I have successfully made it through my 100 day seminar. In the immediate aftermath of this I was elated, but that led into the sense that having made it through the event unscathed, I no longer believed it to be a very important achievement. Now I am left a little directionless and without an everyday focus in my academic life. The impact this assessment should have had was to give me feedback in order to improve my proposal and move forward. Instead, without this goal hanging there in the future (my next assessment isn't until June), I feel unsure of where to go from here. My personal debate over the last few days is whether or not I take this as a break. Should I just stop thinking about my PhD for a while and give my poor brain (and psyche) a rest? It feels irresponsible, but yet I am sitting in my office trying to think of something to do next and I've got nothing.
At the weekend my husband took me away to the lakes district where we ate good food, slept in a comfy bed and were generally treated like celebrities because we know the manager of the hotel. It was beautiful, peaceful, tranquil. I got sick. See, my body just can't handle relaxation! I am beginning to think stress and deadlines are the only things that keep me functional. With that said, I think my mind is made up. I am going to put on some overalls, cover my hair with a kercheif, and go do the only thing that has given me any real satisfaction in the last few weeks - strip wall paper.
Wednesday 23 January 2008
Sunday 20 January 2008
Life amongst Ostriches
I watched a film last night that moved me so much that I couldn't sleep afterwards. Half Nelson, a story about an idealistic schoolteacher with a crack addiction that he barely keeps under control, had such a profound effect on me that I spent most of the night mulling the themes over in my head. This man who was so inspired by activism and imbued with a feeling that he was destined to make positive change in the world, but at the same time grappling with the horrifying realisation that there was very little he could do to make those changes. Although he never said so in the film (in fact he never made any attempts to justify his habit), I got the sense that his drug abuse was a means of shutting out the the pain he experienced as a result of the above realisation. The film moved me for many reasons - the style and writing of the was beautiful, and the relationship shared between the teacher and his student was hopeful and kind - but mainly I was gripped by the main character's struggle with his own limitations and the intensity of the pain and injustice of the world. This is probably because it is such a familiar scenario.
Someone said to me recently after I had invited them to several events (many of which were protests or talks about social justice), "It's all just too heavy for a weekend." I get this a lot. The things I want to do or talk about are too serious for many of the people in my life, and so I toe the line trying to be happy and cheerful. It's important, you see, not to make anyone uncomfortable by exposing them to the reality of the world outside their lovely lives. It wouldn't be entirely fair for me to pass judgement. In fact I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a little jealous. I often think that my life would be easier if I never thought about the horrors of war, or whether or not the clothes I buy were sold by companies who exploit and abuse their employees, or if the chicken I eat suffered horrible conditions before being slaughtered. I would love to be entertained by romantic comedies where everyone is happy in the end and no one gets hurt. I wish I could read the newspaper or watch the news without feeling a horrible ache inside. I want to go to work every day somewhere where I can do my job, make lots of money, go home and spend that money as I see fit, without thinking about the people in the world who have nothing. I would be lying if I said I wouldn't love to be free of this sense of sadness and guilt that people are suffering and I am not. I envy people the ability to do this, even resent them a little.
I do what I can to fit in with friends and family who like a 'lighter' life. I attempt to balance my need to raise people's awareness of issues and encourage action against me need to be accepted by my peers and have someone to have a drink with on a Friday night. I can't lie and say it doesn't piss me off that I can't do both simultaneously, and in spite of my partial understanding of why someone doesn't want to watch the news because "it's too depressing," I sometimes want to stand on a table and shout "You're all fucking sheep! Stop burying your head in the sand for an easy life!"
My mother-in-law recently expressed disgust at Hillary Clinton for showing too much emotion when her voice broke a bit while talking about the state of the country. In fact, she said this one moment made her second-guess whether or not she thought Hillary was "strong enough" and had enough "dignity" to win the election. I watched that same clip on the news, and I cried. I cried because I was so relieved that someone cared enough to be so upset. How does someone who feels this way function in today's world? How am I supposed to cope when even my family and my husband think that I am "too much work" when I prattle on about the pain I feel at the state of our society? I am so tired of being ashamed or embarrassed about feeling the way I do. Why isn't everyone else embarrassed that they don't? Why don't people feel embarrassed for getting up every morning and going to work for a corporation which unashamedly exploits it's employees? Why don't people feel embarrassed and ashamed at having friends who make racist, sexist remarks and defend themselves by claiming they don't hurt anyone? Why aren't people ashamed and embarrassed that they benefit every day from a democracy in which they do not feel obligated to participate? Why aren't people embarrassed and ashamed that every day they are funding military operations that kill and maim innocent people?
And here I am, working hard not to make people uncomfortable. That makes me just as bad as they are. Perhaps it is time I feel a bit more embarrassed and ashamed at that.
Someone said to me recently after I had invited them to several events (many of which were protests or talks about social justice), "It's all just too heavy for a weekend." I get this a lot. The things I want to do or talk about are too serious for many of the people in my life, and so I toe the line trying to be happy and cheerful. It's important, you see, not to make anyone uncomfortable by exposing them to the reality of the world outside their lovely lives. It wouldn't be entirely fair for me to pass judgement. In fact I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a little jealous. I often think that my life would be easier if I never thought about the horrors of war, or whether or not the clothes I buy were sold by companies who exploit and abuse their employees, or if the chicken I eat suffered horrible conditions before being slaughtered. I would love to be entertained by romantic comedies where everyone is happy in the end and no one gets hurt. I wish I could read the newspaper or watch the news without feeling a horrible ache inside. I want to go to work every day somewhere where I can do my job, make lots of money, go home and spend that money as I see fit, without thinking about the people in the world who have nothing. I would be lying if I said I wouldn't love to be free of this sense of sadness and guilt that people are suffering and I am not. I envy people the ability to do this, even resent them a little.
I do what I can to fit in with friends and family who like a 'lighter' life. I attempt to balance my need to raise people's awareness of issues and encourage action against me need to be accepted by my peers and have someone to have a drink with on a Friday night. I can't lie and say it doesn't piss me off that I can't do both simultaneously, and in spite of my partial understanding of why someone doesn't want to watch the news because "it's too depressing," I sometimes want to stand on a table and shout "You're all fucking sheep! Stop burying your head in the sand for an easy life!"
My mother-in-law recently expressed disgust at Hillary Clinton for showing too much emotion when her voice broke a bit while talking about the state of the country. In fact, she said this one moment made her second-guess whether or not she thought Hillary was "strong enough" and had enough "dignity" to win the election. I watched that same clip on the news, and I cried. I cried because I was so relieved that someone cared enough to be so upset. How does someone who feels this way function in today's world? How am I supposed to cope when even my family and my husband think that I am "too much work" when I prattle on about the pain I feel at the state of our society? I am so tired of being ashamed or embarrassed about feeling the way I do. Why isn't everyone else embarrassed that they don't? Why don't people feel embarrassed for getting up every morning and going to work for a corporation which unashamedly exploits it's employees? Why don't people feel embarrassed and ashamed at having friends who make racist, sexist remarks and defend themselves by claiming they don't hurt anyone? Why aren't people ashamed and embarrassed that they benefit every day from a democracy in which they do not feel obligated to participate? Why aren't people embarrassed and ashamed that every day they are funding military operations that kill and maim innocent people?
And here I am, working hard not to make people uncomfortable. That makes me just as bad as they are. Perhaps it is time I feel a bit more embarrassed and ashamed at that.
Thursday 17 January 2008
Objects in the bedroom mirror may appear fatter than they are
This morning I woke up, tripped over my handbag and landed in my laundry pile. I then managed to get muscle rub in my eye, scald myself making coffee, and trip again on my way into my office (this time with an audience). These were all annoying things. However the thing I found most annoying this morning was getting dressed. In fact, I think the reason that I have noticed every annoying thing about today is because of how I felt when I was getting dressed. Fat. Not just fat, mammoth! I looked at myself while getting dressed today and I was disgusted. Irrational dysmorpia aside, reason tells me that I am a totally normal size. I am 5'7", weigh about 140lbs and wear a US size 8 (UK size 12). NORMAL! In fact, below average! Logically I know that if I am the same height, weight and size that I was three months ago, I most likely do not look fatter than I did three months ago. Yet still I am completely consumed by a horror at my appearance at least once a week.
This makes me angry - both with myself and with all of the things I think make me feel this way. If it was only me, I could say that I perhaps have a bit of a problem and need to address it, but it's not. So many of my absolutely beautiful friends feel the same way. It is appalling. And I know it is wrong but it is still so dominant. Every time I watch TV I feel fat. Read a magazine - feel fat. See a movie - feel fat. Watch the news - get TOLD I'm fat. Don't even get me started on how I feel when I am eating! The other night I watched this programme called Superskinny Me in which two journalists crash dieted to show the effects of dropping down from a US size 8 to a US size 00. Do you know what I thought when I was watching this? "They don't look that skinny." Ridiculous! This woman was describing how she could put her hands almost around her waist, and rather than gasping in horror I reminisced about a time when I could have done that too. And is it any wonder? During the commericals of this show there were at least two ads for work out videos and a commercial for Slim-Fast! Even during a documentary about the dangers of dieting we are pummeled with weight loss propaganda. We're so fucking brainwashed that we think if you are not starving you're a moose.
Frankly I have had enough. I refuse to let myself feel like shit because I eat three meals everyday and have things to do besides going to the gym. When I told people about reading The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf and the theory that women are being oppressed by physical expectations/standards, my friends thought I was just a crazy feminist. But look around you, seriously look around. Look at all of the things that tell you you're not good enough/rich enough/well dressed enough/thin enough/pretty enough/young enough. Then look and see what those bastards are trying to sell you in order to "feel/be better."
I am not buying it anymore.
This makes me angry - both with myself and with all of the things I think make me feel this way. If it was only me, I could say that I perhaps have a bit of a problem and need to address it, but it's not. So many of my absolutely beautiful friends feel the same way. It is appalling. And I know it is wrong but it is still so dominant. Every time I watch TV I feel fat. Read a magazine - feel fat. See a movie - feel fat. Watch the news - get TOLD I'm fat. Don't even get me started on how I feel when I am eating! The other night I watched this programme called Superskinny Me in which two journalists crash dieted to show the effects of dropping down from a US size 8 to a US size 00. Do you know what I thought when I was watching this? "They don't look that skinny." Ridiculous! This woman was describing how she could put her hands almost around her waist, and rather than gasping in horror I reminisced about a time when I could have done that too. And is it any wonder? During the commericals of this show there were at least two ads for work out videos and a commercial for Slim-Fast! Even during a documentary about the dangers of dieting we are pummeled with weight loss propaganda. We're so fucking brainwashed that we think if you are not starving you're a moose.
Frankly I have had enough. I refuse to let myself feel like shit because I eat three meals everyday and have things to do besides going to the gym. When I told people about reading The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf and the theory that women are being oppressed by physical expectations/standards, my friends thought I was just a crazy feminist. But look around you, seriously look around. Look at all of the things that tell you you're not good enough/rich enough/well dressed enough/thin enough/pretty enough/young enough. Then look and see what those bastards are trying to sell you in order to "feel/be better."
I am not buying it anymore.
Tuesday 15 January 2008
Ridiculously late 2007 summary - I have been distracted
1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before? So many things. Most notably - celebrated a wedding anniversary, told someone my biggest/worst secret, drove in Ireland, and kissed my husband on New Year's Eve.
2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and did you make more for 2008? I kept my resolution to quit smoking eventually, but it took months before it actually happened. As for 2008, see blog entitled 'A Trite Start to the New Year.' All broken at least once so far.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
One of my closest friends in high school had a baby and called her Lucia. It seemed ridiculous to not be there, in spite of only speaking to her about once a year. Strange to think you could be so close to someone an miss such a huge event in their life.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
I could have almost said no, but my great-uncle Jimmy died in December. Once again, we were close once but not any more. I detect a pattern. Kurt Vonnegut as well. I know I wasn't actually close to him, but he was so important to my life that he is worth mentioning.
5. What countries did you visit?
America, Ireland and England
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? Confidence, a sense of calm, contentment
7. What date from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? March 28th - the day I was accepted to my doctoral programme. It was the day everything started to fall into place.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Graduating at the top of my class in spite of the many obstacles. I also finally acknowled that I was burnt out in my job as a homeless support worker and allowed myself to move on.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Being too afraid to admit to my family that I am not moving back home.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had surgery on my back and quite a significant bout of depression, both of which are on the mend.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
A new house, which is going to act as the foundation for the next part of our lives. A beautiful 150 year old brick house with original stained glass and wooden floors. It is magnificent, and restoring it to it's original beauty will be a gift in itself.
12. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Hosting Thanksgiving dinner in my own house, seeing old friends at a wedding, starting my life as an academic, having time to read for pleasure, winning an award I had thought was far beyond my reach, realising I had married the kindest man in the world, seeing Arcade Fire in concert.
13. What songs will always remind you of 2007?
"Intervention" and "Tunnels" by Arcade Fire, "My Moon, My Man" by Feist, "Twilight" by Elliot Smith, "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira, "March into the Sea" by Modest Mouse, "Mutual Friend" and "Sunrise" by Divine Comedy, and too many more to mention.
14. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Relaxing, making friends, going to concerts, travelling, telling my husband how great he is, cooking dinner, taking the dog on super-long walks.
15. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Complaining, worrying, crying, working.
16. How did you spend Christmas?
I awoke in my husband's childhood bedroom. He quickly donned a santa hat and ran through the house shouting "it's Christmas, Santa's been!" and waking up his parents and siblings. We then promptly lined up and walked down the stairs - my husband first as he is the eldest - and looked at our gifts from Santa. I was sick, so I skipped breakfast. We put on our new clothes, did some family visiting, and returned home for dinner. We talked about ridiculous things, as dictated through a card game giving conversation topics, and drank wine and laughed until the early hours of the morning. I had my annual cry in the front room after talking to my family on the phone, and my husband instinctively cheered me up by giving me his gift - a pair of wellington boots to wear in the mud and muck when walking the dog. All in all it was joyous and delightful.
17. Did you fall in love in 2007?
Repeatedly, but mostly with my husband.
18. How many one-night stands?
None.
19. What was your favorite TV program?
I wish it hadn't been Grey's Anatomy, but it was. Peep Show was a close second.
20. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? No. I like someone this year that I thought I hated last year, though.
21. What was the best book you read?
I read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" again, and it once again surprised and amazed me. "Persepolis" was fantastic, as was "What is the What?" by Dave Eggers.
22. What was your greatest musical discovery?
So many great musical discoveries this year - Neutral Milk Hotel, Feist, Iain Archer, Gillian Welch, Modest Mouse, Rachel Austin. I owe most of them to a friend, who keeps me constantly in beautiful music.
23. What did you want and get?
Funding for my PhD, a new car,a trip to America to attend my best friend's wedding, my father seeing me graduate.
24. What did you want and not get?
Peace of mind, two dress sizes smaller, a job at the Human Rights Commission, more friends.
25. What was your favorite film of 2007?
"Stranger than Fiction." It truly moved me, made me laugh and cry (tears of joy), and made me think twice about my life.
26. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I went out to a local festival and drank and danced in this amazing tent set up in the town square that was decked out in red velvet, stained glass and candle light. It looked like the Moulin Rouge only smaller. I wore a silk purple shirt that made me feel like a million dollars and that I will only bring out again for an equally exciting occasion. I was 27.
27. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Having the people I love a bit closer.
28. What kept you sane?
My husband, my dog, my ambition, my work (all of these also contributed to loss of sanity at some point or another). Probably music, above all. It has always been my therapist, confidant and oracle.
29. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Will and Regine, the two lead singers from Arcade Fire (I sound a little obsessed with Arcade Fire, but I'm really not), Gael Garcia Bernal, Maggie Gyllenhall.
30. Who did you miss?
Gram, my parents, my sister and brother, Pat, Holly, Alex, Jen, Nicole, Gareth, Catrina, Washington DC, the Atlantic Ocean.
31. How did you spend New Year’s Eve?
Eating dinner at a Lebanese restaurant with some of my closest Irish friends - then drinking and dancing until early morning at a house party. I kissed my husband at midnight for the first time in the 6 years we have known each other.
32. Who was the best new person you met?
Rachel Piper. She is saving my life right now and she doesn't even know it. And John O'Donahue, although I am sad to say I might have forgotten to mention him if it wasn't for his recent death.
33. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.
I am not destined for failure.
34. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"I found a man to stick it out and make a home from a rented house. We'll collect the moments one by one, I guess that's how the future's done." - Feist
"If you want somethin, don't ask for nothin. If you want nothin, don't ask for somethin!" - Arcade Fire
2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and did you make more for 2008? I kept my resolution to quit smoking eventually, but it took months before it actually happened. As for 2008, see blog entitled 'A Trite Start to the New Year.' All broken at least once so far.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
One of my closest friends in high school had a baby and called her Lucia. It seemed ridiculous to not be there, in spite of only speaking to her about once a year. Strange to think you could be so close to someone an miss such a huge event in their life.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
I could have almost said no, but my great-uncle Jimmy died in December. Once again, we were close once but not any more. I detect a pattern. Kurt Vonnegut as well. I know I wasn't actually close to him, but he was so important to my life that he is worth mentioning.
5. What countries did you visit?
America, Ireland and England
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? Confidence, a sense of calm, contentment
7. What date from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? March 28th - the day I was accepted to my doctoral programme. It was the day everything started to fall into place.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Graduating at the top of my class in spite of the many obstacles. I also finally acknowled that I was burnt out in my job as a homeless support worker and allowed myself to move on.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Being too afraid to admit to my family that I am not moving back home.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had surgery on my back and quite a significant bout of depression, both of which are on the mend.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
A new house, which is going to act as the foundation for the next part of our lives. A beautiful 150 year old brick house with original stained glass and wooden floors. It is magnificent, and restoring it to it's original beauty will be a gift in itself.
12. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Hosting Thanksgiving dinner in my own house, seeing old friends at a wedding, starting my life as an academic, having time to read for pleasure, winning an award I had thought was far beyond my reach, realising I had married the kindest man in the world, seeing Arcade Fire in concert.
13. What songs will always remind you of 2007?
"Intervention" and "Tunnels" by Arcade Fire, "My Moon, My Man" by Feist, "Twilight" by Elliot Smith, "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira, "March into the Sea" by Modest Mouse, "Mutual Friend" and "Sunrise" by Divine Comedy, and too many more to mention.
14. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Relaxing, making friends, going to concerts, travelling, telling my husband how great he is, cooking dinner, taking the dog on super-long walks.
15. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Complaining, worrying, crying, working.
16. How did you spend Christmas?
I awoke in my husband's childhood bedroom. He quickly donned a santa hat and ran through the house shouting "it's Christmas, Santa's been!" and waking up his parents and siblings. We then promptly lined up and walked down the stairs - my husband first as he is the eldest - and looked at our gifts from Santa. I was sick, so I skipped breakfast. We put on our new clothes, did some family visiting, and returned home for dinner. We talked about ridiculous things, as dictated through a card game giving conversation topics, and drank wine and laughed until the early hours of the morning. I had my annual cry in the front room after talking to my family on the phone, and my husband instinctively cheered me up by giving me his gift - a pair of wellington boots to wear in the mud and muck when walking the dog. All in all it was joyous and delightful.
17. Did you fall in love in 2007?
Repeatedly, but mostly with my husband.
18. How many one-night stands?
None.
19. What was your favorite TV program?
I wish it hadn't been Grey's Anatomy, but it was. Peep Show was a close second.
20. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? No. I like someone this year that I thought I hated last year, though.
21. What was the best book you read?
I read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" again, and it once again surprised and amazed me. "Persepolis" was fantastic, as was "What is the What?" by Dave Eggers.
22. What was your greatest musical discovery?
So many great musical discoveries this year - Neutral Milk Hotel, Feist, Iain Archer, Gillian Welch, Modest Mouse, Rachel Austin. I owe most of them to a friend, who keeps me constantly in beautiful music.
23. What did you want and get?
Funding for my PhD, a new car,a trip to America to attend my best friend's wedding, my father seeing me graduate.
24. What did you want and not get?
Peace of mind, two dress sizes smaller, a job at the Human Rights Commission, more friends.
25. What was your favorite film of 2007?
"Stranger than Fiction." It truly moved me, made me laugh and cry (tears of joy), and made me think twice about my life.
26. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I went out to a local festival and drank and danced in this amazing tent set up in the town square that was decked out in red velvet, stained glass and candle light. It looked like the Moulin Rouge only smaller. I wore a silk purple shirt that made me feel like a million dollars and that I will only bring out again for an equally exciting occasion. I was 27.
27. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Having the people I love a bit closer.
28. What kept you sane?
My husband, my dog, my ambition, my work (all of these also contributed to loss of sanity at some point or another). Probably music, above all. It has always been my therapist, confidant and oracle.
29. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Will and Regine, the two lead singers from Arcade Fire (I sound a little obsessed with Arcade Fire, but I'm really not), Gael Garcia Bernal, Maggie Gyllenhall.
30. Who did you miss?
Gram, my parents, my sister and brother, Pat, Holly, Alex, Jen, Nicole, Gareth, Catrina, Washington DC, the Atlantic Ocean.
31. How did you spend New Year’s Eve?
Eating dinner at a Lebanese restaurant with some of my closest Irish friends - then drinking and dancing until early morning at a house party. I kissed my husband at midnight for the first time in the 6 years we have known each other.
32. Who was the best new person you met?
Rachel Piper. She is saving my life right now and she doesn't even know it. And John O'Donahue, although I am sad to say I might have forgotten to mention him if it wasn't for his recent death.
33. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.
I am not destined for failure.
34. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"I found a man to stick it out and make a home from a rented house. We'll collect the moments one by one, I guess that's how the future's done." - Feist
"If you want somethin, don't ask for nothin. If you want nothin, don't ask for somethin!" - Arcade Fire
A poet and a mystic
Sunday night I went to a celebration of the life and work of John O'Donahue, who died suddenly and in his sleep two weeks ago. I had met only him once - he was giving a talk/poetry reading about life in general. He spoke for hours about everything and nothing at all, and at the end we were all begging for more. He spoke with a soothing, western Irish lilt - the kind of voice that could calm you even if he were reading out the atrocities of the daily news. He seemed a beautiful man, and the celebration was beautiful as well.
It is strange to think that someone who inspired me so much in such a short space of time has left me speechless in his death. I have been trying to write about the odd sense of grief over the loss of a man who I didn't know, the gratitude I feel towards a person who challenged me and the way I view the world, but nothing seems to come. John O'Donahue was a man who absorbed every moment of his life and experienced every ounce of joy and pain and all of the things in between. I guess all I want to say is that I hope I can find it within myself to live in that way. No better time than the present to start trying.
It is strange to think that someone who inspired me so much in such a short space of time has left me speechless in his death. I have been trying to write about the odd sense of grief over the loss of a man who I didn't know, the gratitude I feel towards a person who challenged me and the way I view the world, but nothing seems to come. John O'Donahue was a man who absorbed every moment of his life and experienced every ounce of joy and pain and all of the things in between. I guess all I want to say is that I hope I can find it within myself to live in that way. No better time than the present to start trying.
Tuesday 8 January 2008
My dog ate my PhD
For once I will use this for what I had originally intended - keeping a record of day to day events. I am afraid, however, that it will end up being a daily account of the PhD process since that is basically all I ever do/think about.
So I am two weeks to the day away from my first progress seminar where I am expected to show a panel of academics how well I am doing in my research and they can decide whether or not to permit me to continue as planned. For the last three months I have thrown myself into this process, reading everything I could get my hands on and trying to understand theories and research paradigms and everything else that makes normal people's eyes glaze over when you start to talk about it. Merrily I rolled along thinking I was on the right track. But today, upon reading the third draft of my seminar paper, my supervisor has decided that my project is not viable and I need to redesign it. How am I expected to keep to my new year resolutions in the face of this? Honestly, my first reaction is to scream/have a cigarette/eat chocolate. To save you the suspense, yes - I did all three of those things.
My day was preceded by a rather disturbing and seemingly impossible dream, in which I was accidentally killed in an assassination attempt on a politician and my ghost went around talking to my friends and being upset because my still living husband wasn't paying me enough attention now that I was dead.
No more documentaries about terrorism before bed. And no more meetings with PhD supervisors. This is surely the best way to avoid further problems. On a good note, we signed for the new house today and plans to move in shortly are underway.
This particularly good news, given that I have been living in my husband's childhood bedroom with a houseful of furniture in the garage for more than three weeks now. Equally delightful is the news that my brother-in-law might be moving in with us. One might ask why this is so delightful - if so, one must never have had to cope with paying for the renovations on a 150 year old house!
So I am two weeks to the day away from my first progress seminar where I am expected to show a panel of academics how well I am doing in my research and they can decide whether or not to permit me to continue as planned. For the last three months I have thrown myself into this process, reading everything I could get my hands on and trying to understand theories and research paradigms and everything else that makes normal people's eyes glaze over when you start to talk about it. Merrily I rolled along thinking I was on the right track. But today, upon reading the third draft of my seminar paper, my supervisor has decided that my project is not viable and I need to redesign it. How am I expected to keep to my new year resolutions in the face of this? Honestly, my first reaction is to scream/have a cigarette/eat chocolate. To save you the suspense, yes - I did all three of those things.
My day was preceded by a rather disturbing and seemingly impossible dream, in which I was accidentally killed in an assassination attempt on a politician and my ghost went around talking to my friends and being upset because my still living husband wasn't paying me enough attention now that I was dead.
No more documentaries about terrorism before bed. And no more meetings with PhD supervisors. This is surely the best way to avoid further problems. On a good note, we signed for the new house today and plans to move in shortly are underway.
This particularly good news, given that I have been living in my husband's childhood bedroom with a houseful of furniture in the garage for more than three weeks now. Equally delightful is the news that my brother-in-law might be moving in with us. One might ask why this is so delightful - if so, one must never have had to cope with paying for the renovations on a 150 year old house!
Thursday 3 January 2008
Ode to a Piano (and a mother)
It is incredible how much inanimate objects can mean to someone. I am just off the phone, crying hysterically about a piano. A piano! Here I am, thousands of miles away from my family and friends, approaching a massive deadline for my PhD, and in the middle of a very stressful house move - and I am crying over a piano!
But it is not just a piano, it is the pride of our family. My mother brought it home when I was about 9 years old. Where the piano came from is still a bit of a mystery, and being a child I never asked. Looking back it seems ridiculous, we could never afford such a luxury and I have no idea how my mother managed it. It was beautiful. Dark mahogany wood, hand carved roses adorning the music rest. It was beaten and scratched and in need of a good polish, but it was breathtaking none the less. I remember thinking that the keys were rather more yellow than I had expected (I had never seen a piano up close), and when I hit the first few notes it was clearly out of tune - not that I would have known what in tune should sound like. I didn't take lessons, but I played the piano every day at first. I am sure it was pure noise, driving all of the neighbours in our apartment block insane, but I 'practised' to my heart's content. My mother had never taken a lesson either, and she could not read a note of music, but she used to sit and listen to music and try to bang out the notes on the keys - often with great success. But my favourites were the songs she wrote herself. Hearing them now they would likely seem simple and plain, but back then I was sure she was a musical genius.
The piano moved with us time and again, thanks mainly to a friend of my mother's who managed to get people to move it for free. Recently my mother decided she was tired of moving it from place to place and resolved to get rid of it. I begged her told on to it for a bit longer so that I might take it with me to Ireland when I could afford to and she agreed. But today she said she had agreed to give it away. She offered my piano to another family whose children wanted a piano but who could not afford to buy one. This was, of course, a noble thing for my mother to do. She is handing on the piano in what I can only assume was the same manner by which we came to possess it. In a karmic universe, surely this is the answer. I know it is selfish and childish, and I do want to pass on that same joy I felt to another family, but I can't bare someone else having something that is so much a part of our lives.
Every memory I have of that piano is a memory of my mother, but more importantly it is a memory of my mother being the kind of mother I had always wanted her to be. When I played she listened intently and told me how beautiful it sounded. We sat together on the bench and she patiently taught me the songs she had written note by note. When I listened to her playing the piano, she was no longer my mother the waitress/house cleaner/embarrassing single-parent who was younger,angrier and more crass than all the other mothers. When she played, she was my mother: pianist and composer. She was beautiful and talented, a peaceful and calm woman who naturally possessed the gift of music. Even today, even with my awareness of the simplicity of her piano skills, watching her play fills me with a sense of pride admiration and love.
For all of these reasons, the piano is our family legacy. It is my mother's legacy to me - a symbol of something beautiful in a relationship otherwise tainted by anger and resentment. My greatest memories of my mother all revolve around that instrument, and it is the only thing that my family carried with it each time we left a tiny apartment filled with hand-me-down for another tiny apartment filled with more hand-me-down furniture. It was ours, properly ours. A family heirloom to be passed through the generations along with the silly little songs my mother wrote on it. It is more than just an object, it is a metaphor for everything my mother has done for us. She gave us that piano almost impossibly, just as she gave us opportunities that the odds said we would never have. How does a single woman working as a part-time waitress, living on food stamps with two children under the age of ten afford a hand carved piano? The same way she sent us to ballet class, paid the rent and bought Christmas presents - any way she could. She did anything she needed to do to give us what she thought we needed. That is why I cried for our piano today.
But it is not just a piano, it is the pride of our family. My mother brought it home when I was about 9 years old. Where the piano came from is still a bit of a mystery, and being a child I never asked. Looking back it seems ridiculous, we could never afford such a luxury and I have no idea how my mother managed it. It was beautiful. Dark mahogany wood, hand carved roses adorning the music rest. It was beaten and scratched and in need of a good polish, but it was breathtaking none the less. I remember thinking that the keys were rather more yellow than I had expected (I had never seen a piano up close), and when I hit the first few notes it was clearly out of tune - not that I would have known what in tune should sound like. I didn't take lessons, but I played the piano every day at first. I am sure it was pure noise, driving all of the neighbours in our apartment block insane, but I 'practised' to my heart's content. My mother had never taken a lesson either, and she could not read a note of music, but she used to sit and listen to music and try to bang out the notes on the keys - often with great success. But my favourites were the songs she wrote herself. Hearing them now they would likely seem simple and plain, but back then I was sure she was a musical genius.
The piano moved with us time and again, thanks mainly to a friend of my mother's who managed to get people to move it for free. Recently my mother decided she was tired of moving it from place to place and resolved to get rid of it. I begged her told on to it for a bit longer so that I might take it with me to Ireland when I could afford to and she agreed. But today she said she had agreed to give it away. She offered my piano to another family whose children wanted a piano but who could not afford to buy one. This was, of course, a noble thing for my mother to do. She is handing on the piano in what I can only assume was the same manner by which we came to possess it. In a karmic universe, surely this is the answer. I know it is selfish and childish, and I do want to pass on that same joy I felt to another family, but I can't bare someone else having something that is so much a part of our lives.
Every memory I have of that piano is a memory of my mother, but more importantly it is a memory of my mother being the kind of mother I had always wanted her to be. When I played she listened intently and told me how beautiful it sounded. We sat together on the bench and she patiently taught me the songs she had written note by note. When I listened to her playing the piano, she was no longer my mother the waitress/house cleaner/embarrassing single-parent who was younger,angrier and more crass than all the other mothers. When she played, she was my mother: pianist and composer. She was beautiful and talented, a peaceful and calm woman who naturally possessed the gift of music. Even today, even with my awareness of the simplicity of her piano skills, watching her play fills me with a sense of pride admiration and love.
For all of these reasons, the piano is our family legacy. It is my mother's legacy to me - a symbol of something beautiful in a relationship otherwise tainted by anger and resentment. My greatest memories of my mother all revolve around that instrument, and it is the only thing that my family carried with it each time we left a tiny apartment filled with hand-me-down for another tiny apartment filled with more hand-me-down furniture. It was ours, properly ours. A family heirloom to be passed through the generations along with the silly little songs my mother wrote on it. It is more than just an object, it is a metaphor for everything my mother has done for us. She gave us that piano almost impossibly, just as she gave us opportunities that the odds said we would never have. How does a single woman working as a part-time waitress, living on food stamps with two children under the age of ten afford a hand carved piano? The same way she sent us to ballet class, paid the rent and bought Christmas presents - any way she could. She did anything she needed to do to give us what she thought we needed. That is why I cried for our piano today.
Wednesday 2 January 2008
A Trite Start to the New Year
I hate new year's resolutions. I pretty much always break them, as does everyone, but I still like to torture myself by setting unreasonable standards and flogging myself when i don't live up to them. Every year I resolve to quit smoking and lose weight. As does 99% of the rest of the population. Normally I fail at both, but last year I managed - in a bizarre St. Patrick's Day resolution - to quit smoking. After reading Naomi Wolf's revelation The Beauty Myth I decided that my desire to lose weight was driven by an attempt to keep women oppressed in the face of 'equal' rights, so that had to be scrapped. "Be a better person" came to mind, but that is just too subjective and totally unmeasurable. I know you don't really need to have a resolution, but it seems a waste to start a new year without clearing the slate and beginning again. So I have decided on a new variation on an old theme.
I will work towards becoming an all around healthier person.
My resolution will include the following targets: 1. Physical Health - exercising for an hour at least 2x per week, eating 5 fruit and veg every day, eating breakfast, and cutting down on coffee 2. Mental Health - get a hobby and do something hobby related at least 1x per week, learn to meditate and then meditate for at least 20 minutes every other day, the exercising also falls into this category but it has been covered
3. Emotional Health - develop a mantra, recite my mantra at least once a day while looking in the mirror (don't laugh, this is very powerful!), write in my blog/journal at least once per week, count to ten and imagine what it must be like to be the other person every time i get angry.
In order to make these all seem more realistic and not too overwhelming, I will focus on one from each category at a time and just try to integrate it into my day. Once I feel like it is part of my normal routine, I move on to the next one. I am sure many of you already do these things as normal already. Sadly, I do not - hence the need for ranting and raving at a computer.
I will work towards becoming an all around healthier person.
My resolution will include the following targets: 1. Physical Health - exercising for an hour at least 2x per week, eating 5 fruit and veg every day, eating breakfast, and cutting down on coffee 2. Mental Health - get a hobby and do something hobby related at least 1x per week, learn to meditate and then meditate for at least 20 minutes every other day, the exercising also falls into this category but it has been covered
3. Emotional Health - develop a mantra, recite my mantra at least once a day while looking in the mirror (don't laugh, this is very powerful!), write in my blog/journal at least once per week, count to ten and imagine what it must be like to be the other person every time i get angry.
In order to make these all seem more realistic and not too overwhelming, I will focus on one from each category at a time and just try to integrate it into my day. Once I feel like it is part of my normal routine, I move on to the next one. I am sure many of you already do these things as normal already. Sadly, I do not - hence the need for ranting and raving at a computer.
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