasons, most of which had to do with proximity to my parents’ home (not too far away to go home on weekends), the safe community, and the gentle climate. My major: Biology.
I learned quickly that I was only a so-so Bio student. I wasn’t competitive in classes with curved grading systems. I struggled through the required advanced math classes (a pox on you, differential calculus) and physics. What made it bearable were the English classes I took for my minor. That, and the 2 or 3 journalism classes that I took along the way where I excelled. To pay my way through school I worked as a legal secretary, a file clerk, and an ESL tutor. At times I also worked in a coffee shop and the school bookstore, was a janitor, cooked meals for foreign exchange students, and did childcare.
After five years of school, I graduated with a degree in Bio, a minor in English, a young spouse, and a newborn baby boy.
Full-time SAHM:
My saving grace during the years of being at home: the Internet (it was in its infancy way back in 1994). I found email just before my son was born–in the stone age when PINE and telnet were cutting edge (a part of me still misses my beloved PINE interface!). I joined a Mormon Literature listserv (AML-List) where I could talk books with a super-smart bunch of like-minded people from all over the world. I loved it! Before too long I started writing a regular weekly column for the AML-List. Just after my daughter was born, I presented a paper at one of the AML’s academic conferences in Salt Lake City. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in front of an audience! But at the same time I really loved being included with the academic crowd. I decided I would return to school and study American Lit.
In my spare time I learned HTML, just for fun. John and I and a friend had a short-lived startup business creating webpages for local businesses. I remember this moment when we were brainstorming and I had this great idea to approach car dealerships about listing vehicles online. That thought, then, was just preposterous to all of us–we couldn’t imagine any dealers taking us seriously (how things do change!).
At one point I was offered a job in the computer industry and I turned it down, but suggested that my spouse might want it. John’s career took off quickly (this was in the dotcom boom era).
The Return:
I took a few lit classes at a state university in Utah (where we lived at the time).
I applied to a PhD program in American Studies and wasn’t accepted. I decided I needed more classes if I was going to get into grad school…
We moved back to SoCal and I took a few classes at a community college. Knowing that I would need a second language if I was to enter grad school, I took French classes.
After my kids were both in school I took a Humanities class called “Journey Narratives.” The first day the prof asked us if we saw our lives as a journey, and asked us to explain why. I became pilgrimgirl shortly thereafter (a moniker that John gave me, that I used as a login for various things long before it became this blog). I also took classes in writing Short Stories, Novels, and Magazine articles. I studied the writings of Wallace Stegner, Terry Tempest Williams, and others. I joined a writing group called the “American Night Writers“–mostly SAHMs writing at night after the kids had gone to bed.
In the meantime that AML column had turned into being the Book Review Editor for the AML Journal, Irreantum.
I then started taking classes at the nearest university, which also happened to be the same school where I’d done my undergrad work. I took classes to turn my old minor in English into a second bachelor’s degree, thinking that I would need this to get into grad school in English. Because I wanted to study 19th century literature I took a History class about the 1800s. I soon bailed on English and started taking History classes exclusively. I then moved quickly from taking undergrad classes to graduate seminars. I applied to the PhD program and was accepted. Shortly after starting grad school I decided to focus on the History of Medicine. In the meantime I accepted a position as the Book Review Editor for Dialogue and became a permablogger on ExII, Sunstone, etc.
Now:
I’ve passed my Qualifying Exams for my PhD and I’m the throes of writing up the proposal for my dissertation and applying for research funds. I love historical research. I love spending time in the archive. I love reading books. I love teaching. I am passionate about the craft of writing and hope to write many books someday.
******************
When I think about that little girl who wanted to be a scientist and cure cancer, I wonder what she thinks of this journey that I’ve been on since then. Sometimes, I think she’s a bit disappointed.
“Scientists are so important,” she says. (She doesn’t think History Teachers ever make much of a difference in the world)
“You’re probably right,” I say. (Even I know that History Teachers rarely make any difference in the world.)
But then I reply:
“I know I’m not important. But I am happy.”
John‘s got himself some antibiotics and I’m practicing yarn therapy tonite. The pall of sickness seems to be lifting. Thank you for your well-wishes!
I don’t know what is worse about being sick…
–the growing pile of used kleenexes at my feet (which aren’t really kleenexes but are some kind of rough-hewn torture device parading in the name of environmetnally friendly paper products that have whole chunks of wood and sawdust mingled in the tissue that is supposed to be applied to the most sensitive parts of one’s nose)
–(not)sleeping next to someone who’s temperature repeatedly spiked to 102.5 last night and each time he soaked the sheets and bedding with his clammy sweat
–having to go to the store last night because I’m not the one with the fever and running into about 20 of my students as I stand in line to buy more kleenexes and 6 different packets of medicines and I’m wearing the same pants and ratty tee that I’ve been wearing the past 3 days and I start to think I probably have old woody kleenexes stuck to my butt and I don’t even know it and then I can’t even work the debit card thingy right because I never go to the sucky chain grocery store across the street and I don’t know that I have to push the buttons 4 or 5 times to tell the machine that I just want to use my debit card for crying out loud (nice Trader Joe’s checkers, I miss you!)
–when I take cold medicine I can’t sleep. I can doze a bit, but forget sleep. So last night I laid (lay, lie, I dunno?) in bed just staring at the ceiling and wondering when my head will stop feeling like it weighs 400 lbs already
–sleep, I miss you
