healing and renewal

 In my last post, I talked about a digital declutter--and indeed, it was worth doing. I realized I didn't much care for how anxious Twitter makes me, particularly given that it's become the site where someone maligns my reputation; I'm tired of being advertised at all the time on Instagram; I don't really care about Facebook at all. So currently, I've limited my time to 30 minutes of Instagram on Sundays and Twitter only during conferences, though I may cut it off completely at some point.

Instead, I'm spending my time thinking and reading and doing stuff and reflecting. We took a trip, and I realized that one thing I was working on (and doing to my kid) was cultivating boredom. It seems silly--like, doesn't boredom just happen? But really, by cultivating boredom, I'm purposefully letting myself experience boredom, or at least a state of not being occupied on my phone if I'm waiting in line or otherwise not busy. In this state, however, I don't really find myself bored as in antsy and itchy and waiting to do something--instead, I'm contented. I've reconnected with my ability to just sit and observe and be in my mind, to rest and relax without being constantly occupied. On our 8 hour drive, I was more patient with the act of driving (not my favorite thing) because I wasn't thinking about what I could do instead; I was just focused on driving and observing. I also ended up just sitting and looking out the window on the drive. We let the preschooler get good and bored before we let him have at the iPad, and he actually was able to occupy himself a lot and only wanted to watch videos for a little bit.

The other part of this experimentation has been reading Cal Newport's other books (Deep Work and A World Without Email), which gave me some refreshing perspectives on my workflow and work habits, so I've been playing with those. One thing I'd like to do is focus more on the kinds of efforts that require uninterrupted time and energy, and those books made me understand my tendencies better to accomplish those goals (eventually--I'm still working on it).

Finally, all this experimentation and thinking has come with a dose of reflection. Along with reading Newport's books, I've picked up Jenny Odell's How to Do Nothing and Katherine May's Wintering, both of which are ruminations on slowing down and disconnecting--or really, reconnecting into different inputs. Similar to my reaction to when I read a book about the ways something like Doritos have been engineered to be delicious (and thus I was no longer interested in them because they weren't really delicious--they were just tricking me into believing they were), I am seeing our current hyper-connectedness for what it is: media companies trying to monetize my time and attention. Furthermore, I'm also seeing in that the ways that work culture focuses on output and productivity with no goal for living a good life. I like my job (mostly, though this year has tested that a lot), but my goal isn't to be constantly productive, and while doing nothing (or pursuing meaningful leisure, to use Cal Newport's argument) actually does help with productivity, it's ok if that isn't my end goal.

Sometimes doing nothing is enough in itself, and I find myself happier after this month of reflection and connecting differently. I feel healed (or at least, that I'm healing) from the traumas of the past year, the stresses of my job, and the other negative things that have been flung my way. I'm prioritizing rest, fun, learning, and things I love and connecting with people I love. And this is a fantastic way to kick off my summer leading into my sabbatical year, and I'm excited to keep learning and exploring in order to come back from sabbatical energized and happy to engage with the full flow of academic life (I hope) with better habits and mindsets.

Meanwhile, back to reading and being outside and other activities--we bought pool passes and I bought a new swimsuit, so I'll be trying to swim laps a few times a week and take the kids to the pool!

examining the digital clutter

Last summer, in the depths of the pandemic isolation, I found myself struggling with my eyesight. I realized, in part, it was due to more screen usage--we got a Switch; I was scrolling through social media more in an attempt to distract myself/connect with people; I was on the computer constantly once I started back to work fully in August. I also realized that (with an infant), I would stumble awake and immediately stare down at my phone. I also had issues with my hands/wrists.

One thing that began to help with my eyesight (until I finally went to the eye doctor in March and got the right prescription--one eye had changed slightly) was to not start the day by staring at the phone. So I made coffee and breakfast for the family. Or I stared out the window for a while. Basically, immediately opening my phone and staring at the screen was clearly detrimental to my health. In switching up these habits, I also deleted Twitter and Facebook off the phone and later decided to put a time limit on Instagram.

All this leads up to me thinking about how I use digital technology, some of which is to my detriment, though some is good too. In preparation for my sabbatical, I wanted to reconsider my use of technology and set myself up for success for this next year. I want to be able to work productively and intentionally--but also enjoy the time available to pursue my own interests and spend time with my family and dedicate to relationships. What I don't want is to end the year with the sense that I wasted time on social media and watching too many movies or just not engaging.

But mostly, what I want is a sense that I'm being more intentional overall, and that my use of technology is aligned with my values, a philosophy of technology use that Cal Newport argues for in his book, Digital Minimalism. I encountered a bit about that here in this article about doing a digital declutter, and now I'm reading his book to think about what I want from this experience (e.g. change my actions, not just "take a break").

So, May will be spent opting out of optional technologies, and then June will be reintroducing those things that work in a way that supports what I want. And I'm excited to continue to think and reflect and consider how I can continue to identify my values and continue to be intentional with my actions.

musical self, circa 2004

 Recently, we bought a CD player because I'm old school and like playing CDs still. In this process, I also organized CDs and have a small case with a bunch of burned CDs, one of which was labeled something like "Jenn's Favorites Mix." So I popped it into the CD player to see what Jenn, circa 2004, was into.

A little history: I was an active member of a church all through college, and faith was something important to me. In a way, it still is--I just have mixed feelings about Christianity and the many ways its been coopted for such evil ends. I also came to see the ways faith was twisted to manipulate and to suppress and subdue. So while I don't really claim to be a person of faith anymore, it is something that's a part of me and likely still influences my actions in subtle ways.

Anyway, this history means that a LOT of my CD was Christian pop music, things I found lyrical and lovely at the time, though many of the songs didn't really hold up over the past decade or so. The CD also had a bunch of songs that I liked from Top 40 music at the time, as when I started college, I started listening to a broader range of music (before college, we only could listen to Christian artists at home, and I was too goody-goody to sneak other music).

It was fascinating because I clearly loved those songs at the time--and many of them took me back to the early 20s self who was navigating burgeoning identities and new experiences and was obsessed with music (still am, honestly). Of course, others I barely remembered, and I wonder why I put them on there. The flashback to 2004 was an interesting one, and made me feel a little old because it 16 years ago...but it doesn't feel that long ago all at the same time.

thinking about the rest

 Last December, I applied for sabbatical, which meant that I was planning to be gone for Fall 2021-Spring 2022, hopefully as funded by a grant. Then the grant window closed because I had no time to work on it (see: raising small children and working from home and a heap of workplace stress), so I thought that I'd just push it to Fall 2022.

But then I chatted with some folks and it swung me back to going for it...and as soon as I confirmed that I indeed would be on sabbatical, I felt an enormous weight lift. L got excited too because my sabbatical gives him flexibility to do some things that he wouldn't be able to do normally (see raising two small children while working from home).

Now, I'm thinking about my projects and plans. I know what I'll be doing research-wise, but I also want to set out some personal plans, like training for a marathon for early 2022 (I haven't run one in 10 years and also haven't been able to train for one). I also think I'd like to spend some of my time volunteering, though I'm not sure what for yet. Perhaps a range of local organizations supporting women and environmental causes.

Anyway, now I'm trying to hold off until Spring Break (2 more weeks to go, agggh) to launch into full-scale planning, but I'm excited about the chance to just think and read and write and talk to people without getting bogged down by the day-to-day emails and the other parts of my job that while enjoyable (like teaching) also demand a lot of my creative energy and brainpower.

slogging on through

 It is the doldrums, the bitter dregs, the dreary sighs. Nothing is specifically awful; everything is specifically shitty. I'm finding ways to distract, deflect, and disrupt, but sometimes, it's just a suck-fest. On the one hand: the weather is improving, I'm able to get out and run and bask in sunshine, the kids are adorable, and I got new glasses so I can see well again. Today, I cleaned my desk off; I ordered a new keyboard. I'm getting a kneeling chair to change up how I sit occasionally (and provide fun for the kids). I'm baking delicious cakes and amazing bread (seriously--I got some amazing height and crumb on my latest one).

On the other hand: work. It sucks. Communication is thwarted, people are seething, nothing is getting done and yet the demands to do more continue to roll in. I'm working all the time and not getting anywhere. I'm behind on getting back student work, and yet I have to take a furlough day this week. Lies are being spread about me. I miss humans, human contact, human faces, feeding my humans, hugging my humans. I hate Zoom; I hate email. I wake up each day to more Zoom meetings and yet more email anyway. Vaccines are coming, but seem so far away, given that university faculty and employees are not in the essential worker list and have to wait for the general group to open. It feels never ending.

I know the pandemic is making everything worse, but I really am unhappy in a job that I typically love. I have some high points--like thinking about offering a new class in a year! working with students!--but a whole lot more low. I respond to one email to have ten more take its place. People ignore my expertise. I try to get things done and nothing moves forward.

So I try to get outside, breathe some fresh air, bake a cake, read a book, and hope that some day soon, I can get a vaccine and hold my friends again.

cakes I have baked

 I snagged myself a copy of Snacking Cakes by Yossy Arefi, and it's so much fun! The cakes are so cute and delicious and easily converted to gluten free. 

Here is a list of cakes I have baked the last few weeks:

Chocolate peanut butter with peanut butter glaze with chocolate peanut butter balls (for our anniversary)

Coconut lime

Banana peanut butter with cocoa glaze

Apple with salted caramel glaze

Two cakes I didn't get pictures of but were delicious:

• Spiced honey with almonds
• Oatmeal cookie with chocolate chips

Not to mention the birthday cake I baked for the not-so-baby small human (a hazelnut meringue with whipped cream and mandarin orange segments in the middle)

In many ways, I'm clearly using baking to deal with my stress and things going on that are challenging, and that's not a bad thing. I'm also having fun and baking in a way that's manageable this time of the semester--small cakes that are whipped up with minimal dishes needed (and can be done by hand). And while I still love making gluten-free sourdough, I'm also just not able to commit as much time to baking bread, except on the weekends, so the cake baking has been good for getting a baking-fix in on more limited time scales. And the elder child is pretty happy with this arrangement.

By the way, if you're a cake-baker and use 9" round pans, get yourself some precut parchment--it makes baking cakes (or other round things) sooooo much easier.

can't I logic my way out?

 My friends, I have procured yet another type of planner--this one a Panda Planner from Rocketbook. I was curious about it, and I've been enjoying my Rocketbooks that I got for Christmas from a friend, so I figured, eh, why not. I'm not sure it's the planner I want, particularly when the example gave a goal (get in shape) and then the target metric was weight-based, and it triggered my rage at diet culture. So maybe Panda Planner should not be so fat-phobic in its examples, and besides, weight shouldn't be a target metric for "get in shape" but instead something like "lift X lbs" or "do plank for 1 minute" or something. Gahhhh.

Anyway, I digress.

Another friend mentioned something their therapist told them, which is that you can't logic your way out of situations (not an exact quote, but the gist). And I come back to that idea time and time again--I often think if I can just plan it out, then I can eliminate all of my woes. I empathized with Courtney Milan's character in The Duke Who Didn't because she loved making lists and always aimed for perfection on completing the list--but always failed. The point there is that the character purposefully made the lists impossible to accomplish because she was aiming at a standard of perfection that seemly wasn't attainable as a way of coping with the chaos of the world. And I do that a lot.

My calendars and planning systems are all an attempt to obtain some perfection, to use my formidable organization skills to impose order on a world that simply cannot be ordered. I know this. And yet, here I am, with a new sleek planner and the promise that I can try a new way to organize things to make the world fit into orderly patterns.

Ultimately, though, my systems are useful: I'm using them to realize what I can accomplish in a week and to plan out my days. I'm getting a clearer sense of what is feasible in a day--and also considering how I can shift things if I need to take a break, like I did last week after an exhausting day that followed a few hectic weeks. So, perhaps the planner obsession is useful in helping me reach some clarity about working as much as I need to work and letting everything else go--something I am working toward much more consciously this year.

mothers and babies

 Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how mothers and babies are portrayed in literature and film. Particularly, the ways babies are often snatched from their mothers, while the mother lies helpless on the birthing bed. Most recently, it was in Bridgerton, where the duchess was left with her arms reaching for her son, while the duke held him for all to see his triumph--only for the duchess to die without even getting to see her baby. In Jane the Virgin, Jane's baby is kidnapped shortly after she gives birth, leading to a wild chase while she is still sore and raw and needing to feed him. In a fantastic book I recently read, The Empress of Salt and Fortune, the baby was snatched from his mother. And in one of my favorite books, The Girl Who Drank the Moon, the baby is torn from her mother's breast, and it drives the mother mad. I like all these stories as a whole, but I wonder at this repeated narrative and how hard it is for me to read it.

I'm aware that my thoughts and feelings are because I am a mother--I got to immediately hold both of my babies on my chest and then keep them tucked close to me for much of their newborn days. My body made these tiny creatures, and my body (and hormones) demanded that I keep them close. My body was this baby's first home, and the baby wants to stay close to it. In some of the books I've read about birth and midwifery, they refer to the mother-baby dyad, which is a way of capturing the relationship that makes sense to me: the baby is a separate being but also not, and together, the mother and baby make something else, and you have to care for both mother and baby to ensure health and well-being for the whole. So I have a visceral reaction--and not a positive one--at the narratives that cast mothers as weak or helpless or exploit them after they have given birth to steal their babies.

It reminds me too of the arguments around reproductive justice. The ways that controlling women's bodies become a way to subjugate women and remove their agency--both in preventing them access to birth control and abortion as well as taking their children from them. Forcing women to have children but then taking those children away for a range of reasons. Taking children from birth mothers as a so-called deterrent to illegal immigration but really just an exercise in exploitation and inhuman cruelty. Denying nursing mothers access to their babies. Incarcerating mothers for being poor. These are real stories, stories that happen daily.

It also makes me want to write a story about a powerful mother whose baby isn't taken, who is able to fight the powers that want to steal her baby. A story where a mother isn't weak or passive but uses her ferocity to destroy the entities that would control her body and rob her child of their first home. A story where women band together to protect and support each other and take down the patriarchy.

capsule creation

 I follow some folks on Instagram who talk about dressing minimally, others who advocate for conscious consumption and purchases of clothing (the fashion industry is an ecological disaster that exploits humans to make sure you can buy a cheap t-shirt). I also follow Dacy Gillespie of Mindful Closet, who is a stylist whose mission is to help women spend less time getting dressed by helping them find their style. These have had me thinking about clothes, my body, and using clothes to suit the life I have rather than some vague self I might want to be.

Thus, over the past few years, I've been trying to reduce my consumption, consciously donate or give away clothes I no longer need, and mend/renew clothes that need repair. All of this is caught up in my growing desire for body acceptance in light of the inevitable body changes that come with age, children, and living--I no longer want to rely on chasing the whims of fashion for how I feel about my body. I want clothes that work with the life I have now. I want to wear soft, comfortable clothes that are durable and work for the life I lead--a mix of professional and active, whimsical/fun and durable, natural fibers that are also nice to wear.

Anyway, so in all of this thinking about clothes and making more of my own and buying pieces from sustainable makers (who also pay their employees living wages), I had another baby, which meant that some of my wardrobe no longer fits, some of it no longer suits me, and some of it I no longer like. After reading about Project 333, where you whittle your wardrobe down to 33 items for 3 months, I figured I'd use my furlough day to clean out my closet and see if I could build a capsule.

So on Friday, I pulled out every article of clothing I owned and dumped it on my bed. Then I began to sort, pulling out the stuff I've been happily wearing over the last year and putting it back in the closet/drawers, and then considering all the other stuff. Obviously, I have a lot of dresses and things I can't wear (or don't need to) because pandemic (and also breastfeeding--all my clothes have to be easily adjusted to feed my chunky milk-hungry baby). Some of these items I want to still wear, like the awesome Pyne and Smith black dress that is one of those wardrobe workhorses--great for traveling, able to be styled a zillion ways, etc (again, can't wear it because I'd have to pull it allllll the way up to feed a baby and I don't have time for that). But a lot didn't fit or didn't feel good or just didn't work for me anymore--so it got washed and will be sent out of the house.

I found that the act of pulling all of my clothes out and touching them and having to really just understand why they are in my closet was enormously helpful. I also listened to my immediate gut reaction when I picked up an item or tried it on. I also paid attention to what I was drawn to and what I reacted against. I also noticed a color palette emerging--definitely heavy on the reds/rusts. And in the end, I piled up quite a few items that were in good condition to sell on ThredUP or give away or send to a friend, but I still have lots of clothes in my closet, but all things I love and will make the most of.

Ultimately, I decided I didn't need a capsule, though I did create a "highlight" section of the closet for clothes I'm currently wearing in heavy rotation (the snuggly cardigans, the soft flannels, the cheerful or the cozy shirts). It means I can just zoom (haha) into my closet and snag what I need, so hopefully will reduce the time I might spend picking an outfit (though, let's be real: these days, it's usually a pretty quick process anyway). My goal, though, is when we do go back that I'm able to just rotate through those pieces, shifting the highlight section as seasons change. So it turns out the capsule isn't really useful for me--but the process of thinking about what I would pick for a capsule wardrobe really helped me appreciate the clothing I have.

I'm planning to avoid buying clothes anytime soon (I really have enough of what I need), though I am planning to make things I have fabric and patterns for, so that will be a fun way to mindfully and carefully add new items to my closet that fit me well and serve my needs. And that's all I really need right now, even if all the ads on Instagram are telling me to buy buy buy.

a calendar here, a planner there

 I think my desire to schedule and plan has gotten a bit out of control.

As I'm sitting in my office, I see my Google calendar I use for work on my screen. I look up at the wall, where I have a monthly calendar with stickers and labels and my running schedule marked. Next to my left hand is my Passion Planner, and on my iPad is a Passion Planner digital. Yes, my calendaring has gotten a bit intense.

I typically rely on my Google calendar and a paper calendar to manage my time. But I think the pandemic lured me into thinking if I could just organize things fully, if I could just make sure I plan enough, then I can make everything a bit better. And in some ways, I'm right--we have been falling into some good rhythms with cleaning and work; this semester, I'm prioritizing not working late at night (typing on this blog withstanding); I'm working out more and sticking with my running/barre schedule; I feel organized and like I know what's going on in a day and that I have a sense of what I can feasibly get done.

However, I really don't need all these calendars and planners around because I'm spending too much time updating all of them instead of just the typical paper calendar and Google calendar instead of actually doing the things I need to get done. It's like my habit of writing out to-do lists instead of, say, doing things.

a candy bowl

 It was Christmas, and the candy abounded, from stocking stuffers to presents sent. As I gathered up all the candy, I grabbed a bowl and put it all in one place and set it out where it was easily accessible, even for a preschooler who really, really loves candy.

But then a funny thing happened--after a few days, the novelty wore off, and the candy has just continued to sit there. Partly because all the really good candy got eaten, but also because it's just there. It's not novel. If the kid asks for candy, we let him, but he really only goes after a piece every now and then, even his chocolate money. I suspected this might be the impact--which is why I set the candy out in the first place--but I was curious to see what would happen when I did it.

I was influenced by a memory of another time where candy was freely available. One of my good friends always had candy laying around (maybe still has--I haven't seen her in a while)--in bowls on coffee tables and countertops. I used to be so surprised and often had a hard time not wanting to eat all the candy, particularly the chocolates: I'd never had unfettered access to sweets in all my life, and at that time as an adult definitely believed that I couldn't keep sweets in the house because I couldn't "control" myself.

But, this was all before I started learning about intuitive eating and coming to trust myself around food. Learning that it's less about control and more about not restricting access or labeling foods as off limits. Now, we can have ice cream in the freezer and it's not devoured immediately, chocolate bars will remain in the house for longer than a day, and I will eat something sweet if I want it, but not to the point of being obsessive or eating it until I don't feel well. It feels like magic sometimes, but it's really self-trust and self-care.

And I want to make sure my kid has that experience, and that we trust him to eat the food he wants to eat, and, for the most part, he does. And the candy bowl can stay out, and he's not in it all the time because he's kind of forgotten it's there until he remembers, and then he fishes out a sour gummy or a sucker and that's that.

el fin

 It's the end of the semester, hell yes. Normally, I'm excited, but this semester was a slog and was grueling. However, I don't want to just focus on how tough the semester was--I had awesome students, and many of them were kind and supportive of me and let me know that they appreciated me. In my new engineering communication class, I heard positive things from all of them about the class and about how much they learned. So, definitely some successes amidst the pain.

I'm trying not to fall into the trap where a new semester means everything will be magically better because it won't. In therapy terms, it's like "pulling a local," or the wishful thinking that some have about starting over in a new place. The new year/semester won't be the end of the challenges, due to COVID, and there'll be lots of work to do with the new administration. As far as COVID goes, the end is in sight, but it will be some time before we all have access to the vaccine and can begin resuming normal lives, so I'm bracing for a rough winter. We are being furloughed, so I'll be dealing with that in the spring.

But, I'm cautiously optimistic. I'm teaching fewer students and teaching classes I know well. I'm likely going to be on sabbatical next year, and I hope to have space to work on new research projects and apply for funding to support my sabbatical project. I hope to travel next summer/fall. I am involved in a research-support group that is intended to help me develop myself professionally and to make connections with influencers on campus. So, I have lots to look forward to, even while still working from my basement and trying to balance all the things.

But, for now, a celebration to being done and time to start doing some fun Christmas projects, self-care focused tasks, and other fun things.

therapy

 I found a therapist, made the call, and got scheduled. All of this was fairly low work, but it required multiple steps, which made me wonder how people who are struggling with executive function ever manage to do it, particularly for therapists who do not return calls or who do not have openings. Luckily, the one I picked was able to schedule me quickly, and we met for the first time, and I sobbed my eyes out and proceeded to feel really exhausted for a day and a half.

In the past, I knew therapy would be helpful, but I never fully pursued it because I had enough coping mechanisms and people to talk to, but this time...well, too many things were happening and I felt too isolated. I'm glad I finally scheduled a session, but the therapist is determined to poke at childhood memories and traumas, which is uncomfortable, to say the least. But important, if I want to be conscious of where my reactions emerge from--and be a better parent to my kids.

The other thing I've been processing has been how I hold emotions in my body. The therapist mentioned something about ways of venting anger (or moving it out instead of shoving it down or suppressing it), and the idea of violently whacking a pole with a tennis racket (her suggestion) made me really anxious. She then suggested that I'm afraid of my own anger, and I think that's accurate.

So I've been thinking on that and asking myself how I'm handling emotions: am I moving it out of my body, or am I shoving it down and holding onto it? Can I accept my anger and be ok with it? Can I use my anger to do something and not shy away from it? How is my anger emerging from fear? How is my fear of my own anger related to my childhood? All fun questions to ask and explore, as I will continue to do.

Last note: the one reason therapy is a bit more accessible/feasible right now is through my employers Employee Assistance Program, so if your employer has one, I highly recommend using it to access mental health services. It's getting me started with 5 sessions with no cost to me, so it removed a barrier to (finally) working with a therapist.

we're all mad

 I think this is the week that all the academics and teachers (many of whom are also wrangling childcare and other responsibilities while trying to work) have collectively agreed to be done. Like, end the semester now, whatever. I've seen multiple posts from friends and on social media where everyone is just basically so over this semester.

This, my friends, is burnout. Welcome. We are all here with you.

With burnout comes potential grumpiness and bad decision making (or both). I sent out a grumpy email and am now dealing with the fallout, which is real fun, especially when it elicited anger back, etc etc. We're all mad, and I'm mad at myself, mad at being expected to manage other people's emotions, and just mad at the circumstances that are making it more and more challenging to work without overwhelming amounts of stress and anxiety.

Which reminds me, I need to call that therapist. I've picked one, though! So, progress.

So, I'm just trying to manage what I can control for now and be chill and exercise and play with my kids. Today, the baby fell asleep like this in the crib, which is hilarious:

I suspect he was sitting up jabbering and just fell asleep. He's like that--note the tiny foot poking out of the crib bars. He often falls asleep wedged in a corner, but I'm grateful that he sleeps significantly better than the first kid--and he's started sleeping very long stretches at night, including one night where he slept straight until nearly 6am without waking up to nurse. I think, I hope, a pattern is emerging and that by the time he's one, he's sleeping through the night (and maybe we can move him into brother's room and get our room back!).

I also am in the process of baking a chocolate pear cake and am about to go run. I've also even, magically, made some progress on writing this week, and am planning to try to catch up a bit before next week to be able to take a break. Luckily, for me, the end of the semester is always a bit easier than the middle, so most of my time is being spent doing what I enjoy: working with students on their writing and learning. (Admin tasks, on the other hand...)

Anyway, so that's what's going on--I'm grumpy and trying to manage it because we've got a lot more of this to go.

(re)learning spanish

I'm falling into several pandemic stereotypes (ahem, all the pandemic baking), but the latest is starting to learn Spanish. Well, relearn, since I have a BA in Spanish, but I could probably barely survive if I was dropped into a country where only Spanish was spoken. I have the base skills, but they are rusty, rusty, rusty. So, to the free language learning software!

Ideally, I'd find several native speakers and practice with them. I've always been a shy Spanish speaker, however, likely because I don't like failing at things, and learning a language requires you to make lots and lots of mistakes. And speaking a language means you don't get to revise what you say, and as a fast speaker of English, I don't like that very much--my Spanish language skills would never allow me to speak or write as easily and fully as I could in English. However, it's something I'm working on (purposefully doing things I'm not very good at), and I really would like to feel more comfortable with speaking Spanish if I needed to or wanted to. And just remember what it's like to be a learner.

Perhaps in some future semester, I'll sign up for a language class, though I'm not sure what language class I'd choose, and they'd probably be annoyed with me if I signed up for a beginning level class only to discover that I'm not precisely a beginner. So, if I can refresh my skills to a certain level, then perhaps I can sign up for a conversation class at some point and immerse myself in that learning experience. 

I wonder if they'd let me skip the placement tests if I showed them my undergraduate transcript? Or perhaps I should just find a conversation group that happens on campus, once we are free to leave our homes without fear of adding to the massive spike in COVID cases in our area...like, when there's a vaccine. I have an eye doctor appointment in a few days, but I'll probably cancel it because I can make do with what I've got. I'm just too nervous, and there's way too many people not wearing masks.

time for a therapist

 I keep meaning to contact my university's EAP to talk to a therapist--the past months have had lots of change (even good change, like a baby!), stress, and anxiety. The election sparked a lot of that, to the point that on election night, I was in a really dark place, wondering if I could live another four years with the daily onslaught of awfulness (and I recognize my privilege here--I can't imagine the stress and anxiety that marginalized individuals and communities must be suffering).

So, it's been on my to-do list, and yet...I have not yet made the call. This week, I realized I may no longer have a relationship with one of my siblings (who was really the only one I interacted with regularly), and work stuff is...work stuff. We are being furloughed, and I'm feeling the weight of trying to get all my students through my class while they are also shouldering a lot, not to mention the various challenges of working in a large department with all its messiness and conflicts.

It's a lot.

On the upside, I basically took this morning off because I had to run up to campus after I got the Very Threatening Interlibrary Loan Email (if you know, you know), and I had some other books they wouldn't renew for me, so we excitedly loaded up the car (ha!) and headed to campus. I got my books and dropped them off at the library, then we ran by one of the local coffee shops for to-go treats. Then we spent about 45 minutes playing in the sunshine at the train depot grounds, while the baby napped in the car seat. It was cold, but the sun was shining, and we could see the newly snow-covered mountains. It was glorious.

I also had a good class session with my core group of students who show up to ask questions and talk to me about their projects, which was a good reminder that I love teaching, especially when I'm just giving the students space to explore something interesting and learn what they want.

But, I promise I'll call the EAP tomorrow. I think it's time to make sure I'm taking care of my mental health as best I can right now.

diverse prosperity

 Recently, I was made aware of a flaw in my thinking about moving toward equality and supporting BIPOC people. That flaw was deficit thinking, something that comes so easily when we position BIPOC folks (particularly Black folks) as disadvantaged, poor, and marginalized. I wasn't even aware of how much it was influencing how I talked or interacted with folks until I was made aware of the concept of white saviorism and started seeing how I perpetrated those attitudes.

I'm still learning and working through that as I learn to be antiracist (lifelong work, I now know). But one antidote has been following successful, prosperous BIPOC folks on social media and reading books about and by prosperous, successful BIPOC folks. These aren't stories of individuals who were saved from the inner city through education and a nice white teacher; these are stories of people who are successful and educated and live in nice homes. They don't need anyone rescuing them or framing them in deficit ways or pitying them for their impoverished existence. Instead, they are humans doing human things, and though they may encounter racism and sexism and other biases, they are in the world living full, rich lives. Stories have power, and if I only read the stories that align with stereotypes, then I'm missing out on the full range of powerful stories that convey a diversity of experience and worldview and understanding.

I guess what I'm trying to say is as someone who came from a very impoverished background, I would be frustrated if my life's story was reduced to that, and what I'm trying to do is read a range of stories from all kinds of folks to continue learning and undoing and relearning and using that to inform how I think and engage and teach.

personally responsible

 Yesterday, I got into a fight with a sibling related to the election. In a comment, they remarked that they believed in personal responsibility, which got me thinking about how problematic that concept is. When you are successful and you believe your life to be a success solely due to your own hard work and sacrifice, then you do not like the idea of someone getting something that they didn't "earn." You, in fact, are aggrieved by this. And you think any politician who has plans that will give people things they didn't "earn" is a socialist, so you fundamentally misunderstand several concepts.

But...we don't earn all the things we get, even our own success. In my case, I went from a poor, working-class background to having a PhD and a fairly comfortable life, in part because I don't have student debt (nor does L) and I was able to make enough money to stay out of credit card debt. At first glance, it looks like I earned everything I currently have--but, it was a mixture of hard work, sure, but also fate, circumstances, luck, and not having to work against things to succeed. No one ever told me I didn't belong in academia, which happens to PhD students all the time who have more talent and ability than I do. I had a supportive adviser who made it easy for me to get a job, versus advisers who actively block or prevent talented people from getting published or getting a good job. I didn't have debt from undergrad because I had scholarships and federal financial aid back in an era when Pell Grants were higher and school cost less. L doesn't have any school debt because he earned a lot of academic and state scholarships, and he came from a family who was able to support him in various ways and encourage him to pursue higher education as a given. I had people encouraging me to go on and do good things instead of doubting me or writing me off as just another poor kid from rural Arkansas.

I think about all this, and while I did work hard, I didn't have to overcome biases and circumstances that many others do. And what the new administration wants to do is ease or erase many of those barriers to help all have access to a good life, rather than funneling wealth and power into a small group of people. Corporations accruing more money isn't done from the hard work of the owners and/or CEOs--it's built on the back of their workers, who are often treated badly or compensated poorly. Those same corporations build their power and success using systems in place--and then manage to avoid paying any taxes. The rich get richer while the poor get poorer, and upward mobility is stagnant. Communities suffer to pay for a few to prosper. Making those folks pay what they should have been paying all along and working to uplift those who are working very hard isn't undermining "personal responsibility" or giving someone something for nothing--it's aiming to erase the years of inequality that have blocked people from prospering, from living a good life. And we can't ignore the ways that white supremacy is all over this concept of "personal responsibility" because it seeks to erase the ways that systems, structures, and policies have made it fundamentally more difficult for BIPOC folks to prosper, despite all the hard work, talent, and intelligence in the world.

Anyway, that's what's on my mind. The fight took a particularly nasty turn when I, unthinking, commented about this sibling getting a government check (like me, they are employed by the government), and they took it to mean that they didn't work extremely hard to earn what they have. I don't deny that--I just think it's contradictory to say the government shouldn't work to support people when you are a part of that government structure. Ultimately, I attempted to apologize despite being verbally abused in a way that no person should have to endure from anyone--let alone a sibling--so I'm sitting here, living the schisms that have been exposed by four years of unrelenting attacks and reductionist thinking and white supremacy. 

I'm hopeful for the future of our country, as long as we keep doing the work, but I'm not so sure about the fate of my familial relations.

waiting and waiting

Like all 4 of my readers, we are waiting for the 2020 presidential election to be called. It's looking GREAT for Biden, and I'm over here waiting to crack into my fancy beer and party party party. Even though it's going to be a slog until January, it feels like something huge will be lifted. My screen time tells you how much I've been checking the news apps and calming my anxiety by playing Spelling Bee and solving the crossword.

Little work has been accomplished this week, and that's ok.

However, I have to reckon with the fact that most of my family (at least 2 brothers, both parents, likely several extended family members) voted for the orange menace, who, in addition to failing to take decisive action to mitigate the cornovirus (leaving millions sick and 200,000+ dead) also is a racist, homophobic bigot. I keep seesawing between wanting to burn all those familial bridges in a true scorched-earth fashion to contemplating buying copies of So You Want to Talk about Race and How to Be an Anti-Racist to send in the Christmas boxes (along with lumps of coal). We white folx have got to deal with our shit before we bring down the whole country in a misguided attempt to preserve the white supremacy that harms ALL of us.

In the meantime, I'm making a homemade pumpkin spice latte, eagerly refreshing the New York Times app and Twitter feed, and trying to get a little work done.

Back to it!

the doomscroll effect

 It's five days until voting ends (though who knows how long until we know the results of this intense election), and I'm finding myself seesawing between hopefulness and despair. Despite reducing my use of social media (to the point where I deactivated my FB account), I feel the urge to check the news regularly on my phone and look at Twitter occasionally--hence, the doomscroll reference.

On the other hand, some days the articles I read give me hope: despite the intense polarization of partisan politics, Biden is up in the polls. But, we are all scarred by 2016 where a Clinton presidency seemed a sure bet. It was so hard to go to bed that night 4 years ago, when it seemed unlikely that she would win, so I'm trying not to feel too hopeful, especially given the ways the current administration has created a weirdly rabid following who can't see through the bullshit.

Anyway.

One thing that's also giving me hope are the many many Biden signs I see in my neighborhood. Sure, Boise is the blue dot in a generally red state, but it's still reassuring. I go for walks, and I see a Biden/Harris flag flying, a homemade Biden/Harris sign, and lots of yard signs popping out. They far outnumber the other signs, and that makes me feel slightly more optimistic.

This sign was hilarious because it's calling out sign stealers. Also, there's another Biden/Harris yard sign right across the street, so ha!

This flag makes me so cheerful every time I walk by it because it's so in your face in a way I'm not necessarily used to seeing from Democrats.

Anyway, at this point, it's all about finding a little peace and hope where I can. Even if we win, I recognize that things won't magically be better...but at least we'll be on the road to repairing all of the harm of the last four years. And I've found a new level of engagement with politics that I hope to hold onto because we cannot get complacent.