Found It! (An Update on My Last Post)

The Reticent Supervisor and I spent the other day together, doing our respective work, at my house and throughout the course of the day I found the Christmas Spirit. (I know, I should remember where I put it so as to avoid the crab-fest that was the preceding weeks.) I was in the middle of wrapping presents for the urchins in our family when I suddenly found myself in a good mood. Will wonders never cease? So, was it the wrapping of presents for children that did it? Or could it be a nice day spent with a friend? I think we all know the answer to that question. We topped off the day with a lovely dinner, respective spouses included.

We are nearing our Trek East. It will be good to see family and friends again and enjoy each others company. Wait, is that a Christmas Carol I am humming? "It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

In Search of the Christmas Spirit

The academic year makes the end of November and December a very busy time. I am not saying academics corner the market on busy in the weeks leading up to Christmas (or winter break), but the work load tends to mount. Each year, I find it harder and harder to be ready for Christmas and to really soak up the "spirit" of the season. (Again, this is not necessarily a problem I alone have.) Right now, we are nearing the end of the Fall Semester and anticipating our Trek East for the holidays. It is difficult to mark out time to think about Advent and Christmas in amongst all this chaos of grading and other work.

In years past, we made an effort to get together with colleagues for a "Holiday Party," but lately, that has not happened. People are too busy to organize it, plan it, and the faculty and staff live in all different directions. Few made an effort to attend when it did occur. More and more, the most important thing about this time of year is getting all the work done to get away. While it is good to see family again, I wonder what I am doing to make community here. I understand I need to make time for that--make an effort to be social and engaged. This seems to run counter to the nature of academia. By the end of the semester, many are so overwhelmed by correcting and the omnipresent problems with students, that social events become complain-fests. Negativity abounds and I am just as guilty as the next of wallowing in it.

As Christmas has approached, I have become more and more negative. Where is the Christmas Spirit? I have made stabs at being festive, including decorating our house. While that helps a bit, I still feel as though I am saving up my "merry" for Christmas elsewhere. It is easy to blame someone else or something else for my negativity. The job, students, exhaustion, really depressing music at weekly Mass... (Why is it that Catholics Can't Sing?) These are real causes of a negative attitude and a degree of anxiety (well, the level of anxiety over the bad music is minor), but should I not look inward at how I react and change my response? Should I not turn that frown upside down?

The Importance of Little Things; Or Making the Right Choices

I have a big deadline looming and it has required some long days. Those long days became an early rising today and as I stood in front of my coffee maker, ruminating on what a lovely coffee maker it is, I thought to myself, "make sure you get the right mug."

One cannot underestimate the importance of a good mug for coffee at 2:30 in the morning. The instinct might be to pick a big one. Holds more coffee. If one is up at this hour working, one needs fuel to keep oneself on track. The danger however is that the coffee gets cold too soon. Then where are we? Running down to the kitchen to microwave it and who wants that? One might select a small mug, with idea that frequent trips to the coffee maker will keep one alert. This, too, is not the right choice, for one has to run to the kitchen all those times. And we know the key to successful writing is sitting in the chair and actually writing. No, this morning, I needed a moderately big mug, without being excessive to buoy this industrious soul along.

So, in the wee hours of the morning, I chose this one:

What makes this one nice (and comforting) is that it has been with us (my Beloved Husband and I) for many years. I used this mug many a late/early night/morning when completing my dissertation, compiling notes for lectures, and correcting papers. As I have mentioned in a previous post, I have emotional connections to things like mugs and I enjoy the experience of coffee, just as much as the caffeine boost. Another helpful quality is the size of the handle. My hand fits, just so:


And so, I made the right choice as is evident from not only these pictures, but the number of pages I wrote.

What Did She Say About Posting More?

I thought once we moved in to the house, unpacked some boxes, and started back to normal life, I would be able to spend more time here. Well, obviously to the one or two people who are actually reading the blog, I have not. I know the Reticent Supervisor is also wretchedly busy and I think the Aspiring Pediatrician is up to her eyeballs in various matters pertaining to the world of science. (I would mention what those things are, but as a historian, I am at a big old loss as to understand what those things are.) I have not read many of the blogs I like to follow. (My Beloved Husband also reads some of the ones I do and he will tell me about them and I feel very left out and behind...) I am very much out of the loop on so many things.

Here are the things which have been taking me from the Perfecting Prudence Business (in no particular order):

1. House Organization

2. Yard Work (I think that I should never see a poem as lovely as a tree....but I would like it to not have leaves that fall all the time.)

3. Thanksgiving Preparations (We are hosting our first family holiday, ever! We are also insane.)

4. House Organization

5. House Repairs and Why People (Sellers) Lie

6. The History Project

7. Class Preparation, Correcting Papers, and Why Proper English Grammar Eludes People

8. The Rules on Changing or Not Changing a Parish (particularly if one moves only fifteen miles away, but into a different territorial parish. Should we change parishes? What if the singing is worse there? Or the congregation wants us to participate in some way?)

9. (Last but not least) House Organization

I think House Organization is the thing that is taking up most of my gray matter. I am someone who uses that sort of thing as a great big dodge about the other more important things that camp out in my brain and wake me up in the middle of the night. If the house is organized, then the rest will all fall together, like magic, will it not? I will then be more productive because the clutter in front of me (of my own making) will no longer distract me, and I will be practically perfect (in every way). And we will all live happily ever after.

I better get more coffee and ponder these matters more.

A Return to Normalcy

While I do not mean to quote Warren G. Harding, I look about my day and see that things are getting back to normal. Routine-wise. We are still putting things away (or rather talking about how we should put things away), but navigating our lives has become, well, easier. We go to work, teach, research, talk to students, make supper in our own kitchen, do our laundry. (Well, I do our laundry.) It is reassuring and puts my worry-wart tendencies to rest.

I can now turn my attentions to my history project and see what needs to be done. I can prepare for my class with a sense that I may actually know what I am doing. I may even be a more present blogger again.

Why Do We Have All this Stuff?!!

We just moved. It took at least two months to plan, organized, and think about the whole process. In a vain attempt to be organized, I created a spreadsheet. I think it was more to make me feel better than to actually be organized and do everything "on time" and in the "proper order." The bulk of the activity happened from the days before we closed on our house and to the day we moved into it. Before we moved, we were convinced that we did not have enough stuff to fill the house as we were crowded into a tiny place and we were moving into a reasonably comfortable, but by no means large, house. We were sure. Now that we are in the place, we realize that we may not have that much extra room for the things we were positive we would need to fill it up.

One of the reasons for that is that we have a lot of books. Every one is precious. Well, not every single one, but we would be hard pressed to get rid of any of them. Even the ones we do not like, we cannot get rid of them because they are "ours." Our books are also important for our professional life. We need these books for our research and teaching. Yes, need. Yes, libraries exist and they are quite important and useful, but it is also nice to have a copy of a particular source.

The thing that I noticed however, is all the other stuff we have that was packed away in our tiny place because we had no place to store or shelve or display those things. For example, we have an entire box of coffee mugs. Now, as with books, we love coffee. I love coffee. I love coffee mugs. I love the feel of a cup of coffee in my hands in the morning. I love the smell of coffee brewing. All these things are wonderful. I wonder, however, if I need a whole other box of mugs. The problem is that mugs, like books, remind me of where I got them, who gave them to me, where I was at a particular time in my life. (I can chart my academic development by books. Reminds me of High Fidelity, when the main character attempts to organize his record collection autobiographically as opposed to alphabetically or by genre. Depending on how I wrote my name in the front cover determines if I obtained the book before or after I got married. Some books still have the receipts in them to tell me where I purchased them.) But the mugs...some of them I have outgrown, or moved into a different phase of my life and do I need a mug that depicts a particular cartoon character?

I also question why I saved so many little scraps of paper, oddball notes, and knickknacks. Did I think these things were important? Did I foresee a day when I would display such rarities for all the world (or anyone who came into the house) to see? Did I save them solely because they reminded me of someone, or some experience? If that is the case, what do I propose to do with them other than keep them in a box? Saving such items is an emotional process. Each thing ties me to a moment in time. I can remember (most of the time) why these things were important at that time, but are they still? Am I being needlessly nostalgic? If I continue to save these things, do I become that crazy lady with all the junk in her house? Will there be room for new memories and mementos? I have no answers today as I stare at the boxes of stuff about me. If there is anyone out there reading this, do you have any thoughts?

Writing, or Something that Resembles the Written Word

I have been engaged in writing, or something that resembles writing, over the last few weeks. I have been bogged down at times, not very productive. I am in one of those periods now and it is an inconvenient time as I want to polish off this section of the larger history project. I read several different blogs authored by historians and others from the humanities. Some of these individuals are also writing and I have found some of their recent entries helpful. In particular, Notorious PhD Girl's recent post on "Why We Write" is spot on. She has also discussed her recent efforts at writing and this has inspired me. There are numerous "how to write" books/guides out there, but it is nice to hear from someone who is actually doing it, successfully, to gain some insights into how she does it.

What I learn from reading such posts is that there is no one special trick or secret to writing. I know, I know, we hope there is a magic pill or formula that will make us Productive Writers, but what it comes down to is doing it. Block out the distractions (I know what mine are) and forge ahead, without getting bogged down in Perfection. (What, Rosebud PhD doesn't care about Perfection? I thought that was the point of this whole project?) That will come with editing and re-writes. Hard lesson which I always learn at the last minute and swear as deadline looms, next time, I will do better. And look, there is a deadline looming as I type.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T; Or Why Don't I Get It?

I am a very self-conscious teacher. I strive to do my job well and to connect with students. I want them to like the classes I teach and learn something about history in the process. I do care what they think of me, whether or not they respect me as a professional. I am not my students' friend, buddy, or pal. I am not their girlfriend in which they can confide their deepest personal problems. That being said, I am sympathetic to my students' needs outside of the classroom that may affect their school work. I do my best to help my students and because I only teach one class, I have more mental energy to devote to them. I treat my students with respect and try to foster their confidence in their abilities. Half the battle seems to be to convince students they are smart enough to do the work, as long as they actually do the work.

Somewhere in there, I am not getting the respect I believe I deserve. In the past, I have had students who are openly disrespectful because I was young and a woman. They pushed to see how far they could go. At the time, I felt they were the ones throwing away their very expensive education. I was not going to treat them like children, even if they behaved that way. As I became more experienced and more confident, this type of behavior waned. Recently, my most consistent concern with this issue is how students address me. I have students call me by my first name, even when I tell them how to address me. Then we come to Mrs. Rosebud. It took a long time and a lot of work to earn my PhD. When I tell my students to call me Dr. Rosebud, I expect them to do so. Male professors both adjunct and full-time do not have the same problem. Why do students persist in calling me by my married title?

Sure, possibly the informality has to do with this inane idea that has emerged since the Sixties that students are equals to their professors. (I heartily blame the hippies for this one. There is nothing wrong with recognizing that teachers know more than students.) I teach students who are close to my age or older and may see themselves as my contemporary. But what accounts for the younger students, some of whom are male, who do this? I do not think students understand the distinction between adjunct and full-time faculty. They only see me as their professor. So, that cannot it be it. In good guilt-ridden fashion, am I to blame? In an effort to bring my subject (women's history) to my students, do I give off a less than serious posture?

Mostly I conclude that it has everything to do with my gender. If I were a man, I would command more authority. If I am tougher in class, less humorous, or easy-going, will my students perceive me as that feminist so-and-so? (Sorry, just cannot swear on the blog, but you get my meaning, right?) Dangerous territory, for sure. I need to keep students in my class and continue to draw them to it in the future to continue my employment. (Part-timers go semester to semester.) Students talk and they do not take classes from professors described negatively as either too harsh or too much work. For my corner of the world, feminism is still a bad word and I must tread lightly.

Change Over Time; Or Are We Fated to Remain the Same, Just Wear Different Outfits?

When I started this post, I intended to ruminate on something more personal. As I continued to put thoughts down, I had meandered toward a larger contemplation of history and the work of historians. This is something that is uppermost in my mind lately as I strive this semester to make my students understand what it means to be historians. It is my hope that if they do not have an interest in the field itself (I teach a requirement, and few take my course because they are eager women's historians), they will learn to think critically and write with a degree of proficiency. Since that was the direction of the post, I junked the first draft and proceeded with what follows. (This is ultimately better, as excessive personal whining was declared a no-no at the outset of this endeavor with the founding of this blog.)

Is history cyclical or linear? Do we evolve and progress over time, or does humanity constantly repeat itself? I know there are people who study such things and have excellent theories supporting various points of view. I do not have much of an official opinion on the matter. I do not study long periods of history. Or at least I did not until this project. My current project covers well over a 100 years of history. For me, that is a lot, as prior to this I concentrated on at most thirty to forty year periods in local studies. It is a big period of time and I am not without concerns as to how I will bring it all together into one manageable volume.

In the course of my work, I have had to consider how I work as an historian. What is my methodology? How do I think of the past and women's place in it? (I am a women's historian after all. Best if I think in that way.) I have been influenced by some recent scholarship but in many ways, I have not traveled far from how I think about the past. In many ways, it is how I think about the larger world. I probably suffer from a tendency to think that people have not changed much throughout the centuries at their core. Society evolves, changes, and people change how they behave with it, but at their nature, are they much different in terms of what motivates them? I think people have always considered what is most immediate to them: family, work, survival. Throw some culture and belief system in their and we have some fun.

How are the women of my current study different in the nineteenth century than they are in the twentieth century? Is there something fundamentally changed? Can we say they are the same, but with different dresses? What difference does changing some of the Rules of their existence make to who they are and how they see the world?

These are simplistic questions, but I need to ask them, because my findings show change. Somewhat. It is important to know that women's available choices shift from the nineteenth century to the twentieth century, that they change from the 1930s to the 1970s. If women participated in that change, that is also significant. Mindsets change. There are women in both the nineteenth and twentieth century who strove for equality, both civil and social.; and women who have worked to use their talents and gifts for the benefit of their communities. Women have in one century accepted a world view that placed them soundly within a subservient position within a larger Church, but would not accept that position 100 years later. I have found documentation which involves women who wished to remain within said Church, but wanted to adapt it to broaden their place in it. Some women religious of the 1960s and 1970s are said to be more independent, influenced by their social and political age and inspired by the Second Vatican Council. Yet, how are they different from the "spirited" women religious of the nineteenth century who gave their lives (some at quite a young age) to serve God, their Church, and build the American Catholic infrastructure? If we look at the core of women religious and what they chose in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, is it the same? Why did women choose this life and the life that the specific community I study offered?

There are more questions than answers here. I can only interpret the documents I have; I cannot make conclusions based upon some larger desire to show progress over time or the constancy of humanity, for good or ill. What are the documents telling me? What does the established history tell me? Uh oh. More questions, even fewer answers.

Stopping By

No posts. There have been no posts from the Perfection of Prudence Team. I imagine we have been out perfecting prudence or something like that.

For me, August was filled with a myriad of huge and small things that took up my attention. The semester started and preparations for that were fairly consuming. I am trying something new this semester and hopefully it will not be a complete failure. It is too soon to tell. My history project...that is the big all consuming thing. I am still trying to write.

I hope September will be better, more organized, more productive, more... If anyone is out there, reading, bear with the Team.

Confused by Progress; Or Am I a Luddite?

I love gadgets. I like shiny new toys that are supposed to make my life easier. I am particularly attracted to new cleaning products and gizmos of that variety. It seems the gadget of the moment are cell phones. (At least that is how I perceive it.) I did not have a cell phone for the longest time (relative term) and I knew deep in my soul that at that time, I did not need one. But I wanted one. Everyone seemed to have one and I began to think that my lack of one was a sign that I had become resistant to them. Was I taking a stance against cell phones? Was I joining the camp of Technology-Is-Bad? Was I a Luddite?

I eventually got a cell phone and it was the most basic of phones and I got it for the most basic of reasons: safety and practicality. It could not take pictures; I did not text anyone. I am not very good at texting. I actually stink at it. I cannot stop myself from trying to compose complete sentences, with proper spelling and grammar, and I cringe at letters that take the place of real words. I cannot figure out how to find or use punctuation. The few times that I have actually done it, it took a long time. Not at all efficient. I find myself increasingly annoyed at how text shorthand creeps into every day use especially in my students' papers. As my ire mounts, I start to wonder again, am I a Luddite? (I think every historian has the potential of being one. Come on, we love the past. We go to historical sites on vacation; we secretly love reenactments and wish we could participate.) Despite what it could not do, I was happy to have one. I found myself wanting to call people with it, even when I had nothing to say or no reason to call. It was all very thrilling. Recently, I needed to get a new phone and now I can take pictures. I could also check the weather and get directions on my phone, but I have not tried that yet. It has other capabilities but it is no Iphone or anything of that nature. This is fine. I do not need that. But do I want that?

There is a part of me that does. I watch the commercials for those types of phones. With a touch of an icon, I can do all sorts of things. That is very impressive. I am particularly drawn to the Palm Pre because it will do all those fun things and keep me organized. What more could a person want? Fun that is organized! The problem is that all that fun and organization is not free. It costs to download and get all that information and I do not need those things. The commercials however describe a lifestyle that goes along with these phones. There are numerous "apps" that will make my life better and fun. Games, music, email, television, the Internet, and the list goes on. The number of things one can do with phones now would take up all of the day. Do I need this? Obviously the answer for me is no. Do I want this?

If I say no, does that make me someone who shuns progress? Does it make me appear arrogant, as if I am above such materialistic distractions? I think rather that I am befuddled by the technology and what I would do with it. I am also fearful, yes fearful, of how much a phone of this nature would distract me and take me away from all the things I am supposed to be doing as a responsible adult with a job and a husband and a family. (Do not get me started on the guilt I have for contributing to a blog and how that can be distracting.) Technology and progress are wonderful things, and I use much of it to keep me close to that family who everywhere but here. There is, however, a limit to what I need and want. Considering how much I like to check the status of the weather and radar, things may get murky and I may have to reevaluate my position.

Just Plain Wrong

This morning I heard about this story of a graduate from Monroe College who is suing her alma mater for her unemployment status. Apparently, the graduate (as of April) still has not found a job. Consequently, she wants her tuition back.

There is something so fundamentally wrong with this attitude. I understand we are litigious society. Where is the personal responsibility? This suit sends the message the graduate should have everything handed to him or her. There could not possibly be anything wrong with the individual or that the nation is experiencing economic difficulty or that there is competition for jobs. The fear is that someone, somewhere in administration of universities and colleges where retention is the only reason for being, this law suit will have an impact on how schools operate.

Distractions from Writing; Or How I Ponder the State of My Housekeeping Skills

I think when we began this blog, we said we would not complain about our lives (too much). Is that correct, my fellow Prudential Bloggers? Well, I would like to stick to that statement, but I must say at this very moment, our house is very messy. It is cluttered and in desperate need of a good, old-fashioned scrubbing. Part of the clutter comes from the nature of our professional lives. We here at Rosebud, PhD's house are historians and there is generally not an article we would not copy or book we would not acquire if it had anything remotely to do with our area of interest. ("Area of interest" can and has been defined broadly.) As I am in the midst of writing, my research files and books are literally all over the house. I dutifully pack it all away at the end of the work day, but we also live in a not so large place with little to no extra space for work. Hence, we have piles.

Now, if I were truly a dutiful and good wife, a virtuous wife for pity's sake, I would have discovered the best way to organize this mess and I would be a better housekeeper. While I cannot quote Proverbs 31, I am familiar with the description of the "perfect wife" and I definitely fall short. Most days, I do not feel too bad about that. One could re-write that to say wife and/or husband. Nothing wrong with Himself putting his hand to the distaff and making her name known at the gates. (And before we go too far, Rosebud, PhD's beloved husband does a great deal of the housework.) Yet, there is a little voice at the back of my head that judges me for not being better at keeping house. I wonder why that is? Is it because I have not moved beyond the expectations for women to be domestic divas? Women can be whatever they want to be now, but if their houses are not in order, there is something not quite right. Is that it? Is this a gender thing, or is this a larger maintaining civilization thing? Does it fall into the category of dressing appropriately when leaving one's house, maintaining one's yard, and generally being a conscientious and involved citizen? Will our society crumble to the ground if my house is cluttered, dusty, and messy? (I would rather not say dirty, because we do avoid throwing actual garbage around.)

Of course the answer for which I am looking is no. No, it will not fall to bits. What may happen, however, are two things. One, we will have to clean it up before we let the outside world in (or at the very least sweep the mess under the carpet); and two, I will stop letting the mess and commenting on it take my attention away from writing (which this afternoon it has, albeit temporarily).

Working at Writing, the Unglamorous Side of the Historian's Life

I have been engaged in a bit of writing. I find it curious that I when try to write, the words do not come easily. It is, well, work. At the same time, I find that I can write emails and various other things of the "non-work" variety with lightening speed. My writing becomes clever and without much effort I get from point A to point B without too many digressions and false starts. When I sit down to write, as I have today with parts of my first chapter, it takes me a better part of the day to concoct of meaningful paragraph. I may have exaggerated on the "meaningful" part. It takes a great deal of effort to organize the various sections, and draw together the notes on the research. The research is the fun and glamorous part. Sifting through archival records, reading secondary sources, finding new things--that is where all the excitement is. The writing takes time and one is called upon to provide meaning or a larger interpretation to all those bits of information.

Over the next few weeks, I will be writing more of this chapter. It is one of those chapters which sets the tone for the rest of the work. I also wonder if I am caught by the largeness of the whole project. This is my first endeavor post graduate school. I may, just may, be experiencing a bit of apprehension that I will not prove myself. In the field of history, so much depends on what one does as a young scholar. One must either publish the dissertation asap or several articles from it and a new book within a few years of graduating, or face fading into oblivion in the wake of the next batch of new young scholars. Ambition and fear of failure are powerful motivators, are they not?

I do enjoy my work, even when I have difficulties. I may be at the end of the day tired and frustrated by my lack of progress, but I cannot imagine another working life. I just wish I did it better, and faster.

Image from:
http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/rbo/lowres/rbon241l.jpg

Again with the Double Standard!

If I keep returning to a particular blog and critiquing it for promoting the nineteenth century understanding of womanhood in today's political world, am I being redundant? If the answer to that question is yes, then I am guilty as charged. New Agenda, again, has raised the issue of how the world would be better if only women were in charge. In this post, Chris Jahnke argues that if women held more political offices, there would be fewer scandals of the Governor Mark Sanford nature. Why? Because women are better than men.

According to Jahnke:

If you want leaders for whom the people not power comes first, women are the best bet.
Want fewer embarrassing, distracting sex scandals? Elect more women.

This is idea that women are better than men may be something that we all say in conversation with each other, "that is so true," but it is troublesome because it continues the notion that there are two sets of standards for men and women and their behavior. Women are good and moral by their nature and men, may very well be good and moral, but this runs counter to their more animalistic natures. The dear knuckle-draggers cannot help themselves when they err, particularly in sexual matters. Women, on the other hand, are much better at all that. That Hillary Clinton would not "hit on the intern," as the author quotes, is admirable, but is it because she is more moral than a man? She is definitely smarter than those who have done so, but is it because of her gender? Her biology? When women have affairs or use their power to their advantage, the public outcry against them, one can argue, is much more severe than when men behave in this way. (Can we not hear "boys will be boys" and "don't hate the player, hate the game?")

I would argue that both men and women should be held to the same standard of behavior. Women have been and continue to be barred from true equality by this double standard. Now, I am not arguing that women should abuse their power, have sexual dalliances with underlings, or cheat on their spouses. Everyone, regardless of their gender, should behave themselves, follow the rules, etc. (I am and always shall be a stick in the mud.)

When I think about this issue, The Declaration of Sentiments comes to mind. (I am a historian, after all.) In 1848, at the Seneca Falls Convention, the authors of this document (Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott, and others) were

Resolved, That the same amount of virtue, delicacy, and refinement of behavior, that is required of woman in the social state, should also be required of man, and the same transgressions should be visited with equal severity on both man and woman.

Granted we are in a different world than Antebellum America, but why is it that we have ignored the lessons of our foremothers? I do not wish to be too harsh with the New Agenda. I think what they have started and the potential for good for women's equality and feminism is remarkable and commendable. I wish, however, that we consider the extent to which true equality is achieved when women persist in claiming that women are just better than men. Unfortunately, this is a much more complicated issue. Jenny Sanford has possibly shown us how we should act.

New Favorite Show

We are American Idol viewers at Rosebud, PhD's house. I know, I know, as an academic, I am not supposed to like to watch this type of programming. It is bad enough that I watch TV at all and should limit my viewing to PBS, CSpan, Book TV, and other educational programs. Mea culpa. It is one of the few reality programming we enjoy. We like The Deadliest Catch and Dirty Jobs, but I think that is it. American Idol has ended although auditions are underway for the next season already. We have to wait until January for the next season, but we are taking comfort in a BBC America program, How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? The premise of this show is to find the "unknown" actress to play Maria Von Trapp in Andrew Lloyd Webber's production of the Sound of Music in London's West End.

I like this show for various reasons. First, the Sound of Music is one of my favorite musicals. Cliche, but true. Second, the whole thing has already been decided and broadcast on British Television. I do not know who won, nor do I want to know, but I feel somewhat relieved to know that it is all over somewhere. It is also only one day a week. American Idol takes up two nights of our weekly viewing and after viewing the contestants' performances, I have no patience for the buildup of the next evening. Just tell me already! Lastly, I like this show because it has escaped for the most part the tendency in American Idol to have an exchange between contestant and judges. There seems to be a preponderance of inexperienced and arguably unsophisticated "performers" who think they know more than the seasoned professionals on American Idol. That plus the "drama" of reality TV. I find it all very uncomfortable. No, this British program has only slightly given into that.

Each week, one Maria is voted off by the viewers. The two women who received the least amount of votes has to sing an Andrew Lloyd Webber song for the man himself (who sits in a weirdly ornate throne), who then decides on the spot who to save. In the first two go-rounds, he picked the one with the least amount of votes. The other three judges are John Barrowman (actor--Torchwood and Doctor Who, and various musical theater productions), David Ian (producer of SOM), and Zoe Tyler (vocal coach). As an American watching a British reality program, I am intrigued by the differences. We have commented that there is something 1980s about the lighting and coloring of the show, but that could just be our perspectives. As the show progresses, I also have been a bit creeped out by the male judges reactions to some of the contestants, particularly the overly sexualized comments. (Call me a prude, but they border on sexual harassment.) His Lordship, Webber in particular often makes me cringe with his leering facial expressions. The host is the irreverent Graham Norton, who is amusing and at times calls the male judges on their, ahem, behavior.

Despite this creep factor, I am fully prepared to park myself in front of the TV Sunday evening and watch the show.

Root of Some Evil, Possibly All

I read this headline about the plagiarism charge surrounding the Harry Potter series and I was flummoxed, perplexed, chagrined, and just annoyed. Plagiarism is a serious offense, one which will truly make me blindingly angry when I have found it in my students' papers. In this case, the plagiarism charges seems to be unfounded, which makes me glad. What has aggravated me here is the use of slang and very poor grammar in a headline which potentially many people will read. (I clicked the link, did I not?)

Now, did the author choose these words? Did some representative from the publishing company choose them? Either way, I feel we have sunk to a new low. I saw the movie Idiocracy a month or so ago and maybe there is more reality in that silly comedy than fantasy.

Farewell to Pushing Daisies

Saturday, the last episode of Pushing Daisies aired. I discovered quite by accident a few weeks ago that ABC planned to air the remaining episodes on Saturday evenings at 10 pm EST/9 pm CST. By accident means, I was flipping stations during that hour on a Saturday and saw that it was on and it was a new episode. Thank goodness this is one of the shows that ABC has decided to put online; so I was able to watch it and the others.

I was quite sad to learn that the show was canceled in the first place. It was a beautiful show. It was funny, clever, used wonderful language, and the storyline/concept/whatever was romantic. Yes, yes, lovey-dovey romantic, but also whimsical-romantic. There was music and singing and beautiful colors and it produced moments of true, deep sigh, happiness. Now at this point, I am sure someone (if anyone actually is reading this) is thinking, "well, that is a chick show." I suppose it could be perceived that way. It was not in the vein of Lifetime or Hallmark sappy sentimentality (which along with soap operas are other guity pleasures of mine), but more in a sweet innocence, but also wry and, Jiminy Crickets! there was good dialogue! For example, in one of the recent episodes, a main character contemplates her relationship to another and her romantic feelings for said character by discussing the mixed messages he sent her through his use of double negatives. (In one scene, she actually reads a book on double negatives.) The regular cast is wonderful, but the guest stars have been a treat as well. (The cast can be found at the ABC site, but also here.) To say that Jim Dale as narrator was delightful, is an understatement. (Dale also reads the Harry Potter books for the audio version. I strongly recommend checking them out.)

This show, and several others that I have followed, was canceled. I understand the appeal of the reality show (I spent three hours last night watching How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria on BBC America afterall), but when shows that strive to be intelligent, thoughtful, engaging, and dare I say beautiful, fail to appeal enough for networks to have faith in them, I am discouraged and wonder just how out of the cultural loop I am.

Being Me, Perfectly

I read a document the other day that had some hand-written notes on it. The typed document was a copy of a speech given at a workshop for superiors given in the mid-1960s and discussed the role of a mother provincial. The handwritten quote is:

"Do not wish to be anything except what you are and try to be that perfectly."--St. Francis de Sales.

This quote was written not just once, but twice on the document. I tried to find the origin of the quote, but have not had much luck as yet. (To be honest, I did not try very hard. I will look again.) Was the quote said when giving the speech? Did the owner of this copy of the speech think of it when she heard the speech? That it is on a speech given by a woman religious about religious life is not surprising. I, however, started thinking about the ideas in a larger context.

The first part of the quote could suggest that a person should not try to strive for more or something else than what he or she is. There is a sense of limits and limitations in these words. We are told that we can be whatever we want; there are no limits. In religious life, particularly in a pre-Vatican II Church, women religious had many restrictions placed upon them and the structure of that life extended to careers. If the community needed more teachers, then a young woman became a teacher, even if she was not possessed with the skills or talents of an educator. There is a deeper religious or spiritual element to this type of life, both then and now. But, I still have to work that part out to my satisfaction.

In the reality of religious and secular life, there are limits, but we do not like to hear that. We can be or do anything we want to do, right? Not necessarily. Not everyone has a choice in how they wish to live and be. If one looks at it from a different perspective, a person should realize what he or she is and do that well. Do not waste time trying to do something that one was not meant to do or be; be what one was called to be.

Talking about callings and vocations is not a part of normal, every-day conversation. Thinking about how I do my work and live my life, do I strive to everything well? Perfectly, even? Am I doing what I am meant to do and doing it perfectly? Do I neglect what has been given to me?

I am sure there are aspects of the meaning of this quote that I missed, but I am very aware of my limitations.

Update on Reading

Since the last post, I managed to read Madeleine L'Engle's Certain Women and I enjoyed it. Some of it went past me as I was unfamiliar with the intricacies of King David. I know David and his slaying the giant and his relationship with Bathsheba, but that is it. I walked away from this story not thinking very highly of David and all his wives and concubines. I guess there is a larger point here that escapes me. I know I should want to understand more, but I do not. Even though it has been several days since I finished this book, it keeps popping up in my mind. The characters have not left me as yet. I think that is a sign of a good book.

I moved on to Mollie Panter-Downes and then Dorothy Sayers.* This was the first time I had read either authors. Panter-Downes' collection of stories is published by Persephone Books. This press is devoted to reprinting "neglected classics by C20th (mostly women) writers." The books also have a lovely binding. I managed to read these last two because of our return trip to the Midwest. I, however, did not read these aloud to my husband as we drove. I think he was okay with that. Someone recommended Sayers to me. I love when someone suggests an author or a book and it turns out to be wonderful. It is very disappointing to read something a friend has suggested that I do not like. How do I report back to my friend that I did not like the book? What does it say about me? Or what I think of his or her taste? Then, I wonder if all the books I have recommended to others have been flops for them? What if I am burdening my friends with reading they just do not like? I doubt it will stop me from giving books to people.

But, now vacation is over and I must turn my attention to all things historical and serious. I often think that I will read fiction in the evening before bedtime, but that does not seem to happen. I usually am too tired to concentrate on more than a few sentences. It is a bit sad that I have to wait until Christmas to pick up a fiction book again, but I will comfort myself with all the lovely history I get to read.

*See the list of books read for titles.

Reading

Rosebud, PhD and her gang have been traveling East the last week or so. We left the Midwest as soon as possible with the completion of the Spring Semester. After packing the car to gills, dogs included, we set out for points east. In days past, we would read aloud as we drove (do not worry, the driver does not read). We have left that practice lag in recent trips, but I think we might pick it up again for our return voyage.

I, however, have not stopped reading on my own. Once we are on winter or summer break, I take the opportunity to read as much fiction as possible. Hence the new list of books added to the "Books We are Reading Lately." I managed to complete the Bruce Alexander Sr. John Fielding Mystery series. I thoroughly enjoy a good historical mystery. Historical fiction however, can be tricky for me (same can be said and more for historical movies.) I cringe, as I assume all good historians do, with "modern" interpretations of the past that are really inaccurate. After the Alexander books, I moved on to Jhumpa Lahiri's, Unaccustomed Earth. I enjoyed her previous books, both Interpreter of Maladies and The Namesake. (At some point, I would love to see the movie, too.) Maybe it was the shift from the late eighteenth century crime novels to contemporary stories of family, love, identity, and the immigration experience, but I struggled with this one. I enjoyed, but not enjoyed reading it. Lahiri is a wonderful storyteller. Her language carries the reader along; I was engrossed. I put the book down and was, well, not happy.

This tends to happen for me a lot in contemporary fiction. There is a preponderance of depressing events. While I commend someone like Oprah Whinfrey for encouraging reading, many of her books are about abuse and other depressing subjects, such as Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones. I remember picking up this book in a store, reading the back cover, and putting it immediately down when I learned it began with the rape and murder of a child. Uh, seriously? Why do I need to read this? Because I apparently did. It was all the rage; the book to read. Of course, my failure to appreciate such examinations of contemporary life and culture is a failure of my intellect or something like that. This, I accept, because I have many intellectual limitations. graduate school taught me that. I think I started reading a Jane Austen novel instead. Ah, but that is where my heart lies.

This morning, I pulled out Madeleine L'Engle's Certain Women. I am eager to read this. It has a somewhat troublesome discription on the back of potentially sad story--death of a parent--but I feel more comfortable traversing this path with L'Engle than others. I devoured her books for young adults when I was younger. It is only recently that I started reading her fiction for adults. If I am lucky, I will get through this one and have time for another before we return to the Midwest and regularly scheduled programming.

Women's Nature

Yesterday I read this post about women bullying. While it is important to call attention to bullying, whether among school children or in the workplace, I find it interesting the shock or dismay expressed that women are bullies too. In this case, the original post suggests that there has to be a cause, and that it has something to do with women modeling male behavior in the workplace to be successful and accepted. This seems to the be the "classic" idea that women must act like men to be considered equal to them. This makes me think of the plethora of movies from the 1980s and early 1990s where female characters assumed male traits becoming the bitch or sexual predator, which is ultimate terrifying to men.

What is missing from this discussion, however, is the limiting characterization of women as better than men. Women's bad behavior is upsetting, because women are supposed to be better than that. They, if freed from the oppressive male-dominated atmosphere of work, would be kindlier, gentler bosses. They would help other women. It would be Utopia! Historically, society placed women* on pedestals in the nineteenth century, limiting their full equality in society. They had power, but it was in how they influenced men and their children. Ideal women created a safe haven for men within the home. Women began to participate in moral and public reform efforts because they were more pious, nurturing. They were the natural candidates to save sinful men. Jump ahead to the Woman Suffrage Movement and one rationale** for women getting the vote in 1920 was that women were morally superior to men. Their vote would make the world a better place. In this case and in the previous instance, men's morality was dependent upon the love of a good woman. Men, and their baser natures, will sink into Hell without the constant vigilance of women. The often mythologized 1950s in America reasserted the ideal womanhood of the nineteenth century. It was just dressed up in Donna Reed's pearls and high heels. Second-wave feminism was supposed to take care of all this cultural oppression which boxed women into limiting categories for family and work. Gender, feminists argued in the late 1960s and 1970s, was socially constructed. Biology did not, or should not, determine what men and women do, nor how we are valued in society.

Now, today, we have a different language to describe men and women's nature. Men and women are "equal." But, have things changed that much? About fifteen years ago, I was definitely of the opinion that gender was, except for a few outliers, a social construction. Today, how do I feel about it? Are men and women (and how we assign value to masculinity and femininity) different because of their nature, or because of nurture? I may give a bit more to biology, but not much. My intellect, my anger, my impatience, my bossiness, my desire to compete and win, my cruelty, my pettiness, my inability to sit like a lady at all times does not make me less of a woman (or fail to be a "good" woman). This list of poor qualities are supposedly more in keeping with men's nature, particularly in the workforce. I do not want to erase nature, but I do not want women (or men for that matter) to be excused from responsibility because of it.

*In this case, "women" means white, elite women. The nineteenth century cult of domesticity promoted an idealized view of womanhood centered around the white, Protestant, middle class woman. When we consider race, class, and religion in this context, this idealized view of womanhood is even more constricting.

**There were other reasons articulated as to why women should have the vote, the least of which was equality as citizens.

This Day in History: An Ill Wind that No Longer Blows No Good

On May 12, 1978, the US Department of Commerce, in their infinite wisdom, decided to stop naming hurricanes exclusively after women. One small step for feminism, one giant step for womankind...

Nearly Done

It has been a long couple of weeks. We are careening towards the finish line of the semester and, to be frank, I cannot wait. While I only teach one class, the work to prepare and the correcting that goes with it added to my full time job as a historian does not leave much time R and R. Or blogging. Hopefully I will post more once the semester is over.

Happy Earth Day

Trees,

by Joyce Kilmer,

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Once Again I Failed

I do not intend each of my posts to be about my weekly reaction to my experiences at Mass. I, unfortunately, was inspired again.

Since Sunday I have been mulling over in my mind the Gospel reading and the subsequent homily. Initially, I was quite angry about the failure of the priest to find a suitable and successful way to bring the Gospel about Thomas' doubting that Jesus had returned to the congregation's lives. From my perspective, I have often felt bad for Thomas. He is set up to fail; he was not there and can we not believe that was on purpose? He doubts and then is given proof--tangible proof--and he understands and has faith, probably better than the others who were there when Jesus first appeared. I have sat through other homilies where the priest then referenced those who believe and have not had the same proof and included contemporary Catholics in that group. Can we not understand and sympathize with Thomas' lack of faith? The priest spent his allotted time condemning us worldly materialistic folk for not spending time in our busy day in prayer. We chase after money and work and give little pause to what is really important--our faith. Well, sure we do. Or I do. Not to sound anti-clerical, but I have rent and bills to pay. How about you, Father?

Ah, but I am getting angry again. I think I am more disappointed that once again, the focus was placed upon failure and no help was given to us/me as how to do better. Once again, I failed (apparently because I have doubts, shape my life around worldly matters like earning a living, and wish I could take a vacation). This is the Easter Season. Should there not be a bit of joy?

So, I struggle to be a good Catholic. Then I am confronted with an academic blog that criticizes women of faith for participating in organized religion as if our brains have left us and we are mere dupes of male oppressors, aka the Church Hierarchy. (In the case of the above blog, the author, the excellent scholar Historiann, is not in question, but some of her commenters. The linked post draws attention to the Vatican's inquiry into the Leadership Conference of Women Religious and some "areas of concern" with this organization.) As an academic and a feminist and a Catholic, it can be tricky to unite all my ideas and beliefs into one world view. I, however, will not discard one for the other. There has to be a way to find space for all sides.

Happy Birthday Frances

Today, April 10, is Frances Perkins' birthday. While she is most known as the first female cabinet member (Secretary of Labor, FDR administration), Perkins had a long career as social worker and labor reformer before that. This picture is from her time on the New York State Factory Investigation Committee, 1911. To learn more about Perkins, go to this website from Columbia University (her alma mater).

Lazarus Came Out to Play and Brought Guilt with Him

This past Sunday we had the Lazarus gospel reading. Despite being incredibly long (of course we did not omit the bracketed passages), I have always like this reading. It is one of the better "stories," if you will. I have always been curious about Mary and Martha and the other readings that show Jesus as human. As I child and then young adult, I repeatedly was struck by how Martha and Mary represented two different models of womanhood. Mary and Martha surface in my own research of women religious as the dual nature of sisters (as opposed to contemplative nuns). In this account of Lazarus coming back to life, Jesus is pained by Lazarus' death. I must admit I am on the sisters' side, as they question why their brother had to die. Why must Lazarus' death be a lesson and cause Mary and Martha so much suffering? This Sunday, instead of the priest giving the homily, the deacon did. This happens periodically at our parish. We have a pastor, an assistant pastor, and three deacons, all of whom are married. I find it interesting that the deacons occasionally give the homilies. I often wonder why no one else can. In other settings, I have seen sisters speak, and not just on the days when someone is asking for money to support retired women religious. In our parish's case, it is only the priests and the deacons who can "interpret" the readings and send us out to face the world. The deacons' homilies are fairly good, usually. Stylistically, there tends to be more walking around and coming down from the alter to stand among the people in the pews. I know some priests do this too. One has to be comfortable in his skin and public speaking and not get too carried away to be successful in this style of preaching. I am not sure which is better. More and more I come to desire straight-forward presentation of thoughtful ideas. I do not need a floor show. This may reflect my up-bringing. (I also am not a fan of hand-holding and the congregation mimicking the gestures of the priest.)

This Sunday, our deacon began his homily by recalling a political gaffe of our president and preceded to talk about guilt and to a lesser extent shame. (I did not appreciate the inclusion of political leaders in his homily. He ended his homily by reminding us again of the political gaffe.) He remarked that we all have moments where we remember all the bad things we have done. They usually haunt us at night when we cannot sleep, or at some other inopportune time. He said that these thoughts are like ghosts and that God sends them to us to remind us how to behave ourselves. Now, I am not a theologian, but I am somewhat familiar with the deeper whys of Catholic teaching. I know what I am supposed to do and when (i.e. follow the commandments, go to Mass, and be good). Otherwise, there is a lot I do not understand or have not studied. I am familiar with guilt and shame. I am guilty about my sins and I feel shame and embarrassment when I remember being mean or when I hurt someone or act selfishly. I wish and pray to be rid of these awful feelings that can prevent me from having a good night's rest. I do try to be kind and generous with others, but I know I fail at that regularly. What I do not understand is how we get from Jesus calling Lazarus out of his tomb and back to life to my past sins are ghost that God has brought back to my life to remind me how bad I am. I understood this account as lesson in faith for Mary and Martha and the rest of their friends who are mourning Lazarus' death with them. And is there not an element of foreshadowing? Jesus will die and rise again. But, I am sure I have missed something. I have my limitations.

But back to guilt and shame. Why has guilt been so ever-present in the Catholic tradition? I know Catholics do not corner the market on guilt and I think shame has its purpose. Shame and guilt keep us in line. We act or do not act at times because we do not want people to think poorly of us. We feel shame when we are found out in our transgression. We feel guilty. But when do we get to be relieved of our guilt? If we ask to be forgiven by God (whether through personal prayer or through the Sacrament of Reconciliation), are we not supposed to be relieved of these burdens? I believe that my role in my faith should not be passive and that I should be challenged to be a better Catholic and person. I do not go to Mass each Sunday simply to feel good about myself. But should there not be a balance between stomach sickening guilt and shame and a superficial pat on the back?

Referring to Oneself in Third Person

Reticent Supervisor has begun to refer to herself thusly, and to assign names to all her acquaintances. As in, Friday evening, the RS and the Erstwhile Medievalist (who wishes to have his name changed) enjoyed a fine dinner with the Reluctant Chairwoman and her husband, the Man of Many Talents. See? It's entertaining. And free.

Dear Prudence; Or Ramblings on the Musical Past/Present

Recently, the Reticent Supervisor mentioned we celebrated our birthdays. Yes, yes...birthdays. Up to and since my birthday, I have thought about aging and questioned if I am getting old. Now, now, I am not about to have a mid-life crisis or anything like that. I have just wondered if the things that culturally defined me and my generation are slipping past relevance. I started thinking this as I was listening to a CD I made of songs from various artists I enjoyed in the 1980s. I entitled this mix the "Fun Mix," because it was in and of itself fun and I really felt a thrill or happy when hearing these songs. Now, it has been over twenty years for some of these songs. Some of the artists now appear on the nearby Classic Rock station. When did U2, Talking Heads, and REM become Classic Rock? I thought those stations were the refuge of the Allman Brothers Band, the Dead, and CCR? Will I turn on the Oldies Station and hear INXS?

Artists like the Who, the Rolling Stones, Robert Plant, and Van Morrison have continued to tour, release new albums, and revisit their older music. Even the Dead have come back to life. When is it time for them to retire? Listening to some of the songs from the new U2 album, I was struck by the fact that while I liked the music, the band's songs did not thrill me as say "I Will Follow," or "New Year's Day," or anything from War or Boy. Now is this because U2 has passed its prime or am I getting old?

I came to maturity at time when the "Baby Boomer" generation dominated popular and political culture. (Thirty-Something and The Wonder Years are two great examples of Boomer-dominated television, unfortunately.) Political struggles, military conflicts, and cultural norms were all compared to the events of the 1960s and 1970s. My generation (is that X? I was a Teen in the mid Eighties), never could measure up to the previous. As feminists, well, we are repeatedly told the women of the 1980s and early 1990s failed miserably in that category. All political protest was apparently mimicking the student protests of the Sixties and never quite as authentic. In terms of music, "Oldies" music was their music and Rock n Roll seemingly sprang from their consciousness.

Before this devolves into a complaint about Baby Boomers and their condescending view of those who have come after then (oops, still complaining), my larger question is whether my generation has come into cultural dominance and if our time has passed. Did VH1's I Love the 80s and its hilarious survey of this decade's pop culture indicate that something had changed? (When the channel ventured into the 1990s, I started to question their historicism. Can the 1990s be history? Hardly, she scoffed.) Are there a plethora of television programs and movies devoted to people of my age group? The USA Network's Psych certainly is a good example of this. This hilarious show is full of references to the 1980s youth culture done in a clever and witty manner. I am unable, however, to think of many dramas or sit-coms right now that speaks directly to the concerns of people in their late thirties and forties in the same way. Has our generation failed to imprint the larger culture? Have we bypassed this opportunity for reality programing? Or do we have enough collective sense not to be so navel-gazing? (Oops, that's another shot, isn't it?)

Returning to music, I have discovered Pandora and I am able to listen online to various "stations" based around artists I enjoy. While there are current (or newer) musicians I like, Pandora has enabled me to listen at length to music from my high school and early college years. When new music starts to grate on my nerves (why the omnipresent Amy Winehouse, Death Cab for Cutie, and the Fray?), I can take comfort in the Jam, Talking Heads, New Order, Psychedelic Furs, and Siouxie and the Banshees, among other artists. If anyone understands my ramblings and needs a little Siouxie and the Banshees, check out this video of "Dear Prudence." (Come on, it was bound to happen as some point with a blog entitled Perfection of Prudence.)

Notable Birthdays

Celebrating birthdays, even of people long dead, makes me happy. As a matter of fact, it has always made me happy. Celebrating anniversaries of all sorts has been a moderate obsession since I can remember. (I compelled my mother to hold Sister #1 in front of the mirror as a very little thing, to tell her how old she was. "Sister 1, today is November 7, 1977, and you are 10 days old.")

So, indulge me while I forget that today is Infrastructure and Filing Day in the office by sharing a list of important March Sixes:

Michaelangelo, 1475

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806

Santa Anna Captures the Alamo, 1836
(being quasi-Texased, I may also consider this the day of Davy Crockett's martyrdom)

Ghana Gains Independence, 1957

A Moment of Science

In twelve hours and five minutes I will be discussing a paper with my colleagues about how antimicrobial peptides cross the membrane and enter into the cytoplasm (guts) of E. coli cells. This is exciting because I am in the middle of performing similar experiments with a different, but similar type of bacterial cells. However . . . after working a long day all I really wanted to do was read news blogs. S0, my unwinding time of 11pm-Midnight is now over and I have to make the gruesome decision about whether to stay up for a few hours and prepare notes for the talk or to wake up at an obscene hour to perform this task. Decisions. Decisions. 

If you're REALLY curious, here's the article title. Happy Googling!

"The Antimicrobial Peptide Polyphemusin Localizes to the Cytoplasm of Escherichia coli following Treatment"

Making It, Explained.

This is a thick term in my mental lexicon. Social scientists would probably equate my understanding of making it with resilience.

It's the term I use to signify:
(1) experiencing the trauma, oppression, or prolonged hardship that occupies most or all of a person's bandwidth (death and illness qualify; poverty qualifies; abusive relationships qualify...etc.)
(2) being relegated to the cultural margins (e.g., pressed by the circumstance such that exigency, rather than choice or preference, dictates decisions or courses of action)
(3) recovering and rejoining the ranks of the less-pressed

I like Earl Shoriss because he helps people make it. I like myself and my sisters because we are making it. Hmm.

Ramblings, While Waiting for a File

I haven't the gumption this morning to start an administrative task while waiting for an essential project file to packet through the ether.

So I thought of telling y'all (all three of you) that it smells like spring and dirt-waking-up outside, and the neighbor is having his roof torn off and replaced. Rosebud and I like our birthdays, because just about this time (hers is today and mine two weeks ago), it begins to seem that we'll make it through the winter. It's touch and go every year, see, and has a lot more to do with whether we shoveled enough snow to let the postman through and melted enough ice to keep litigious passers by appeased. What do you suppose it is that prevents people from fleeing Alaska, Siberia, and upper Minnesota en masse?

And now, the file, ladies and gentlemen. We therefore return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Trade-Offs

"Whoever said that you can have it all is fudging on what 'all' is."

I resent(ed), and resist(ed), that remark for nearly ten years, issued as it was from the mouth of a career woman turned fundamentalist. (It is to be noted that our ships crossed somewhere in the night.) But alas, I begin--albeit grudgingly--to acquiesce.

And with apologies to Dylan Thomas, who surely deserves better, I exhort myself: Go not gently into that dark night (of reduced expectations and limited capacity)! / Rage, rage against the dying of the light (of ideals and possibilities and Big Things)!

More soon.

Mrs. Ph.D.

I did not expect to be posting this morning. This is not helping me get out the door on time, but I read this article in the "Chronicle Careers" section of the online Chronicle of Higher Education (the part one does not need to have a subscription to read). In it Marie Kelleher writes about life as a an Adjunct/Faculty Wife. After reading this, I thought "I am not the only one (minus the children)." I am married to a full-time, tenured track faculty member. As an adjunct, I am a part of the institution, but not. While I have a full-time job somewhere else in a non-university (but academic) setting, we are dependent upon the steadiness of his income and health benefits. And, within academia his career and work is valued more than mine because I am only an adjunct and independent historian.

I am not sure what to do with that and I do not have to today, particularly since I need to get to work and stop this blogging thing. For now.

Snippets

Embodiment. The Erstwhile Medievalist informed me that, through no fault of my own, I cause him irritation because my actions, questions, and reminders embody for him the gnats of obligation swarming his head. It's clear enough for me now that general use of the term embody indicates giving form to. It's not clear to me what it means to be a person in a body. Is a person a soul that is given form by being in a body? Is a person some admixture of soul and body? We covered this in my modern philosophical questions class, spring 2005. (But it was a survey, full of indifferent twenty-year-olds, and I was working fulltime and trying to figure out whether marrying the Erstwhile Medievalist, or marrying at all, would result in a life of oppression and squelching... So I didn't give the thing my whole attention.)

From embodiment to gender... (geez, give it a rest, will ya? Me and Myself sometimes say to I.) What does it mean to be embodied not just person, but female, or male? This question formed as I realized that discussions of gender I've encountered run immediately to questions of gender relations and not at all to gender as such. (Note to self, rescue The Woman in the Body from its dust-gathering spot on my bookshelf.)

Long Week

I've had one. Period.

Appearances

From an early age, we are taught not to judge a book by its cover. Appearances can be deceiving. What is on the inside is more important than the outside. Intelligence and a good personality are much better than being pretty or well dressed or thin or all of the above.

Despite these good ideas and the best intentions, we tend to care how we look and how others perceive us. OK, well, me. I care. We think about what we wear and if we will wear makeup. Even those who consciously do not conform to standards of dress make choices about how they want to be perceived by others--even if they protest they do not care.

The Second-wave Feminist movement of the late 1960s and 1970s produced women who rejected the cosmetic industry, women's magazines, foundation garments, and a myriad of other products designed specifically for women. Some feminists argued that these products were a part of the larger subjugation of women. Since the 1960s and 1970s, we have become an increasingly casual society. The rules of no white shoes after Labor Day is a thing of the past. Conforming to such standards is a sign of buying into an outmoded system of repression. And not just for women. Men too let it all hang out. No one will tell me how to dress. OK, I accept "no shirt or shoes, no service." But other than going into markets and restaurants, I will not be told how to dress or style my hair or whether or not I wear makeup.

Yet, appearances do matter. I care whether my shirt matches my pants, or if I am wearing the right type of pants for that matter. (Our society obviously cares a great deal about the type of pants one wears; take Jessica Simpson's recent fashion faux pas. Apparently it was a slow news week. ) I want people to take me seriously. For that to happen, is it essential that I wear nice clothes (or the nicest clothes that I can afford), makeup, and have a suitably professional haircut? Will I be taken less seriously if I show up in jeans despite the fact that I am smart and prepared for work?

The situation gets even more dicey when I consider how much pleasure I get out of looking nice. Then I am in trouble, because I find myself taking time to dress well, fix my face, and style my hair. And all these efforts come at a price. Can I justify spending money that I do on hair, clothes, and makeup that I can find cheaper, but may not have the same "nice" result? Should I not be spending my time and money in better ways, such as reading or supporting a charity? The answer cannot be simply that I am giving in to male patriarchy or succumbing to the advertising industry.

Why do appearances matter?

Late Nights in the Lab

The thought of me, a slightly reluctant laboratory scientist, posting on a blog with a historian and philosopher immediately brings to mind the Sesame Street song, "One of These Things is Not Like the Other." Be that as it may . . . I am at the lab late tonight compiling data in Excel spread sheets and find myself in desperate need of distraction . . . so that I can stay even later into the night compiling Excel spreadsheet.

On days like today, when the data is piling up . . . and time for properly recording has vaporized like ethanol on dry-ice . . . I usually follow a little routine for blowing off steam. I walk down several flights of stairs and leave behind the laboratory. In fact . . . I leave this part of the building entirely and allow myself the pleasure of strolling through the lobby of the adjacent hospital. Then I remind myself, that if I faithfully carry out my days in the lab . . . I may at some undetermined point in the future be able to do what I actually love -taking care of people.

However, I didn't follow that routine tonight.

Instead I vented my frustration in a fiscally irresponsible way and splurged on a t-shirt from my favorite coffee shop, sporting the molecular structure of caffeine on the left sleeve. I probably wouldn't have done it, but I was on the phone saying how much I liked the shirt and that I have wanted to buy one for years . . . and the voice on the other end said . . .

"So . . . what's holding you back?"

A New Book to Read

I have a new book to read. Kathleen Sprows Cummings, New Women of the Old Faith: Gender and American Catholicism in the Progressive Era. This book was just published by University of North Carolina Press this January and I am anxious to read it. With books like this, how can we not be inspired to do better?

More Stuck

Not that I'm any more, or less, stuck in a body than I was last Thursday, but more puzzling over embodiment. I googled embody, and encountered 6,200,000 entries--ranging from Herman Miller furniture to yoga studios to tantric methods to philosophic manifestos to UN press releases to... well, I got impatient after about 30 entries.

And, though woefully inadequate, here are a few dictionary definitions of embody, just to provide a starting point of sorts.

Merriam Webster Online
Main Entry: em·body
Function: transitive verb
Date: circa 1548
1: to give a body to (a spirit) : incarnate
2 a: to deprive of spirituality b: to make concrete and perceptible
3: to cause to become a body or part of a body : incorporate
4: to represent in human or animal form : personify

Wiktionary
embodiment: a physical entity typifying an abstraction. "You are the very embodiment of beauty." "The law is the true embodiment Of everything that's excellent. It has no kind of fault or flaw, And I, my Lords, embody the law."
Synonyms: incarnation

to embody To represent in a physical form; to incarnate or personify. "As the car salesperson approached, wearing a plaid suit and slicked-back hair, he embodied sleaze." To include or represent, especially as part of a cohesive whole. "The US Constitution aimed to embody the ideals of diverse groups of people, from Puritans to Deists."

Stuck in a Body?

There aren't enough fingers and toes to count all the things I should be doing, but I've been puzzling about the word embodied recently. I thought I may as well puzzle in the company of my three or so readers as alone. Thanks for joining me...

Embodiment is one of those words/phrases--like critical theory--often heard but seldom, at least by me, understood. (Of course, I'm frightfully adept at complicating everything, so I'm inclined here to throw up my hands before I start, mumble about the limits of epistemology, and say 'who can know it'? But how does that help anything? So, off we go.)

Last semester, playing the role of Enthusiastic Student, I learned that linguists often analyze language at the morphemic level. Morphemes (must not call them words, I learned, even though that's what they often are) are the smallest units of meaning in a language, I think. (If I remember correctly. I will check tonight.) Morphemes can be piled together to make complex meaning. (I paraphrase.) Such is the case with embodiment. Body is the root. em the prefix meaning i-don't-know-precisely-what-but-I'll-look-it-up, and ment the suffix, which I think, in English, makes something a noun.

What a body is is clear enough, I suppose. And roughly, I suppose embodiment means the noun form of being within a body. Embody is to put something within a body, the verb, I suppose. (I stop for a moment to scratch at the surface of how complex the mind is, without the framework or vocabulary to properly form thoughts. How interesting that, in English at least, a person can ponder the state of being within a body and can think about what it means to put something inside a body, or to act out with the body a something.)

I also stop for the present, because I have two projects that need finalized for press, one that requires a significant amount of research before it can go to the designer, three potential freelancers to contact, and as many press releases to write. More soon.

Explaining My Absence

A blog, I think, is like a garden and should be tended frequently. I, however, am finding it difficult to tend the blog with appropriate frequency. (This should come as no surprise. I specialize in overthinking the straightforward and generally making things difficult.) Perhaps Sam Johnson and his assertion that conversation should be about matters public and that question-answer is not a suitable form of address has shaped me more than I like. Or, in twenty-first century parlance, blogging is embarrassing because I'm not broadly (or deeply) thought enough to converse about a matter without making it "about me." Huh.

When I'm intimidated by a task, I usually make lists that break projects into component parts and tackle the parts. So, here is a list of topics I'm interested in exploring with my aforementioned friends (see previous post), even if said explorations are trite and over-discussed (I missed these discussions, or I wouldn't be curious about them); my/our ideas are ill-formed and incomplete; and the mode of conversation would draw the scorn of Mr. Johnson:

1. Why public celebrations are painful, as in peinlich.
2. Hannah Arendt as the intersection of questions about gender and political philosophy.
3. What it means to be "embodied."
4. The relationship between, and ethics of, communication, marketing, and propaganda.

I'm certain that there are more, but isn't four a nice number to start with?

Let Her Eat Cake, Or, What My Friends Do on Saturdays

I suspect that Rosebud is enjoying chocolate cake for breakfast; that the Reluctant Solicitor is still enslumbered; that the Erstwhile Medievalist is plotting his entry into the ultralight backpacking world and enjoying the hour before we have to excavate the study; that the Aspiring Pediatrician is feeling guilty about not being in the lab; and that the Renaissance Ballerina is being poked from slumber by small children with clammy hands. I like having friends with funny names.

Fits and Starts; Or How I Made a Beginning of the Great Work

I spent the better part of the day working on the Great Work. I pulled together various sources and notes on sources for the first chapter and after a long time off from such work, my brain is slowly starting to move.

I do not know how other people work, or write, but at some point (after much struggling and staring blankly at the screen, hands poised over the keyboard), something clicks and I find clarity and direction. (There is nothing magical about this; my brain just finally...works.) Some people, I have observed, write quickly and without the struggles I have. Today, I circled that point of "clicking" and words came to me.

Today, I contemplated Catholic gender expectations for women in the nineteenth century. I also thought (and to a lesser extent) wrote a few lines on the place of women religious* in the nineteenth century. Ruminating about what society expected of women in history is something to which I continually return. That and what the reality of women's lives was. It is a difficult thing to determine, particularly with nineteenth century women religious. I am blessed with more sources than historians of earlier periods, but still there is much lacking from the archives. I suppose every historian hopes to stumble across that long-forgotten and overlooked personal narrative which reveals marvelous detail about women's real lives. Ah, but real historical work does not happen that way, does it? We plod; we mull over bits and pieces. And if we have done our jobs, we come to some conclusions, marvelous or not, that provides a bit of clarity into the past.

* Women religious: In the Catholic context, sisters or nuns.
**Painting: Antoine Plamondon’s 1841 painting of socialite-turned-nun Sister Saint-Alphonse, born Marie-Louise Emilie Pelletier. See David Johnston, "Quebec Exhibit Features 'Canadian Mona-Lisa,'" Times Colonist, April 7, 2008, http://www.canada.com/victoriatimescolonist/news/story.html?id=dd7576df-932b-4cae-9b4e-75b788725752&k=47271.

Why I Sound Stupid At Work

Professor: "Well, the question of whether torture's justifiable is shortly to be a rhetorical question, isn't it"? [On reviewing a marketing piece about torture]

Me: "Really?"

Professor: "Well, as of Wednesday, it will be anyhow. Right?"

Me: "Oh"? [Very flummoxed here. Whatever could this person mean?]

Professor: "Well, you know Obama's going to stop torture, on Wednesday, right?" [Smile and all seriousness, hope, and change]

Me: "Well, yes, there is that." [OMG. You have more years of formal schooling than I have adult teeth--ok, slight, but only very slight, hyperbole--and you are simple enough to believe that action, and indeed the human heart, can be changed by POLICY? Haven't you read your GULAG?!]

My little inside voice is scaling upward in disbelief, and I scram before it squeaks out and I start a fight with one of the most bludgeoning propagandists on the faculty.