Thanksgiving

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I spent it with some friends and had a great time, but we didn't observe a tradition I've come to enjoy the last few years. You see, I like it when we go around the table and everyone talks about something they have been thankful for in the last year. So, because I didn't get to do it on the actual day, and since I am the only one around this particular table at the moment, here is a partial list of the things I am thankful for.

1. Health. Really, if you don't have this, everything else doesn't matter all that much. I have had a good year, in general. I give thanks for decent health care, including the flu shot and whooping cough vaccine that helped me out. Also, I'm grateful to have a lifestyle that allows me to sleep a respectable amount of hours every night, eat food that's good for me (not all the time, though), and moderately exercise.

2. A Network of Supportive Family and Friends. From the time I was born, I was blessed with a family who supports me, no matter how kooky my choices may seem. As I have gotten older, I have had the luxury of surrounding myself with people who have a positive influence on me and who I enjoy spending time with. Also, in the last few years, I've gotten better at asking for and accepting help from the people who love me.

3. A Job. We all know it's crap out there now. It's getting better, sure, but it has been a load off my mind to have a job that not only pays the rent and bills, but that I actually enjoy doing.

4. Writing. So, after finishing my second novel a year ago, I've done absolutely nothing to get it out there. Still, I'm keeping at it. Over the summer, I wrote quite a bit of a new novel and I've been working on this academic book I have a contract(!) for. I still hold out hope for the day when I can teach a little less and write a little more. And when I have an agent (or the time to find one).

5. Conferences. One of my favorite ways to travel. I love visiting a new city for the first time because I'm attending a conference there. About a month ago, I got to go to Indianapolis for the AMS, and I know Indiana doesn't sound like Vegas, but I'd never been there before (and probably wouldn't have ended up there any other way), and I thought it was charmant!

6. Me Lunches. On days when I don't have classes to teach, sometimes I like to take myself out to lunch. People do this every day, I understand, but I've been packing my own lunch for years. I figure I deserve lunch out once in a while. And I like to indulge whatever whim I have. If that means driving a few extra miles to get to the particular restaurant where I want to eat, so be it.

7. Football. American and European. I've been enjoying most of USC's season (but Oy, Oregon), but there have been some heartbreakers too. I also loved the World Cup this summer. I really enjoy watching my teams play.

8. My New Apartment. I can walk to work. Need I say more? Also, there's just a zen-like peace that goes along with the place. I have no idea why. It's just instantly calming when I walk inside.

9. Boardwalk Empire. I just. I love this show. Everybody in it is excellent, and I really love that the characters talk like people did back then. Nucky called someone "Johnny on the spot" a couple of weeks ago. That rocks!

10. Crafts. I made Halloween lollipops this year and I hope to do the same for the December holidays. Also, I spent many hours today making my holiday cards. There is something very soothing about designing and creating something and then sharing it with people you love.

Too Much Stuff

When all of your belongings are in closets, tucked away on shelves, or in cabinets, it's hard to assess how much stuff you actually have. When you have to pack everything into boxes, however, you suddenly realize that you've been accumulating stuff without even realizing it. I moved about a month and a half ago. Once again, I was surprised at how many boxes were required to do the job. And I was actively trying to get rid of stuff, for many reasons. First, all of my previous moves in California were into successively bigger apartments, and as everyone knows, the more space you have, the more space you use. My latest move was a lateral one. The square footage of the old and new apartments ended up being about the same, although the rooms are different sizes. I needed to get rid of some furniture that just wouldn't work in the new place. Second, I started to question just what I needed to own, and what I could do without.

I thinned out my book collection and donated the music books to my school library. I gave the rest to Goodwill. I thinned out my CD collection, trading about 150 in at Amoeba. I recycled old magazines, and finally donated of the clothes I never wear anymore. It was such a great experience to feel that I was freeing myself of these possessions, but that they were perhaps going to help other people. (They also weren't going to end up in a landfill.) Maybe some young woman with a job interview will find that cute purple suit at Goodwill. Maybe some student at LACC will take one of those donated books out of the library and decide they want to study Music History. It could happen!

The most unexpected thing about doing all this donating was a shift in my own perspective about buying new things. There are a couple of things I've been buying used for years. If I'm buying a CD (and not downloading from iTunes), I go to Amoeba first. If I want to buy a book, I buy used from alibris and private sellers on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. But I'm trying not to buy books at all. I already have too many. Don't get me wrong, I love books. I love them so much, but that doesn't mean that I have to have a library full of books in my living room--we actually have libraries to keep books for us. Books are heavy and hard to move. And even thinning out my collection to just the books I think I need (for research and program notes) and my favorites, I still have 2 and a half big bookcases full! I also don't feel I need a physical CD of music unless it has special artwork or something unique.

I used to buy all of my electronics new, but when I needed to replace a camera, the internet made it easy to find a good used camera for a fraction I would have paid for a new one. But it's not so much that price is an issue, although it's wonderful to save money, it's the idea that I'm using something that's already out there. In my humble opinion, there's just too much stuff out there already. I have too much stuff, you probably have too much stuff. And for what? What do we need it all for?

I'm getting to the place where I can justify my ownership of the things I have. I need these books for research, for example. Or I keep only the clothes I wear frequently. But I think I still have too much. I know I'm going to move a few more times before I settle some place I'm going to stay. But also, even if I move into a big house ten years from now, will I really need to fill it with crap? Even if I live to be a hundred, someone's going to have to figure out what to do with my stuff after I die. I want that to be an easy job.

There are two more issues that I need to weigh in on. One is the idea that we're moving towards a Cloud-based information system. In a Cloud-based system, all of your information lives "on a cloud" that you can then access. All of your documents and pictures and music won't sit on your hard drive anymore or on paper in file cabinets. They'll be accessible from anywhere. I like this idea, but I'm wary about Cloud security, although I'm all for keeping digital versions of things rather than cluttering things up with paper versions. Less clutter is a wonderful thing.

Second, if I ever decide to have a kid, all bets are off. Kids need a lot of stuff. I can be positively austere, but I'm not going to limit a child to two bibs and three toys. As the kid grows up, we can donate the toys she doesn't play with (okay, she can keep some special favorites). We can give away the clothes that he has outgrown. Maybe I will raise a child who doesn't feel like she needs to own a lot of things. And when I die, she'll keep a few of my treasured possessions and give the rest away. The most important things I would want to leave a kid are good memories and good lessons from me. And maybe my Harry Potter books.

Jack of All Trades

Last week, I went to the national conference of the American Musicological Society. If you are a musicologist or a musicology grad student, the AMS national meeting is the place to be. I've been to about five or six of these things so far, both when I was a grad student and after I got a full time job. When I was a grad student, in the midst of figuring out my dissertation topics, I went to all different kinds of papers to see what other folks were researching. I thought about music and sociology, music and semiotics, and just about everything else that sounded even remotely interesting. As I was finishing up my degree, I went to AMS meetings to schmooze with people at schools where I applied for jobs. This was a very big deal. I chose my wardrobe with extreme care, wanting to seem professional, but also approachable. I went to all the parties and tried to meet all of the people whose names I had seen on book covers. I talked to people after their papers and asked questions, exchanged information, and sent follow-up emails. I was desperate to make connections. My grad school buddy and I tore through the University parties like two women on a mission, making it rain business cards in our wake.

AMS meetings, post-doctorate, post-job, and post-tenure are an entirely different affair. The stress is gone. I dressed nicely, of course, but I didn't worry if I looked like I was trying too hard. If a set of papers seemed interesting, I went. If I didn't care about the paper topics (because I've already chosen my research area and written my dissertation), I didn't go. I met some people at parties, but I could be so much more casual because I didn't have to meet them. In short, I moved to a different place in the hierarchy. I sat back a bit and watched the grad students jockey for position in the party clusters. I chatted with my former professors in a purely social way. They were happy to see that I'd gotten myself a job and tenure, and I was happy to see they were thriving as well. No awkward questions about how many interviews I'd snagged in the previous year, no wondering about what next year's crop of jobs would look like.

One afternoon, my grad school buddy--who I never get to see except at these meetings--was going to a study group meeting for Music and Philosophy. I was intrigued, so I went along. After listening to the discussion for a while, I knew that I wanted to stay in my own area of study rather than branching out into this realm. When the sign-up sheet for an internet discussion group came around, I passed it along instead of putting my email on it. Now, that might not seem like much to you, but to me, it was huge. And it was a testament to how far I had come. I didn't have to throw myself into this. I realized I already had a career, an area of expertise, and I could (and can) pick and choose how I want to spend my time.

As a grad student, the range of options to specialize in is so vast, it can be paralyzing. And besides choosing something you actually like to learn about, you also wonder if you're choosing an area that will be popular for years to come, or if it will fall out of favor with the general community. Most of us start out putting our eggs in many baskets, or betting on more than one horse, if you prefer horse racing metaphors. We make a big decision when we choose our dissertation topics because they define us, but only temporarily. The dissertation, daunting as it may seem, is just one research project in a career that will hopefully be full of them. It's so easy to get lost in the choosing and the schmoozing that it's hard to foresee a time when every choice and interaction won't be such a big damn deal.

It happened, though. It happened for me. I might one day go back on the job market, looking for a musicology job somewhere, but until that time, I remain one of the lucky ones. In horse racing terms again, since I have my degree, a job, and tenure, I feel like I won the Trifecta.

The stories behind the albums

Sorry about the long hiatus, but I am indeed back and better than ever. Today, I did a thing on Facebook that a friend tagged me to do forever ago. It's a list of 15 albums that will always stick with you. You're supposed to think of them quickly, in no more than 15 minutes. As I was compiling my list today, I realized that there were stories behind the albums. And of course, I wanted to tell those stories. So here they are.

1. Everclear - So Much for the Afterglow. I came to love this album during a particularly turbulent and amazing time. I was single, living with my two roommates in Brooklyn (and later Queens), teaching middle school by day, and maintaining a heroic partying schedule by night. The album had a song for every mood, and it inspired me to start writing my first novel...which I then finished seven years later.

2. B-52s - Cosmic Thing. This was the last album I bought on vinyl. It came out when I was in high school and I listened to it constantly. Different songs on this album remind me of different people. "Love Shack", for example, reminds me of Heather, while "Deadbeat Club" reminds me of Michele and how we wore those togas at her birthday party that time. I love many of the B-52s' albums, but this one probably shows their best musicianship and is certainly the cleanest production of the lot. I love this album because the good high school memories it stirs up are incredibly strong.

3. The Smiths - The Queen is Dead. I gotta thank my sister for this one. She had the album (again, on vinyl) and she told me it was a good one. I made a tape of it so I could listen on my Sony Walkman (God, I am OLD), and it was a revelation. Morrissey's lyrics, Johnny Marr's guitar...guh. So freaking good. I started listening to the Smiths in eighth grade, so when everyone else was going nuts for "Pour Some Sugar on Me," I was listening to songs that mentioned Keats and Yeats and I felt smart and cool.

4. Little Shop of Horrors Soundtrack (1986 film version). I liked the movie and I loved the music and I listened to this album a lot, as only a musical theater geek can. But the notable thing about this album--at least to me--was that it was the first music I can remember hearing very clearly in my head. Of course I could imagine music before this, but my mind's ear must have been starting to develop at this time, and I was flat out amazed at how much detail of this music I could recreate in my head. That skill is probably one of the reasons I became a musician.

5. Pixies - Velouria Live. In relationships, it's important for people to feel that there are some things that belong only to them. This album was one of those things for me. At the time I acquired it, I needed something I didn't share with my significant other and this album became that. I love the Pixies so much, and when I hear "Wave of Mutilation," my soul sings in utter joy.

6. Muse - Absolution. This album just blew me away. It is beautiful and complex and interesting, and even after listening to it a whole lot of times, I still keep finding new things to love about it. It is a complete soundscape, and it is thoroughly a work of art from first note to last.

7. Mindless Self Indulgence - Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy. This album was a doorway to another world. Once again, it was something that belonged only to me and that was a precious thing at the time. Also, I really like the music and the lyrics often make me laugh because they are ridiculous.

8. Coldplay - A Rush of Blood to the Head. Coldplay is everybody's whipping boy, but y'all can eat it because this is a great album. Not only are the songs beautifully crafted, but at the time I got it as a gift, the album really felt like the soundtrack to something I was reading at the time. I got swept up into this story, and the music just seemed to make the sweeping all the more intense. My imagination woke up and I started writing a lot. It was a really good thing for me.

9. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Mother’s Milk. Picture it: High school. Mary's boyfriend Alex--who was much older than all of us--had the poster for this album up on his wall. I got the cassette tape and listened to it a whole lot. We used to have sing-alongs in Heather's car to "Knock Me Down" and we wrote alternate lyrics to "Subway to Venus." I know everybody likes Blood Sugar Sex Magik better, but for me, the Red Hots peaked with Mother's Milk and "Breaking the Girl" (from Blood Sugar Sex Magik). You can keep everything that happened afterwards. Please keep it. No, seriously, I pretty much hate all of it after this.

10. Michael Jackson - Thriller. OMG, this album was important to me. I was barely 10 when it came out and it just freaking owned. I loved the songs and the videos. Especially "Thriller." That video was amazing. And if you asked me right now, I'd be able to recite all of Vincent Price's "Rap" from the end of the song. I could probably also do a passable version of the Thriller dance from the video.

11. Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra - Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. They're not the greatest orchestra in the world, but they played a pretty decent Rhapsody in Blue. They do a repeat that no one else ever does so since I got this album when I was about 12, I always expect to hear that repeat. This piece made me want to understand the way music worked. I get it now.

12. Temple of Doom Soundtrack - Christmas of 1984, my sister and I received this cassette as a gift. I listened to it for months. I was fascinated by the sound of the orchestra and I was fairly obsessed with the Chinese version of "Anything Goes." I used to tap dance to the instrumental interlude in my basement. Yes, I was/am that dorky.

13. South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut Soundtrack. I couldn't believe how good this movie was. And I couldn't believe how perfectly Trey Parker and Marc Shaiman had captured different styles of musical numbers. A few years ago, I actually did an academic paper on the use of musical parody in this movie. Also, I can sing you "La Resistance (Medley)" all by myself. It's great for long car trips.

14. Fatboy Slim - You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby. Back in the 90s, I heard this and thought: this is the future of music and I am cool with that! I used to listen to it on my way to my job at the middle school in Brooklyn. The first song reminds me of being on the train as it went over the Manhattan Bridge as the sun was coming up over the city.

15. Beastie Boys - To the Five Boroughs. A musical ode to New York City. There is stuff referenced on this album that only New Yorkers would know, so listening to it feels like being in an exclusive club. The album cover features a beautiful drawing of Manhattan including the Twin Towers. The BBs address a lot of post 9/11 feelings and attitudes, praising the city for its resilience. I published a paper on this album a couple of years ago. To the Five Boroughs is funny as hell in places. That Adrock, he still cracks me up.

Fooling Cars

I drive a fair amount and I see my share of joggers and runners. I've noticed that they're always running. They're never stopped on the side of the road, breathing heavily. They're never walking because their hearts are about to explode. But when I go running, half the time I'm doing one of those things. I hate to think that all these random people I see on the street are better runners than me. I mean, I've been doing this for a couple of months now and I'm still not able to run continuously for the entire time I'm out. I can't wait for the day that I start running and don't have to stop until I say it's time. I'm so not there yet.

So...I came up with an idea.

Now, what I do when I run is, I fool cars. I run as much as I'm able, of course, but I try not to stop when I'm running past a car, or when a car is stopped at a light. This way the car thinks that I've been running the whole time, and that I'll continue running long after it's driven off. If I can't actually be one of those amazing runners, at least I can fool cars into thinking that I am one of them.

There may come a time when I don't have to resort to subterfuge when I'm running. When I can run for as long as I want without having to stop and catch my breath. In the meanwhile, I'll push myself to keep pounding the pavement when a car is waiting at the stop sign. I can't fool them all, but I can get some of them.

I know this blog is shorter than usual, but at the risk of drawing the wrath of pun-haters everywhere: I've got to run. :)

The Me Who Drinks Tea

I don't drink coffee. I never have. My mother once said to me that I would develop a taste for it, especially in college when one is generally expected to stay up all night cramming for exams or finishing papers. Not only did I never develop a taste for coffee, I never actually pulled an all-nighter in college. Even on nights I was up late working, I'd sleep for a while and wake up early to finish, but even that was a rare occasion.

A couple of years ago, I had a job that was more work than I could have possibly imagined. The deadlines were tight and the turnaround time for my assignments was non-existent. I stayed up all night working, and I used a caffeinated tea for those all-important jolts of both energy and that feeling of well-being that makes you think you can really get it all done. The only other time I use tea for a quick pick-me-up is when I'm traveling and jet-lagged.

I prefer to drink tea (decaf or herbal) when I'm relaxing. I like to drink it after a meal or when I'm sitting talking to a friend. Tea forces me to slow down because I have to wait for it to cool and I can't just chug it down. I like mint tea after a meal or chamomile close to bed-time. I like fruity flavored teas during the day, or just plain Lipton. I have plenty of tea on hand at both work and home, but I don't often make the effort to put a cup of water into the microwave for a few minutes, mostly because I know I'll have to wash the cup. How ridiculous is that? I should get one of those electrical tea kettles and just plug the stupid thing in when I'm having office hours and make myself a cup of tea. I should bring a clean cup in from home and take it back at the end of the day for washing in my kitchen sink. What's so hard about that?

I like the me who drinks tea. I like the introspective, non-rushing version of me. I don't have a daily ceremonial beverage like everyone's "first cup of coffee," nor do I have a beer or a scotch when I get home after work. All day long I drink water out of a refillable metal bottle, and I rarely stray from that. I drink orange juice maybe once a week. Same with beer. It would be nice to sit and drink a cup of tea in the afternoon--every afternoon--like the British do. A lovely ceremonial drink that makes you slow down for a moment. I don't know about you, but I think my day could use slightly more ceremony in it.

The DecaAwesome List Strikes Back

It's been a while since I did one of these, and since I am feeling saucy and sassy today, it's about time I shared some good vibes.

1. Yan-Yan. Delicious Asian snack consisting of cookie-like sticks you dip into flavored cream. I've tried chocolate and vanilla so far. Strawberry is next. Best part: the weird messages on the cookies. There's Horse Gallop Away, Chick Lucky Colour Yellow, Owl Only at Night, and Squirrel Your Best Friend. I'm sorry, what? Eating words that make no sense is delicious!

2. Dr. Scholl's Ball-of-the-Foot cushion inserts. I know, this one really shows my age, but they're so damn comfortable! I have some in two pairs of shoes. Definitely reduces slippage and slidage, and makes walking around all day much more pleasant. 

3. Skype. Saw my two grandmothers on Easter, my parents, Cat and the new baby, and even my gorgeous nieces. It's like being there.

4. The Julia Child part of Julie and Julia. Like many people who have reviewed this film for me, I loved the Julia Child parts the best. The Amy Adams parts were good too, but sometimes I felt like smacking the character. Julia's relationship with her husband was particularly inspiring. Such a supportive, loving man she married. I should be so lucky!

5. Sous-chef-ing. After many years of reluctant cooking (I don't find it especially comforting or relaxing), I suddenly find myself in the role of sous-chef to my roommate, who cooks rather well. I have also found that I have a knack for cutting things up, not just chopping, but slicing, dicing, and yes, butchering. As the granddaughter of a butcher, I seem to have the talent for meat-cutting in my blood. I'm supposed to say something threatening here like, 'so watch out!' but I won't. Oh wait, I just did.

6. Exercise. Yes, I do feel more energetic, thank you very much.

7. My new steamer. It cooks rice and vegetables beautifully. To me, there is nothing lovelier than white rice and steamed broccoli. Yummy.

8. New academic projects. I might have the opportunity to write an academic book that no one will actually read, and I am totally psyched at the possibility. You can take the girl out of school, but you can't take the nerdiness out of the girl.

9. New fiction projects. I just started a new novel. It's the most ambitious thing I've tried so far. I don't know if I will succeed, but I'm sure gonna give it the ol' college try.

10. Love. I had a rough day this past week. I was feeling discouraged and impatient, and my friends and family were there with loving words, hugs and kisses from the people geographically close, and supportive comments from the folks on Facebook. I'm so pleased I've given enough good in the world to receive these dividends back when I need them.

Bonus:

11. The guy who told me that scientists don't know anything about gravity because they don't take Karma into account. Hee. You made my day.

An Hour to Contemplate

I have an hour before class, so I'm thinking. About what, you may say? Well, I'm so glad you asked.

I started off today in a very discouraged mood. It's not so much that anything is really wrong, but I'm sure you've had a day where you feel you've been running hard and fast only to stop and see that you've gone nowhere at all. The truth of the matter is, I'm doing just fine. I'm not losing ground, but I feel like I'm gaining ground at such a snail's pace that I might as well be standing still.

Yes, I'm being overly dramatic. Yes, the facts tell me I'm in a fairly decent position in life. But that hardly matters when you've gotten yourself into a funk, now does it? I had ice cream at Scoops with Cael today, so that has brightened my mood considerably. A little commiseration, a little sugar, some soy milk, and a friendly ear work wonders. And in the midst of our convo, Cael said something to me that was really thought-provoking.

I said I was discouraged because I'm not quite where I want to be. I haven't found an agent or published a book yet even though I finished my first novel ages ago. I'm still cleaning up the financial mess from my last relationship and will be for years. I am currently engaged in a war with moths (long story). And yes, most vexatious, I am still NOT the voice of a cartoon character. After listening to me rant and ramble, Cael asked, "Isn't it great that you have somewhere you want to get to? Don't you think it would be boring if you had accomplished everything already, and still had three fourths of your life yet to live?" (Yes, I'm going to live to 140, thank you very much.)

He was right, of course. I don't want to be the person who peaks too early (but I do want to peak at some point). At high school reunions, I always feel so much pity for the prom queen or football hero whose life after graduation is one long, fat, decrescendo. I always want to believe the best is just waiting around the corner for me. Usually, I have no trouble believing that, but today was a moody day, so my friend had to remind me. That's what they're for, you know. Friends, that is.

That being said, I'm going to allow myself the rest of the day to be discouraged and moody and perhaps overly dramatic. One can't attack every day with energy and enthusiasm, but maybe tomorrow I'll kick the day's ass. We'll see how ferocious I'm feeling after a good dinner and a good night's sleep.

I've Seen the Future...

And it is now.

Actually, I like the cliched line from all those fifties filmstrips: it's the kitchen of the tomorrow...TODAY! I just Skyped (may I use that as a verb?) with my friend Cat, and not only did we chat, but we used the video feature and saw each other! And not only did I see her, I got to see her three-week-old adorable baby! It was just like that scene at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey when the guy calls home and talks to his daughter via picture phone! It was the phone call of tomorrow (except there were no phones involved whatsoever)...TODAY!

When I was about 10 years old, I wondered what life would be like "in the year 2000." I'd correctly done the math to calculate that I would be 26 in May of 2000. I figured that medicine would have cancer licked by then. I thought we'd have more done in outer space (Challenger was still two years away at that point). I'm not talking colonies on the moon, but a more regular schedule to and from space. I wasn't good at swallowing aspirin, so I was hoping that we'd have hyposprays like on Star Trek. Would we have video phones? Natch. Those sleek-looking cars of the future? Of course. So I was surprised that in 2000, the "car of the future" seemed to be the SVU, not the wind-resistant sporty thing people always said it would be. 

But here we are in 2010. Suddenly, that sleek little car of the future idea seems to be making a comeback. Have you seen that tiny little Volkswagen that will sell for $600 in China? Check it out. Looks like the car of the future to me. And just today, I video chatted with my friend. I know Skype's been around for a while, but on my last computer I needed a separate web cam and it was a real pain in the ass. Now, I just click and the camera that's mounted into my computer does the rest. Feels like I'm there!

We haven't quite fixed cancer yet, have we? Sure, treatment is better and more promising, and we now have more options than ever before, but that miracle "cure for cancer" hasn't materialized the way my 10-year-old self assumed. There's no miracle cure for weight-loss either. Nothing stops Alzheimer's in its tracks. So it kinda feels like the challenges of humanity are still there in very recognizable, very physical ways. We still have to eat right and exercise to lose weight. We don't have mechanical kidneys on a shelf to implant into people on dialysis. And ah yes, Space, the final frontier. We have a space station, but it's not for people like you and me. Space is still for elite astronauts only. You know how I know? There's no mall up there. There's no Target, no Kohl's, no food court with Panda Express or Pizza Hut/Wing Street up there.  Clearly, it's not for the masses yet.

But I'm not totally disappointed in the future. I know for a fact I'd get very motion sick in Zero-G so I wouldn't have an appetite for hot wings up there anyway. And my 10-year-old self never foresaw the internet. That's changed my life a lot, and I never saw it coming. Now there are 3-D TVs on the way to the market! I totally called that in 1984! In the final tally, I suppose I'm pretty happy with the way the future has gone so far, but I still hold out hope for those miracle cures and awesome space stations. 

I'm not doing much to help the cause, I suppose. Maybe I should have become an M.D. instead of a Ph.D. Nah, I'm in the right business. So while those other minds are thinking of ways to make the future amazing for everyone (and make good on those predictions I'm still waiting for), I'm going to celebrate the present in a very old fashioned way: I'm going for a walk.  

The Hardest Thing You Ever Did

What was it?

Did you give birth to a child? Did you hold the hand of someone you love while they were dying? Did you sacrifice something incredibly precious? Did you walk away from something you knew was bad for you?

There are dark moments in life. Really difficult things. And not just life and death stuff either, but bad jobs that you have to keep because you need to eat every day, or months of floundering when you just can't seem to get your head out of your ass. Surviving cataclysmic moments or enduring long periods of something soul-degrading, either one can be The Hardest Thing (THT).

So think for a minute. Decide what it might be.

And now think about the effects that thing has had on your life, good and bad.

And now realize that you are still alive, and you either a) have enough free time to read this, or b) have a job (lucky you!) from which you are stealing time to read this. That "hardest thing" is likely behind you. You can look at it from here and say, "I did that." "I endured that." The funniest thing is you may have no idea HOW you got through it, but you did. THT sucked when it happened or when you did it, and you knew it sucked at that moment, but you survived anyway. You didn't just throw up your hands and say, "I give up." You probably didn't have much of a choice anyway. So you shut up and you forged ahead and you came out the other side.

THT is a powerful thing. It's probably not a good memory, but it pays every once in a while to look at it. Why? Because it shows what you are made of. It shows you are tougher than you thought you were. It shows you have more energy than you thought you did. More charm. More guts. More resourcefulness. It can help you get through a bad day or a bad week by reminding you of what a badass you really are. It can shrink today's challenges down to nothing. Hell, if I did THT, I can certainly handle today's presentation. Folks say life is made up of the little things--and THT was certainly a BIG thing, but remembering THT can help you navigate the little things with ease. After all, car trouble, overtime, and bad weather are nothing compared to THT. Annoying, yes. Soul-shattering? Probably not.

So when it appears that life is acting like a spoiled brat, look back over your shoulder for a minute and take 60 seconds to look at The Hardest Thing You Ever Did. Then, with renewed energy, turn your face to the future and press on.

Getting a Job with a Ph.D.

I can't remember the exact date when I got it into my head that I wanted to go "all the way" with school. I know that I started a masters very early on because I did BA and MA concurrently. I think I took my first graduate class when I was all of 19. I know in my last two years at Hunter that I actually auditioned for a doctoral program in choral conducting at UCONN. That program would have given me a D.M.A., Doctor of Musical Arts. It probably would have also given me an ulcer. Luckily, I did not get accepted into the program, and I had to reassess what I really wanted to do, in and out of school.

My masters degree concentrated in vocal performance, but I knew that I didn't want to be an opera star. I actually started with a masters in history, but I discovered that I could sing so I thought I should really work the performance angle while I was still young. Turned out to be a great decision, considering that my livelihood at present depends greatly on what I learned as a masters student. After that, there was three years of hell in the New York City Public school system before I finally followed my dream of getting a Ph.D.

But where did this dream come from? Why did it suddenly become so damned important to me? I recall an incident at Hunter that happened after I graduated. There was a concert at Lang Recital Hall (I think that's what it was called) and afterwards, I was standing around chatting up the other attendees. Professor D. came over to talk to me and asked me how things were going. I told her about teaching seventh grade and how it sucked (I probably used the word "challenging" or something suitably euphemistic), and how much I wanted to move on to a doctoral program. That much I already knew. I figured the only way out of the hell of teaching middle school was getting another degree.

To my great shock, Professor D. discouraged me. It's not worth it, she said. You won't be able to find work, she said. You're going to struggle and starve to get this degree, and end up with nothing to show for it but tens of thousands of dollars in debt. 

I'm sorry, what?

I've never had anyone discourage me from more school before. But for some reason it didn't throw me. What came out of my mouth next was the real surprise. I thought I was about to make a joke. Perhaps a mocking sort of joke at the highfalutin reasons why people stay in academia. "But, Professor D.," I said. "I really want to make a commitment to scholarship." Ha ha. Okay, so it's not a knee-slapper, but it also turned out to be TRUE. It wasn't until I said it that I realized how true it was. It was like my brain had been thinking about this without letting me know, planning this behind the scenes, maybe when I was sleeping or watching movies I'd already seen. And my brain waited for a moment when I would least expected it to pop out and yell, "SURPRISE!!!!"

I wanted to learn more, even if it meant having a Ph.D. and driving a cab (and God help my passengers because I have the worst sense of direction ever). I wanted the knowledge and the expertise and I was stubborn enough not to care about the practical aspects of how to live during and after the degree-getting. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!! Luckily, I got jobs teaching college. Right away. Before I was even finished with my degree. And it was everything that I hoped for: students who were interested in the subject, who didn't try to kill each other with box-cutters, who were there because they wanted to be. I started a full-time teaching job exactly one year after I graduated. I am in the minority. It worked out for me. Granted, I still have my massive student loan to pay back, but I have a means of doing it, i.e. a job. 

It doesn't work out for a lot of people. Some never actually finish because it's a huge undertaking, especially the dissertation. And if you work full time to support yourself, or if you have a family, it's that much more difficult to find the time to put it all together. If you do finish, you might be able to find a job in the middle of nowhere--certainly nowhere near where you are--and that might not be so hot if you have a bread-winning spouse who needs to stay HERE for work. 

There are thousands of ways for it to go wrong, and I didn't give a crap about any of them. I made a commitment to scholarship. It's probably the only thing I can still commit to. Hey, hey! *rimshot* But seriously, folks. I've made a contribution to my field, published articles and given papers, and that was exactly what I wanted to do. What I still want to do.

There's been a lot of stuff written recently about the "Big Lie" in academia. The Big Lie that an advanced degree allows you to write your own ticket. You can't. Not really. You are at the mercy of a lot of things out of your control. If colleges and universities have hiring freezes because of the economy, there are no jobs to be had. Period. Nothing is a guarantee. Is it worth it anyway? It was for me. Even if I didn't have a job, I doubt I'd regret being Doc G. But that's me.

In the twelve years since that fateful conversation, I thought a lot about what Professor D. said to me.  She told me about the Big Lie. She told me what was likely to happen, what the odds were. I don't think she had any doubt I'd get the degree, but she knew the real challenge would come afterwards. You can control your own work towards the Ph.D., but you can't control job availability once you're done. I heard what she said, of course. This is woman who wastes no words. To my great astonishment, however, I was willing, eager even, to make all the sacrifices necessary to get the degree and a job in academia (or suffer without one). I don't know if I will ever again experience that kind of singleness of mind and purpose. Or if the world will ever again cooperate so fully to help me achieve my goals.

All I know is that it is done, and cannot be undone, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Living Conditions

It's been thirteen years since I lived in my college dormitory. Living there was a great opportunity since I got to live in Manhattan in a relatively safe place for what amounted to about $200 a month. A ridiculously low price even then. A few days before freshman year started, my parents moved me in with some basic stuff, food, dishes, silverware, toiletries. My mother swept and mopped the floor while my father and I chose where to put the imitation wood and metal furniture that came with the room. This particular dorm had originally been built for nursing students. The dorm is situated in a part of the east side called "Bedpan Alley" because it's right near Bellevue and the VA hospital. The rooms were designed as small cells, about seven to eight feet wide, and about twelve feet long. By the door, there's a sink and a closet. Each floor has communal bathrooms and a communal kitchen. If it sounds dreary and institutional, that's because it is. Or was, I don't know what the dorm looks like now, but I have seen small air conditioners in the windows recently. Jerks. Where was that in the summer of '94 during the heat wave?

The dorm was cheap and convenient, but it was also kindofa hellhole. Definitely the kind of place you can feel good about living in only when you're a certain age. Let me put it this way, after moving me in, my mother never again visited the dorm. I don't think she liked seeing the conditions I was living in. Not that my folks had a lot to compare it to; I think I'm the only member of my family who ever lived in a dorm. At nineteen years old, I'm not saying I was completely cool living with insects and mice. Those things freaked me out, but not enough to make me live at home instead. If I saw a bug, I squashed it or sprayed it with whatever was handy. (I remember a particular incident in which I made a critter very shiny with Pledge before it ultimately expired.) If I saw a mouse in the kitchen--usually sniffing around whatever I was cooking--I banged on the counter with a wooden spoon to make it go away.

After five years in that dorm, I moved to an apartment in Brooklyn with some friends. It was cleaner, but there were still bugs to contend with since we lived upstairs from a restaurant. Many pieces of our furniture were hand-me-downs from our families. We also had some sidewalk furniture. Nothing matched, and we occasionally used the bathtub as an ersatz cooler when we had parties. The apartment was sweltering in the summertime. From there we moved to another apartment in Queens. Still with the sidewalk furniture, still with the hand-me-downs, still with ridiculous heat in the summer.  A studio in Los Angeles followed where I the only quiet study place for me was the bathtub. A studio has but one room and my boyfriend at the time watched TV a lot. Had no cable for a while, no cushions on my couch, and carpeting that got absolutely gross almost instantly. But who really cared? I was a starving graduate student and it felt perfectly right for me to be "struggling" in a tiny place, sitting on wood slats, and eating that terrible $.99 frozen pizza for dinner.

It was when I was in the next apartment that things started to change for me in my mind. This apartment had two rooms, and that was a huge step up. I could actually close the door to the bedroom and work in there. This apartment had a dishwasher--a terrible, barely-working dishwasher--but at least it dried the dishes well. I bought new furniture that matched. There was still that gross carpeting, which got downright nasty in the seven years I lived there, but I felt lucky to live in a place without pests, except for the occasional spider. I began to consider what was important to me in an apartment. 

The first thing that really changed was my tolerance for pests: I suddenly had none. Then I looked at the carpet and began to think that wood flooring would be so much better. I began to crave my own washer and dryer after years of lugging loads and loads of laundry down to the extremely inconvenient laundry rooms in my complex. I decided that my next place would have the things I wanted and I wasn't going to move until I found them all for a reasonable price. Luckily, I found such a place: hardwood floors, a washer/dryer, two bathrooms (that was a nice extra), and a dishwasher. Granted, this dishwasher still sucks, but I'm mostly happy with all of it.

Something weird happened in my current complex this week involving a guest and some alleged vandalism (long story for another time). It was handled pretty poorly by the management and it made me go on Craigslist to price other places. I thought that if there was a sweet deal, I might look into it. What I realized is that since I moved into the dorm almost eighteen years ago, my taste in accommodations has changed greatly. I'm older and I feel past the age where I want to sit on a couch I rescued from the garbagemen. I don't want to be rolling my shopping cart full of clothes down the street to the laundromat. If I saw a mouse sniffing around my pots on the stove now, I'd freak the hell out. I've become used to a certain standard of living that, while not super fancy, is decidedly decent. 

I hope that one day soon I'll have one of those kick-ass dishwashers that doesn't require any preemptive dish-scraping, and I'll wonder how I ever did without it. Perhaps, maybe twenty or so years from now, I'll be moving my daughter into some nasty dormitory hellhole, and I won't want to see my baby girl chasing mice away with a spoon. She'll roll her eyes and say, "Mom, would you stop being so picky? It's fine." And to her it will be fine. She'll just be grateful to be on her own, like I was once upon a time. It'll be enough. Putting up with the pests and the sketchy laundry facilities and weird roommates will be just fine because she'll be free. When you're nineteen, freedom is worth all of the gross inconvenience of a dormroom or a tiny first apartment. When you're my age, however, you want it all.

The Long-A** Journey into Jeopardy!

I just finished taking the online test for Jeopardy. I don't know how I did. I do know that I can remember about 20 of the questions I was asked (there were 50 in total) and of the 20, I tanked about half. It could be that I'm having an easier time remembering the ones that stumped me, but I don't know for sure. What I do know is that in the coming days my memory will start randomly spitting out more of the test questions--most likely while I'm about to fall asleep, and I'll have a better idea of how I did. I won't get an official grade for my performance; I won't get feedback of any kind. In fact, this is just the first of many steps to get on the show.

If I did well, and I'm one of the randomly chosen people (yes, some of it has to do with chance) from the "did well" list, then I go to take another test--this one in person. This can happen any time in the next year. The whole next year! If I ace in the in-person test, someone might interview me, and if I charm them ridiculously (you KNOW I will!), they might invite me to participate in a mock game to see if I can speak clearly and use the buzzer. Once I have successfully jumped through all the hoops, then, and only then will they invite me to be on the show. It might take two years or more if I have to take the online test again.

The practical upshot of knowing all of this hoo-hah about how the game works is that I watch the show differently now. Okay, my roommate can attest to the fact that I still yell all the answers out except for Final Jeopardy; for Final Jeopardy, you have to wait for the gap between when the music stops and when Alex reveals the answer. But now I look at the players differently. Now I know what they had to do to get on the show. (And frankly, I find it hard to believe some of them made it past the interview stage, but I suppose the Jeopardy people aren't necessarily looking for effervescent personalities.) Knowing this makes the occasional crash and burn all the more upsetting. If someone finishes in the red and can't participate in Final Jeopardy, that's a sucky ending to a long-ass journey. Likewise, if a contestant just can't find his rhythm and ring in--even though he seems to know most of the answers--it is indeed frustrating to behold. In fact, there are any number of ways someone's long-ass journey to Jeopardy! can end in tears, but is there more than one way you can leave feeling triumphant?

Yes, the winning money way. You can leave Jeopardy with your head held high if you win for multiple days and walk away with a wad of cash. I think you can be proud of yourself for fighting to the finish and being in the game the whole time, even if you ultimately lose. I'd really like to win for multiple days and walk away with some serious clams, but I would be even happier if I could do all that and 1) run at least one category, and 2) say to Alex, "I'd like to make it a true Daily Double."

But let's say the Fates are against you. Let's say you start Double Jeopardy in the hole, and then Alex reveals your nightmare board: for me it would have categories like "Obscure Geography," "Royalty of the Middle East," and "Calculus." Let's say you melt down and can't ring in, and if by the grace of God you make it into Final Jeopardy, the category is, "Business and Industry of China in the 1360s." What then? You bet the farm and go out swinging, I guess. Unless you think you can be the spoiler (if you don't know what this is, I can explain it). I suppose, though, that just being on the show will be an adventure, and even if you blow it bigtime in front of millions of people, you'll have a hell of a story to tell. It's not as cool as the 5-Day Champion Title and enough dough to pay off the student loans, but a good story is gold to a writer. And gold is worth something these days, right? Maybe?

So...in conclusion, it has begun. I took the test, and now I wait to see what happens. If nothing, I try again next January. I am on the road now, for better or worse. Was it Lao-Tzu or me who said, "The long-ass journey to Jeopardy! begins with an online test?" 

Please phrase your answer in the form of a question.

Randomness

When you are a writer, you notice the oddest things, and think about them for far too long. When your mind is at rest, if it ever is, you're constantly ruminating on ideas that aren't fully formed, wondering what might become the germ of a story or the quintessential detail at the core of a character. My neighborhood provides a lot of opportunities to notice the little things in life. The small blue flowers that grow under the fence of one house; toys in someone's front yard; the stack of mattresses just inside a curtainless window across the street; the dog that looks like Spuds Mackenzie; the deflated balloon on a cactus (I can't believe that actually happened, but my roommate from Phoenix says it happens all the time); the ridiculous number of doors on the big house on the hill.

In thinking about descriptions of places and things, I realize that I've been collecting little details for years. I don't have the best visual memory for layouts and big picture-type stuff, but I remember the little things well. I remember the mounted butterflies in A's bedroom. I remember the clean smell of laundry that always, always came from H's basement. I remember eating margarine on saltines at S's house. I remember boxes of envelopes (home business? I don't know) at E's house. I remember the toys strewn about the lawn of the house with the red door. I remember the taste of Fun Dip on a summer's day as Michelle and I walked home from the candy store. 

There's so much that I remember. Sometimes, in quiet moments, I challenge myself to think of something I haven't thought of in a while. Can I really remember where they kept the mats at my dancing school? Where was the piano in the very first classroom at my first middle school teaching job? How many times did I run the projector at that film series at the seminary? Pictures help jar these memories, as do reminiscences with parties who were there (many thanks to my sister who drew me the layout of the roller rink we frequented as kids), but it's possible to explore these places in your mind, just turning over details until suddenly there's some new tidbit you haven't thought of in years.

I suppose that I've already used a lot of these little bits and pieces in my writing. The protagonist's home in my first novel is based on the house of one of my childhood friends. The characters in that book go to a party at a house where I once went to a party. I remember these details and I change them to fit the needs of my stories, but I still remember them. Lu's locker combination (in my second book) is the locker combination I had in high school. Yes, I still remember it, but then again, I used that lock every day for four years.

I suppose the best physical descriptions I can come up with as a writer are not the ones that come fully formed out of my head. They are the ones that grow out of the things I've already seen, the blocks I've already walked, and the sounds and smells in my memory. Perhaps as I write more, I'll become more inventive with my descriptions of settings and of concrete things. Until I can invent entire worlds in my head (thanks for the high bar, J.K. Rowling), I'll rely on a growing collection of small details. Maybe, just maybe, the little yellow rubber fish I got for a dime at the arcade when I was a wee lass will become an important element in a story someday. Hell, maybe an entire series of novels will turn on this completely random object. I don't have a lot of things from my childhood, but I saved the fish for some reason. But even if I hadn't, I probably would've remembered it. I do that with random things, you see.

Agent Search Mania 2010

When I started this blog at the beginning of 2008, I had just spent the previous year trying to find an agent for my first novel. My first entries were about the search for representation, and ultimately, about rejection. I'm still trying to figure out how to revise that book to make it more marketable while still allowing it to retain its unique "charm," but that's another story. 

Last November, I finished my second novel, and although I'm still revising, I'm getting ready for Agent Search Mania 2010 or ASM-10. There are a few things that need doing, so let's talk about them. Since the two books I have written thus far are YA books, it's time I rejoined the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. It's also time I took stock of the publishing world's present state, so I went to the newsstand today and purchased some writing magazines to look up contests and to research agencies.

I read three such magazines today, and there are some really useful articles and tidbits there. However, I must say that when I read these magazines, I get anxious, itchy, and impatient. I always think, why am I reading about writing when I could be writing? Because although I think researching and preparation are useful parts of the process, I firmly believe that only writing is writing. Thinking, outlining, getting inspired, these are all wonderful, important things, but seriously people, only writing is writing.

And if I may add to the last thought something else, most of writing is re-writing. Sure, it's hard enough to get a coherent story on the page, but it's harder when you realize that almost nothing comes out of the pen or onto the computer screen perfectly on the first try. Once in a while, you may write a beautiful line that comes out even better than you planned, but those lines are rare. A writer mustn't be afraid of imperfection; a writer must work with it, day after day, and make the best of it.

I really like the last sentence I wrote, but I'll be the first to admit, I crafted a couple of versions of it before I was satisfied. Nothing was born perfect (except for my nieces).

Off I go, revising and sending out query letters and trying to figure out how to be a successful novelist. In the back of my mind, another book is brewing. I've made some notes, started outlining, but it's on the back-burner until the revisions are done. There is so much work ahead so I'll keep you posted.