Nearly There

It's nearly Christmas and I am part ready, part not, part excited to see family, and part really tired. This, apparently is a constant theme in my life and from what I can gather from those around me and what I read in the blogosphere, in many other people's lives too. (Of course, my exhaustion is unique and special to me and all should recognize it as such.)

Another constant theme in my life is work. I am slightly befuddled about that. Is work the major thing that defines who I am? I never thought it was, but it seems to be the only thing I do. I have become so consumed with work, that even when I am not very productive, or do non-work things, I relate everything back to my work and it marks or colors my activities. If I am not actually doing something related to my project, I think I should, or it is a period of time which interrupts my work. Not sure if this is good or bad; it just is.

So, we are about to enter real celebration of Christmas and then New Years and we will "go away" as we often do for the holidays. A physical distance will divide me and work, but will it be a real separation? Can it be, what with all the big scary deadlines? My academic self never really shuts off, but am I productive?

Who knows the answer to that, but I do know there is a stack of mystery novels collecting dust since last Christmas and I will read some of them!

So Much To Do

As the title of this post suggests, I have a few things on my To Do list. We have been away, visiting with family all week and I have tried to get some work done here and there. Of course I have failed miserably to finish more revisions on the History Project, but I keep trying. When we get back to our regular lives, I will have so much to do that I think I want to curl up in a ball and cover my head with blankets and NEVER come out again. Or, I may have to tackle those To Dos.

I have not been able to figure out when or how things went off the organizational rails, but I am definitely careening down a rather steep hill of work. When it gets like this (and it always does), I have a tendency to run from my responsibilities or at the very least say a few prayers as I magically wait for it all to work out. It does, not because of magic, but because I actually knuckled-down under the pressure and attended to my work. Then, I make the usual promises that Next Time, I will be more responsible. I will be attentive to my duties, work steadily and diligently, and not get in this type of mess, again.

Or am I just overwhelmed with too much to do? Either way, there is little else to do at the moment besides work.

Thanksgiving

I love Thanksgiving. It has to be my all-time-favorite holiday. Anyone can love Christmas (which I do). Really smart people (who are Christians) like Easter. I think Easter gets overlooked and becomes an excuse to eat chocolate and ham, which are good things in and of themselves, but I am not always as committed to celebrating Easter as it should be observed. But Thanksgiving...I really like this holiday. First, it is in November, probably hands down my favorite month. Lots of exceptional things have happened to me in November. (I could tell you what those things are, but where is the mystery in that?) Furthermore, it is really Fall, but has the potential of being Winter. Because of this, you may get snow, but you will also get lovely Fallish days. And I love a good Fallish day. But Thanksgiving is special because it is all about celebrating all the good things in our lives and being grateful for them. (We are often so negative.) It is about being with people you love and eating really good food. It is about spending time together, working together, cleaning together, just being, you got it, together. And there are no gifts involved. I think it is one of the few holidays that does not involve gift-giving. Now, I like gifts. I like giving them; I like getting them. I like giving out candy at Halloween. I like hiding chocolate filled plastic eggs for people to find. I like wrapping silly little stocking stuffers for Christmas. I like it all. But, Thanksgiving does not have that. And, I feel the need to defend Thanksgiving. It gets squished with the onslaught of Christmas. I think it is important to pause to be thankful. So often I am not. I am crabby, cranky, thoughtless, short-tempered, over anxious, and all those negative things which makes me challenging to be around. So, bring on the turkey! Bring on the stuffing, squash, potatoes, cranberries, the all important Green Bean Casserole, and the pies! Fruit and chocolate alike. Lets celebrate the heck out of it all!

Really Not Very Good at This

I am failing at National Blog Month, regardless of country of origin.

Missed a Day

I missed yesterday. Maybe I need to make a list or leave myself a note as to my purposes here.

The week has quickly come to an end. I am expecting family for the weekend and I am rather pleased about that. All my family lives somewhere else and I wish I could see them more often. Thanksgiving is coming up (one of my favorite holidays) and I glad we will be off to see more of them. I wish I could say that the trips will be relaxing, a time to refresh, and all those good things, but it won't be. It will be busy, hectic, and I will return more tired than when I left. But, it is always worth it.

We are here in this place and it is fine, but we miss that other place where there is family and friends and familiarity. This place is still not familiar in that intimate way where you know every inch of it. We are still outsiders, the new people, adjusting to our new surroundings. Will we ever be "at home?"

A Challenge

I read this morning over at Life, Smudged that it is National Blog Posting Month. OK, so, first, I did not know such a thing existed, but not surprised. Since the author of this blog is in England and I am in the U S of A, it might not really apply to us here at the Perfection of Prudence. Second, the author plans to post once a day in honor of said month. I feel I have been challenged.

Now the trick of this is that I have not had the brain power or mental energy to think about anything within the context of this blog. And, (I am loathe to say this to you one or two people who actually read the blog) that I have been contemplating why we continue. That said, a challenge is a challenge (even one where the person doing the challenging does not have a clue to our existence)!

I am afraid this will truly be a challenge. I am in the midst of a chaotic life at the moment. Not bad chaotic, just there are more things to do than I have time in the day to do. I started a new position in September but one of the two old ones was/is still active and I have been doing two full-time jobs (which are technically supposed to be part time. Liar, Liar, pants on fire.) As a result of this current state of affairs, I have not had a chance to think too fondly of work and more often than not I wish to take a nap on the couch with a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie on the TV in the background. Or a soap opera. Or Lifetime Movie. Does not particularly matter, just as long as I do not have to focus. Unfortunately, I cannot do such things and it has lead to me being cranky more than I would like (because of tiredness, not necessarily because of the lack of Made for TV movies in my life). Yet, many people work all the time and are very tired, but seem to not inflict crankiness on those around them. How do they do it?

I guess I should figure it out soon before everyone I know ditches me.

Wilderness

I think we have stepped into the wilderness and gotten lost. We haven't done much blogging around these parts. For me, I have been working rather hard and if I am going to do any writing it should be directed towards my revisions. Yes, my revisions of my draft of my book. I still am a little dazed by the fact that I have a first draft. I am at the same time overwhelmed by the amount of revisions I do have to do. So this post will be brief.

If you are out there fair reader(s), we will be back. Really. We have gone out into the wilderness and we shall return with something, thoughts, musings, ponderings....

For now, I must work. Write. Re-write.

Instead

I was on the way to writing a new post (well, last week I started the draft), but I got distracted. It also started to fall apart. I had started it when I was in my car and I did not have any paper and apparently, I am incapable of holding onto a thought for any amount of time. I have also been in the middle of writing the last chapter (still need to finish it). The new position about which I supposedly am going to write something has just about started. Tick, tick, tick....

This morning, Notorious PhD Girl posted this link about procrastination and it made me super happy. She linked post on this blog which I had not read (oh no, not another blog to read!). It has given me a chuckle. So, I thought I would spread the love (and procrastination) around.

Pray My Sisters and Brothers...

Yes, yes, I am back to talking about my experiences at Mass. I cannot help it; the most recent Sunday we had a pretty good Mass. My, dare I say, Faith, has been restored. What was the cause of this, you ask? Our parish has a new associate and he presided over the early Mass. I suddenly found myself grinning from ear to ear as he began the celebration with "Pray my sisters and brothers..." What? Sisters and brothers? Not brothers and sisters? Did he really give preference to females over males? And then, when we got to the meat of things, did he include everyone all of us in the Liturgy of the Eucharist?

It was the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. We sang all the oldies but goodies of hymns to Mary. Yes, you got it, "Hail Holy Queen." We also sang a Latin hymn. Now, I absolute do not advocate the return to the Latin Mass. Totally against it. On the other hand, I have no objection to throwing in a little of tradition or a Latin hymn from time to time. I am a historian after all and I have a healthy respect for tradition. I was concerned when the nice young priest (yes, he is a young man) started off his homily. No mention of Mary. I am an advocate of the idea that Mary can be a strong, dare I say feminist, role model and not the usual Mary-as-meek-suffering-Mother. He gave a bit of a story that gave us a sense of who he is (which was nice) and we learned that we (Beloved Husband and I) have a similar academic background. (I could hum our alma mater's fight song, if I knew it, I was that proud.) But he did something remarkable. He related his personal story to the readings and to Mary and to our lives in concrete ways. And he did run on and on. And he managed to walk in front of the altar and not make it hokey.

Lately, I spend Mass thinking about all the things I have to do, or things I need to do. When I am not preoccupied with those things, I look at the statue of Mary and talk to her. My father had a special devotion to Mary and in recent years, I tend to ask her for help. I am not sure if it is because my father has gone to his great reward, or if I am increasingly frustrated by the lack of female examples within the Church presented to me on a weekly basis. The recent developments from the Vatican, classifying women's ordination as a grave moral sin on the same level as pedophilia, breaks my heart. The more I learn, the more I am discouraged. I can be nothing else but a Roman Catholic. No, I will not go to another denomination. I hope my Church and I find space where we can exist and be satisfied. Right now, I need to know that my Church expects more from me as a woman other than being a servant who must take her cues from men because of my gender and not because of my knowledge or vocation or a mother.

I am not a good Catholic, but I am a faithful one. Lately, I have worried that I am losing my faith. I know that I have to play some role in this faith thing. I cannot sit passively in the pew each Sunday and expect to be made better. But, I have not been encouraged by that Sunday experience, nor by the news from Rome. This past Sunday, I left Mass with a degree of hope. I felt that yes, there can be good men, who can be good priests. Let us hope that there are more good Sundays.

How to Be Good

No, no, I am not about to discuss Nick Hornby's book. I have not read it, but the title of this post jumped into my head while I was thinking about it. I instantaneously thought, "that's a book!" After a quick search, I remembered where I had heard it. But, after reading the brief synopsis, I might have to read it, because it seems to fit with my mood right now. How do I become good? How do I evolve into that better person I always want to be, but seem to fail miserably?

Now, I am not a bad person. I haven't committed any egregious sins (except the occasional contraction in writing). I am a run-of-the-mill, normal failing person. I want to be that person who makes good choices for herself, both intellectually, spiritually, and physically. Unless you think I am a thrill-seeker, about to risk life and limb again, I am talking about ordinary physical things like making sure I eat healthy and exercise regularly. I want to be that person who, when confronted with things that anger or frustrate her, reacts in a healthy and reasoned fashion, not letting the petty and irrational thoughts dominate her words and actions. I also want to be the person who has the good sense to not let things distract her from her work. It would also be nice to be the person who can actually be good to others, not just think it seems like a swell idea to be generous. I would like not to think negatively first, despite its practical implications. (When one expect the worst to happen, one is more prepared when things go awry. Then, one can implement plan B.) I would like to let a lot of things go. The small things, the petty things, the stuff that I remember bugging me from way back, I want to let all of that go. Along with those things, it would be super not to remember every single stupid and embarrassing thing I have ever done in my silly life.

Now, the trick is, how do I distinguish between letting things go and being the eternal doormat? If one always tries to get along and be good, does one not run the risk of getting walked all over? And would that not lead to feeling like a dupe, a sap, a dope, a doormat, and would that not lead to feeling angry, petty, resentful, and back to not being good? I have heard that I need to pick my battles and that I need to see the larger picture about things. I think there is a secret to this whole finding balance and inner peace stuff that I am missing. I see a lot of people who seem to have it, who are more patient, who do not let little things get the better of them, who are good. And I am not, because I choose not to be good. Just like right now. I choose not to work on what I should be working on, to write this post. And I make a hundred different choices every day not to do the right thing, both big and small and pass them off as beyond my control, or insignificant to my larger improvement.

Well, on that cheery note, I will try to be good now and do my work. And maybe tomorrow, I will think about getting in shape. Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea.

Subtext

Trying to read between the lines can be hard if you do not speak the language. A group or individual can have their or her own language that only others within the group fully understand. Or only those of their or her immediate life can understand. What is the context and meaning behind the author of a journal or letter when one is removed from it? A historian has to figure out what the individual was thinking and meaning when she wrote in her journal or her letter. Sometimes a historian can get the meaning all wrong if she is not careful, or she can tease out too much meaning. So, historians (and other scholars/researchers/writers) have to be careful and rely on as much concrete evidence as possible before throwing about suppositions and theories. Theory can help understand or interpret the past, but it should not be the only thing. Substance, we need substance.

Right now, I am reading documents that test my ability to discern the truth (yes truth) about the past. Words and ideas were conveyed in a polite and official voice. What lay beneath this veneer of fidelity and civility? How much of what was written was true for the author of the letter? And how well did she capture and report the words and ideas of others? Can I reasonably suggest or conclude there was more truth than spin in what she had to say? What is the real meaning of her language?

One could argue that it does not matter how meticulous I am about this one series of documents. I could give suppositions and leave it to others to determine. (Fortunately, Unfortunately), I have a responsibility to be truthful and reach deep beneath the nice language to the subtext of the document.

Statistics

I have been looking at numbers in order to help finish my last chapter. I lack diaries, personal papers, or descriptive letters to give me a good sense of the population of which I am writing their history. I am fond of statistics as long as they do not get too cumbersome or obscure more than reveal. If incorporated into the narrative well, they do not distract and can cut through the anecdotal information. If a group of people believe they were X and of course everyone was on the same page about X, then some nice statistical data can be very enlightening. Sure, it can confirm that everyone was truly X, but what is more exciting, is when it reveals that well, some may have been doing X, but there were either just as many or more doing Y! Those are good days. Right now, not sure what I have. More sifting. More analysis.

Getting All Fired Up

I am in the midst of writing the last chapter of the project and it deals primarily with more recent events. This, of course, gives me hives. I am a historian and I really believe one cannot truly analyze the past if that past was just a few days ago (slight exaggeration on the time). I am not a sociologist or anthropologist or a journalist. I am also not a theorist, or a philosopher, or anyone who has any authority to comment on the state of humanity, the relationship between the sexes, and contemporary socio-political and cultural developments. I may contribute to this blog, but that does not make me an authority on anything.

I, however, have to chronicle, compile, and analyze in a coherent and, of course, smart way, the recent history of my particular group of people for this history project. So, I screw my courage to the sticking point with the sage words of my father, "too bad, you are doing it anyway" and am plowing ahead.

Part of what goes into this is reading articles and op-ed pieces that comment on the state of women in the Catholic Church since the 1980s. It also involves including the "larger feminist movement" of recent past.* This is all very enlightening for me. Or rather, re-enlightening for me. I have been a feminist for a couple decades. When I was in college, I knew I was a feminist, but was afraid to say so. I became confident of my views and position as I entered my late twenties, but felt no need to wear my ideals on my sleeve, or a t-shirt or bumper sticker. I definitely did not bring my views into the classroom.** Yet, I have been a bit more hesitant to look at the current state of women in American society largely and specifically in the Church. My research has brought me in close contact with women who have truly put themselves on the line for their faith and their beliefs about women and equality. Reading this material has in many ways fired me up a bit. When I read an article published in the 1980s about the status of women in the Church, the roles they can and cannot assume, and the inconsistency of and obstacles thrown up by male clergy, I am struck by how much things have not changed. When I sit in the pew and try to find meaning in the Mass and the message of the readings, Gospel , and homily, I have to work hard see what I am supposed to see. I am tired of being passive when a mixed message of women's place in Catholicism is sent from the male pulpit. I have a hard time when someone is rude or degrading to women and I let it go to be accommodating or do not wish to engage in a debate or an argument. Granted, I am tired most of the time and that can truly affect the extent to which a person takes all that fired-up-ness and acts. I may change my mind or take a different attitude.

So, right now, I am fired up, because I am doing some reading. What about tomorrow? Will I sustain this fire? How will I maintain my Catholic faith (or enliven it) and hold to my feminist principles?

*I recently began reading Mary J. Henold's Catholic and Feminist: The Surprising History of the American Catholic Feminist Movement and she rightly refers to what many have called secular or mainstream feminism as "the larger feminist movement." Secular or mainstream implies that these women were not religious, and that those who were, like Catholic Feminists, were marginal and did not engage in the "mainstream" movement. See Henold, 8.
**I still do not do that. I know what I believe, but it is not a part of my job to indoctrinate students. I would rather give them the tools to make up their own minds.

Lame

I am very lame today. As I said in my previous post, we have been away, traveling, and visiting family and this, this, is the reason why I have not posted much, or at all. I think that is funny, because it is just a bit of an excuse. Yes, traveling makes finding some alone time to compose a post difficult. Or I think about something which would make a super (and of course terribly witty) post, but I am not near a computer and will not be for some time. Consequently I cannot remember what I wanted to say exactly, but it was definitely going to be clever. If I could only remember it...

Anyhow, I am lame today (and possibly many days previous), because I have been complaining in my head that none of my favorite blogs have posted recently. I am beginning to wonder if some of them will ever post again. What then? What will I do to distract myself when I work? And speaking of work, I am lame on that front as well, since it is taking me a while to get down to it. I have decided I am lame because 1) I have not exactly been Ms. Ever-Present Blogger; and 2) I should be more time-on-task than I have been up to this moment today.

Putting work aside for a moment (ha!), the blogging is a funny thing. What gives me the right to complain about bloggers I read not blogging? Sure, I am complaining in my head and the bloggers in question cannot hear, nor read, my mind. Am I not guilty of the very thing about which I am complaining? Am I not guilty of this sin? I think I must look to my own house before I start criticizing others.

Ultimately, it is not a criticism. I simply enjoy reading a handful of entertaining blogs. There are informative ones and thoughtful ones, which discuss feminist issues. While these are good, and are frequently updated, sometimes I am a little too tired to follow them. It is exhausting to be engaged in the good fight all the time. The ones I miss reading now are those which talk about every-day life and give funny observations. When I read them, I wish I could be as clever, or humorous, or have that same impact upon others. Well, we will keep trying, right?

Travels

At least twice a year, we pack up and hit the highway to visit family. We just got back from one of those trips. For some reason, this year I was a bit more nostalgic about visiting my family home. I was not feeling sad nor was I missing living there. I just remembered things more. I also spent some time combing through the old family pictures. That was different. As a historian, I have always been a bit more mindful of the past. I have begun to wonder why. Is it because I am older? Or that we have a house now? Both could be true.

Either way, we have been away, and now we are back. Hence my absence from blogging. I now have to focus on my work. I have a lot to do before the end of the summer. A new job is on the horizon. I still have to comment on that. A lot of things will change in the upcoming weeks and I still have to figure out what I will be doing. More later.

Fireworks

I just re-examined my profile for this blog and one thing struck me. I will have to edit my professional identifiers soon. But, that is for another time and another post. I checked my profile to see how I described my location, because this post will reference that and I still try to hide my identity.

Yes, fireworks. The Fourth of July is coming and over the last week or so, the fireworks have started. Actually, we started hearing the stray explosion right around Memorial Day. As I drove home from work the other day, I passed a facility that sells them and individuals were shooting off fireworks in the parking lot. Out of shopping carts. It was still light out. Yes. That is right, I live in a state where average red-blooded Americans can buy fireworks. Let me tell you, I think this is a very bad idea. Sure, sure, drugs, firearms need to be controlled substances. So should fireworks. No one should be allowed to purchase fireworks for their own personal recreational use.

When I was a kid, I thought they were great. They were loud and colorful and I even enjoyed holding a sparkler or two and waving them in the dark summer night. Our next door neighbor set some off in his backyard, but he was a reasonably intelligent adult who took precautions and I never feared that he, or anyone connected to said display would loose body parts, or anyone's house would burn down. Since moving to this state (and one can argue at this point in my life as a Stick-in-the-Mud) I find that 1. not all people are as careful; 2. that reasonably intelligent; and 3. have little regard for other people's property or well-being. (We have lived in crowded complexes where drunken "young people" have set off fireworks in the middle of the night. Only a miracle preserved our property (all our books) and lives. Darn kids...) People start setting them off around here during the week before the Fourth and will continue for several days afterwords. I find this disruptive and annoying. I also feel like a cranky old lady. But, really, do we really need the sudden loud bang, usually at weird times of the day. Why during the day? If one is going to set them off, why not wait until dark, in order to enhance the effect? Or these kind and considerate folk choose the middle of the night, when most sane people are trying to sleep.

Yes, I know how I sound. To make it worse, I do not really enjoy going to official fireworks. They tend to feel like more work than fun. We have to go early, find a place to sit, and then wait. Then the light show begins and ends within thirty minutes. (Frankly, if it goes longer, it starts to get boring and feels like overkill.) Then we fight the crowds to get home. Seems like a lot of work. The last time I really enjoyed fireworks was when we (Beloved Husband and I) saw them while standing on the nation's Capitol Building. Now those were fireworks!

The Fourth will soon be upon us. We will be safely out of town for the blessed holiday event, which will add a whole host of other anxieties to my already long list of worries. Will some numskull burn down our house while we are gone? I feel somehow that the purpose of the fireworks and the celebration of our nation's independence has gone astray. Do the seemingly endless bangs, whistles, pops, and, yes, explosions that are about to happen in the next weeks really signify the dissolution of political allegiance to Great Britain and the throwing off of tyrannical authority to preserve the "unalienable rights" to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?"

As I sink into an even deeper state of crankiness, I will console myself with my own goodness and self-righteousness, as I take all the fun out of this the anniversary of our nation's birth.

Oral History

This is an interesting post from Emily Toth at the Wellesley Centers for Women Blog. She is writing about interviewing subjects for her history projects. I have conducted interviews both one on one and in groups for my History Project and it is a daunting thing. I am uncomfortable talking to people in this way and fear I am prying. At the same time, I want them to tell me their history. I very much agree with Professor Toth's perspective on interviews. It is a difficult task, and one should not expect to be good at it the first time one conducts an oral interview. I know I have made mistakes and my most recent interviews were not my first. The problem is that you have to ask the right questions to get them to feel comfortable. If you go right for the one thing you want to know, subjects tend to avoid answering that question.

Depending on who you interview, there will be a tendency to dodge or down play their involvement or role in the historical event you seek to understand. People will also re-write their personal history or miss-remember. The interviews with groups of people (as long as they were small and everyone was friends) proved helpful because if one could not remember accurately, someone else helped to jog her memory or clarify. It is always helpful to have a recording machine of some sort. My notes were not always helpful. They, however, came in handy when I listened to the recordings where the settings were off and there are skips. Another good thing to have is a list of questions for your interviewees. That way, they are prepared.

Now I am in the tricky place of using those interviews. Another set of problems arise. How to be accurate? Interviews have to be substantiated with other sources, just like any other source. A letter or diary entry may describe an event or a relationship just as inaccurately as an oral source. My last and largest concern is that my subjects are still living. I am incidentally also concerned that I am writing a history where many people who lived through this are still living and they may take issue with what I have to say. I try to work through that. For those who I have interviewed, they came to these meetings with the understanding that I would use this information for the history and they signed releases. I am very conscious of my responsibility to write these women's history. I take great care in being accurate and respectful. I get concerned that I am too nice or kind and have not provided enough analysis, but I have to work with what I have.

After listening again to the recordings, I am amazed at these women's lives. They are not saints, but they have devoted their lives to serving others. They have listened to their hearts and to what God wants for and from them. They have done much good in the world. Not everyone can say that about themselves. The listening to God aspect may not fit with every one's life and belief system, but can we all say that how we act in the world is for the best or that some one's life if better for our actions? I have learned this by taking the time to listen and conducting oral history.

Temper

I have a temper. It is one of those flash tempers that goes off at some of the most stupid times. I will totally overreact to a little thing like if I break something or if something is out of place after mentioning the said thing is out of place repeatedly. I stumble across said thing and lose it. (The previous sentence makes it seem like I am a neat-nick--not the case. I am a clutter freak who craves order.) I tend to fight, fight, and fight again, the same battles and get upset by the same things when I should let whatever it is go and not waste energy on being angry about whatever is making me mad.

But, sometimes, it feels so good to wrap myself up in that anger, that righteous indignation over the littlest of things. I know that I am so much better than the person or people with whom I am angry. I would not do such a thing. I would not be so insensitive, unfeeling, and self-absorbed as these offenders.

Here are a few things which get my goat (in no particular order):

1. bad parkers who take up more than one parking space.
2. people who play their car radios so loud (with base) that you can hear it in your house.
3. people who treat their dogs poorly
4. people who throw their gum wrappers (or any other minor debris and/or garbage) out their car window. This includes people who throw their cigarettes out their car windows.
5. people who let their dogs crap on my lawn and don't pick it up.

I know, only five. If there are only five things in the world that bother me that much to unfurl my righteous indignation, I should count my blessings. But, Jiminy Crickets, seems like I am expending a lot of energy on such little things when there are real problems out there. Trouble is, my temper will flare at more than these five, I just can't think of any others right now. I envy people who seem balanced, centered. They also tend to be people who exercise regularly and have their lives together. While I am not "a mess," I could use some fine-tuning. If I got myself into better order, if I made a conscious effort to curb my temper, do all that healthy exercise thing, I wonder if I would feel better? It seems like a lot of work.

Momentum

Dr. Crazy over at Reassigned Time has a post (a few posts ago) about taking time or not taking time off between undergraduate and graduate schools. I believe it began with a post by Tenured Radical, but I enjoy Dr. Crazy's perspective on things and it is her entry that makes me post this afternoon.

Having proper momentum and the right amount of ambition is very important for academics. We dedicate our lives to research and writing while working as teachers or at some other profession (because research and writing does not pay the bills, much). It is hard to do basically two jobs, plus the "work" of keeping her personal life going (including occasionally vacuuming your floors and cleaning your bathroom). Dr. Crazy commented on why she did not take a break in between her undergraduate and graduate studies and I heartily agree with every reason for pushing on through. It is exhausting mentally and physically, but it is an important lesson in momentum, and the other thing I learned from high school physics, inertia. A body at rest tends to stay at rest. In my case, I went from undergrad to my masters program, but changed graduate schools for my doctorate. This was kind of a big deal because I was not very successful in my masters program. I was not unsuccessful, but I was not the shining star of the department. I was ill prepared emotionally (I was clueless) for the riggers of grad school. A bunch of overly ambitious, insecure history students all vying for the attention of a couple established scholars at a time when Women's history was dominated by theory. I am surprised we didn't have weekly cry-fests, men included, over the pressure.

I left that program in search of one that fit me and my own ambitions and I found one. But, it took over a year and two application cycles to land where I was meant to be. (I am not one for fate and destiny, but there are place and times when people are where they a meant to be.) I, however, came very close to not getting in to a new program. Then what? I had to face the possibility of not realizing my "vocation." I would be stuck, in place, with very prospects and frankly a dampened spirit. (I also had the good fortune of being dumped during my masters experience. Good fortune because he turned out to be the worst person for me.) Crisis averted, I got in and I was very grateful and filled with renewed ambition. I managed to handle myself in classrooms, strove to over come any residual shyness from my youth (which still lingers, but teaching beat that down fairly well). I had a research and professional agenda. I faced the possibility that more graduate school could lead me further and further away from marriage, children, etc., what all my college friends were doing. By my late twenties, I was back on track.

I was also really tired. I worked full time to support myself in school and amassed a sizable student loan debt. And I got really tired. It took a long time to finish my PhD, but I did it. Got married in between, moved a couple times, other personal stuff happened, and here I am. I am forty, really tired, and not sure where my career is going. I am bound by place because I could not imagine living apart from my Beloved Husband. Yet, in a few months, I will have a draft of a book and a new job.

So, momentum. If I had kept going and not changed programs, my life would be a bit different. Maybe I would have that tenure track position. The ambitious part of me covets that life. I know that I am the only one that keep my current momentum going. I do not regret the change and all the good things that happened in between. I am quite satisfied with most everything. I am still very tired. Seriously, I wish I could get some rest and feel refreshed for a new day of work. I have a sneaky suspicion no one I know is wide awake; everyone is tired. Now, for another cup of coffee and I will keep moving to finish that draft.

Is a Theoretical Framework Really Necessary? Or How I am Bogged Down with Notes

I am in the midst of another chapter and I am lost in the wilderness of notes, events, and "really good examples" to make my point. But, what exactly is my point? Ah...that is the problem. I am working on a chapter that is basically a show and tell of events. The basic premise is that this Big Turning Point which few take note of occurred and then the Obvious Big Turning Point happened and then all heck broke loose over the next two decades. So, I have already made my point about the two turning points in a previous chapter. Now I am dealing with all the heck breaking loose. So, let us just say my current chapter is replete with potential examples, but very little interpretation. Hence my current problem.

I would like to be a better blogger. I would like to be a more consistent poster. (Wouldn't hurt to have some actual readers, either.) Right now, I am quite consumed by this project and problems like the one mentioned here. I am making my way through it and I hope to come to the point where I am on the other side of this work. I want to move onto the next thing. I was asked what I was going to do next yesterday and I had no idea what to say. We have to have that next project; it is part of the professional intellectual life. The next step in my professional life will take me off into a new world (sort of) and I am not sure what I will have time for intellectually. I will be more dependent upon my own ambition and motivation to continue an intellectual life. At this moment, when I am intellectually exhausted from my current project, I have a hard time seeing myself pushing on to the next thing.

Is it for that reason that I have stalled and taken a wrong turn and found myself lost? Is that why I cannot develop a theoretical framework for this chapter? Or is it that I am just tired? Not quite sure. Maybe I should stop blogging and get back to work.

The End is Near

I am correcting papers this afternoon. This is the last small paper before my students turn in their final paper next week. Then the semester will be over. Lots of things will be over and I am slightly sad about that. I will start a new job at the end of the summer and I have mixed feelings about the change. I will discuss that at another time when I have more time to think about it.

No, today I am focusing on these small papers and I cannot help but wonder if I have done any good this semester. I have worked very hard this semester on my History Project. It has taken up a lot of my time and definitely my energy. As I am writing all the time, I cannot get away from it. This Sunday at Mass, after ransacking my own purse for paper, I asked my Beloved Husband in whispered tones if he had some receipts in his pockets I could use. So, instead of listening to the homily, I took notes. Periodically throughout the Mass, when I was supposed to be paying attention, I leaned over to BH and whispered crazy things like "remember feminism" so that we would both keep these ideas in our collective heads. I think the people in the pews around us inched away ever-so slowly to make sure the lightening bolt did not hit them when God smote us.

So, I am distracted and I fear that I have not done my best this semester. Have my students learned anything about religious women's history? Have they learned anything about writing and crafting a coherent argument? You may be wondering, gentle reader(s) if I ask these questions because I am correcting small papers. If you are, then you would be 100% right! As I read these papers, I notice the same mistakes that my students have made all semester long. They are not reading directions. They did not incorporate all the materials I asked from them. They are for the most part reasonably intelligent people and so my only conclusion is this: they do not care. They do not care enough to do all they can to do well. Sure, sure, they have lots going on in their lives and my class is not the only one they take. I cannot help but think that I have not conveyed to them the seriousness and importance of the class. They are at the end and they want to be elsewhere.

I cannot fight this, because I too am at the end. My focus is elsewhere and upon other matters. This is not the first semester that my schedule has been full of many different responsibilities and obligations. It seems, however, that I have not managed to compensate. It saddens me on some level that I have not given my students my best. At the same time, I am tired and I need to move on from this schedule. Now that it is almost over, I hope that my students leave my class with something positive. I hope, despite my crazy semester, they have profited from the course.

Happy Birthday Charlotte Bronte

Today is Charlotte Bronte's birthday. I read Jane Eyre, oh, so many years ago, when I was maybe twelve or so. I know it was before high school, when I was still in that terribly romantic phase of reading. I loved that book, probably much more than Bronte's sister Emily Bronte's Whuthering Heights. Jane Eyre encompasses so many different feelings of longing for love and acceptance, and a keen and sad awareness of a young woman's lack of beauty. Throw in a few dark secrets, sweeping landscapes, and a young, bookish girl has all she needs to content herself.

Blinded by Love? Or Why Can't Women Criticize Other Women for Being Stupid?

The New Agenda Blog did it again. There is yet another post criticizing a woman for critiquing women's actions and comportment. For the most part, I enjoy the New Agenda's blog. It has some reasonably thoughtful commentary and does a fairly good job at advocating feminism and equality for all women. Their big issue is getting more women elected to public office and seemingly no one has gotten over Hillary Clinton's defeat to President Obama. It happened. Time to move on.

Today, "Henrietta" posted on Tina Fey's apparent abandonment of women because she has "crossed a line" and gotten a little too negative. She apparently repeatedly targets underprivileged women. For example, she has lampooned the women with whom Tiger Woods had affairs. According to some who left comments on the recent post, Fey has also been too hard on Sarah Palin. Amy Siskind in particular gave one cruel, yes cruel, commenter a "Say it Sista!" of what? congratulations, support, a note of agreement?*

I feel no remorse in calling out Ms. Siskind because she is the president of The New Agenda, which proclaims that it is providing a "voice for all women." Apparently that voice only extends to positive remarks. Any negative comments, or criticism, however merited will be taken as an act of misogyny. Because Fey dared to criticize another woman, she is accused of "acting like men" and she has abandoned her sex. She is a traitor. Why is it presumed that all women have to get along and agree to further the cause of women's equality in society? This makes no sense. If you do not like Fey's humor, do not watch, but do not attack her for not being a big enough cheerleader for all women.

* I contemplated leaving a comment, but I assumed I would be lumped in with all those women-haters. So, instead, I rant here. What is the point of having a blog if I cannot speak my mind?

Feeling Good about the Girl Scouts

I was a Brownie for two years and a Girl Scout for one. I had fleeting moments during my tenure of enjoying it. I did not normally like it. I think it had a lot to do with my general shy nature and that I was in a troop with a bunch of girls from the local public school and I attended the local Catholic school. They had all been together for years, and I was the "outsider." I also did not like the idea of going camping and having to dig a hole to go to the potty. Seemed barbaric, not to mention unsanitary.

The cookie sale was another bit of pressure I did not appreciate. My household (my parents) took the spirit of the sale to heart and would not sell the cookies for me. I had to go door to door. They wanted me to learn to be more outgoing and all the good things that go along with it and I appreciate that. Now. At the time, it bugged me that all the other girls in the troop had their parents selling boxes at their respective workplaces. Shocker, I did not do well in the competition.

That being said, this post on the New Agenda Blog made me feel proud of my association with the Girl Scouts. There also some cool illustrations.

"I'm going crazy, I'm standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy."

Let me start by saying I love the movie, Philadelphia Story. I love Katherine Hepburn in this movie. Kudos go to Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and all the supporting cast. I am of the mind that High Society is only good when Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra sing, except with Frank sings that song, drunk, to Grace Kelly. My apologies for speaking ill of the dead, but Ms. Kelly, her highness, was the weakest link of that remake of Philadelphia Story.

With all that said, I have always felt uncomfortable with the subplot of the story of Tracy Lord's father's affair. Tracy is mad at her father and encourages her mother to kick the philanderer out of the house, which she does. All this happens before the play/movie begins. We learn throughout the progress of the movie that Tracy, in the past, failed to have compassion for anyone, including her first husband C. K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant), who had a drinking problem. All this works and is understandable. We know that Dext's drinking is bad, but her lack of sympathy and kindness towards him is also not so nice.

Yet, then there is her father. It is never said outright in the play/movie that Seth Lord has an affair, but everywhere implied. (Her Uncle Willie, is a notorious pincher of women, so apparently the philandering gene is omnipresent in the family.) Through the course of the movie, Tracy comes to learn that she has had a wrong view of human frailty. It is pointed out to her in blunt terms, one body blow after another, until she is humbled and confused, and then, she meets her parents and see how they have "made up." (Mary Nash, who plays Mrs. Margaret Lord, is excellent in this role. On the surface she seems like a ditz, but in reality she sees and feels things deeply.) At this point in the plot, Tracy is chastised again, but this time by her father. He pretty much tells her that he had an affair because she, his daughter, was not doting enough. She did not have blind affection for him, so therefore he felt unloved, and therefore sought blind affection from a younger woman, a dancer.

Here is the scene in question from Philadelphia Story:

Mr. Lord: .....What most wives fail to realize is that their husband's philandering has nothing whatever to do with them.
Tracy: Oh? Then, what has it to do with?
Mr. Lord: A reluctance to grow old, I think. I suppose the best mainstay a man can have as he gets along in years is a daughter - the right kind of daughter.
Tracy: How sweet!
Mr. Lord: No, no. I'm talking seriously about something I've thought over thoroughly. I've had to. I think a devoted young girl gives a man the illusion that youth is still his.
Tracy: Very important, I suppose.
Mr. Lord: Oh, very, very. Because without her, he might be inclined to go out in search of his youth. And that's just as important to him as it is to any woman. But with a girl of his own full of warmth for him, full of foolish, unquestioning, uncritical affection -
Tracy: None of which I've got -
Mr. Lord: None. You have a good mind, a pretty face, a disciplined body that does what you tell it to. You have everything it takes to make a lovely woman except the one essential - an understanding heart. And without that, you might just as well be made of bronze.
Tracy (deeply hurt): That's an awful thing to say to anyone.
Mr. Lord: Yes, it is indeed.
Tracy: So, I'm to blame for Tina Mara, am I?
Mr. Lord: To a certain extent, I expect you are.
Tracy: You coward.
Mr. Lord: No. But better that than a prig or a perennial spinster, however many marriages.
Mrs. Lord: Seth, that's too much.
Mr. Lord: I'm afraid it's not enough, Margaret. I'm afraid nothing is.
Tracy: What, what did you say I was?
Mr. Lord: Do you want me to repeat it?
Tracy: 'A prig and a...' You mean, you think I think I'm some kind of a goddess or something?
Mr. Lord: If your ego wants it that way, yes. Also, you've been talking like a jealous woman.
Tracy: 'A...' What's the matter with everyone all at once, anyhow?

At this point, Tracy, attacked on all sides, starts drinking. We know that she does not drink much because she does not like the way alcohol makes her lose control. Once drunk, she has a great time, but stumbles. For those of you have not seen the movie, I will not reveal how it ends. Needless to say, it ends perfectly.

I am uncomfortable with the above dialogue because Seth Lord tries to push his own guilt off on someone else, his child. Yes, his philandering has little to do with his wife; it has everything to do with his own failings, his own sins. Blaming his child, albeit a grown one, is simply wrong. Is this a reflection of its time? Hepburn was no stranger to feminism. I highly doubt she would associate herself with a production (she was in the stage version of it as well) if it demeaned women. Tracy's behavior after she starts drinking and how she echoes all the criticism laid at her (especially those of Dexter) to Macaulay Connor (Jimmy Stewart) after consuming at least 2 bottles of champagne are poignant and telling. (I won't get into the willingness of Miss Imbry to sublimate her own desires and feelings to Connor's, even as he thinks he is in love with Tracy. That is for another time.)

When it comes to marriage or any type of solemn vow, breaking that vow is a grave and selfish offense. Ultimately, the bigger lesson is that don't judge people too harshly, because no one is above sin or failure. Yet, it still bothers me that Seth Lord says what he does to his daughter. They "make up" before the end of the movie, but how does one really come back from what he says to her?

Writing as a Grown Up Historian

I am in the midst of writing another chapter for my History Project and it is not going well. I am officially behind, again, and I have some long days ahead of me to complete it. It will be an important chapter and I think that is part of the reason it is taking so long to write. All the chapters from this point on are very important because they touch upon areas of my particular subject that have not had enough attention.

Research is always the fun part of my job. Notorious PhD Girl has a three-part post about research (read all three). Clio' Disciple has done the same. They have done a great job giving practical advice. They deal with Medieval history, which I do not, but some of the basic principles apply. The trouble begins when it is time to take the Research Notes and develop Actual Chapters. Now, this is not impossible, but if one is a slow writer like myself, it can be difficult to sift through everything and find all the details that will help craft my prose. Everyone works in different ways. I find it helpful to take all my notes on computer. If I cannot take notes on computer while in an archives, I resort to the paper tablet. When I do not transcribe or take notes, I photocopy. The tricky part is making sure everything is organized, otherwise when time comes for the writing, I can waste too much time searching for what I need.

This latest project has been a great test for me. I have written my dissertation and that was OK. It was hardly great. I finished it and started working on this new project before I had time to do anything with my dissertation. I want to return to it at some point when I finish this current History Project. The test for me is trusting that what I have to say is worthwhile, that the conclusions I make are valid. As a PhD Student, I worked within an established historiographical field guided by a committee/adviser. I was an apprentice. With the PhD behind me, I work as a professional historian without that safety net. I make my way then as a Grown Up Historian. I suppose after all these years, it is about time. What was the point of all that education and study, if I cannot think and work with confidence?

Bella vs. Buffy

I have started to wonder if there comes a point when a person cannot reasonably comment on a cultural phenomenon because of her age. Maybe I am getting old, but I seem to be missing the point, or not sharing in the enthusiasm of the latest Vampire Craze. Now, lest you think that I am anti-vampire or something, I understand the allure of the whole Young Woman in Love with Good but Tortured Vampire. Heck, I watched the entire Buffy the Vampire Series and (with less enthusiasm) Angel. The attraction and following of the Twilight books and movies, however, leaves me in confusion.

I must confess that I have not read any of the Twilight books. I have, however, watched the first half of the first movie. Our cable is running a special where we can have free access to Showtime on demand and the movie is available there. I was curious to see what all the hubbub about it was and I began watching. First, let me say that everyone is very good looking who is in this movie. It is also a very blue movie. I understand that is the point of the plot; it all takes place in an area of Washington State where the sun does not shine much. Kristen Stewart may be a wonderful actress and I have seen a couple movies in which she has done a good job. (Speak in particular is very well done.) She will be in the upcoming movie about the Runaways, playing Joan Jett and I bet everyone will love it. She seems to do the waifish, sad, and withdrawn girl very well.

When these books and then movies started appearing, I heard things that suggested that the character of Bella is a strong female figure, one who does not get pushed around, so forth. And in a world where we like strong female characters, I thought, "OK, so it seems to be ripping off Joss Whedon and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but maybe it will be fine." As I was watching the movie, what struck me however was that Bella was no different than any other girl captivated by a trouble and brooding boy who ultimately is bad for her. After I suffered (yes, suffered) through about half of it, I turned it off. The dialogue was painful; I saw no reason why these two individuals liked each other, or were drawn to each other. Nothing was made clear as to why the "good" vampires were in fact good and why they chose not to kill people. Now, maybe the book explains all this better. That happens when a book is made into a movie. Things get lost in translation. There was an inordinate amount of long, soulful stares with mouths half open. No one smiled. Well, if they did, not for long.

Not everything has to be a lesson (or chipper) and not all female characters have to be strong, but I get a little flummoxed when critics or commentators make claims that the central female character is a role model, when one is really not. I hope I do not sound like someone who says, "in my day," but Buffy was a truly good series that made room for character exploration and development. It used the whole fighting demons thing as a means of exploring typical high school and then young adult issues. The relationship with the over 100 year-old vampire was in fact doomed and that is how it played out. The show examined real issues of pain, loss, family, friendship, and love, but it also had a sense of humor. Occasionally the sun shined. I am sure all this was possible because it was a television series that lasted for seven years. The Twilight saga (yes, saga) deals with, I assume, a much briefer period of time. I can put up with some bad movies. My devotion to the Lifetime and Hallmark movie channels is a testament to that. But, the attraction to this story, by more than a cadre of twelve-year-old girls, confuses me. So, maybe I am getting too old to appreciate or understand the attraction.

March: Women's History Month

It's Women's History Month!!!

Being in the business of women's history, I am aware of this month's celebration. I was curious what was "out there" for Women's History Month and the first result of my Google Search was the National Women's History Project. Their slogan is "Writing Women Back into History." This is an admirable endeavor and not to mention complicated. The organization established in 1980 works to celebrate women's achievements in history and they make a concerted effort to have a multicultural approach. They also have programs for educators. All good things. The Library of Congress also has a site devoted to Women's History Month. This is nice, because it is the LoC and there are tons of links to historical documents and images to explore.

(Do you feel a but coming on?)

The methodology of "writing women back into history" bears a resemblance to the early women's history approach of finding women' worthies, such as early biographies of Jane Addams and Ameliea Earhart. These women were noteworthy because they appeared to do things as feminists and that only men did. They competed successfully with men. (OK, sure, Earhart died in that pursuit, but she was successful before then.) This type of history was popular in the early days of women's history as a discipline (1970s and 1980s). Since that time, the field has moved on, broadened its approach to include all sorts of methodologies, including gender analysis and new periodization among others. This makes me think of the recent post by Notorious Ph.D. Girl on her encounter with women's historians of another country with a different methodological approach, which she and her fellow scholars had moved beyond. Another post at Historiann discusses revisionist history and whether the concept still exists. These discussion on the state of the discipline and how we as scholars relate to one another, plus the idea of celebrating women in the past, made me think of about how historians relate to the wider world.

While the above two posts deal with a specific field of history and tribalism, the thing that strikes me is that Average-Jane and John-on-the-Street have not moved on from 1980. Each semester I teach American women's history and each semester I have to introduce my students to the women worthies of history. They do not know who Jane Addams was. They are unfamiliar with when and how suffrage was won by women. This was one of the big events of women's history and they do not know when this happened or how. They do not know who Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, or Alice Paul were. (Depending on their age, they might have heard of Susan B. Anthony because she is on a dollar coin. One student remarked, "Isn't she that chick on the money?") The average person outside the field of history know very little about the past or how historians think about the past.

So, when I think about what the National Women's History Project people and others like them are doing, I am of two minds. One part of me says we have to stop looking for great women and discover more about how women lived in the past. The other part of me says every little bit helps. So, I say, you go girls! Now, I will go back to reading my feminist methodology and being cranky.

En Vogue

I came to the conclusion a while ago that my appearance matters a bit to me (who am I kidding, it always mattered). Let me say, it mattered enough to justify paying for a trip to the salon every six weeks and I continue to go to get my hair done. Or, as I call it, the beauty parlor. I know that no one calls salons beauty parlors any more and I am a bit of history geek for continuing to call them this. I like it the way it sounds and the connotation this label gives about what goes on in them.

When I was a child, my grandmothers went to the beauty parlor and had their hair done. When they were no longer able to go to the beauty parlor, their hair dressers came to them to set their hair for the week. I was always fascinated by this process and the culture of the beauty parlor. My mother took me (and my sister) to her hair dresser when it came time for us to have hair cuts. I remember it was a bewildering place with strange smells (a weird mixture of cigarette smoke, hair spray, fake nail chemicals, and whatever goes into perms). It was definitely a female environment. I do not remember any male clients and there were not any male hair dressers. Women talked about their lives, complained about their husbands, and bragged about their children. Women gossiped and I remember my mother talking in a light, chatty manner, that gave few details, but was not unfriendly or evasive. (We were schooled at a very early age that we did not talk about our business with others, nor did we gossip.)

I was a bit of tomboy as a child and I really had an aversion to all things pink. I was painfully shy and did not engage in conversation well (nor do I now, even though I have overcome the painful part of shyness.) I did not get this beauty parlor world. There were all sorts of magazines with hair styles, both imaginable and strange. Then there were the fashion magazine, like Vogue. Those magazines were so foreign and the women in the pictures were so unlike who I was or could ever be. But, we move on from there, we learn to accept who we are for our good points. Fine. Super. Moving on.

On my last visit to the beauty parlor, I forgot to bring a book. (I always bring a book with me to whatever kind of appointment I have. One never knows when one will have to wait. Books always come in handy. ) Consequently, my only reading material were magazines. I started with Lady's Home Journal or something like that, and then with nothing else nearby, I picked up a Vogue. It had been a while and I was not sorry for that time. This magazine which touts itself as an authority on beauty and fashion puts forward an image of woman that disturb me. Now, the waifish, pouty model with vacant-staring eyes was not invented yesterday, and I was not surprised to see some of it. Heck I came of age when all the models looked like they were on heroin. As I was reading this magazine, I started wondering why all the women looked like they had been beaten, or assaulted in some way? Why did they all stand with their feet turned in and knees slightly bent? Who finds this attractive? Do heterosexual men read this magazine and this is what they want? Why were images of haunted women in next to nothing or thoroughly unpractical and unattractive clothing followed by short stories of heroic women volunteering in places like Africa? My favorite was the extensive article critiquing the fashion industry's obsession with ultra thin models, which was followed by advertisements with images of terribly thin women. Despite knowing that this is not real and those images have no bearing on my life, I do could not shake a negative feeling.

How has the understanding of beauty changed over the last twenty to thirty years? How has the beauty parlor changed? There are still a lot of women there, although men show up too. (We thank the invention of the unisex salon for that.) Women still chat about their lives and gossip. There are still magazines with hair styles. I still feel somewhat out of step with this culture. And it is a culture with language, ritual, and maybe a secret handshake. Definitely the products are neat. And when I leave the establishment, I feel better about myself. The trick is to figure out what it is that makes me feel better, and carry that through the weeks.

Distracted by Frustration

One of the academic blogs I read (well a few of them) discuss from time to time the job market and the process by which people become tenured. The market is dismal. Apparently more dismal than in previous years. Considering the economy, I am not too shocked. I grow increasingly tired of the whole discussion primarily because it is depressing. No, my chances of getting a tenure track job, already pretty pathetic, are getting worse by the hour. I have known since 1990 that my chances of a successful and financially secure life were worse than my parents. I learned this when my aging geography professor in undergrad announced this to the class. I had not at this point made the decision to go on to graduate school. I just assumed that it meant in general things were tough.

Now, after thirteen (yep thirteen) years of graduate work (masters and PhD combined--I switched programs too) later, I apparently have been led astray. Huh? There is a running discussion on this blog which is pretty interesting (and depressing). The author of the blog, Another Damned Medievalist, does a really good job at summarizing the problems and makes a rational statement, which of course bothers the younger scholars who are currently navigating graduate school. They are all upset by the fact that they have worked really hard, and are not getting The Job. I don't have much sympathy for them. I am grossly in debt (never got funded) and will have a really hard time finding the tenure track job. This is the way things are. I have sympathy (sort of) for those shining stars from fancy graduate programs who got funding who are now struggling, but, again, no one forced them into graduate school. Not everyone gets to do what they hoped and dreamed they would do. Not everyone has that luxury.

Yes, academia sucks (pardon my use of crass words). Some people are bullies, others are weird, snooty, socially inept, and hold really extreme political views that have no basis in reality. OK. We chose this life. If it isn't working out, do the responsible and practical thing and find another path.

I thought about adding my comments to the post linked above, but to do so opens me up to the potentially weird and hostile reply. I have no wish to join in particularly when there is no arguing with someone who has made up his or her mind. Another bad trait of academics, by the way. "I believe what I believe is Truth, and you can believe what you believe, but you are wrong. And not only that, you are evil for believing it. I have an open mind. Because you believe the contrary to what I believe, you are closed minded. Oh and evil."

Music and Liturgical Reform

I just finished reading up on the history of the liturgical reform movement in America and I was struck by how little I knew about what happened (or what was not happening) prior to Vatican II. I assumed that music was always a part of Mass, but in my brief reading of an even briefer account of the movement suggests that there was not much singing and reforms of the liturgy not only brought us English, the priest facing the congregation, and increased lay participation, but also singing. As I mentioned before, I am a fan of the Glory and Praise Hymnal and I like music in Mass. I particularly like peppy music. I do not mind if the hymns are older. I like a good classic like "Hail Holy Queen" if sung with enthusiasm.

I am increasingly mindful of something my father said to me once. (I paraphrase) Music is fine, but it should not compete with or distract from the purpose of the Mass. Lately, I have had the feeling that it is all about the music. Singing during the Mass can be very moving and bring out a more direct and prayerful expression of faith. I, however, question why the music seems to obscure what the priest is doing, particularly after the offertory hymn. That we cannot hear the prayers the priest says during this point in the Mass seems a bit off. Why do we not participate in this, letting him silently mumble the prayers and lift the host and chalice as the music drones on? Often the hymn has ended, but the organist plays on. Because I am of an age when I can remember when the congregation said the "blessed be God forever," I know what is happening. (Or my home parish had held on to some of the old traditions. It still has an altar rail, albeit it is not in use. Is this an East-coast phenomenon? Midwestern Catholicism has a different tone it seems.) Do school-age children learn this? (Heck, off the top of my head, I cannot name this part of the Mass.) Maybe I am just reacting to the same, slow, depressing music that has the opposite effect of its purpose. I am not drawn nearer to God, nor to the purpose of the Mass. I am instead eagerly anticipating the conclusion of the song and thinking about my grocery shopping list.

I was thinking about the changes to the liturgy this morning as I listened to yet another depressing song about These Forty Days and how we are all going to get smoted if we do not shape up soon, and I began to wonder what would happen if we skipped some of this singing. Me, the Glory and Praise Hymnal enthusiast. What has happened? Am I just getting cranky or has there been a point where we have gone too far?

Lent Update

Well, nine days in and I already goofed. I completely forgot about No Meat Friday. Forgot it was Friday, or that we were not supposed to eat meat today. Not a very good start, especially since I am still meandering around what it is that I am supposed to do this year.

So, there we were in the kitchen, food on the way, and I suddenly remembered. "Oh crap, no meat Friday!" My Dearest Beloved Husband did not look pleased with my sudden realization. Now we were faced with a moral and theological (?) dilemma: to eat or not to eat the breakfast sausage. On one hand, we are supposed to make this sacrifice for...what reason again? Some reason which may help make us better Catholics and subsequently get into Heaven. So we should not eat the sausage because it would be a true sacrifice. (Particularly when it smells really good.) On the other hand, we would have to throw out the sausage, because it never re-heats properly and it would be ruined. That is a waste, and we should not waste food. People are starving in some places in the world, including, I am sure, my own backyard.

And what did we do loyal reader(s)? We risked eternal damnation and had our sausages. They were quite tasty, too. Well, we will start again.

I Like It When People Make Sense

I read a goodly amount of blogs, many of which have to do with academia, history, women, and all of the above. After the tragic events in Alabama the other week, I read a lot of things that angered, frustrated, and generally saddened me. This post from Tightly Wound was the first that actually made sense. It does not try to solve things, or find reason for things, or blame anyone. But the author makes some good points, and articulated what I had been thinking.

Lent Again

Well, it is Lent and I am not prepared. Again. I have experienced Lent for a lot of years now. When I was a kid, I did the usual giving up of sweets and things of that nature. I tried to remember to be nicer or better behaved. By the time I went to college, I wanted to take a more adult approach to Lent and I was informed by the social justice bent of my Catholic university. Yet, still, my efforts nearly always came back to giving up some food with a smattering of "doing good."

As I have moved through the world as an independent adult, I have increasingly felt a step out of tune with Catholics around me. Fortunately, my Beloved Husband and I are generally on the same page with our approach to religion. We tend to be satisfied with an efficient and straight forward Mass and we hold on to a few practices we are not supposed to do any more (i.e. kneel after communion instead of the new fashion standing.) We tend to find dramatic expressions of devotion off-putting. (How is whether or not someone gives the reading with dramatic pauses more authentic?) When I look around at the people in the pews I think, what am I doing wrong? They all seem to be rather earnest and dedicated. Many of them have their own copy of the missal. They all eagerly hold hands during the "Our Father" and gesture with their hands during the Mass. They seem to pay attention to the sermon, when I am making mental lists about what I have to do this week. We seem to make every effort to duck any kind of service to the parish, including bringing the gifts up.

Maybe it is Lent, but I have not been the most enthusiastic of Catholics. We have been on a downward spiral of doom and gloom for weeks. Now that we are official in Lent, the music has taken a definite depressing turn (If we sing one more song about "These Forty Days" I may get up and leave). Even when we are not in Lent, the music tends to be a beat too slow, as if we all cannot keep up, and rather dour. I am generally a fan of the Glory and Praise hymnal (fond memories from grammar school), but I have had it up to my eyeballs with "Eagles' Wings ," I" am the Bread of Life," and "Be Not Afraid." Today, the assistant pastor recycled with a little editing the same sermon he used last year about this time. Sure, he might have been trying to perfect his message, but somehow, I doubt it. Either way, I was still left with a feeling of uncertainty as to what I am supposed to do. The general message is: be nice to everyone, give money to the Church, and God loves us. Hm... How nice.

What is the solution? I will not leave Catholicism. It is not the problem. Prayer? Read spiritual literature? When should I do that? Maybe I will just keep on trying. If I keep going back, maybe something will come from it. But, what to do for Lent? I guess I will give up some food again.

Organization Time; or How I Made a Bigger Mess than When I Started

One of the best things about our house is that my Beloved Husband and I both have a designated workspace. Granted, we share that space, but it is big enough for the two of us. I am grateful that I have this space, particularly since I used to have to work in a tiny little corner of our over-crowded living room in our townhouse. Now we have the space to each have a desk and I have taken full advantage of "my side" of the office. See, I am an "independent historian" and an adjunct. Consequently, I do not have a designated office space. Well, at least one in which I either feel comfortable leaving behind work, or have the room to leave work behind. And, since I primarily work from home now, EVERYTHING is here.

I am in the process of writing drafts of chapters and I have spread my files and notes all over the floor next to me. When I finish one section, I need to refile those notes in their respective file boxes and pull out the next selection. Currently, I am in the midst of utter chaos. Files and more files, piled on top of each other. This afternoon, I attempted to organize, clean up, and generally "put right what once when wrong." (Pardon me for stealing that line from Quantum Leap. I could not help myself.) Unfortunately, I seem to have made more of a mess. This happens with some regularity. I attempt to clean, only to find myself with more piles than when I started. I would like to say that I know where everything is. No, that is not the case. I am only comforted by the thought that I have not thrown anything away and consequently have not lost anything.

As I glance over my shoulder at my Beloved Husband's desk/workspace, I am cheered by the sight of his own clutter. Granted, his is not as bad as mine at the moment, but he also has an office in which he can deposit some of his work. We are not neat-as-pin people. We do our best, but often fail in keeping our house in order, or clean. I often wonder if that is because we are academics or if we are drawn to this life because we tend to be slightly messy. Either way, I do not think things will radically change anytime soon.

For now, however, I need to get organized because the clutter is getting in the way of my productivity. Tomorrow brings a new day and I hope by the end of it, I will be satisfied with the amount of work/writing I have done.

Overcoming the Stress

With the passing of time, so passes the stress. Where did it go, I wonder? Methinks it will return before the end of the month, which is the due date of one of my deadlines. As I said in the previous post, deadlines are important. Motivates a person.

I knew things were turning around when I started to think clearer, and think actual analytical thoughts about my project. Prior to this, I was thinking the plodding thoughts. I was caught up in the minutia and worried about filling the pages with facts. I broke from the stress of the work by putting off the analytical thoughts until more pages came. So, that has been helpful. Another thing that has helped is my class. I teach a women's history course and this term it deals primarily with women and religion. We begin with methodology and asking questions about why we need to consider religion and women together (Thank you Ann Braude!). This has brought my own thoughts into focus. The trick of course it to transfer the intellectual excitement of class to writing. (Same thing happens after I go to a conference. If I could only bottle that enthusiasm...)

So, I am thinking again about the whys of the project and not solely about the hows. Yes, we can easily figure out how things happened and chronicle that, but if we can add the why it did, then there will be something all together worthwhile. I also need to consider why this study is important. It is funny when sparks of good ideas come to me. I look back at a good passage and think, "where did that come from? Did I really write that?" Usually when I do not think too much about every, little word, then good things come.

Does this translate to the other corners of my life? Probably would if I stopped obsessing on the other stresses in my life.

Stress

I have and always will be a bit wound tight. I am a worrier. I operate with a level of stress of my own making. I tend to work better under pressure. Deadlines are a great motivator. Left to my own devices, I tend to wander, meander, lolly gag, dawdle. So, I have never truly felt bad about the amount of stress in my life. I have been told I need to deal with my stress level, find a way to not give in to my worries. I have not ignored these directives and I do try to deal with stressful situations, but then again I do not. I do nothing to really change how I operate. That is all fine for the every day stress.

Then there is STRESS. The big, giant, hardly manageable stress that can stop me in my tracks. This stress can take any amount of motivation and mind-over-matter attitude and flush it down the toilet. And that is where I am now. I have large and important to my future work (not in the grand scheme of important work, but to me important) to do in a short amount of time. If I am to do what is right, wise, prudent even, to have "wisdom to see what is virtuous, or what is suitable or profitable," I need to manage this stress.

Enough meandering, the stress will be managed by a healthy amount writing. We need results, not lolly gagging!

A New Year and What is My Role Here?

Since the New Year has begun, I have not had a chance to take note of it and think about any sort of resolutions or meditate on the world around me. Well the world outside of my own little world. As a result, two things have popped into my mind. First, what is the point of my writing on this blog? and second, do I pay attention enough to warrant writing a blog?

What is the point of having a blog that is more or less a series of musings on my personal life or events of my day, particularly if they have no relevance on the wider world? Do I have anything pertinent to say about the political and cultural world around me? I know I have nothing to say about the economic world, that is for sure. (Historian here; I have passing understanding of how the economy works.) To be frank, I tend to turn off the news or strongly encourage (read nag) my Beloved Husband to do so if he has the clicker. I do not want to watch any of the cable news shows; I barely want to pay attention to the local news. I like weather. Of course, who doesn't? A good discussion of the forecast can capture my attention more than the state of the economy. The world news and the state of the wars in which we are engaged breaks my heart. I do not know what to do with that. So, I turn on Home and Garden TV or watch another rerun of NCIS.

So, I have nothing to say about politics, both international, national, or local. I dare not comment on the economy for fear of scorn. I have no philosophical training beyond PH 101 and two other classes that had more to do with American history than philosophy. How many times can I comment on the weekly sermon (which was excellent this week by the by)? Should I talk about television programs I like? Beloved Husband is OFF LIMITS.

Now that leaves work. I cannot get too much into a discussion of my work for two reasons. One, I am a struggling historian/adjunct and if for some crazy reason someone for whom I work or teach actually reads this blog, they will know about which I am speaking. Second, I conduct research on a very little corner of the history and well, we know who we are. (Or am I being vain or presumptuous? Do other scholars in my field know who I am? Do not want to know the answer to that question.) So, I must confine myself to the process and not the content of my work. Hm.... How many readers do we have?

And so we are back at the beginning. Why should I write on a blog? Well, it is a new year. I will not throw in the towel just yet. Maybe I will figure this whole thing out and find a reason for continuing. So, loyal (raised eyebrow) reader(s), stay tuned. We here at Perfection of Prudence may surprise you.