Freight Train Runnin' thru the Middle of My Head

Halloween pressure
When I was a kid, I hated Halloween for two very strong reasons:
1) I was the most painfully shy child you can imagine. The absolute horror of ringing strangers' doorbells and asking for candy, even in a mask, was almost too much for me to bear. I didn't want to bother and then maybe have to actually talk to these people that I didn't even know! It was scarier than the thought of boogey men stealing me from my bed in the middle of the night.

2) I could never, ever come up with a cool costume. I was too worried about being cool and couldn't just relax and do it. I would sweat, wrestle, plan and replan, do and redo. And after all that, the plastic masks with the painful rubber band inevitably came back out because I had to surrender. Here is my funniest failure:

A fry guy. Yes, from McDonald's. The plan was to make it myself. I don't remember the particulars, but I was going to stuff an orange garbage bag with something, I think. And wear tights. I dunno. It didn't work. I went as a gypsy, after mom scrambled through her closet and found a flouncy skirt and white blouse. It was the 80's, so luckily I had bangles and big necklaces.

So, although #1 doesn't apply as much anymore (thankfully, I get more and more over my shyness as I get older), #2 is still haunting me. I can't figure out a costume! I have a potential costume, but it might not work. I'm fearing the worst.

Hour #4
That's where I am in my 13-hour day on campus. So far, I've taught twice, met with two students in office hours, and lesson planned for tomorrow. Now, I'm lunching. Still left to do: post office, more lesson planning (I have two Graduate Teaching Fellows coming to watch me teach tomorrow, so I have to make it good!), grading compositions, assisting with the Sigma Delta Pi (Spanish Honors Society) initiation, attending a departmental reception for undergraduate award winners and honors society inductees, picking up a video camera from the Center for Teaching and Learning, and filming my Intro to Hispanic Lit class as they do dramatic representations of short stories.

Sting and Dave on my TV
Sting was on Oprah today. Now, I don't normally watch Oprah, but when I'm flipping through and see Sting on my TV, I stop. He sang a little bit (an acoustic Roxanne that was just about breathtaking), talked about and read from his new memoir, and brought Trudy onto the stage. When trying to express the love he feels for her, he remarked, "I want to die with this woman loving me." That struck me and has stuck with me all evening.

Just now, Dave Matthews was on MTV2 singing from his new solo album. The song and video "Gravedigger" are pretty haunting. An intense portrait of memory, pain, death, a collective past, the collective experience of loss and mortality. "Gravedigger, when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow, so that I can feel the rain?"

Dave and Sting talking about death today on my TV. And the rain pouring down, and it getting dark at 5:00.

It's dark outside
I absolutely hate the fact that it gets dark at 5:00. I feel like my days are shorter, and I can't seem to get enough work done. I know it is just in my head, but so far, I haven't adjusted. Tomorrow I will be on campus for 13 hours. I'm not kidding. Luckily some of those hours should be "down time," which I'm going to spend in my library carrel. That's the one place on campus where I seem to get some peace and quiet.

It would've been a great Tuesday to stay inside reading, wouldn't it? Alas, it wasn't meant to be.

a pre-Thanksgiving meditation
There seems to be a rash of negativity going around campus. People are in a funk. But look at all the reasons to be happy: all the people who love you, the ability (time, $, energy, health, etc.) to go out with those people whose company you enjoy, a future that is surely to be at least moderately successful when your education is through, the ability to pay your bills every month and not go hungry, your hobbies/passions/interests/things that make you wonder in the night and wake up in the morning (whatever those things are), the ability (time, $, intelligence, interest) to learn new things and continually grow as a person.

Listen, take it from someone whose mother worked 30 years in a factory that she absolutely hated, sweating profusely since there was no air conditioning but the machines made the place like a furnace, getting all kinds of carpal tunnel and other little ailments that creeped up when she least expected, never earning enough money to make much of a difference, without a better future anywhere in sight. That's a tough life. I consider myself very fortunate in comparison. I get paid to think, people. To read. To learn. To help others do the same. My job allows me to do a lot of my work from the comforts of my own home, or at the very least, in a comfy office chair. I get the chance to meet interesting people, learn new things from lectures, books, professors, students. No, my work isn't easy and it didn't fall into my lap. But, I have a lot to be thankful for. I try to never, ever forget my own privilege.

The tally
Here's the tally of fall break frivolity (thus far):
* Movies watched = 1 (Lost in Translation - loved it!)
* Road trips taken = 1 (Williamsburg, VA)
* Really bad-for-me food consumed = Doritos, pizza, caramel corn, fudge, pretzel dipped in peanut butter and chocolate, homemade waffle cone filled with icecream, pecan pancakes, bacon
* Roller coasters ridden = 4 (twice on our favorite)
* Other attractions = 2 indoor 4-D "experiences," 1 boat, 1 train, 1 haunted house, Colonial Williamsburg, William and Mary, window shopping in Merchants' Square
* Things purchased = 3 postcards, an LED bat pin for Jason, a snowman ornament for me (was tempted by the roller coaster photos but was strong and said no)
* Photos taken = 72

An awesome trip! But now I'm exhausted and there are classes to plan and other job-related things to get done today. But, at least I sort of have an extra hour today! And it won't be totally dark when I walk out of my house at 6:55 a.m. tomorrow morning to catch my bus! That's a happy thought.

Make sure you don't get killed by any colonial types
That's a gem of wisdom from Jen, the ever-cheeky advice giver, whom I talked to on the phone tonight. Jason and I are headed to Williamsburg, VA tomorrow to check out the sites and get away from CH for a little while. While it's lovely here, it'll be nice to see somewhere else. And, in an effort to feel like we're really not getting old, we'll be riding all the Halloween-themed rides at Busch Gardens and perhaps the coasters, provided it's not too cold. But I'm wearing a hooded sweatshirt, so I should be ready for just about anything. Yeah, some of Jason's classmates are off on a cerebral fieldtrip to the Library of Congress and such, and we'll be running around a theme park being silly. Kind of seems fitting.

Gathering my tunes
Jason showed me how to use Itunes...it's extra super duper cool. Check it out if you haven't already. I'm gathering all my CD's and putting them in my library...I feel empowered somehow. Speaking of tunes, I've been craving the oldies lately. Aretha is a goddess.

Oh, and I have to admit that I'm becoming addicted to VH1's "I love the 80's" shows. I can't believe how much I had forgotten. Like, of course I remember the pain and agony of jelly shoes, but I had totally forgotten about Hart to Hart!

New purple pen
Today I bought a new purple pen that I will use to grade my midterms. I like grading in purple or green. Red is too harsh, I think. It sends an almost antagonistic message, which is not what I want to do with my feedback. Once, though, a student told me that his paper looked bruised (because of the purple). I guess that isn't much better then, is it? A few months ago, I made the mistake of buying a whole pack of gel pens, which I thought would be perfect for grading. But instead, they give off a strange shimmer that makes the ink distracting to me. So I've determined that they really aren't great for grading. Besides, neon orange is really not a good color to use for more than a few words at a time. Your eyes start hurting after a while!

I wonder how many students I will have tomorrow, the day before the official start of fall break? Well, I'm teaching, even if only 2 people show up. We'll get some learning done, anyway! And it will be a fun day, actually: we're setting up stores and going shopping. I'm teaching them about the cultural practice of bargaining in Spanish-speaking countries, and then we're going to see who are the best bargain hunters (and who are the craftiest vendors). This is always one of the most popular lessons that I do, so it should be a good time! Once, in a more advanced level, I brought in a big bag of random items (many of which were totally strange...like weird tools and stuff). The vendors had to convince the buyers that their products were worth buying. That was a funny twist to the whole thing.

Anyway, now I'm off to a meeting. Happy Tuesday, everybody.

Selective perfection
I wouldn't call myself a perfectionist, no way. But for some reason, I have written and re-written and changed and revised and edited the heck out of my Spanish 21 midterm. I thought I had finished it last week, but yesterday I got it back out and realized it was too long, some of the stuff wasn't clear, and some things weren't tested that should have been and vice versa. So I went back to it. All in all, I spent a ridiculous amount of hours on the thing. I'm exhausted!!

This dream I had
Characters:
me
Jason
Jerry

Setting:
A remote, picturesque village in some unnamed, old world country (maybe Finland? Sweden? Austria?). Quaint houses, beautifully manicured lawns, flowers, gnomes. Like something out of a fairytale but modern. Unknown year, but probably about now, since we all looked roughly the same.

Plot summary:
We're on vacation, staying at an incredible inn somewhere in this small village. We decide to take a bus to the local town for some entertainment. Somewhere along the way, Jason and Jerry get off the bus before I notice (it was crowded so we were separated). I get off the bus later, when I realize what has happened. I start walking back, headed in the direction where they might be, figuring I'd catch up to them.

As I'm walking, I see some sort of festival is happening on the side of the road. I stop and look. It is a wrestling festival, but not the WWE over-the-top "sports entertainment" variety. It was sort of like a rustic ballet, an interesting mix between sumo and folk dancing. And there were Jerry and Jason, among the natives of this village, wrestling in this local ritual. The people had lined up for the chance to wrestle with them, and it was sort of beautiful. There was singing, music, chanting, and low lighting, and you got the feeling that Jason and Jerry were participating in something very symbolic, culturally significant to the people. After the wrestling was over (though no one really 'won'), we feasted.

I told Jason this dream and he nearly laughed himself to death.

Then he asked me: We weren't getting our butts kicked, were we? (the answer, much to his pleasure, was no)
What does this all mean??

Cleaning inside and out
Watch out, y'all...I'm a mean, lean, cleanin' machine. I woke up and went on a tear this morning. Jason and the kitties are astounded. I even washed some windows. The ones I could reach, anyway. Let's not get too carried away. I even swept the dead leaves off the deck and the front stoop. I made the bed. I'm doing laundry. Watered the plants. Check. Check. Check. OH yeah. To be fair, Jason vacuumed and picked up his things. But his fervor wasn't quite up to mine.

Last night I ate so many chocolate Reese's pumpkins, I thought I might turn into one. Not that I would have minded. Try this concoction that Jean and I stumbled onto: eat a Reese's pumpkin (or regular Reese's cup, I guess) and then a handful of pretzels. OH YEAH. That's the stuff.

My photos of Boulder and Athens are almost done. Go to www.ibiblio.org/griffey/gallery in a little bit and check 'em out.

Today was such a fun day in class, I fell in love with teaching all over again
If you can get students interested in talking about each other, then Spanish grammar becomes the most fun thing in the world. The topic today was present perfect: What have you done? What have you not done that you wish you had? What have your classmates done? Who has had the most interesting life so far? I did this sheet of activities like "traveled to Europe," "never gone to an amusement park," "paid a traffic ticket," "broken a window." They had to first guess who in their class had done each thing and then go around verifying. Enough laughter to warm the soul. Seriously, it was great. A bunch of them even had guessed me for some of the categories (most often, "stayed in a luxury hotel" haaa!). I have a great rapport with my students right now, and it makes going to class really more like fun than work. But in the meantime, we are also getting a lot of productive learning done. So most days are fantastic.

I think we all need fall break, though. I can tell they are starting to get tired, and rightly so. Me, I plan to sleep as long as my body lets me on Saturday. So please don't call before noon, people. Thanks.

Jinx
When I was a kid, my dad always used to tell me I was a jinx. Whenever our team lost (i.e., Kentucky...as in the Wildcats...and maybe the Reds during baseball season), he would tell me it was all my fault. I was a jinx. If I hadn't been watching, then maybe they would have won. They won the last time, and I wasn't watching then.

Okay, so he was kidding. That's my dad. Kidding that stings and sort of sticks with you for a long time.

So...Cubs fans...I'm sorry! Maybe I shouldn't have watched last night. If I have jinxed you, I apologize. I promise to watch no more Cubs baseball until they do, in fact, get into the World Series.

P.S.
Right you are, Jerry. I did fail to mention our friend Karen, who is also a Chicago native and a rabid Cubbies fan. You know, if the Cubs get into the World Series, we should have a massive fiesta for all our displaced Chicago buddies. There seems to be a ton of them here in NC. What do you say, people?

Remembering life before email
This whole not having email thing is tough, I admit. Us poor UNC folk haven't had access to email for over 24 hours now, and some of us are going a bit wonky. I'm okay so far, but I'm hoping that the inbox isn't stuffed to the brim when I do finally get to it. Remember life before email? I don't, not really. But it's funny how I've heard people screaming down the hall: I guess you didn't get my email, sooooo.... (Remember when we used to make plans and share information face-to-face in the first place? Remember when we used to walk down the hall to someone's office instead of emailing them? Remember when students either asked you in class or came to office hours or didn't ask at all?). Okay, I don't either. Not really.

Because there was no email to distract me, I wrote my midterm for Spanish 21 already. It's not until next Wednesday, so for me, this is working pretty far ahead. I feel accomplished!

p.s. Go Cubs! (that's for you, Jean, and for my old boss Chuck at the radio station when I did sports reporting for WMKY radio in Morehead Kentucky. He is probably going out of his mind about now. I'm glad I don't work there anymore. A total FANATIC from Chicago. I mean, a total and complete sports nut, particularly when it comes to baseball and even more particularly when it comes to his beloved Chi-town.)

"Visitor"
I just got an email that I've been assigned a "visitor's study" in Davis Library. Not that I'm visiting. I've been here for six years now. And not that they gave me a "faculty study," which would make more sense. But I'm not complaining. Here's a geeky confession: I look forward to locking myself away in my new "visitor's study," surrounded by books, so I can get back to the nitty gritty. Sick and twisted, I know. I'm trying to revamp my entire first chapter of the dissertation so it will be publishable, which means I have to read tons and tons of theory on subjectivity, identity, and postmodernism. Yeah. I know you envy me.

I love, love, love teaching, especially my intro. to lit. class. I have the coolest students. But I also love the smell of books, the feel of the pages, the squeaking of my shoes as I troll the stacks of Davis, the excitement of buying little notebooks and sticky flags and file folders. I enjoy wandering the reference section and pulling down encyclopedias and dictionaries in search of some elusive, small name or place or figure buried deep in a poem or story. I should get to it, then.

Why I love Mondays
I know most people hate Mondays, but I have Tuesdays off from school, so Mondays for me are like strange pseudo-Fridays. I can take my time Monday night and get caught up with all the stuff I should have done more dilligently over the weekend. So it's Monday and I'm happy.

I'm craving my friend Tim's lasagna. It's a big ol' mess, full of everything but the kitchen sink. It even has artichokes in it. I haven't had that lasagna for years now. Once in a while, I get a strong food memory and then I can't get it out of my head. Poor guy is lactose intolerant, so for the rest of us his cooking was heaven but for him, it was an omen.

The local NBC station just flashed a "countdown to Clay Aiken's new CD" that had it broken down into hours. Ummm....scary!!!!!!!!!!!!! And, btw, the name of his CD? "Measure of a Man"...does anyone else find anything hilariously ironic about that??

Words swirling
Poetry has been gushing from me for the past three or four days. I'm thinking in verses and seeing things in stanzas. Mostly it's junk, but sometimes there is a nugget of light buried in there. I'm wondering what to do with my poems lately. I write for me, always have, but lately I wonder what might happen if I tried to unleash some of it onto the world? It's funny how what I read and write about academically affects what I write about creatively. Example: I've got some ideas swirling around my head about two poets who write a lot about ghosts, vampires, angels, and other such other-worldly creatures. And now I see that my own poems are starting to be haunted by unexpected spectres. Influence or robbery? Maybe a bit of both.

Natalie Merchant is with me today, her voice like a lullabye. Yesterday it was Joni Mitchell. Haunting female voices. It is all related.

Shameless advertising for a new sushi place
If you're milling about or sitting around, hungry, thinking about eating something soon, looking for some good food...check out the new sushi place on 54 (going toward Raleigh, near I-40, right beside a bowling alley and Hardee's). It's called Tsunami. Went there today for lunch on a whim with some good friends and got our bellies fully of very fresh, very tasty stuff. We tried a bunch of different things, and it was all great. The shrimp tempura seemed to be the biggest hit at my table, although all the sushi was good, too. We were the only ones in there, because the place just opened this week. So I'm trying to drum up business. Go there, will you? Help Tsunami out.

Last night was Kill Bill, a testosterone fest with 6 big guys, me and one girlfriend. I really dig Tarantino, and I remember being completely awestruck when I saw Pulp Fiction years ago. But this one was a bit different for me. Maybe I'm getting old, or I was tired, but it didn't rock me. It was good, and definitely interesting in terms of filmmaking, but I dunno.

I woke up this morning singing Stand By Me, thinking about that movie and how much I love it. And also how cool it would be if the rumors were true and they really did do an update of the Goonies with all the original boys starring as the fathers. Well, you know me and my Sean Astin thing.

Letters of recommendation
Here's something that comes with this Ph.D. title: a plethora of letters of recommendation that need to be written, forms to be filled out, CV's and resumes that my name gets put on. This is what we professors refer to as "recommendation season," that wacky time when all of our students seem to be looking at what's potentially around the corner in their lives: grad school, med school, study abroad, jobs, scholarships, fellowships. We're all writing toward the future, trying to help our students get that next big thing, be that next big thing. It's hard to be specific in some of those letters, to write something very special and memorable (and true) about a student that I had in one class about 4 semesters ago. Unless it was truly an outstanding student...not just a good one...those are the hardest letters. Even though you know you can be totally positive, the letter ends up being kind of flat. No flair. No pizzaz. No soul.

I have become very fast at these letters. Not very good, but very fast.

When I was in the Honors program at Morehead State University, Jason and I were pretty good friends with the secretary. One day I was helping her look for something and came upon my own file. She said I could look at it. Inside, I saw my application. Attached to it were my letters of recommendation. I started to read them. Included were two really nice ones, full of good comments and an assurance that I could make it in the honors program and excel in my studies. Then there was another one. Hand-written on the form that I had provided, with no letter attached and no additional information, my AP US History teacher wrote:

I recommend Betsy Sandlin for the Honors Program.

That was it. It sucked. Ever since then, I have vowed to give the best damn effort possible on all the rec. letters I write.

My post disappeared!
Damn this computer! It totally crashed on me before I could post my last...brilliantly written, of course...post! Ah well. Time for the leftovers.

Basically the point was this: my students didn't watch Angel or Smallville last night, like I happily did. They told me that they watched The Bachelor. That's right: The Bachelor. YIKES! Maybe I have lost touch with my students' lives. When will the reality TV madness end, if ever?? Last night's South Park was a repeat of the witty episode where Earth turns out to be just a big reality show for another planet. Doesn't it feel that way sometimes? Or, even more so, like a fake reality show ala Joe Schmoe, where things are just a wee bit too scripted? Well, that's my life anyway.

We were talking about adrenaline rushes at lunch today...of which I don't get many and really don't seem to need or be lacking. Maybe I need to get some more of those so I don't feel like Jane Schmoe.

It's only Wednesday, but I'm already looking forward to a weekend at home, my first in a while. I'm actually looking forward to cleaning this place, which has become quite a pit. It feels good, very productive to clean. You can see the results of your hard labor. Right now, though, I'm just so sleepy. I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Hey, you, get off of my blog!
Jason is sad without a laptop. It's kind of like one of his appendages has been broken, really. It's funny to watch him uni-task. He seems to be puttering about more at home. The groove in the futon has kind of popped back from inactivity.

I used to think those Reese's people had gone bonkers, what with all these weird new "experimental," "limited edition" cups. For instance, I can't even really tell a difference between the regular and the dark chocolate ones. Or the honey nut ones. But let me tell you something, folks...I have now decided they are geniuses. Inside out Reese's??? Pure heaven in a handy little cup.

So here I am, trying to grade papers. I guess I should get back to it. I miss all my friends. Are you all as busy as I am? Do you miss me too? I miss the fun library folks, Jerry, and Cheryl, whom I have totally neglected lately. :( I miss lots of other people too. I feel a bit like I've been on a different planet.

Hey gang:

Jason here (not Betsy). My laptop power supply died, so I'm gonna be blogging on:

http://www.ibiblio.org/griffey/wp

for a few days. Can't just take the time off, you know....

:-)

Just an FYI.

I swear I'm not dead
Faithful readers: don't give up on me!

I got back from the conference at the University of Colorado last night late, and I'm finally putting my life back in order. The great news is that the presentation went very well, even though I got a tough question from the chair of my panel. I was able to handle it though, and I felt pretty good after it was over. One of the best parts of the whole experience was meeting some really great scholars, including Emilio Bejel from UC-Davis, who is one of the critics that I most admire. He came to my session, and sat right across from me as I read my paper. It was all I could do not to lose my breakfast. But luckily the poppy seeds stayed down and all was well. I was told later that while my voice was quite steady, my face and neck were as red as a beet. Oops...it's always my dead give away. Damn Irish blood.

Got to spend Thursday morning in the gorgeous Rocky Mountain National Park. My first trip west of St. Louis, and it was extremely impressive! I was in awe of the Rockies, so different from the Appalachians that I'm used to. The hike was a challenge at 6,000 ft. above sea level. I was huffing and puffing, but the views were definitely worth it. Pictures to follow soon!

I also got to hang out with my old friends Sean and Carolina, who own a cute little house outside of Boulder and showed me around town. Pearl Street is a sight to behold, kind of like Franklin Street but bigger and a bit more eclectic, and even more stuck up. The problem with Boulder is its lack of diversity. It's extremely expensive to live there, so it's kind of a self-selecting community. A weird mix of students and rich people.

Enough for now. I have a pile of grading waiting on me. I promise to be more faithful this week with my writing, though!