Obligatory Doctor Who Rant

I think I've mentioned Doctor Who before on this blog, but I'm too lazy to go back and see. To recap, I started watching the rebooted Doctor Who earlier this year as a distraction from thesis and the big questions of like, such as, Where am I going to live in three weeks? Fortunately, the Doctor was there to entertain me. It was the first time I ever followed a show in real time. Ah, popular culture. Still catching up. Anyways, my thoughts on the latest Christmas special under the cut.

Space and TCKs

The grief I feel about leaving Philadelphia surprises me. Grief about leaving has been a part of my life for so long, yet I still feel surprised. At least this is a more gradual transition than most of the ones I've experienced. I can come back. This is an entirely new experience: the chance to come back "home."

My old roommate gave me a framed photo last night of a sign that says, "Philadelphia: the place that LOVES YOU BACK." It might be one of the best gifts I've ever received. And it means Philadelphia will be a visible part of whatever home I create next. The concept of "home" as a process, not a place has been so freeing for me.

A positive result of thinking about life and leaving as processes has meant that the grief I feel right now is less jagged and unbearable than it has been at other times. Leaving Thailand, as I've talked about probably endlessly, was shattering on multiple levels. It's nice to learn that leaving doesn't have to be final. Returning to Thailand last year was huge. Knowing I can come up with a substantial list of friends and family to stay with here in Philly is even huger, in some ways.

I realized today that these endless processes of life transitions probably has contributed a lot to my fascination with the idea of "space" as an active construct (ala Massey 2005*). Returning to places and finding them profoundly changed, although the physical locations are the same means that the concept of space as created out infinite relations resonates with me profoundly.

In TCK circles, we talk a lot about "closure" and "leaving well." And to a great extent, this is important because it encourages acknowledging the loss of a particular place and all that means: people, pets, everything. The sights, the smells, your favorite stores. But the word "closure" also implies a finality that I think can be harmful. "Closure" brings to mind a shut door. And again, in some irrevocable ways, when a TCK (or anyone) leaves, that life is gone. Space, (as outlined above), the interrelations, are what you leave, as well as the physical location.

When I missed Thailand in college, I missed my family and my friends (who were, in most cases, scattered around the globe). I knew, very deeply, that even if I went back, I would not be "home" in what I was longing for. I was profoundly cut off; when I started college, there was no Facebook, and I could only call my parents using a prepaid phone card. Technology changed, and over the next few years the ability to stay connected through Facebook and programs like Skype increased dramatically. These technologies changed and restructured relationships between people and places and encourage a sense of connection that might not always be true offline. I feel like I need to write a paper about this now.

ANYWAY. All that to say, leaving and transitions are hard. They are never final, because the relations that connect a person to spaces as well as places cannot be terminated as through the metaphor of a closing door. I wish I'd known this sooner.

*Massey, D. (2005). For space. London, UK: SAGE Publications Ltd.

Adventures in Temping

Once I make up my mind about something, I feel much better and able to talk. So now that I've decided to go stay with my parents (most likely temping there too), I feel like sharing some of what I've endured/experienced over the last few months. Some of my temp assignments have been interesting. (Like the one where I was filing endless piles of paper; it was mind-numbingly dull but my supervisor was a very interesting woman. She liked talking about power inequalities in the workplace, so we got along just fine.) This latest assignment, however, has mostly been boring and awkward. To explain, I shall share my observations on how NOT to hit on the temp worker:

1. If the temp worker asks you where the coffee cups are, assume she just wants coffee, not a lifelong friendship.

2. Do not follow her to her desk and pump her about her dating life. One, that's just rude, two, it's creepy, and three, it's none of your business. If she is incapable of lying and making up a significant other, it is not an invitation to continue your attention. (See previous sentence.) Further, if your actions would be different if she WAS in a relationship, you need to reevaluate your motives in speaking to her. She can totally see your wedding ring.

3. Do not start emailing said temp worker "just to say hi" immediately after questioning her about her relationship status.

4. Do not continue to email her the next day, and most certainly do not ask her out to lunch. When she demurs, do not repeat your invitation with the offer to pay.

5. If, following her refusal of your lunch invitation, you continue to email and express that you have no intention of being creepy, and she responds that yes, she feels uncomfortable, stop emailing. DO NOT email her back to tell her that you think she "is a nice person." You have no way of determining this about her, and also, you just really pissed her off. Although she does try to be a nice person, this will not stop her from telling you to screw yourself if you persist.

6. Do not keep emailing her "just to say hi" while she is out of town presenting a paper to the Feminist and Women's Study Division.

7. When she returns, and you email to ask her if you are creeping her out, and she very clearly says yes, stop emailing her. Good job! She's saved all your emails, so stopping is a good move.

8. Having ceased to email, (again, good job), do not start skulking past her desk, singing, humming, coughing or otherwise seeking her attention. She does not wish to talk to you. She is glad you are going to eat some chocolate, but she does not want to hear a song about it.

Conclusion: If you have to keep explaining that you aren't being creepy, you probably should re-evaluate your habits of interacting with others.

~~

In all fairness, this particular assignment is in a very quiet and subdued office. It's hard on an extrovert (let me testify!). BUT. Here is where this situation becomes borderline harassment: as a temp worker, I am pretty powerless. I can leave the job, of course (and this is one of the factors in my decision to do so), but that only impacts me. As the full time, older, male employee, all the power resides with Creeper. He can just say he was trying to be friendly, and who am I to argue?

A graduate student, that's who!

I'll be the first to admit, I am a friendly person myself, and sometimes I must seem very approachable. I also doubt Creeper is intentionally making women feel uncomfortable (although his awareness that he might seem creepy indicates that perhaps it has been brought to his attention before). Well, I hope I can doubt that. He tends to target a few of the younger women in the office.

So Creeper might just be a lonely extrovert. But his actions still crossed a line. My one regret in this situation is that I was not more firm the first time he asked if he was being creepy. I told him I was uncomfortable, but I tried to couch my response in non-accusatory terms. I suppose I didn't want to be mean. The second time when I told him flat out to stop emailing me had a much better result. And I had to struggle a bit with feeling like I was being "mean." I wondered if I had done something to indicate I wanted that kind of attention. But watching Creeper interact with others in the office, I came to the conclusion that no, it was not me. It was totally him. I'm just glad I've had mentors who have encouraged me to stand up for myself. (I shudder to think what would have happened if this had happened right after college.)

So, lesson learned: don't be afraid to be blunt. Sometimes it's the best way to protect yourself. (And other times, it is not enough. I'm only joking about this situation because I really don't think Creeper is dangerous. He seems more the emotional blackmailer - but WHY don't you want to be my friend?! - than anything else.)

There is no home, only the process of forming one

I went to visit my parents' new house this weekend. It was surreal to see furniture and knick knacks from before we moved overseas next to things they shipped from Thailand. I'd look at the "before" things and suddenly remember stuff I didn't know I knew. My brother is too young to remember North Carolina; actually, I might be the only one able to remember much. My parents and I talked about how strange it was, 30 years worth of their lives and all of mine, suddenly on the same continent and in the same house.

Some of the items have an even loger history. I remembered the table my younger sister cut her head on one night when she was a toddler. My dad remembers that table as the one carved by his grandfather. Furniture and silver from both my grandmothers were scattered through the boxes and haphazardly displayed. Random connections.

"I never thought we'd see these chairs again," my mom told me of a pair I remember fondly. Our old dog used to sit on them when we were out. "We gave them to our friends, and when they heard we were coming home, they offered to give them back."

Other things entrusted to friends have disappeared. But for the most part, my parents have the entire history of their marriage, their kids, and their travels all in the same place.

It was strange and emotional to consider this: my parents gave away their things, without knowing if they would see them again, and moved to a new land and started completely over. Now all the threads of their past lives are coming together, and I don't think they ever really believed this would happen. (It's very strange, even for me.)

So I understand why the thought of this thread (meaning me) potentially moving to the West Coast (and being excited about the possibility) was a bit of a shock. But if I get into school out there... I have to say, I'm a bit excited at the thought of going somewhere completely new. I wonder who I will be?

I think about threads and leaving and it's good for me to remember that sometimes things come back together in unexpected ways. I don't have much in the way of material things. I think most of my threads have to do with the people I care about. Right now it seems like the best option for me will be to leave Philly and stay with my parents for awhile. (Finances and thesis dictate this decision, more than anything.) I feel very sad about this, but it feels like the right decision. I won't be too far. And I like buses. (Also the drive is not bad at all. I was surprised.)

I guess if my parents can get their chairs back, I can stay in touch with my people. I mean, connections to furniture are kind of one sided. Relationships are multiway.

Someday I will get back to this

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Someday, someday. An analysis of the changing imagery (mostly, I'm fascinated by the inclusion of vdo rather than simply photographs) over the years.

Life is happening; will write about it when it settles, I suppose.

Be careful what you wish for...

I have never really gotten on well with trains. Today I waited for two and a half hours for a train from Lancaster to Philadelphia; originally this was because my train was running late. The platform was filled with college students going on fall break, which made me feel old and grumpy. Then, because it was so late, people from the next train got on my train because they wanted to be going. I was greatly annoyed, but the following train was empty and quiet, which was nice. Then a tree fell across the tracks and I got stuck between Lancaster and Philadelphia.

I can’t really think of a happy train experience that I have had. Usually my trains are late or stopped or diverted or have no electricity or smell like burning rubber. Once, when I was studying abroad, my friend and I got tickets on what appeared to be an overnight train to Scotland. Actually, we had tickets on trains during the night: three trains, to be exact. We ended up sitting in the Manchester-Piccadilly train station from one am till about 5:30 am, freezing cold and watching druggies get arrested. (Seriously. And when we tried to sit in the women’s bathroom, the attendant told us it wasn’t allowed.)

When we visited the UK as a family following my high school graduation, we took a train that had to be evacuated for some reason. I remember the conductor being surprised I read Jane Austen novels for fun. We had to be bussed to our destination, and I believe we missed our flight. My dad was not pleased. As I think back over my memories, I am consistently impressed and awed by what my parents were willing to do with us four kids. Seriously, we did so many things and went so many places.

When we first moved to Thailand, we took an actual overnight train to Chiang Mai from Bangkok with our multitude of trunks and suitcases (there were over 12, counting carry-ons and personal luggage). There wasn’t a luggage car, so these items were staggered throughout our car and people kept tripping over them. The train was old and slow, and I couldn’t sleep, partly out of excitement that we were FINALLY going to be in our new “home” but also because the train kept jerking and also I was afraid of being kidnapped. (Don’t ask me why. I just was.) Later, in high school, I took a train trip to Bangkok with my friends and we stayed up all night playing the longest game of Uno in the history of all things. That trip wasn’t quite as bad, but I much prefer a plane.

This week I have managed to take both a bus and now a train. I also helped my parents move some of their things. “It wouldn’t be a moving day without you!” my mom told me. As I dragged their boxes up the stairs I thought about how many times I have done this. I recently filled out an application that required all my addresses for the past seven years, and honestly, there are a few I cannot remember. Each move made sense at the time. I always feel compelled to explain why I do what I do. It seems crazy, I want to tell everyone I meet, I know, it is kind of crazy, but you just don’t understand…

Today, at this moment, all this seems so tiring. My normal is chaos, and boxes, and uncertainty. The theory I’ve been reading for fun and thesis talks a lot about space and place and identity. “Place as process” is an idea I can get behind. No fixed self. That is such a relief because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix upon anything or anyplace.

Also, just give me planes. Planes are so much easier. And faster.

My need for perfection

My need for perfection is something I am constantly having to confront these days. Whether it's in dreading to write a sentence for fear of redundancy or stupidity to just being overwhelmed by how much I know I don't know. There are so many factors I do not know and can not know and don't have time to learn for this project. It's frustrating, because I am afraid that these lacks, which I feel so acutely, will in the end, keep me from completing this thesis. (If I let it overwhelm me or because my committee will only be able to see the errors.)

Also, there is just always something more to fix or cite or learn. I don't always know when to stop and be okay with a flawed product.

I also, really, really, want to GO somewhere. On a bus or a train or a plane.

An update; why not?

So, I don't actively hate my thesis at the moment. That's good. I've even made some progress! That is something I feel rather proud of, since almost everything else in life feels kind of stalled at the moment. (Man, that's been going on a long time, hasn't it?)

Other news of note: I am very glad I have friends who know and care about the distinction between Old and Middle English. It makes my heart happy.

So!

It has been awhile since I updated. This is mostly because I have not really got much to update. I don't feel like talking about what I'm doing, where I've been, because it's just depressing and I don't want to think about it more than I have to. I am tired, you see. Tired and feeling trapped. So instead, I shall wax eloquent about some books I just read, namely, the existing Ice and Fire series.

First of all, I have to say, I understand why they call G.R.R. Martin the American Tolkien. He basically took the epic scope and huge number of players (seriously, characters just randomly pop up and proclaim that they have, say, 10,000 spears and pledge fealty to a growing number of claimants to the Throne of Westeros) and added sex, murder and explosions. (Like the Transformers guy!)

Okay, so there weren't too many explosions, but there was a lot of sex (and rape) and untold murders. It was sordid, and dark. And frankly, I felt that the characters are all pretty stupid, except for Littlefinger and Varys, and those two are mysterious, plotting and kind of skeevy. I will also say, I watched the HBO show first and was furious at how STUPID Ned was. In the book you can hear his inner thought process which explained why he did the things he did, but I still think he was pretty dumb. I also don't quite see how this series is that different from other high fantasy, except that it is grittier and magic plays a lesser role, although that role is increasing. I think I enjoyed them; I'm uncertain because I certainly would not like to live in Westeros, but I wanted to find out what happened next, so I guess I was hooked. They reminded me a lot of Robin Hobb's Farseer series, a trilogy of trilogies, featuring many similar plot devices (including wolves, bastards, and creepy, enemy "Others." Also: bringing back dragons).

In conclusion: probably not the best reading choice for this sad juncture of my life. I am interested to see how G.R.R. intends to tie it all together, though. I think it will probably be disappointing no matter what he does because his narrative has gotten extremely vast. Also, he could cut down on the number of perspectives he uses. Some of them just got really boring. The repeated phrases by a few characters got very irritating as well:
"You know nothing, Jon Snow."
"I am just a young girl, unskilled in the arts of war [but imma doing what I want anyway]"

OMG shut up!

End rant.

What I am thinking about

Specifically, this list from NPR detailing readers' picks of the Top 100 Science Fiction and Fantasy Books. First, I must squee, because I love lists, I love sci fi and I love fantasy. And I love that I can find out about new books from lists like this. I am quite proud that I have read quite a few of these tomes, and I'm currently reading Snow Crash so I'm upping my cred. Or something.

Some of the mentions excited me. (Farseer Series! YES, I LOVE YOU. FitzChivalry = one of my forever loves.) Neverwhere! And Stardust! (Actually, I like the movie Stardust even better. Odd fact.)

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is one of my all time favorite books and shall be until I die. (Beautiful, beautiful prose. Also, Jane Austen references that warm my heart. Plus a Charlotte Bronte sighting? Write a sequel already!!)

Ender's Game, oh man, I couldn't bear to read the sequels it was so heartbreaking.

The Foundation Trilogy! And mention of Pern! How my high school days come back. Strangely, we weren't allowed to have Harry Potter in our library, but Asimov and McCaffery were on the shelves. Which... in terms of content, really makes me laugh.

Going Postal! My first Discworld. I could probably go on rapsodizing all day. So let me turn to ranting. WHERE IS THE WATCH? AND DEATH?

Also, The Codex Alera series? Really? I guessed the "big twist" of book five in the first chapter of book one. I didn't bother to keep reading after I looked it up on Wikipedia. If we must have Jim Butcher, The Dresden Files are far more entertaining, in my opinion.

Can I also just take a moment to say The Handmaid's Tale was deeply horrifying? In a well written, necessary way.

I know, I did not speak of jobs or writing or anything serious. That is because I would rather focus on what makes me happy, and thinking about books, yes. That's the ticket! I'm saving this list so I can hit up the fun library when I can.

Some things I just don't take out of my boxes

I've started to think about packing. And I have done some. But I really don't want to pack at all, because I don't really know where I'm going. There was a story I was told about an MK who graduated from college and had nowhere to go. I always hated that story. And now I kind of feel like that's where I am. It's hard to write with all this uncertainty, let me tell you. (And also, when I am done writing, I feel like I will really, truly, be gone, and I don't know how to handle that.)

There are some boxes I never unpack, wherever I move. These are the memory boxes and they keep getting heavier each time. I'm sure there is a metaphor in there somewhere.

On the other hand, part of me also likes packing and getting rid of things I don't need.

Things I currently dislike

I don't really want to think or write or talk about how I have no idea where my future is going. This is mostly because I feel like this lack of knowledge means that I'm a failure. And in all honestly, there were probably things I should have done differently. But I'm certainly not the only one in this position. I just don't like it.

Chester, Chester

I feel like it all makes complete and rational sense in my mind. And then I get buried in paper and details and it overflows and becomes a mountain.

Oh, Chester

Back to complaining about how haaaaaaaard writing is. Seriously, it all makes sense in my head, but somewhere between my brain and my fingers the information gets all tangled up and I am convinced I do not make sense. At all. Ever. And it is hopeless. Chester will be stillborn. Woe.

Then I talked to my thesis buddy and she said she had the same problem, so I felt a little better. We bemoaned the fact that working for 8 hours results in mere paragraphs. It's a fairly incredible thing.

And of course, in addition to that, trying to figure out what I will do when my lease is up is ... well. Not fun. It's a situation where my desired action would be to hide somewhere and close my eyes and pretend that it will all go away if I pretend it's not there. Sadly, I can't do that.

I was rejected by an insurance program called "The Golden Rule" yesterday for having a pre-existing condition. (That is manageable and under control.) I was simultaneously angered and amused by this irony. I'm fairly sure, going by those times I read the Bible, that Jesus healed the people with pre-existing conditions. And said that doctors heal the sick, not the healthy. (Something like that, anyway.) Basically, exactly the opposite of how the American health-care industry works. Effing pisses me off. I just feel, if you are going to spout platitudes about loving your neighbor, your services should not operate on a business model geared solely towards maximizing profits. Sanctimonious a-holes. I should probably stop now or I will be so angry I won't be able to write.

On the other hand, Harry Potter comes out tonight!!!

Thinking back

This time last year I was in Bangkok. I won't deny I wish I could go there again. I felt very competent and capable last summer. This summer, not so much. Everything feels very precarious. Very precarious indeed. I was only half joking when I told my friend that the only thing keeping me sane is the thought of the new Harry Potter movie.

Chesterrrrrrrrrrrr

I find myself consistently frustrated by the fact that I am forced to condense my subject matter and it feels like I'm leaving so much out. So. Many. Facts.

Headsplosion here.

Too busy to blog long

Because I am being fairly productive, thesisly speaking. The election got me interested again, I suppose you could say.

Here are some election links I find important and interesting:

Michelle Fitzpatrick argues that, despite being the first female PM, this election is not a win for Feminism. (I will probably write a paper about this someday.)

Nicholas Farrelly discusses the aftermath of the election and its connection to the last five years of political turmoil.

And finally, academic Chris Baker compiled a map of regional voting patterns. The north and northeast are basically solid red.

All in all, it will be a very interesting next few months as the new government forms. I personally think it would be interesting if Yingluck decides she is not her brother's clone and governs on her own terms. Unfortunately, I'm afraid than any success or failure she has will be attributed to his hand behind the scenes.

Thailand's election resulsts

Thailand has its first woman Prime Minister.

Abhisit has already conceded, which at least precludes a power struggle from that front.

I wish I didn't think things were about to get even more messy, but somehow, I can't believe that this transition will go smoothly.

Chester

I have named my thesis Chester. I don't particularly like that name. But it is easy to say with loathing and despair, so "Chester" it is.

Reading all the articles for Chester makes me wish I were back in Bangkok.

Onwards!

Passed the prospectus part of my thesis, FINALLY. Now I can start angsting about the actual project. Man, I am just so relieved. I know it's not a perfect project and I basically writhed with loathing when I was rereading my prospectus yesterday before I defended, but at least I can start doing some new things.

Then today I got my first ticket. I thought my car's registration expired at the end of June when my inspection does, but apparently, it expired at the end of May. Oops. Rather expensive mistake... However, it is a good thing I found this out today because I promised I'd be my brother's over-26-year-old-PA-driver-with-car for his driving test tomorrow. Showing up to the DMV with an expired registration could have been supremely awkward.

Also awkward: letting my brother drive my car. He is an excellent driver, though. Little bugger's all grown up now. Awwww.

Disgruntled

I'm bored. I figured this out last night when I was trying to trace my discontent and general lack of enthusiasm about everything in my whole entire life. I mean, aside from the sadness of this era of my life ending, and the stress of my thesisy related things, I'm just plain bored. I'm bored of working on my thesis. I'm bored of looking for and applying for jobs. I've been watching TV for the first time in my life, which has been kind of interesting, actually. Watching Vampire Diaries and Battlestar Galactica has resulted in some very odd dreams involving blood-sucking cylons.

I think another aspect of my current doldrums is remembering that this time last year, I was preparing to go home to Thailand. That's not an option now. I'd like to go somewhere on a plane.

I'm ready for a new normal. And a paycheck.

Making up words. Incoherently

I've decided that this prospects is like one of those giant puzzles with thousands of pieces, only I don't have a box with a guiding picture and I'm probably missing some key pieces.

Like that Greek dude

Sisyphus, maybe? The one who was condemned by the gods to push a stone up a hill for eternity. That is what I feel like right now.

In other news, this guy pisses me off so much I can't even tell you. When I first started following this story, I was appalled to think that it was a hoax, but I definitely was not expecting the perpetrator to be an American man in Edinburgh. How dare you, Tom Macmaster? How dare you appropriate the voice and experiences and sufferings of others without any response except, "I didn't mean to hurt anyone"? Well, gee, that's great. What were you trying to do then? Unfortunately, instead of this debacle meaning he will be unemployable in the international sector he will probably get a book deal. (And what does his wife feel about him carrying on a relationship with the woman in Canada via email?)

Stories like this make me afraid to deal with cross-cultural issues in my work, because I in no way want to be so arrogant as to think that my choices do not have an impact on others, or that my interests are neutral or objective.

Even this is problematic. Sure, the commercial pokes fun at tourist's expectations. But the underlying issues of WHY Jamaica is a tourist destination and WHY tourists expect what they expect and all the other factors of economic imperialism are not addressed. I know that a beer commercial is probably not the best place to expect insightful critique of anything, but these types of commercials reinforce conceptions and structures that perpetuate global inequalities.

Sometimes ranting just makes me feel better about everything.

ETA: This article takes the Macmaster hoax and puts it into the context of the West's history of Orientialism and also highlights the issues inherent in depending on blogs for news coverage. (I feel that this is very important because I am fascinated by blogs.)

Trials and tribulations

So another another another draft. I felt sad yesterday because I looked over the paper I wrote for Cultural Studies and I remembered how much I enjoyed that project. (I am quite aware that I probably did not like it at the time, but that was mostly because of the computer issues I had that required a complete rewrite and reresearch a week before the paper was due.) I mostly just hate this thesis project right now. I've been told this is normal.

Also discouraging: finding out today that some of the sources I wanted to use have disappeared from the internets. Excuse me while I go scream.

However, I also feel a bit optimistic, so basically I'm a conundrum all around. Hopefully this is normal in some schema.

Lost

Sometimes getting lost is the best thing that can happen to me. Last night, after throwing an internal temper tantrum and calling my mom for reassurance that I can, in fact, write this thesis, (she just wrote a thesis of her own so she understands these things), my friend K and I decided to go to Walmart. Now, despite the fact that I have lived out here on the Mainline for almost a year, I still do not know how to get to Walmart. This is partly out of stubbornness because I don't want to feel like I'm staying out in this area. (City city city city!) And also partly because I just have no money to spend so I avoid shopping.

K had her GPS so we figured it would be fine. GPS was rather confused and sent us hurtling off towards a Walmart that was almost 20 miles away. So we turned around to go to the one I knew about near the King of Prussia mall. The GPS was not very clear and neglected to specific I needed to go straight at an intersection. Then it tried to send us down a road that was closed for construction. When we finally got headed in the right direction, I accidentally turned left instead of right and confused the poor GPS even more. (I have trouble following instructions.)

This experience was a good reminder that I always get where I need to go in the end. I usually just take some interesting (and/or frustrating) detours. Right now I am feeling on multiple levels that my personal identity markers have shifted, but that doesn't mean I am lost. I just need to figure out a new direction. Or maybe just keep going and the road will sort itself out.

writer's block

I think I may be paralyzing myself by trying to think of everything I have to do and think about all at the same time. This sucks.

All things new and what came before

As I drove to Lititz on Friday to meet my parents and brother, I kept thinking about the last time I went to meet them, three years ago. Before I moved to Philly, before grad school. I was so desperate to see them. I had not seen my youngest siblings for almost two years. It was a shock to be with them, to notice my features and mannerisms on other people.

Families are such complex entities. They shape us and we shape them.

Last week, Baby Sister laughed when she saw where I parked. “I always park there!” she told me. “My car is getting work done. Why did you park there?”

“It seemed like a good spot,” I said. We decided we both gravitated towards that particular spot since it was shady and our father always parks in the shade.

My mother told me, “I didn’t realize how exhausting it would be, packing up a whole life.”

“This just feels so weird,” my father and brother kept repeating.

The cat made her feelings clear by wailing for the better part of the afternoon. She has never left Thailand before. This basement is like nothing she’s ever seen, and her claws keep getting caught in the carpets.

My mother had to correct herself when she told the landlady they would only be staying a year, because this time they plan to stay in the States for good.

This is just so weird. So final. But I am so, so glad to see them.

Changes

"You are such an academic," someone told me today after I explained I kept checking to make sure my paper REALLY was accepted to NCA. (I just had to make sure!) Needless to say, I took that comment as a compliment.

Right now my parents and brother are suspended somewhere between Seoul and New York City. On their Seoul layover they got online and it was fun to chat with my mother via Facebook. (I do not understand why internet access is not standard for international airports.) She said that the cat was behaving well; quiet out of terror. Poor cat. It will be a new era for the family tomorrow: we will all be in the same time zone for the foreseeable future.

I took a book back to the store today. I bought it with birthday money, but I do not wish to own a book wherein the (male) narrator waxes eloquent about the love interest's beauty and how the "world's promises were on her lips" at seventeen or some nonsense and ten chapters later she is pregnant and marries him. Leaves the university.

Women in that book existed to be daughters and sisters out of action, seen and/or lusted over. And impregnated. Sometimes killed. Also there was incest. It was kind of nauseating, really. Besides, the TRUE LOVE AT SEVENTEEN trope gets old too. The book started with such promise: the characters visited a secret Cemetery of Books. I wanted to visit too.

NCA!!!!

My paper got accepted!!! New Orleans here i come!! (I've got time before November to work out how to pay for it!)

Man, this is great. I needed some good news today. I mean, just in general. I like good news!

This paper submission was important to me for a couple of reasons. (I mean, papers are always important, yes?) I wrote it as an independent study. I was also not writing about Thailand, and I really wondered if I could write successfully about anything else. Hurray!

I'll look at the feedback when I need a sobering experience. Right now, for today, I just want to feel happy and go write my prospectus.

In between

The weather is lovely. I may be one of the only ones who loves the sunshine and humidity!

Last week I went to visit Baby Sister in New Jersey. I learned some very valuable things. One, always turn on your away message in your email. Two, I need a GPS. I need verbal directions. I carefully wrote out the way I needed to go and got to the end with a minimum of panic until I turned down the road I thought was the right road. But Baby Sister's camp was nowhere in sight and I began to get nervous. Finally I pulled over and called my sister. "I'm not sure where I am," I told her. It turned out I was actually right around the corner. I had panicked too soon. An apt reflection for most of my life at the moment, really.

Baby Sister was greatly amused by my reactions to life in the wilds. The bunk bed had ancient gum stuck to the headboard and wisps of spider webs. I was afraid to go to sleep because I didn't want to touch any of the walls. I also really don't like having other people fill up my gas tank. "It's so funny," said Baby Sister. "In the city you just know how to do things and where to go. And out here you're just hilarious!" So true.

Right now I'm trying to find the right balance between proactivity and patient waiting.

My tomorrow my baby brother graduates from high school and then my parents will leave Thailand forever. I can't think about that too closely.

Birthday birthday birthdaaaaaaaay!

The world did not end this weekend. I am glad. I want to do so many things in my next year of life!!

Today isn't a typical "milestone" birthday, but so much has happened in the last year. Lots of wonderful things, and sad things too. I've learned a lot.

In some ways I feel like everything is ending, all at once. I'm done with course work and my assistantship. (Confession: I haven't been able to give my office key back yet. I know.) My parents are leaving Thailand. Fifteen years packed up, given away, sold. Gone. They're selling the house in North Carolina. I haven't lived in that house for a decade and a half but it was always there, if that makes sense.

But this has been a good year, on the whole. I got to go home to Thailand twice; this would be my highlight if I had to pick. I will never be able to express just how important that was to me.

And I'm getting excited about whatever is next.

Mostly, I am just glad I am alive. Alive is good. I like being alive.

Wee Update

I love this stuff. So much.

Things crawl along. Gotta finish up the prospectus and get a job. You know. The usual. I sound (and feel) like a broken record.

BUT. It's my birthday week. I love birthdays (especially mine). And my parents will be back next week. That is so crazy...

Research interests collide!

So Thailand's July election just got more interesting. I was expecting something of the kind, after all, past elections have had "proxy" candidates for Thaksin and some members of his party have gone so far as to wear masks of his face while campaigning. So it was inevitable that a "proxy" would appear on the scene, but I personally was not expecting Thaksin's younger sister Yingluck.

So now two of my research interests are colliding, Thailand and transnational feminism, because Ms. Shinawattra is the first woman to win the nomination of a major party in Thailand, and if Phua Thai wins the election, she will be the first female premier. Now, the fact that she will be seen as merely a cover for her more powerful brother is a complicating factor, and I find it fascinating that in the article on BBC that I linked to she is quoted as using her "femininity to work" for Thailand. What will this look like? Will voters get behind her? If she does win will she simply be a puppet? Will the reasons the protestors protest change? It will be fascinating to watch, but I expect that the unrest will simply get worse again. At times like this, while I'm deeply sad that my parents are leaving Thailand, I'm really glad that they will not be there for the election season. No matter what happens I doubt things will go smoothly.

Okay, fine...

I'm glad I went to the Graduate ceremony thingy on Saturday.

I am, however, also glad I stuck to my stubbornness and refused to go on Sunday. Apparently the undergrads get drunk and loud. That would have annoyed me considerably.

Here is a picture. I like hats.

To be honest I didn't mean for it to come out blurry. Details aren't important though. I wanted a cool hat. I plan to research PhD programs based on the coolness of their hats.

Two steps forward, one step back

It still hurts when people ask if my parents will be at graduation. (Seriously, y'all, Thailand is very far away. And they are definitely not made of money. They are also in the middle of leaving Thailand forever so...) However, I can recognize now (more than before, anyway) how important it is to celebrate what I've done. I did so well! I'm very proud of myself. Just have to finish this thesis thing...

Today I met with my advisor, who had five million things to add to the prospectus. Actually, that's an exaggeration, but there were some surprising additions that rather dashed my hopes of presenting my draft to my committee. This is where my over-anal research practices come in handy, because I have some articles with lovely notes that I can use to write a few more paragraphs instead of having to find some completely new stuff. Patience, patience.

All nighter, ahoy. I want this thing in the hands of my committee STAT.

This is why iprint hates me

Never let it be said that I do not do my research. Now I have to read all these articles!

I feel bad killing so many trees. I should also find a binder or five.

Miscellaneousisms

The sunshine has arrived! As have warmish temps. This makes me happy.

Other things that make me happy:

Scholarly articles that fit what I'm trying to do. (I know, I know. Let me be a nerd a little longer, y'all.)

Sending 1,000+ pages of research results to iprint. (They are going to hate me forever.)

Spending time with friends in the city.

Doctor Who musings of the moment: it is impressive that the race of Big Bads has been totally destroyed multiple times and yet, they just keep coming back. Four times since I started watching. (After the last appearance I was kind of like, show, I love you but seriously. This is getting very old.)

Because I am who I am, I googled "Feminism and Doctor Who" just to see what discussions about the Doctor and his mainly young and beautiful female "Companions" exist on the internet. It was interesting. Personally, I think it's complicated because yeah, kind of problematic that, so far, the semi-immortal Doctor kicks around the time and space continuum primarily with younger women who, simply because they are young and human, will never completely be his equals. On the other hand, if he was kicking around the time and space continuum with no women at all, that would also be an issue. So. You know.

Finally, this list of 111 Male Characters of British Literature, in order of Bangability was pretty awesome. I have, however, three overwhelming thoughts that must be expressed:

3. Aslan? Um... what? First of all, he's Jesus, and he's a Lion, and... why is he on here?! My childhood!
2. WHERE IS GEORGE KNIGHTLEY?! I'm sorry, but if Edward Ferrars and Edmund Bertram made this list my Mr. Knightley should have as well! (I mean, Thorin Oakenshield is on this list. wtf!)
1. Why is Rochester number one? I expected Mr. Darcy there, it is true, but ROCHESTER? The dude who tried to manipulate Jane into doing something he knew she would not ever ever ever do?! Also, mad wife locked in a secret room?! I love Jane Eyre because Jane herself is awesome, but I've always thought it was extremely unfortunate that her only two options for partners were Mr. Rochester (liar, manipulator, etc.) and St. John Rivers (religious psychonut). This is just not fair. This comic basically sums up my feelings on the Bronte Sisters' taste in romantic male leads.

Transistions

Today my mom told me that they have sold almost everything. The cars. The beds. Everything is gone.

I had my exit interview today. I warned my supervisors that I would probably cry. I cried during my interview for the job, speaking, ironically enough, about how hard it would be to let a student go from the program.

"How are you transitioning?" I was asked.

"Today is a good day," I told them. I did not cry. Not then.

"Your parents are coming back this summer, right? That will be so nice. You can transition together."

I don't think I can bear my own transition issues, much less anyone else's, so this is less than comforting. I'm glad that they'll be able to hopefully come to my thesis defense, though.

I cried later, on the way back to my car. I took the long way so I wouldn't run into anyone and have to explain that yes, I am graduating. No, I don't know what I want to do with my life. Yes. I will miss you.

So I decided, there are no good days or bad days. There are days. And they have good moments and bad moments.

And then my eyes glazed over

Here's what I've learned about academic writing: at this point, it is basically re-writing. Every. Little. Thing. I heard a story about a poet once (english undergrad. never leaves you) who spent a morning putting one word in a poem, and then spent the afternoon taking it out.

At the time, I thought that story was pretty silly. I feel differently now.

I'm not dealing with the inclusion single words, usually, but this prospectus has been a very frustrating process of small changes that amount to large ones. I may move a paragraph from one section to another and wonder, why didn't I put it there to begin with? Sometimes information obscures rather than clarifies and I have to cut, cut, cut sections that I spent hours and hours writing. It is a sad truth that it sometimes takes me several hours to write a single paragraph. (And, yes, this is occasionally because I get distracted. The point still stands.)

I can't even read my prospectus anymore. I don't know what it says.

But it looks really substantial and pristine sitting on the table next to me.

(I love) walking in the city

I think the worst thing about this point in my life is that I can't imagine anything else after this. I can't imagine what else I could do or where I could go that could possibly make me as happy as I have been the past two years. And when I think about that, I feel kind of pathetic. I kind of want to just go sit in an airport. Give me the limbo of an actual terminal. It's much more clear cut.

However, when I go into Philly, I just feel so much better. I think I subconsciously take wrong turns on purpose just so I can walk around more. I pretend that I will be fine with moving anywhere. (California is lately a really tempting option.) But that's because I'm afraid to admit how much I want to stay.

Right now I really like Florence and the Machine's song "Rabbit Heart (Raise it up)."

Also, I am hopelessly, hopelessly in love with Doctor Who. Time-traveling badass with a tortured soul. Can't resist. Plus, time-travel. (Last night at a party someone was telling me this story about how he came home to find a strange woman had broken into his house and was acting really creepy. I was like OMG ON DOCTOR WHO SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN AN ALIEN! And then I felt kind of ashamed.) But seriously, who couldn't love a show where the characters get to meet Queen Victoria and fight werewolves? Among other things?

There are always bright spots. And Philadelphia is still there for me to wander in.

Hurray!!!

So, my good friend and co-worker successfully defended her field exam today. I am so proud! She is one of those people that I can't remember what life was like before I met them. (Pardon the grammer.) It's been an awesome two years, doppelganger. Congratulations!

Now you get to help me write my thesis. (lol)

Lasts

Today I turned in my last seminar paper and went to my last class. This was sad and happy all at the same time. I keep thinking, I don't know how to do this. And I know the longer I think the fewer choices I will have. I'm better at leaving when there is a clear geographical break. When there are a few continents in between you and where you want to be and who you want to be with, it is much easier to know that, hey, you really can't go home. So this is a new experience. How do I leave when I don't want to go that far? I like these people. I like this place. (Well, Philadelphia and Villanova. I am quite ready to move off the Mainline.)

I don't like not knowing things.

How many "Friday" parodies can there be?

The answer: a lot. And most of them are really clever. (The Ravenclaw parody maybe my current favorite, since I fancy myself a Ravenclaw, although the Good Friday version was really funny also.)

It is crunch time.

I had to train my replacement today.

Maybe this will be good for my writing, because I am good at writing, and I can immerse myself in it.

I have to do so many things. I don't know if I can. I don't know if I want to.

So, back to writing. Crappy, crappy text. (I know I am hard on myself. But what else can I do?)

Figures

I've become slightly obsessed with time travel lately. Probably because it would be SO nice to hop ahead a wee bit in time and make sure everything turns out okay...

Also, it would be nice to have an infinite amount of time to write. And perfect. I hate imperfection.

Sunshine

It has been a long week or so since I last posted.

Full confession: I really hoped I'd missed the deadline to apply to walk in graduation. Then I wouldn't have to decide, even though I would have decided through my indecision. (And I could also be filled with life-long regret, because that's just how I roll sometimes.) But I got a reminder email and figured it was a sign that I should fill out the form and then I felt much better about everything, in some ways. So no regret about that, I guess. I just hate feeling like an orphan charity case at these things.

Anyway. Same day I met with my advisor and he was like, prospectus almost ready! This is kind of terrifying. Now I have to defend it. And get criticism! Eek! However, I need to do that, and I'm kind of excited too. (I mean, I really do like my thesis topic. Kind of a lot. Which makes the potential criticism that much scarier. But, but, but. That's part of the deal. Learning to be comfortable with imperfections kind of sucks. Learning how to write and rewrite has probably been one of the hardest things to keep on learning this grad school experience.)

It just feels like everything has shifted into hyperspeed. At least the sun and warmer weather has decided to show up more often.

Time Warp

The first thing I noticed as we drove to Central PA was the loneliness. People like to talk about the beauty of the countryside, and whole movements have been centered around the idea of the purity of nature compared to the wickedness of the cities and the need to "get back to nature" and beauty and all that. I can see it, but I can't feel it. Because what I felt driving through and what I remember feeling from when I lived out there was the loneliness. You can go for a long time between farm houses. People cluster along the highways like they are rivers, connections to other places. Lifelines. Not for me.

It was interesting in other ways too. Like when a cashier asked for my phone number and I realized that my area code would not be strange to her at all, as it is when I give it to people in the Philly area. I guess we always carry pieces of our past with us. I enjoyed seeing college friends that I hadn't seen in ages. But it was also bittersweet as we realized that next year, given visas and job needs, we might be really and truly scattered. I had not realized how many of the people I was counting on to be in the Philly area might not be here in a few months. We kept talking about transitions. Transitions transitions.

And now for a quick book review: Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor is one of the best books I have ever read. I came across this author's name years ago in a blog post about the dearth of fantasy and sci fi written by writers of color. But my library in Central PA had never heard of Okorafor, so I put her on a list to read in the future. When I saw her latest book in a Borders that was closing, I decided to take a risk and purchase before I read. I am so glad I did, even though it meant I got even less sleep than usual. Who Fears Death deals with a lot of hard and horrifying topics; the main character is born of rape and the main impetus for her heroic journey is to save her people from complete genocide. The magic is unique and the characterizations complex and vivid. I don't want to keep rambling... I'm going to track down Okorafor's other books the minute I have freedom from my thesis, haha. (Another motivator. I'm so good at finding new motivations. You'd think I'd be beyond done by now!)

Circles

So I find myself heading back to Central PA today. I really don't know how I feel about it, but I've been refusing to visit friends who live there and I finally just felt like I was being rude in continually saying no. Also, I confess to some morbid curiosity. Who will I be when I get there? Will the place remember me? We'll see. Letting go takes a long time.

Also, I fear that my committee thinks I have given up on my thesis. Not true, although I did (for an extremely brief moment) seriously consider failing on purpose so I could take another class in the fall. I decided that paying for the class would be the better course of action! There is a visiting scholar that I want to learn from, altho frankly, even if there hadn't been the visiting scholar, there is a chance I would have shown up for classes anyway, to visit. Have I mentioned I have a hard time letting go? haha.

So life is interesting. We'll see what happens.

I watched "Mother and Child" last night. It was a moving film. I cried (not unusual). But I wonder, why, why, why, do the majority of films/books/etc that focus on women deal with their childbearing status? This movie was filled with women who had babies, who couldn't have babies, who you assumed didn't want babies, and yet, in the end, babies were all that mattered. I enjoyed it, like I said, but I was extremely bemused by the "bitch" character who explicitly stated a desire to never ever have children ever suddenly being like I WANT THIS BABY when she unexpectedly gets pregnant and then she turns into a Nice Lady because of motherhood. I dunno. It was just like... where did that come from? The transformation was too sudden. There were some other narrative issues (one story line just, disappeared completely), but overall, it was a thoughtful film and I enjoyed it.

Thoughts (of the emo variety. Still. I know.)

I probably will go to graduation. When I expressed my vehement plan to NOT GO, one of my friends was aghast. "But you love your department! Your professors will all be there!" And it is true that both of those are strong motivators, but also reasons that make me not want to go because I don't like endings. So we'll see.

It's just such a weird transition, I suppose. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

I've been sitting in the library for hours trying to write cover letters and in that time about ten students have come and chatted with me, so I guess I did something right here! Now I just need to snap out of the "If I can't have THIS I don't want ANYTHING" and figure out what the real grief is and not let it dehabilitate me. Blah blah blah. Same old same old.

Rainy Day

Well, I had wanted a more cheerful post, but I woke up this morning and discovered one of my "aunties" passed away yesterday. My thoughts are with her daughter who was one of my good friends and the rest of the family. They were very kind and welcoming to me when we first moved to Thailand, and I miss them all.

So, here is what I am currently thankful for:

I still have my mom. And soon I will get to see her. (In person! Not just on Skype!)

Even though I am sad about graduation, I will most likely be in the same time zone and I will be able to visit. (Y'all know I'll be lurking in my department. It's inevitable.)

I have friends who are there when family cannot be.

My sisters are nearby. I mean, that's pretty unique.

Spring will come soon. It will, it will.

I have interesting things to write about and study, and the world is full of interesting opportunities. I just have to, you know, be willing to write cover letters. (Worst. Activity. Ever.)

So I guess this is a bit more cheerful.

Ugh

Today (I guess it's yesterday now) I finally just sucked it up and started contacting local friends and family about graduation. I'm still not sure I want to go, but I AM sure that I will not be going if no one will be there with me. No way. There is not enough vehemence on the internet to express this refusal. It feels like there's no good option here. I don't want to graduate, but I had an amazing time, I did well, and I should celebrate it. I'll be sad if I go, but I'll regret it if I don't. Closure. Such an old, sad word.

Also, well intentioned and interested people keep asking me what I'm doing next and seem perplexed when I don't seem to be overjoyed at the thought of graduating. (I know, I know, pathological love of school is very rare.) They assure me that whatever I do next will be totally awesome and everything will work out and it wil be GREAT and it just frustrates me and I get upset. I think I've figured out why, though. It's because I know, of course, that I will enjoy whatever it is I end up doing and I will love it and all that jazz. But I'm mourning this present. This ending. I'm grieving and I feel like that should be okay. Should be. My therapist calls this complicated grief. TCKs and other global nomads often experience all the other griefs and all the other leavings they have ever felt or done in times of transition. I can attest to this. Unfortunately, it also makes me just want to run as far away as I can. Choices, choices.

I realize I haven't written about writing much lately. Or walking. Transition takes over! I am writing. And thinking. And everything else I have to do. There is a phrase from some version of the Bible and I can't remember where or what or anything like that. But I've always liked it: "He set his face like flint." It's very dramatic and that is probably why it appeals to me. Gotta set my face like flint and just get this over with.

I'll write a more positive post tomorrow, probably. I always feel these things strongly and then I get embarrassed. It's all part of me though. Integration. Process. All that.

Also, also, I really wish Spring would come for real.

i who have died am alive again today

ee cummings (or E.E. Cummings or however his name is supposed to be) is another poet that I love. That particular poem, which I am too lazy to look up the original printing info for, is like a prayer to me. When I was inducted into the English Honors Society in college, we were asked to bring our favorite poem with us to the fancy schmancy dinner to share. That is the one I brought. I was very proud/happy that one of the professors, who was a department favorite and had been there FOREVER, brought the same one.

Everything feels kind of distant, but real. I can't actually remember what I started out to write in this post. I suppose this could be a good thing. I think, I think, what I feel, which is weird and I don't really trust it, is, that everything will work out. I feel this much more peacefully than I think I have ever felt before, and it comes from the knowledge that no one thing will make me happy. I grew up thinking that there was "one right path" for my life, and through prayer and supplication, I would find my way and walk in it. This led to me being absolutely terrified that I was doing the wrong thing, and worrying that if I stepped off the right path, I would forever regret it and be unhappy and it would be all my fault. So knowing that I could potentially do many things, interesting things, things that I would not have thought about but might be cool, is freeing. I guess I just wish I knew what exactly I will be doing next. But again, underneath, I feel like something will work out. It probably won't look anything like I was expecting. And that will probably be okay.

A Tribute to Diana Wynne Jones

So, I was going to write about other things today, but I just found out that Diana Wynne Jones has passed away. DWJ, as I fondly refer to her, will always be one of my favorite authors. Young Adult Fantasy is one of my favorite genres, and DWJ was an excellent author. Just as the Chronicles of Narnia provided transitional support when we first moved overseas, I discovered DWJ when I moved back to the States for college. I was smitten. One of the things I appreciated most about her work was that usually, her plots and characters have darknesses to them that means even in a happy ending, there are losses as well. Frankly, I doubt there could have been a JK Rowling without DW Jones. (Once, when I was working on my college campus over the summer, I discovered a book of literary criticism of DWJ's work. I was in heaven.) DWJ attended lectures with JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis way back in the day. I thought that was so cool.

She also included literary allusions that tickled my English major snobby soul. In fact, in one of my all time favorites of her work, Howl's Moving Castle, a poem by John Donne is a key part of the plot. In each of her books, she slides in sly references to Lord of the Rings. Even in "other" worlds, she dealt with issues that are relevant to our own. Case in point, Darklord of Derkholm, which, in my opinion, is both a comic send-up of the high fantasy genre and a post-colonial critique. (Magical world has been turned into a theme park for Tourists from our world. The world's most inept wizard is designated the yearly Darklord. Hilarity and mayhem ensue. Also, there are griffins. GRIFFINS. This book makes me want to have griffin brothers and sisters.) I could go on and detail why I like every single one of her books, but that would take a lot of time. Each of her books has something in it that makes me laugh out loud every time. She has interesting, complex, and strong male and female characters. (Sophie, you are me. It's just true. Take care of Howl for me. Keep him in line.)

Good-bye, DWJ. I'm so sorry that you're gone. I wanted to have tea with you in Bristol.

The Book of Hours

I've always liked that phrase. And yesterday someone reminded me of Rilke's Book of Hours, so I've begun rereading it. Lovely, lovely poetry. I'll probably write about it sometime. When I figure out if I can narrow down to a few poems to share instead of raving about the whole book. I find that I can read poetry, but anything else I get bored/tired/distracted too easily at this point.

This is the point in the semester where I just don't sleep. Actually I've been pretty productive this week, so there's really no reason why I'm not sleeping. I just think too much. And the future is looming fast...

I have finally gotten my camera. It is so cute! It fits in the palm of my hand. I'm thinking about names. Sometimes I name electronic things. Something to fit a wee camera. (I like the word wee. It reminds me of one of my favorite high school teachers. She was a lovely maths teacher from Northern Ireland who explained that the song line "Zaccheus was a wee little man" is redundant and incorrect. She is also the reason I cannot say "pants" with a straight face. When I visited her in Northern Ireland she took me to a revival meeting for singles and really the only thing I can remember is the speaker said, "Hold on a wee minute!" very often. It has become one of my favorite phrases.)

Impatience

I bought a camera online the other day. Saturday, I think it was. I realized I have very few pictures from my time in grad school. In general, I tend to let other people take the pictures. I think this is something I should change. Another step to self-agency or something. Living in active voice, not passive voice, I have been writing a lot recently, omg.

(I realized I actually do like being in the library and writing. Most of the time.)

Anyway. I bought this camera. One of the best things about my trip this summer was the camera my department thrust upon me. I didn't want to take the nice camera. I'm so glad I did. I loved taking pictures and sharing the albums with the important people in my life. So this new camera, it's not the nice nice nice camera I planned to buy with my (oh please please someone hire me) first salaried paycheck. I figured, I can't justify the DSLR yet, but I can (and did) get a nice digital camera. I'm so excited!

I was hoping it would be here when I got back from diligently editing a paper for conference submission. (I really was being diligent. One of my undergrads sat at my table in the library and I felt the need to be a good example.) Alas, it has not yet arrived. (Amazon Prime, you failed my great expectations!) I guess the anticipation will have to do for now.

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall his Past Lives

I would say I experienced this film rather than watched it. Wikipedia quotes a review that called it "a floating world" which seems about the best description that could be found. Wikipedia also informed me that the film was shot on 16 mm film instead of digitally, which I wondered about because the picture seemed old looking. (My amazingly technical description. Don't judge me. Editing my own papers liquified my brain.)

I would describe UBWCHPL as a film of waiting, of nostalgia, beginnings and endings flowing together. It sort of wrapped me up and enthralled me, even though I don't really know what happened exactly. A man is dying, and he knows it. He wants to make sure of things that he will leave behind. He doesn't seem to worry too much about what is ahead, but when his dead wife appears to stay with him in his last days, he wants to know where he's going. "What's heaven like?" he asks. "There's nothing there," she tells him. "Ghosts are tied to people, not places." "But what happens when I die?" he wants to know. There is no answer. As he dies, he remembers one of his previous births. It is extremely poignent.

There were some very odd things as well. (The monkey ghosts. I can't think about them or I will be frightened to look out my window. Also, there was a side story about a princess and a catfish. It is possible it was one of Boonmee's past lives? If I hadn't read about the scene prior to watching the film I would have thought two movies got overlapped. The ending was odd also. Did the future split and multiply? I am not sure.) But overall, I enjoyed it very much. Particularly, it was gorgeously shot and the Isaan setting was simply beautiful. The jungle provides a good backdrop for ghostly happenings. It is so easy to imagine you might see something... The sounds were wonderful too. They sounded like home. There was not a musical score, so what was heard were the setting noises: the bugs and chinchoks and monkey birds. Painfully ordinary and everyday and comforting and strange at the same time. And that's the thing: the spiritual and supernatural are found everywhere in this film. Even (especially) in the mundane.

Poetry, identity, and the construction of home

So after the woe-is-me post of yesterday, I feel compelled to write on that is a little more upbeat! I'm striving for balance in all things, even my blogging, haha.

When I was in high school, I felt genuine disdain for poetry and its adherents, mostly because they tended to be the same people who thought that Romeo was the BOMB and so romantic, whereas I felt he was really immature and stupid. I did like Emily Dickinson and her brevity that still conveyed deep passion. Everything else, well, I could care less about sonnets.

So when I got to college and switched into the English major, I was not switching for the poetry. But when I got my Introduction to Poetry anthology for English 108 (a class of terrifying reputation), I discovered a poem called "Learning to Love America" by Shirley Giok-lin Lim. I was hooked. It was beautiful. I felt it, this struggle with learning to love a country. "it is late and too late to change my mind" read one line, and I knew it, even though I felt like I had not really had a choice in the choice my mind had made. This poem encapsulated a journey of acceptance that I knew I had to make, and contained both resignation and hope. Unfortunately, we never covered Lim in class, which I think is a shame, but discovering her certainly changed my perspective. I even wrote a response poem that I'm very fond of and revisit every so often to tweak. Sadly, the earlier iterations were lost in the Great Laptop Failures of 2010, but I have the most recent version and will keep on tweaking to reflect my continuing journey.

Probably the line that stuck with me the most deeply from "Learning to Love America" was "countries are in our blood and we bleed them;" yes, I thought. Sometimes more than one county mingles there. And our blood, it is inside, hidden, sustaining us even when no one else can see. When Thailand's political situation got so volatile, this was the line that was my personal mental refrain. That particular line also helped me shape a paper I wrote regarding a particular protest in which Thailand's Red Shirts collected their own blood and threw it at various government buildings. (Which I'm thinking/hoping/planning will become the central focus of my thesis also.) I bought Lim's anthology What the Fortune Teller Didn't Say on the justification that I needed the "real" citation of the poem for that particular paper.

I just got around to reading the rest of the poems. I was hooked from the first, titular poem, with the lines, "they never told about leaving, / the burning tarmac and giant wheels." It was a lovely anthology, with airplane poems! About flying between, always between, places that hold your heart. Belonging and not belonging. Deciding to love in spite of displacement. I also loved the final poem, "Self-portrait." Sometimes I think we come across what we need, when we need it, and I needed this poem yesterday. Here are the final lines:

I have more desires than
there are wigs in the world:
to be what I am not.
Also to be myself. To speak
many languages, each
as useful as this one
I wipe my tears with.
I want to be good and better
than I am. I want to sway
like the swaying palms
and hold heavy books in my hands.

(Shirley Giok-lin Lim, "Self-portrait." Found in What the Fortune Teller Didn't Say, pg. 82, published 1998)

Beautiful. A new refrain. I'm putting her other anthologies and memoirs on my motivational summer reading list.

Musing

This is probably the first week I've really, truly just wanted to be done. Done, and gone. It makes me sigh. I feel like now I have to mentally go through what I want to keep from the last few years and how. It's draining and sad. I want to keep everyone and everything and that is just not possible. And I don't have energy to waste on trying... It's very tempting to just use my thesis as an excuse and cut everyone else out completely, finish this up alone and then skedaddle. It's kind of a bad habit. And then I get a text from a friend I haven't talked to in ages, just wondering how I am, or an email from a friend saying that she knows my parents won't make graduation, so would I join her family? And then I realize that I really am not as alone as I often feel. This helps.

I have started a reading list of fun books for the summer. It's supposed to be a motivation.

Sometimes I think it was stupid of me to not apply for PhDs this year. If I had, I might have a more definite idea of what I will be doing next by this point. But when I consider this in my heart, I know I really just wanted to stick around here for a bit longer, and it still feels right. I suppose it's a plus that I feel so stressed about other things that the hows of this next step are not yet too scary, although they are worrying. How will I get it all done? I'm not sure. One day. One step. One moment at a time.

Traces of something

This is just a weird limbo period. I feel like I'm waiting to start so many things, and at the same time, I can't decide if I'm waiting because, again, I feel on some level, if I don't start, they can't end. So maybe I like the limbo stage. I'm not sure what to imagine for the next stage of my life. Wanting to do things is a novel experience, but it is also overwhelming. In some ways, it was easier when I was convinced there was One Right Path for my life, and that I had to be careful to get it right. Now that I think there are lots of good options and no condemnation for choosing one above another, I actually have to take ownership of my choices.

On a more positive note, it feels like I'm getting a handle on thesisy things. Actually, this is the second situation in the last few weeks where a professor was like, you should make your project do this: ____. And then described what I was trying to do. So I'm not sure if that means I need to be more clear and have more confidence in my own work? Probably. I called my mom to tell her this because I felt she needed a conversation with me where I was not in tears. I miss her. She's defending her Master's Thesis on the 31st. We're just a thesising family at this point in time.

For a class assignment I wrote an imaginary lesson plan. I seriously enjoyed myself. Then I realized I was imagining a class of students who were all like me. I know that this is unrealistic! I guess I'll deal with that when the time comes.

Assemblages

That is the name of an art show I picked up a flyer for on Friday night. It made me giggle, especially since on the back of the card there were five definitions of the word "assemblage" which I thought perhaps a little unnecessary. However, since I was joking about writing an essay called "Art in the Age of Digital Reproduction" after talking to an artist who creates his pictures using digital technology, I really have no room to judge. (His most famous "model" is called Symmetra and has gained a following, apparently. "What kind of following?" I asked, intrigued, wondering if there were an online community centered around images of a beautiful woman who does not exist except in the digital imagination. I thought it would be awesome if she had a twitter. Unfortunately, there is not; the artist just meant people like to buy the pictures. I was disappointed. Also, I wonder, would a digital image of an imaginary man ever be so popular?)

Then I got into a big discussion with my friend about objective standards in Art; specifically, why there're can't be completely "objective" standards. He's a maths person, so to him it seems completely reasonable that this could and should be so. There's no way to account for the infinite amount of variables in human life, I told him. And then we got into language and social construction and I'm sure that the art galleries thought we were appallingly rude. Say what you like, I just don't believe there is a way to encompass all aspects of human interaction and culture through axiomatization (is that even a word?!). There are patterns, there are tropes, there are ways of examining human behavior but there is infinite complexity in life that can never be fully understood. (Feel free to blog a rebuttal, phuan. Haha.)

Speaking of complex life... back to the grind this week. I don't think I'm ready.

Destinations

One thing I forgot to do this trip was to make sure I booked aisle seats. On these short flights it wasn't too bad but I seriously dislike sitting in-between strangers. On two of my flights this trip (because I can never travel with under four flights roundtrip) I actually sat by the window for the first time in... seven years or so? Since I started traveling alone I just prefer sitting on the aisle so I'm not stuck and I don't have to bother anyone to move. I'd forgotten what it is like to look at the world from such great heights. I especially like watching highways and seeing the cars merge and separate, seemingly so seamlessly.

I really enjoyed my rental car. It accelerated so smoothly I had to be careful because I'd hit 80 mph without (totally) realizing it. I noticed I didn't get tailgated so much this trip, without PA license plates. (I guess my greater confidence with high speeds might alos have had something to do with this.)

This was the first time I'd used a GPS. It was very strange, listening to a disembodied voice telling me where to go. I have to say, though, I didn't get lost at all. So that was pretty awesome. In a way, it was comforting to have another voice in the car as I navigated around.

When I got to RDU this morning, I tried to remember if it looks at all the same as it did all those years ago when my family left the States for the first time. Honestly, I don't can't remember. I do remember that when I was very, very small, we could go with my dad to the gate and sit with him until his plane took off. It's hard to believe it now.

My aunt remembers the day we flew out of Raleigh to meet the world. "Your dad was going nuts trying to check all your bags," she chuckled. And I remembered the crazy luggage we had. The requirements were different then, and we had at least five trunks and as many suitcases, a combination that added up to twelve, two checked pieces per person, even my brother who was a day away from four years old. I was terrified that somehow we would lose him, and I kept him and my sisters close to me.

Oh that luggage. It was the culmination of months of sorting and weighing and much heartbreak that I only dimly knew at that time. How do you figure out what to take half-way around the world to a place you've never been, with four small children who need some sort of stability? (And now it's mirrored in the question, what do you take back?) What is worth keeping? How important are things? I wonder this still.

My journey from Raleigh today was quite different. Just me and my two small carryon bags. Tracing my way through the sky towards school and work and decisions about the future. This is just another time when I wish I could stay in limbo. In life, there's not a clear destination. Sometimes this terrifies me. I waited on the tarmac for the earth to fall away, effortless and beautiful. I could be going anywhere. I just might.

Lines of flight

I've been feeling homesick lately. Not for any particular place, as far as I can tell. More for a feeling of security, I think. (Although I was showing someone my pictures from the summer and that did make me miss Thailand a lot.)

I spent the weekend in Philly, which always makes me happy. This was especially important because I'd discovered that I'd accidentally booked my ticket to NC the day after I thought I had. I was so upset about that. But Philly made it better.

Then I got myself to the airport and flew right on down to Raleigh. It was a bit of an adventure because my dad called as I was packing to get on the train (being so smart I didn't pack until the morning of my trip and when I was on the plane I realized I'd forgotten the presents I've had for my small cousins for over a year) to tell me that the airline had called HIM to tell me that my flight was delayed. My dad stressed stresses me. I decided I didn't have time to call the airline if I wanted to make the correct train so I hopped it and got to the airport and hoped. My flight had indeed been delayed but I got to the gate before the man got tired of questions about my flight and put me on an earlier one that had been delayed to my original departure time, so that was all right.

It was strange to be back in Raleigh's airport because that was the airport my family flew out of way back when we first moved to Thailand. Life seems to be going in strange circles lately; ones that provide closure and new possibilities simultaneously. This trip was also noteworthy because I got my first rental car for myself, and not for a group trip. I felt so grown up I could hardly stand it, and also slightly terrified. I do love the higher speed limits in NC.

My small cousins think I am the coolest thing ever because I'm new and different. The youngest girl fixedly watched me brush my teeth. It was slightly disconcerting, but it's also great fun. (Especially since I don't have to keep them!)

Then I visited PhD type people. It was really fun, and really good, and I feel better about taking time off before I apply and also about eventually applying. So, I guess that's good. At the same time I feel sad about the fact that I will eventually fit in somewhere else. I'm a strange creature.

Dreamworlds

We watched the third Dreamworlds documentary last night in my Gender class. It was deeply upsetting for many reasons that I'm still trying to figure out.

Then I came home and dreamt I started yelling at a random guy in a coffee shop who assumed that Thailand was under a tyrannical government. And I also dreamt that I'd sent really awful emails to people I didn't mean to send them to and woke up terrified that I had don this in real life.

Definitely need a break.

Sometimes all you can do is laugh

So today I was feeling a bit sad about leaving and graduating. I made plans to visit my cousin and potential PhD programs over spring break and all around I just felt glum. I dislike the anticipation of endings more than the actual ending itself.

So anyway, I was in the library making myself write emails that prove I am worthy as a potential academic asset, (well, really, I was talking about doing this and swapping youtube vdos with my thesis buddy. We decided there are two kinds of academics: those of us who see interesting things and want to talk about them, and those who read the learned books and then have to use them to talk about things) when I got an email from Campus Ministry asking if I could possibly maybe PLEASE be a last minute trip advisor for the Jamaica service trip?! JAMAICA. I ASK YOU. After I buy my non-refundable tickets to North Carolina!

Strange as this may sound, that actually made me feel a lot better. I'm connected here. People know me, people like me, people trust me. I've done well. I'll stay connected, somehow.

Then the fire alarm rang. (I bet it was an undergrad being stupid, little git.) And I realized it was almost midnight, I didn't have my student id, and I'd forgotten my apartment key at home so I needed to get back before my roommate went to bed. I took it as a sign that I should leave the library. Some things just can't be argued with.

Life as Fractured Design

This is a stanza of a song I like at the moment:

She is the fractured one sewn
From sums of fractured time
Her heart speaks a fractured tongue
Her life is fractured design

(from Babelonia, by School of Seven Bells)

Right now I feel like I'm simultaneously looking forward, trying to figure out the future, thinking over the last few years and processing how I've grown and changed, and trying to keep the present together and get everything DONE. I don't always know how to organize my energy or where to focus.

Also, midterms mean that hordes of undergrads have invaded my library. They are loud. I want to hit them. The stress levels of everyone I encounter are astronomically high. Sorting out what is my stress and what is their stress is draining. Everyone feels uncertain.

I'm ready for break.

The places we left behind

On my way to campus today, I was thinking about Thailand. And how I thought for many years that I had to cut myself off, leave it behind. I'm so glad I learned I didn't have to do that. I'm currently reading an application essay written by a fellow (dear) TCK friend from college. She talks at length, with passion, about the land where she grew up, and I wanted to cry. I recognize that passion. I think it probably shows in my own work. (At least I hope so.) We can never leave our homes behind. These intricate interconnections that can't always be explained but still drive us. We are multiplicities.

Hope is a thing with feathers

Admittedly that is the only line I know from that poem, and I'm too lazy to look up the rest. But at the moment it seems to reflect the fragility of "hope." Random thoughts ahead.

I've always taken the "safe" path, in some ways. Because I knew I had to make sure I had housing and healthcare.

Someone asked me how I felt about my upcoming birthday, (three months away, yes, I love birthdays, don't judge), being closer to thirty and all that, and I said I feel like I'm finally at the age that everyone always assumed I was, so I don't really mind.

I had a very satisfying conversation with a professor yesterday who seemed to think I could just change up a scheduled meeting solely for him. I told him I had to balance the needs of the entire committee with my own (extremely) limited office hours. So he was like, do you have another part time gig? No, I told him, I'm a full time student. I'm writing my thesis. I'm taking a grad class. I facilitate two different student discussion groups. I'm on the Com Grad Student Council. I TA for an undergrad class. I also am an editor on the graduate journal. I think I probably forgot some things. But I was like, yeah, professor. I DO STUFF AROUND HERE. Lots and lots of important stuff.

It is nice to feel competent.

Draft Two - Mostly complete

Today was the first day I got home before dark, since, I don't even remember when. But draft two is mostly completed and out of my hands. Now my brain feels like it's melting.

Also, I dreamt last night about editing papers and in my dream, the papers were perfect. When I woke up, I was really annoyed because they still needed to be written/edited/finished. I'm sure this means something. Probably that I need to do other things with my life.

Someone asked me today if I have time to write on the side. (I think she meant creatively.) It was hard to know how to answer. Because no, I do not write poetry or fiction at this point in time. I don't think that's really my forte anyway. It would be hard to explain to her that my academic writing requires a lot of creativity, although it also very technical.

I do feel pretty satisfied with this draft. I know it still needs work but it felt more solid. This feeling of satisfaction makes me very happy. It's craft. And it comes from my soul. So... yeah. Not on the side. Writing is all I'm doing (it feels). It's nice to see positive progression.

Learning to be Invisible

(And then Visible again.)

Tonight in the class I TA for, one of the full instructors told a story about her (white) husband in Japan, realizing what it meant to be "hyper-visible," to be looked at, and laughed at, and, at times, unwanted.


In a discussion later, I told her about my almost opposite experience, when I returned to the States and suddenly had to deal with being INVISIBLE. I had never before connected this sudden invisibility with my struggle with depression. But after thinking tonight, I'm sure this was a part of it. I had gone from a place where my extreme visibility was, at times, uncomfortable and sad and painful (denoting, as it did, "not belonging"), to a place where I was completely "normal" and invisible (but still "not belonging"). I would be in Walmart and suddenly realize that I was surrounded by all White people. It was strange and unsettling.

I am sure that this contributed to my overall CERTAINTY that I did not matter, would not be missed, and therefore was not real, in some way that I couldn't express but felt so strongly. This invisibility allowed me to pass through my college without any flags going up. No one would have pegged me as depressed. My grades did not suffer. I had no outer markers of outsider status, so no one paid attention. (At least, that's how I felt. I am aware that my perspective is deeply, deeply mired the painful place I was inhabiting at the time.)

I believed I was invisible, so I acted invisible. I think this was most harmfully manifested in the fact that I stayed at a job after I graduated because I didn't believe that I was worth anything else. (Of course this was complicated by my need for insurance and of course money, but I do think that if I had a different opinion of my own worth, I might have been more willing to look longer or fight harder to be valued by my employers.)

I am still trying to unlearn this self-imposed invisibility. Coming to grad school was a culture shock of almost similar proportions. A friend asked me today what the best thing about grad school has been. I told her it was realizing that I have skills and strengths that are valuable, that are REAL. I told her it was the feeling of belonging. (I told her the worst thing was feeling like I have to be smart all the time, haha.)

So this is a goal for me, as I'm finishing up here: to be willing to be visible. To believe in my own value. To let people see me.

A geography of becomings

I love that phrase, which I came across in my thesis reading (where else?). I like the dynamic of "becoming."

Yesterday my old roommate invited me to go to NYC. Since I felt that I spend far too much time in the library, and I love city adventures, I woke up early and got myself down to the bus station. On the train in I got to overhear some Nova students bragging about how they cheat. This was just really odd to me. I don't know why that is something to be proud of, and also, I thought it was stupid of them to talk about it on a public train.

NYC was cold and rainy, but we still had a great time. I'm always in awe of how confusing the Metro system is compared to Philly's subway. We visited some of old roommate's friends, and it was really funny because in the apartment they are subletting was a truly beautiful photo of the King and Queen of Thailand. It was one of the ones from early in their reign, in sepia without a background, but with the royal insignias.

Old roommate's friends told me I was the first person who recognized the monarchs, and that they had initially assumed it was a photograph of the owner's parents. It was so interesting to be sitting so far from home and yet see a distinct reminder of Thailand. I guess it was comforting to think that even when my parents have left, I will still be connected to Thailand, even if it's just in moments like these. Someday, I'll get back to studying the royal photographs, maybe extending to the Thai diaspora.

We then visited the Guggenheim. I had never been there. I got really annoyed with the audio guide. I prefer to read about things instead of having people prattle in my ears, particularly when they make such decided statements about the intentions of long dead artists, because really, how do they know? Also, there was a bit about making the "exotic" accessible for Western audiences and that kind of attitude just really pisses me off. So I took off the headphones and just looked, which was extremely enjoyable. What struck me as I was looking at one of Picasso's odd portraits was how that particular artistic movement (and I get the terms all mixed up so I won't use them) made the familiarity of the human form so fantastic and strangely beautiful. I thought the spiral architecture was just fantastic also. As I wandered upwards I was ashamed to realize that I have not yet been to the Philadelphia Museum of Art since I moved down here. That will have to change soon.

We had dinner in Korea-town and it was just wonderful. I want to do these kinds of trips more. Maybe make my way through the major cities of the Eastern seaboard. I haven't been to Boston yet, and there is a museum there about His Majesty that I need to visit.

When I got back, I made my way to my current roommate's birthday party in Old City. In my great wisdom (and pure cussed stubbornness, might I add), I ended up walking from 30th Street to 3rd. This was because I didn't feel like taking the subway, and old roommate needed something from Chestnut St, so I went there with her intending to catch a bus. There were no buses. I didn't want to pay for a cab. So I just kept walking, thinking about how stupid I was being. But I also was thinking, I like this place. It is mine.

You know you're in Grad School...

...when you are reminded that the Super Bowl is happening this weekend and your first thought is, "Oh, that will be a great time to hit up the library! No one will be there!"

I am afraid I am that grad student.

On a related note, I have reached 18 pages on my rewrites, and that's even before all the new theoretical content I need to add. I think my days of written brevity are over. Under duress, of course.

I know what I have to do. I just don't want to do it. (Well, I do want to do it. Just... not right now.)

Just a little longer

"The microwave just broke," my mom told me. "We're hoping the fridge will last just a few months longer."

This is the weird time of the transition; long enough to have appliance failure be a serious inconvenience but far too short to buy a new one.

Sometimes it feels like life is just a series of trying to make things last, just a little bit longer, until the next place, the next apartment, the next big change. Just making do, for now.

I think maybe it's time to invest in things that will last a bit more than just a little longer.

Philly at Night

I love walking in Philly. At any time. So yesterday I offered to show a new student around since she'd never been in Philly.

"I love Philly," I told her. "I love walking there, and I know these great places!"

And because I didn't feel like driving, I suggested we take the high speed line. Which would have been perfectly fine, if the sidewalks had not been covered in two feet of snow. So that was an adventure.

And then, to my horror, I could not remember which subway stop to get off at. Or the cross street for the restaurant. I couldn't remember how to get to my favorite restaurant ever and I've been going there for almost eight years. (Eight! Years! So crazy.) I need to get back into the city more!

So then we walked to Penn's Landing.

"I definitely know where I'm going now," I told her. I didn't actually. Also, I hadn't counted on the sidewalks still being so snowy. It was epic. I deeply regretted wearing boots I had not yet waterproofed.

Philly is beautiful at night. I'm just not so keen on the winter part.

So, New Zealand might still be an option

Just kidding! I'm not ready to move to New Zealand just yet. But I got an email from a woman I talked to at NCA about a PhD program there, telling me I CAN STILL COME. On the one hand, that could be pretty cool (particularly since a lot of the scholarship I find about Thailand comes out of that area of the world). But she also told me that it's mostly independent work, no classes at all, and frankly, I just could not do that. I love classes. I am upset at the thought that school might be closed tomorrow due to snow because that is the day I have class. I LOVE CLASS. (I also hate snow, so it's a complex anti-school-closing-desire.)

Besides. I'm pretty sure they only want me to come because Americans are seen as being able to pay all the fees. (We got loans, y'all. And they are accepted by unis in the Commonwealth, based on the research I did that one time I thought I was going to England for my MA. Funny how different my life would have been.) Call me a cynic. I'll go there as a visiting scholar and they can pay me. Someday.

Actually, I was telling a senior undergrad last night about how life was terrible after I graduated from college, when my plans to go to England fell dramatically apart and I didn't have a place to live or a job or anything except my car and several boxes of books. It felt like I was just balancing on the edge of a precipice at every moment, and I couldn't stop and really, truly say, this utterly sucks because I just had to get through it. Undergrad was horrified, and actually, it was really her horror that let me admit how awful it was to myself. Have back up plans, I told her. This is advice I plan to have for myself too, as I graduate this time.