So in July I will be teaching Science Fiction. I have officially placed my bookorder, and my desk copies of the novels are on the way (I hope)! The books I'm requiring are:
Gunn, James The Road to Science Fiction #2: From Wells to Heinlein
Gunn, James The Road to Science Fiction #3: From Heinlein to Here
Heinlein, Robert The Moon is a Harsh Mistress
Moon, Elizabeth The Speed of Dark
The anthologies are expensive together, but the two of them equal the price of the "standard" academic textbooks--except, apparently, the Norton anthology, but as they didn't get a copy to me after I requested one TWICE... I can't say I necessarily would have chosen it anyway. There still seem to be some omissions. "The Star" by Arthur C. Clarke is one that I would like to see included, and I would like to teach Bradbury's 'The Veldt," but at least I do that in my Intro to Lit course. Keyes' "Flowers for Algernon" (the short version) is one I will have to have as a supplement. It and Vonnegot's "Harrison Bergeron" will make for interesting discussion with The Speed of Dark. I admit that I have not yet read The Speed of Dark, but it comes highly recommended; it might be possible to have the author talk to the class; the author is a Texas author, contemporary, a woman, and well, the book sounds interesting. Also, book orders are due. Like, 10 days ago.
So, any thoughts??
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Catchier Title: Catholic Postmodernism?
I suppose the whole "finishing a dissertation draft" thing is making me feel like an academic again or something, because my last few posts have been very much in the academic vein. That makes me feel good, really, because this is pretty much how I should be thinking if I want to pull-off an academic career of sorts. Also, it's nice to have ideas & feel excited about having ideas again!! So continuing the trend. . .
In response to my last post about Reading Modernism as an Adult, Maria, fellow-Catholic Academic and Modernist (!) wrote a post about her experiences of Modernism as an Adult, with particular reference to postmodernism. She writes:
I realized that I was a modernist after a few years too. Especially, in grad school when I realized that my dabbling in postmodernism had turned me off of over fragmentation without a purpose. A purpose of purposelessness. I found that increasingly annoying. Particularly because of the discussions that I had in the last few courses of my MA with people who thought that uselessness had more use than well, use (sorry about that). It really bothered me to think that there were people who thought in such a way.
This made a lot of sense to me. Particularly the bit about fellow students. I almost think sometimes that grad students and (to a lesser extent perhaps) professors who study postmodernism take it more seriously than the writers themselves.
I know that in theory postmodernism is "A purpose of purposelessness," and that many writers and philosophers do indeed take that to heart. But I would venture to say that not all of them do. In all of the fragmented contradictions of postmodernism, isn't it possible to sometimes glimpse a hint or hope of meaning? The pieces may not fit. . . or perhaps it's that we haven't yet found--or have forgotten--the clue to assembling them. Not that we would necessarily assemble them anyway, because aren't the pieces interesting in and of themselves? They make us laugh at ourselves. As in the stories of Donald Barthelme. But perhaps I'm not talking about the purist postmodernists. I have a few postmodernists that I keep up my sleeve and play with from time to time. I've waxed poetic about Calvino before. And Borges is always good for a laugh.
Now the interesting thing about Calvino and Borges is that--whether or not they ever set foot in a Catholic Church past the age of 7--both lived primarily or extensively in Catholic countries, or so it could be supposed. (I have since found Barthelme listed in many places under the heading "American Catholic writers," usually with the disclaimer that he declared himself to be agnostic.) And though being "culturally Catholic" isn't the same as being Catholic, raised Catholic, practicing Catholic, or coming from a Catholic background, it affects one. There are moments in Invisible Cities that remind me--not of Catholicism exactly, but of a certain worldview that I grew up with. It has to do with the continuation of life--indeed, the celebration of life!--in the face of fragmentation and apparent meaninglessness. I say "apparent" because nowhere in Calvino do I get the sense that life is absolutely meaningless. Life provides questions--seemingly contradictory questions--that we can't answer, but, well, we all know that. Of course, I'm also the person who sees Arthur C. Clarke's "The Star" as posing a dilemma that actually allows for a theological answer. *shrug* Truthfully, there's a certain kind of hopelessness that I find exhilarating. Perhaps because it is after a certain point of hopelessness that faith really begins to take root. There are moments like that in Tolkien, too, and they can be positively identified as Catholic in his context.
So what I'm wondering is, can a "Catholic postmodernism" be identified, and what would it gain for us to do so? Perhaps an articulation of a particular Catholic worldview. To return to my Catholic colleges question, I think I imagine an academic community that would assist and support this kind of inquiry--colleagues who would take such questions seriously. Wonder where I could find such a place?
In response to my last post about Reading Modernism as an Adult, Maria, fellow-Catholic Academic and Modernist (!) wrote a post about her experiences of Modernism as an Adult, with particular reference to postmodernism. She writes:
I realized that I was a modernist after a few years too. Especially, in grad school when I realized that my dabbling in postmodernism had turned me off of over fragmentation without a purpose. A purpose of purposelessness. I found that increasingly annoying. Particularly because of the discussions that I had in the last few courses of my MA with people who thought that uselessness had more use than well, use (sorry about that). It really bothered me to think that there were people who thought in such a way.
This made a lot of sense to me. Particularly the bit about fellow students. I almost think sometimes that grad students and (to a lesser extent perhaps) professors who study postmodernism take it more seriously than the writers themselves.
I know that in theory postmodernism is "A purpose of purposelessness," and that many writers and philosophers do indeed take that to heart. But I would venture to say that not all of them do. In all of the fragmented contradictions of postmodernism, isn't it possible to sometimes glimpse a hint or hope of meaning? The pieces may not fit. . . or perhaps it's that we haven't yet found--or have forgotten--the clue to assembling them. Not that we would necessarily assemble them anyway, because aren't the pieces interesting in and of themselves? They make us laugh at ourselves. As in the stories of Donald Barthelme. But perhaps I'm not talking about the purist postmodernists. I have a few postmodernists that I keep up my sleeve and play with from time to time. I've waxed poetic about Calvino before. And Borges is always good for a laugh.
Now the interesting thing about Calvino and Borges is that--whether or not they ever set foot in a Catholic Church past the age of 7--both lived primarily or extensively in Catholic countries, or so it could be supposed. (I have since found Barthelme listed in many places under the heading "American Catholic writers," usually with the disclaimer that he declared himself to be agnostic.) And though being "culturally Catholic" isn't the same as being Catholic, raised Catholic, practicing Catholic, or coming from a Catholic background, it affects one. There are moments in Invisible Cities that remind me--not of Catholicism exactly, but of a certain worldview that I grew up with. It has to do with the continuation of life--indeed, the celebration of life!--in the face of fragmentation and apparent meaninglessness. I say "apparent" because nowhere in Calvino do I get the sense that life is absolutely meaningless. Life provides questions--seemingly contradictory questions--that we can't answer, but, well, we all know that. Of course, I'm also the person who sees Arthur C. Clarke's "The Star" as posing a dilemma that actually allows for a theological answer. *shrug* Truthfully, there's a certain kind of hopelessness that I find exhilarating. Perhaps because it is after a certain point of hopelessness that faith really begins to take root. There are moments like that in Tolkien, too, and they can be positively identified as Catholic in his context.
So what I'm wondering is, can a "Catholic postmodernism" be identified, and what would it gain for us to do so? Perhaps an articulation of a particular Catholic worldview. To return to my Catholic colleges question, I think I imagine an academic community that would assist and support this kind of inquiry--colleagues who would take such questions seriously. Wonder where I could find such a place?
Monday, April 7, 2008
Reading Modernism as an Adult
When I entered grad school, really I thought I'd be working with Victorian poetry. Perhaps Modernist poetry. Maybe Yeats. I did not think I would be working on prose and I certainly didn't think I would be working on Modernist fiction. Except that the only grad course I took on Victorian poetry was really, really boring. And the courses I took that included poetry generally did so out of a sense of obligation rather than interest, and I was really never taught how one writes graduate or professional-level papers/articles about poetry (and though my undergrad prep was good, it's not the same). Still, I toyed with the idea of doing something with metaphor or something with ecocritisism. But it just didn't take off, because that's not what I was really doing in my seminars. Two trends emerged: my papers confronted feminism on the issue of motherhood, especially using gothic literature, or they did this literacy thing. And, well, the literacy thing felt more innovative, and could be applied more broadly. Besides, I didn't want to teach Mary Wollstonecraft (gothic) and I didn't want to teach American Lit (poetry & American gothic). So I rediscovered Modernism. That was where most of my coursework was anyway. Even so, though, I hate Henry James, Ford Maddox Ford bores me (though he might have some Catholic issues to explore), wasn't too keen on Lawrence, didn't like Woolf. . . But I like Forster. And I like Huxley. So they were a starting point. I also like WWI. A lot. It caused an intellectual crisis of huge proportions. Anxiety. Loss of faith in civilization. . . . a heap of broken images. . . Whoopee! That's what hooked me on these guys to begin with! Except, well, I don't revel in despair anymore. Though I still like W. H. Auden's poetry. But I like expressions of despair, and of human continuation in the face of despair. So anyway, it seems I'm a Modernist, having just written a big 'ol dissertation on these guys. (Really, I like Modernism. I promise.)
So after talking to my committee member on Friday, I am settling down to read some of what I need to read to get me up to speed. (Funny thing. . . Woolf is my least favorite, but I am told--not surprisingly--that that's what most people will want me to teach. Ugh!) Most of what I have read of the big Modernist novelists I have done on my own. I read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in high school, for example--loved it. Stephen Daedalus is all about teen angst. And I was in my anti-Catholic phase, so that was O.K. When I reread it for prelims, I hated it. The Catholic stuff was interesting, as I now had a context from which to understand it, but Stephen Daedalus needed to get over himself in a big way. I understood that now as I did not when I was 15. Go figure. Of course, Dubliners is brilliant, but it's not in fashion anymore. It's like "Joyce for Dummies." Real scholars read Ulysses. Really really real scholars read Finnegan's Wake. Maybe one day when the kids are grown up. Until then, I have more important things to do with my time.
So I'm reading Lawrence's Women in Love. It's supposed to be one of his best. Which is good, 'cause it's 400 pages and Lawrence generally needed to learn when to stop writing. Perhaps this one will be different. Sons and Lovers is in my dissertation. I've got some short stories under my belt (read "Horse Dealer's Daughter"?--hated it). I read Lady Chatterley's Lover, like so many adolescents, and felt utterly cheated. Although I did latch on to a phrase or two about things I had no idea about at the time. And I'd look back and think, "Hmmm. . . was Lawrence right?" not knowing that Lawrence is generally wrong. In a big way. But what strikes me now is not his wrongness, or his frustrating tendencies, or his inability to find synonyms for the word "hate," but his absolute silliness. His self-conscious (oh how he hated self-consciousness) attempts at sensuality, eroticism. Especially masculine-flavored eroticism. It makes me giggle. And it was so scandalous at the time. And I would have felt differently 15 years ago. But really, all this talk of muscles and maleness and moustaches, hair and skin and animals, fountains and jets and streams. Really, I can't help but chuckle. Has the writing always been this absurd, and I can just see it now? And if so, then why didn't his contemporaries dismiss it as such instead of being scandalized? Or is my "maturity" and the culture's acceptance of Lawrence in all his over-sexed silliness just a symptom of our desensitization in the area of sexuality? I pause more now over his declarations about God's non-existence (which he--unlike Joyce--takes as a given, or tries to) than over his erotic imagery. Does that say more about me, or about the writing?
So after talking to my committee member on Friday, I am settling down to read some of what I need to read to get me up to speed. (Funny thing. . . Woolf is my least favorite, but I am told--not surprisingly--that that's what most people will want me to teach. Ugh!) Most of what I have read of the big Modernist novelists I have done on my own. I read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in high school, for example--loved it. Stephen Daedalus is all about teen angst. And I was in my anti-Catholic phase, so that was O.K. When I reread it for prelims, I hated it. The Catholic stuff was interesting, as I now had a context from which to understand it, but Stephen Daedalus needed to get over himself in a big way. I understood that now as I did not when I was 15. Go figure. Of course, Dubliners is brilliant, but it's not in fashion anymore. It's like "Joyce for Dummies." Real scholars read Ulysses. Really really real scholars read Finnegan's Wake. Maybe one day when the kids are grown up. Until then, I have more important things to do with my time.
So I'm reading Lawrence's Women in Love. It's supposed to be one of his best. Which is good, 'cause it's 400 pages and Lawrence generally needed to learn when to stop writing. Perhaps this one will be different. Sons and Lovers is in my dissertation. I've got some short stories under my belt (read "Horse Dealer's Daughter"?--hated it). I read Lady Chatterley's Lover, like so many adolescents, and felt utterly cheated. Although I did latch on to a phrase or two about things I had no idea about at the time. And I'd look back and think, "Hmmm. . . was Lawrence right?" not knowing that Lawrence is generally wrong. In a big way. But what strikes me now is not his wrongness, or his frustrating tendencies, or his inability to find synonyms for the word "hate," but his absolute silliness. His self-conscious (oh how he hated self-consciousness) attempts at sensuality, eroticism. Especially masculine-flavored eroticism. It makes me giggle. And it was so scandalous at the time. And I would have felt differently 15 years ago. But really, all this talk of muscles and maleness and moustaches, hair and skin and animals, fountains and jets and streams. Really, I can't help but chuckle. Has the writing always been this absurd, and I can just see it now? And if so, then why didn't his contemporaries dismiss it as such instead of being scandalized? Or is my "maturity" and the culture's acceptance of Lawrence in all his over-sexed silliness just a symptom of our desensitization in the area of sexuality? I pause more now over his declarations about God's non-existence (which he--unlike Joyce--takes as a given, or tries to) than over his erotic imagery. Does that say more about me, or about the writing?
Saturday, April 5, 2008
So what do you want to do?
I thought that with a Ph.D., the answer to that would be pretty clear. Even to those relatively unfamiliar with academia. So imagine my surprise when I got a version of that question from one of my committee members!! Granted, it was phrased rather differently. First, he asked where I wanted to teach, what kind of flexibility I had in terms of following a job (that was the "what's your husband going to do" and "will he follow you" question), how I'm going to market myself, and, finally, whether I want to be a "publishing" academic. Ummm. . . 'cause we have a choice, but okay. . . Even schools that really value teaching over publication--as evidenced by the high teaching loads required at those schools--feel the need to put a clause in their job ads about publishing & scholarly activity. I'm not sure what the rationale is. Maybe they feel like they need to include that kind of thing in order to attract up-and-coming new Ph.D.s, or maybe they really do feel like there should be a publishing component for academics at their (mostly smaller) colleges. I don't quite see a 4-4 load being compatible with a publishing career. And I don't see a 4-4 load being compatible with me. Writing and research for publication can be accomplished with babies around. Teaching 4 classes a semester--not so much. And the schools with the higher teaching loads don't tend to pay more.
But actually, I do see myself publishing. I like academic writing. I think some of my ideas might benefit the literary community. It sounds arrogant, but you have to think that kind of thing to play this game. And, well, you have to think that what you're doing is at least as interesting as what others are doing, perhaps more interesting. I'm pretty much there--no surprises. I do wonder what will stimulate new ideas, though. I can get some mileage from the literacy thing. I can get some mileage from ideas left over from coursework, and Catholicism might creep in somewhere, somehow. The "must write to complete course" and "must write to finish degree" will be replaced by "must write to publish" and "must write to get promotion/tenure." I suppose that the "ideas generated by coursework" will be replaced by "ideas generated by teaching" and "ideas generated by conferences" and "ideas generated by further reading." But you know, it feels different. I guess it will happen.
As for the other questions, I couldn't exactly say that I would apply for anything I seemed remotely qualified for. That may not be precisely true, anyway. I would prefer to teach literature, but I may be seen as attractive because of rhetoric. But I don't really know rhetoric. I am flexible enough to go anywhere, but there are some places I really don't want to live. And you know, being here for almost 9 years has spoiled me. I know what doctors to see, what schools are good, and I know it's safe to take a walk in the park. There is a disturbing lack of good Catholic education, but there are rumors about that changing. There is a disturbing lack of culture, but there is a reassuring lack of crime. It's not a bad place to raise a family, just a boring place. Anyway, the next year(s) will be an adventure! I wonder how often I will have to answer/ponder these same questions in the coming weeks and months?
But actually, I do see myself publishing. I like academic writing. I think some of my ideas might benefit the literary community. It sounds arrogant, but you have to think that kind of thing to play this game. And, well, you have to think that what you're doing is at least as interesting as what others are doing, perhaps more interesting. I'm pretty much there--no surprises. I do wonder what will stimulate new ideas, though. I can get some mileage from the literacy thing. I can get some mileage from ideas left over from coursework, and Catholicism might creep in somewhere, somehow. The "must write to complete course" and "must write to finish degree" will be replaced by "must write to publish" and "must write to get promotion/tenure." I suppose that the "ideas generated by coursework" will be replaced by "ideas generated by teaching" and "ideas generated by conferences" and "ideas generated by further reading." But you know, it feels different. I guess it will happen.
As for the other questions, I couldn't exactly say that I would apply for anything I seemed remotely qualified for. That may not be precisely true, anyway. I would prefer to teach literature, but I may be seen as attractive because of rhetoric. But I don't really know rhetoric. I am flexible enough to go anywhere, but there are some places I really don't want to live. And you know, being here for almost 9 years has spoiled me. I know what doctors to see, what schools are good, and I know it's safe to take a walk in the park. There is a disturbing lack of good Catholic education, but there are rumors about that changing. There is a disturbing lack of culture, but there is a reassuring lack of crime. It's not a bad place to raise a family, just a boring place. Anyway, the next year(s) will be an adventure! I wonder how often I will have to answer/ponder these same questions in the coming weeks and months?
Friday, April 4, 2008
Life with a Toddler
This evening, my husband said to me,
Should I turn this [tape] off, wander back [to our bedroom] with her [to put her to bed]--and fall asleep so she can play bongos on my nose or something?
And I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks.
Should I turn this [tape] off, wander back [to our bedroom] with her [to put her to bed]--and fall asleep so she can play bongos on my nose or something?
And I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
IT'S FINISHED!!!!!!!!!
[Doing a little dance around the apartment]
The final touches have been put on the dissertation conclusion! (Believe me, the use of passive voice is intentional and appropriate.) Without the works cited, it is 219 pages, 65,887 words, and 348, 083 characters (without spaces). Now I get to photocopy it in all of its tree-killing immensity, and deliver it to my committee. And while I know that this is not the FINAL final copy, and that there is a bit more to the process, still. . .
It's finished, it's finished, it's finished, it's finished. . .
The final touches have been put on the dissertation conclusion! (Believe me, the use of passive voice is intentional and appropriate.) Without the works cited, it is 219 pages, 65,887 words, and 348, 083 characters (without spaces). Now I get to photocopy it in all of its tree-killing immensity, and deliver it to my committee. And while I know that this is not the FINAL final copy, and that there is a bit more to the process, still. . .
It's finished, it's finished, it's finished, it's finished. . .
Portrait of an Academic Mom
This evening as I sat on the sofa writing what will be some of the final pages of my dissertation, my 2-year-old daughter, who had, a little while before, put on the DVD of The Empire Strikes Back, climbed into my lap, leaned her head on my shoulder, and fell asleep between my iBook and I as I continued to type. :)
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Okay, So I Might Graduate. . .
Actually, it's looking pretty certain these days. I'm finishing up the dissertation now (well, no, not now exactly, but you know what I mean. . .), and my defense is set for May 5. I have to have a good copy to my committee by Friday so they can, like, read it and stuff. So eventually, I figure, I should get a job. Well, I guess first I have to look and apply for some jobs. So I was wondering. . .
Since becoming Catholic, I have been thinking, Gee, wouldn't it be nice to teach at a nice Catholic school? Then I could raise the kinds of questions that you can't raise in a state school where you're supposed to respect everyone's religious identity to the point of annihilating your own (like when, post 9-11, one prof voluntarily removed his Divinity Degree from the wall, and another was advised to hide her icons!!), and where there would, presumably, be some sense of Catholic identity, and opportunities for faith formation among the faculty and. . . well, that's the kind of thing I was thinking. Except that even in the first fervor of conversion, I wasn't sure Ave Maria or Steubenville would be for me. I'm an orthodox kind of gal, but I'm not ready for any Catholic versions of those protestant colleges that won't let faculty drink alcohol (yet the one I have in mind has the bar and cash register from the Bird and the Baby--the Eagle and Child pub where the Inklings met--in its library--yeah. . .), and I believe that those schools might be a teensy evangelical in flavor for a recovering protestant.
So then I found the blogosphere. Specifically, the Catholic blogosphere. And I learned that not all Catholic colleges are created equal. And that precious few are deemed "Catholic enough" for the orthodox crowd who want their kids to have a degree. I've been to a bunch of the web sites that give you the scoop on the adherence of the various Catholic colleges to the Magesterium, read many a lament about the state of Catholic higher education, many tirades against the Jesuits, and, frankly, I'm confused. The scholarly, prominent Catholic universities with whom every new Ph.D. would LOVE to have an interview are apparently unworthy of being termed Catholic, while the most orthodox of all hire mainly clergy or have 5-person English departments or 300-student enrollments and the ones in between have low pay, high teaching loads, nominal research requirements--not the kind of place to go, in short, if teaching and research are on your agenda, that is, if you want your ideas to be heard by the scholarly community. So is it worth investigating positions at Catholic colleges at all? If you risk being associated with heterodoxy or heresy, or exposed to and manipulated by such ideas? If, by avoiding those pitfalls, you are compromising the chance of having a Catholic voice in the cacophany of scholarly opinions? Not to mention compromising your ability to pay those loans--you know, the ones that are equal to or surpass the price of a really nice house? The ones that you will not pay off before you die? The ones that are, in fact, a lease on your education rather than a purchase? Yeah, those. Is it O.K. for a Catholic academic to take a position at a Catholic college or university that is Catholic in name only? In hopes of influencing others, maybe? Or do you just give up on Catholic education altogether in order to avoid this sticky issue?
Since becoming Catholic, I have been thinking, Gee, wouldn't it be nice to teach at a nice Catholic school? Then I could raise the kinds of questions that you can't raise in a state school where you're supposed to respect everyone's religious identity to the point of annihilating your own (like when, post 9-11, one prof voluntarily removed his Divinity Degree from the wall, and another was advised to hide her icons!!), and where there would, presumably, be some sense of Catholic identity, and opportunities for faith formation among the faculty and. . . well, that's the kind of thing I was thinking. Except that even in the first fervor of conversion, I wasn't sure Ave Maria or Steubenville would be for me. I'm an orthodox kind of gal, but I'm not ready for any Catholic versions of those protestant colleges that won't let faculty drink alcohol (yet the one I have in mind has the bar and cash register from the Bird and the Baby--the Eagle and Child pub where the Inklings met--in its library--yeah. . .), and I believe that those schools might be a teensy evangelical in flavor for a recovering protestant.
So then I found the blogosphere. Specifically, the Catholic blogosphere. And I learned that not all Catholic colleges are created equal. And that precious few are deemed "Catholic enough" for the orthodox crowd who want their kids to have a degree. I've been to a bunch of the web sites that give you the scoop on the adherence of the various Catholic colleges to the Magesterium, read many a lament about the state of Catholic higher education, many tirades against the Jesuits, and, frankly, I'm confused. The scholarly, prominent Catholic universities with whom every new Ph.D. would LOVE to have an interview are apparently unworthy of being termed Catholic, while the most orthodox of all hire mainly clergy or have 5-person English departments or 300-student enrollments and the ones in between have low pay, high teaching loads, nominal research requirements--not the kind of place to go, in short, if teaching and research are on your agenda, that is, if you want your ideas to be heard by the scholarly community. So is it worth investigating positions at Catholic colleges at all? If you risk being associated with heterodoxy or heresy, or exposed to and manipulated by such ideas? If, by avoiding those pitfalls, you are compromising the chance of having a Catholic voice in the cacophany of scholarly opinions? Not to mention compromising your ability to pay those loans--you know, the ones that are equal to or surpass the price of a really nice house? The ones that you will not pay off before you die? The ones that are, in fact, a lease on your education rather than a purchase? Yeah, those. Is it O.K. for a Catholic academic to take a position at a Catholic college or university that is Catholic in name only? In hopes of influencing others, maybe? Or do you just give up on Catholic education altogether in order to avoid this sticky issue?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter!!
Hope everyone's Lent was what they wanted it to be. . .
I am back for a brief hello, but I will probably not be returning to my old blogging habits--at least for a while. I will keep posting family updates, and will stop by here from time to time.
Lent was not particularly spiritual for me, regrettably. Easter was beautiful, as always. The Triduum I watched parts on EWTN--not really the same, but about all high spirited toddlerhood allows. I had many parenting ups & downs; the latest: potty-training! Aaaah!!! I started an online diet but stopped because it was taking as much time as blogging. But wanna know something crazy? In the first 2 weeks of not blogging, I wrote a 47-page chapter (some of the material was recycled) and scheduled my defense (mark "Pray for Literacy-chic" on your calendars for May 5)!! I also finished an additional chapter. So I have good drafts of all 5 of my chapters--some of which are quite exciting for me--and only have the conclusion left to do. This I need to finish in the next week or so so that I can give the full draft to the committee in early April. I received a revise and resubmit on a journal article (wait, you know that, don't you?), received my assignment for the Summer--to teach Science Fiction--applied for and got a post-doc lectureship for the fall, applied for one last grad student award for summer (not counting on it) and still felt like I was more attentive to my little girls at home. WOW! It has been a blessed Lent, no? My position for fall is special, too, but I'm not at liberty to divulge too much (especially online--sorry!!). It carries a reduced teaching load, one upper-level team-taught course, and some administrative duties that will be very good vita fodder--it's a good thing someone's looking out for me, because I need all the vita help I can get. (Two pregnancies don't count for much on a job search!) I'm working on the kinks right now, but I have some time & options (I think). . . This might explain why I plan on making myself scarce. I've also got assistantship duties to wrap up in a big way in coming weeks. But it's all pretty exciting. Taking "off" Lent to seriously evaluate whether I could still accomplish all of this was a good idea, I think, and I feel less guilty for not giving up any food items! I do regret that I didn't do as much spiritual preparation as I would like, though I know the opportunities for spiritual development are not limited to Lent. I will be an RCIA sponsor for someone (don't want to say too much about that until I know I am at liberty to do so) in the next RCIA "cycle"--yay!! That will be an opportunity for spiritual development in itself. As a side-note, I am investigating St. Benedict medals for my sister's apartment because everyone who stays there--including her!--has back-to-back nightmares of scenarios with people dying. My mother experienced it last night. *shudder* Anyone have any experience with St. Benedict medals?
I think I have rambled to the end of this post. I will check back, probably once or twice a week (if I can maintain the discipline). Until then, Happy Easter! May the blessings of the season be with all of you!
I am back for a brief hello, but I will probably not be returning to my old blogging habits--at least for a while. I will keep posting family updates, and will stop by here from time to time.
Lent was not particularly spiritual for me, regrettably. Easter was beautiful, as always. The Triduum I watched parts on EWTN--not really the same, but about all high spirited toddlerhood allows. I had many parenting ups & downs; the latest: potty-training! Aaaah!!! I started an online diet but stopped because it was taking as much time as blogging. But wanna know something crazy? In the first 2 weeks of not blogging, I wrote a 47-page chapter (some of the material was recycled) and scheduled my defense (mark "Pray for Literacy-chic" on your calendars for May 5)!! I also finished an additional chapter. So I have good drafts of all 5 of my chapters--some of which are quite exciting for me--and only have the conclusion left to do. This I need to finish in the next week or so so that I can give the full draft to the committee in early April. I received a revise and resubmit on a journal article (wait, you know that, don't you?), received my assignment for the Summer--to teach Science Fiction--applied for and got a post-doc lectureship for the fall, applied for one last grad student award for summer (not counting on it) and still felt like I was more attentive to my little girls at home. WOW! It has been a blessed Lent, no? My position for fall is special, too, but I'm not at liberty to divulge too much (especially online--sorry!!). It carries a reduced teaching load, one upper-level team-taught course, and some administrative duties that will be very good vita fodder--it's a good thing someone's looking out for me, because I need all the vita help I can get. (Two pregnancies don't count for much on a job search!) I'm working on the kinks right now, but I have some time & options (I think). . . This might explain why I plan on making myself scarce. I've also got assistantship duties to wrap up in a big way in coming weeks. But it's all pretty exciting. Taking "off" Lent to seriously evaluate whether I could still accomplish all of this was a good idea, I think, and I feel less guilty for not giving up any food items! I do regret that I didn't do as much spiritual preparation as I would like, though I know the opportunities for spiritual development are not limited to Lent. I will be an RCIA sponsor for someone (don't want to say too much about that until I know I am at liberty to do so) in the next RCIA "cycle"--yay!! That will be an opportunity for spiritual development in itself. As a side-note, I am investigating St. Benedict medals for my sister's apartment because everyone who stays there--including her!--has back-to-back nightmares of scenarios with people dying. My mother experienced it last night. *shudder* Anyone have any experience with St. Benedict medals?
I think I have rambled to the end of this post. I will check back, probably once or twice a week (if I can maintain the discipline). Until then, Happy Easter! May the blessings of the season be with all of you!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Blog Closed for Lent
See you in 40 days or so!
In the meantime, check out the Catholic Carnival! And buy Mystic Monk Coffee! And enjoy my 3 "Quick Lenten Meals" suggestions from last year!
In the meantime, check out the Catholic Carnival! And buy Mystic Monk Coffee! And enjoy my 3 "Quick Lenten Meals" suggestions from last year!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Happy Mardi Gras -and- an short academic aside
I had to squeeze in a last post before midnight. Happy Mardi Gras! Have a spiritual Lent! (You can't wish someone a "happy Lent," can you?) I will be away, but you know where to find me (psst! the profile). Also, for the record, I received some bad news today that in the perverse nature of academia, I'm probably supposed to regard as good news. A chapter of my dissertation in article form was rejected. Well, what at first read as a rejection was actually a fairly enthusiastic revise and resubmit. The problem? With all of their good submissions (which vex me because they are doing a special topic on--what else?--reading), they can't wait around for me to make the revisions, which will be very easy since my whole project deals with exactly what they're asking me to clarify. This is part of trying to take something out of a larger work and make it stand alone. However, they returned the results to me 5 months later than they were supposed to. Now their "schedule won't permit"--thanks, guys. On the other hand, once I get over being deflated, I should really have something to work with.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Baptism Reflections. . .
On Sunday, during Mass, we witnessed the Baptism of three infants, and while the addition of half an hour or so is typically not the best thing with a temperamental toddler who is, nevertheless, getting better about staying in the pew, the Rite was very well integrated into the Mass and oriented those present towards the meaning of the Sacrament in a quiet yet profound and even scholarly way. It was nice to see the Baptism, as it always is, though I was a bit sad to note that all of the babies seemed younger than mine, whose Baptism we have been planning for. . . well, months now, but our plans have really been coming together in the last few weeks. I sometimes forget, now, that the importance of Baptism was something that I rejected initially as a mere display--an impression I received from other churches--then because I did not hold with the idea that a newborn could be "tainted" by anything. But I grew gradually to doubt my own certainty, losing faith in my skepticism, until fear that Baptism might be necessary to Salvation gave way to acceptance and faith. It was the biggest step in my conversion process to accept the necessity of Baptism, and I first considered the possibility of its truth for the sake of my family--particularly my son. I couldn't have anticipated the fullness of what it came to signify for me. . .
Apart from the Grace of the Sacrament, Baptism is a gift that I give to my children so that they will always have the Church as a spiritual home--a place where they belong. I know that there are many who were raised Catholic who don't now feel this way, never have felt this way, or never will again. But in the stories of Catholics who have returned to the Church after being away for a period of time, there is always the sense of returning home. I felt this way myself, though I was not baptized Catholic as an infant. I knew that both of my parents were raised Catholic, that my aunts and uncles were raised Catholic, that my grandmother was devoutly Catholic in her way, that many of the older adults I encountered were Catholic, their houses adorned with the trappings of Catholicism. So when I decided, finally, to become Catholic myself, I had a sense of returning home--of being where I belonged.
We have scheduled my little daughter's Baptism for March 1--an oasis in the desert of Lent--and this is what I wish for her: to be initiated into the Catholic Church as a spiritual home, where she can belong, to which she can always return, and where she can learn (about God), and grow (towards God), and thrive (in His Grace).
Apart from the Grace of the Sacrament, Baptism is a gift that I give to my children so that they will always have the Church as a spiritual home--a place where they belong. I know that there are many who were raised Catholic who don't now feel this way, never have felt this way, or never will again. But in the stories of Catholics who have returned to the Church after being away for a period of time, there is always the sense of returning home. I felt this way myself, though I was not baptized Catholic as an infant. I knew that both of my parents were raised Catholic, that my aunts and uncles were raised Catholic, that my grandmother was devoutly Catholic in her way, that many of the older adults I encountered were Catholic, their houses adorned with the trappings of Catholicism. So when I decided, finally, to become Catholic myself, I had a sense of returning home--of being where I belonged.
We have scheduled my little daughter's Baptism for March 1--an oasis in the desert of Lent--and this is what I wish for her: to be initiated into the Catholic Church as a spiritual home, where she can belong, to which she can always return, and where she can learn (about God), and grow (towards God), and thrive (in His Grace).
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Fall Plans Dashed
I realized with glee recently that next fall my toddler would be the right age to start school at the Montessori school that my son attending from pre-K through 3rd grade. (I consider 3 yrs to be a good age to start preschool.) I called the school and spoke to the headmistress. She was very pleased, asked about my son, and said she would send the application. The application arrived in the mail several days later, I opened it, and my jaw nearly dropped. There is a one-time application fee of $250!!! That's on top of the $100 registration fee and the advance payment of the last month's tuition, which in our case would have been $245 for 3 half-days a week. Surely, I thought, this must be a typo!! I remembered a fee of $25. So I wrote an email and asked. She confirmed that there was, indeed, a $250 application fee, and hoped it would not change my plans. This will indeed change my plans. I can only conclude that she must have needed to institute that fee to limit applicants. I understand about the last months' tuition, the supply fees, and the registration fees, but had I had to pay $350 for merely applying and registering in addition to the last month's tuition (which in our current case would have been $245 for 3 half-days), I would never have been able to send my son in the first place, and he would have missed a wonderful experience because of it. I am assuming that we simply don't have the income level of most of the families who currently attend that school. And I told her so. In no uncertain terms. Perhaps that is the point. But this makes me very sad, as I can't imagine an alternative that would be as attractive. Clearly, my selectivity is exceeding my income. :(
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Random Bullets before Lent
Things I should give up for Lent for wholly unspiritual reasons:
Thing(s) I want to give up for Lent for wholly unspiritual reasons:
Things I should do more of during Lent (in no specific order):
Things I have thought about recently (in wholly unconnected ways):
What have you been thinking about?
*In fact, I think we owe it to the brothers to step up our coffee consumption during Lent so that we will need to purchase more, thus contributing more to help them to establish their monastery in the mountains of Wyoming.
- French fries
- Chocolate
- Coffee (unless it's Mystic Monk coffee*)
- Dr. Pepper
- eBay
- Sewing!!
Thing(s) I want to give up for Lent for wholly unspiritual reasons:
- Housework!!
Things I should do more of during Lent (in no specific order):
- Pray
- Write a dissertation
- Play with a toddler
- Spend time with a 'tween (I only use the term as a tribute to Tolkien)
- Read (anything, really)
- Meditate
- Exercise
- Cook (especially meals from monastery cookbooks!)
- Think happy thoughts!
- Recognize the beauty around me (physical and spiritual)
Things I have thought about recently (in wholly unconnected ways):
- The very natural-seeming portrayal of Tevye's relationship with God in Fiddler on the Roof
- Whether the Tevye stories would be worth finding & reading
- Undergraduate & graduate education and the right relationship between the two
- More job market issues
- Children's media and the very excellent show "Charlie and Lola"
- Breastfeeding & NFP
- Hormones, mental health& genetics, and panic attacks (little ones)
- The beauty of children
- The difficulty of children
- All that stuff about children & relationships that didn't seem relevant until child #3
- Upcoming Baptism plans (March 1!)
What have you been thinking about?
*In fact, I think we owe it to the brothers to step up our coffee consumption during Lent so that we will need to purchase more, thus contributing more to help them to establish their monastery in the mountains of Wyoming.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Another Book Meme!!
Courtesy of Chris, who didn't know if I'd be able to finish this one before Lent. Clearly he underestimates my procrastination! ;) This one's easier than it looks. But I have to ask those people I tag to pleeease answer it before Lent so I can read it!!! ;) Either that, or email the answers! So this is Eva's Reading Meme:
Which book do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews?
Ulysses? No, that's not irrational. . . I know there's one that I'm not thinking of, but I can't put my finger on it.
Perhaps House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. . .
There are more, I'm sure of it!
If you could bring three characters to life for a social event (afternoon tea, a night of clubbing, perhaps a world cruise), who would they be and what would the event be?
The vengeful answer: I would bring Stephen Daedalus, Leonard Bast, and Septimus Smith for a class in literary theory taught by a professor who deserves the "challenge." (suppresses wicked laughter)
I was trying to think of some wise, long-lived characters. . . Treebeard, Oisin (Celtic, from Yeats' poetry), but I get stuck on #3. . .
I know! Orlando, Dorian Grey and Lazarus Long at a Revival meeting or on Boubon Street for Mardi Gras. . .
Clearly, my mind is a bit warped right now!
(Borrowing shamelessly from the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde): you are told you can’t die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality is great for awhile, eventually you realize it’s past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave?
Moby Dick.
Come on, we’ve all been there. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you’ve read, when in fact you’ve been nowhere near it?
Toni Morrison's Beloved. Even tried to read it while teaching it one semester. Didn't happen. And oh so many things that have been assigned over the years, from Death of a Salesman in high school on down to the Ph.D. reading list. Usually I admit to not reading them, but not always--especially when grades are involved. There. Now you know what a slacker I am!!!
As an addition to the last question, has there been a book that you really thought you had read, only to realize when you read a review about it/go to ‘reread’ it that you haven’t?
I always get Love in the Time of Cholera confused with Of Love and Other Demons. Specifically, I told Chris I had read the former, thinking that it was the latter. Oops!!
You’re interviewing for the post of Official Book Advisor to some VIP (who’s not a big reader). What’s the first book you’d recommend and why? (if you feel like you’d have to know the person, go ahead and personalize the VIP)
Lord of the Rings. I know, probably not fair using the same one twice (see below). Not because it's practically useful. Then I might choose The Republic or The Prince, or even Mill's On Liberty. But there's a sense of heroism, amid almost certain defeat, or victory that contains elements of defeat, that is simply unfathomable to so many people today. I was actually thinking about this as a Disney preschool show was coming on this morning (before I could get to the remote control): "Higgleytown Heroes." The premise is that everyone--even those who do the most mundane jobs--are heroes because they provide a service to other people. Ummmm. . . in a word, No. Just no.
A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with?
I would have to go with Spanish. I sneered at Spanish and was a French snob in high school and college, before meeting my husband, who is fluent and has an M.A. in Spanish. When we were dating, he introduced me to Spanish literature, poetry in particular. So many times when he was in his Master's program, I wished that I could have taken the classes he was taking--again, mostly poetry, but also nineteenth and twentieth century Peninsular literature (as in, from the Peninsula--Spain--in case you didn't think I was still a European language snob!) and Octavio Paz. I would also like to do some comparisons between Spanish and English literature within my time period.
A mischievous fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick?
Ahem. Lord of the Rings. I practically do this anyway (though I'm not teaching myself to speak elvish or anything. . .) I find it an inspirational book in many ways. I first read it as an adult--rather recently, actually--so my attachment to it is different from the books I read/reread as a child/adolescent (The Chronicles of Narnia and The Mists of Avalon, in case you were wondering--all fantasy; hmmm. . .) Should I expound? Naaah. There's just so much there. Besides, I would get to pick out the misprints in different editions.
I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What’s one bookish thing you ‘discovered’ from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art-anything)?
Well, while book blogs tend to remind me, sadly, of when I was young and not in graduate school and liked to read and read profusely, making me painfully aware that I don't read nearly enough, especially for someone in my discipline (though many people in my discipline arguably read more criticism than primary works) there are two books I learned of recently from bloggers that I would like to read:
The History of Our World Beyond the Wave by R. E. Klein (sadly out-of-print) reviewed here by Darwin
Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset, discussed recently by Melanie.
That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she’s granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leatherbound? Is it full of first edition hardcovers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead-let your imagination run free.
Without a doubt, a first edition of The Hobbit before Tolkien revised the "Riddles in the Dark" chapter. In fact, first editions of Lord of the Rings, too. I'm well on my way to having all interesting illustrated editions, so that's a given. I would like a collection of really extravagant art books--specific eras, artists, and overviews, all with extensive color plates. And some small press books with woodcuts, from Kelmscott Press, for example.
As for nominations--Darwin, Mrs. Darwin, Melanie, and whoever else would like to join in! (I would tag some others--you know who you are--but isn't there some kind of rule about waiting a reasonable time before tagging the same person?)
Which book do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews?
Ulysses? No, that's not irrational. . . I know there's one that I'm not thinking of, but I can't put my finger on it.
Perhaps House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. . .
There are more, I'm sure of it!
If you could bring three characters to life for a social event (afternoon tea, a night of clubbing, perhaps a world cruise), who would they be and what would the event be?
The vengeful answer: I would bring Stephen Daedalus, Leonard Bast, and Septimus Smith for a class in literary theory taught by a professor who deserves the "challenge." (suppresses wicked laughter)
I was trying to think of some wise, long-lived characters. . . Treebeard, Oisin (Celtic, from Yeats' poetry), but I get stuck on #3. . .
I know! Orlando, Dorian Grey and Lazarus Long at a Revival meeting or on Boubon Street for Mardi Gras. . .
Clearly, my mind is a bit warped right now!
(Borrowing shamelessly from the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde): you are told you can’t die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality is great for awhile, eventually you realize it’s past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave?
Moby Dick.
Come on, we’ve all been there. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you’ve read, when in fact you’ve been nowhere near it?
Toni Morrison's Beloved. Even tried to read it while teaching it one semester. Didn't happen. And oh so many things that have been assigned over the years, from Death of a Salesman in high school on down to the Ph.D. reading list. Usually I admit to not reading them, but not always--especially when grades are involved. There. Now you know what a slacker I am!!!
As an addition to the last question, has there been a book that you really thought you had read, only to realize when you read a review about it/go to ‘reread’ it that you haven’t?
I always get Love in the Time of Cholera confused with Of Love and Other Demons. Specifically, I told Chris I had read the former, thinking that it was the latter. Oops!!
You’re interviewing for the post of Official Book Advisor to some VIP (who’s not a big reader). What’s the first book you’d recommend and why? (if you feel like you’d have to know the person, go ahead and personalize the VIP)
Lord of the Rings. I know, probably not fair using the same one twice (see below). Not because it's practically useful. Then I might choose The Republic or The Prince, or even Mill's On Liberty. But there's a sense of heroism, amid almost certain defeat, or victory that contains elements of defeat, that is simply unfathomable to so many people today. I was actually thinking about this as a Disney preschool show was coming on this morning (before I could get to the remote control): "Higgleytown Heroes." The premise is that everyone--even those who do the most mundane jobs--are heroes because they provide a service to other people. Ummmm. . . in a word, No. Just no.
A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with?
I would have to go with Spanish. I sneered at Spanish and was a French snob in high school and college, before meeting my husband, who is fluent and has an M.A. in Spanish. When we were dating, he introduced me to Spanish literature, poetry in particular. So many times when he was in his Master's program, I wished that I could have taken the classes he was taking--again, mostly poetry, but also nineteenth and twentieth century Peninsular literature (as in, from the Peninsula--Spain--in case you didn't think I was still a European language snob!) and Octavio Paz. I would also like to do some comparisons between Spanish and English literature within my time period.
A mischievous fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick?
Ahem. Lord of the Rings. I practically do this anyway (though I'm not teaching myself to speak elvish or anything. . .) I find it an inspirational book in many ways. I first read it as an adult--rather recently, actually--so my attachment to it is different from the books I read/reread as a child/adolescent (The Chronicles of Narnia and The Mists of Avalon, in case you were wondering--all fantasy; hmmm. . .) Should I expound? Naaah. There's just so much there. Besides, I would get to pick out the misprints in different editions.
I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What’s one bookish thing you ‘discovered’ from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art-anything)?
Well, while book blogs tend to remind me, sadly, of when I was young and not in graduate school and liked to read and read profusely, making me painfully aware that I don't read nearly enough, especially for someone in my discipline (though many people in my discipline arguably read more criticism than primary works) there are two books I learned of recently from bloggers that I would like to read:
The History of Our World Beyond the Wave by R. E. Klein (sadly out-of-print) reviewed here by Darwin
Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset, discussed recently by Melanie.
That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she’s granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leatherbound? Is it full of first edition hardcovers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead-let your imagination run free.
Without a doubt, a first edition of The Hobbit before Tolkien revised the "Riddles in the Dark" chapter. In fact, first editions of Lord of the Rings, too. I'm well on my way to having all interesting illustrated editions, so that's a given. I would like a collection of really extravagant art books--specific eras, artists, and overviews, all with extensive color plates. And some small press books with woodcuts, from Kelmscott Press, for example.
As for nominations--Darwin, Mrs. Darwin, Melanie, and whoever else would like to join in! (I would tag some others--you know who you are--but isn't there some kind of rule about waiting a reasonable time before tagging the same person?)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Overdue Meme
I was tagged by Darwin! This may have been my first meme, but it bears repeating every 6 months or so, I think. So here goes:
Book Meme Rules
1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
Aldous Huxley's Proper Studies is the nearest book. My husband checked it out of the library for me (handy that he works there) after it was mentioned in an article I was reading. Page 123 is in the middle of an essay titled "Education":
"A child may grow into a mental cripple or paralytic without suffering anything worse than boredom and fatigue. The fact is unfortunate. If children suffered agonies from the process of mental distortion at the hands of their pastors, if the stupid and mechanical teaching of German grammar or arithmetic actually made them scream with pain, we should by this time have learned something about right education. Finding themselves liable to prosecution by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, bad teachers would soon mend their ways."
[Okay, I cheated and copied 4 sentences! But really, that last one was hard to resist.]
So because the dissertation deals with literacy, which wasn't always talked about as such, "education" is a relevant topic for me, though often discussed more generally than is useful.
So I tag: Entropy at Sphere of Influence, Sarah at just another day of Catholic pondering, Jen at Et-tu? (oops, Darwin tagged her, too!), Anastasia, and Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made On!
Book Meme Rules
1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
Aldous Huxley's Proper Studies is the nearest book. My husband checked it out of the library for me (handy that he works there) after it was mentioned in an article I was reading. Page 123 is in the middle of an essay titled "Education":
"A child may grow into a mental cripple or paralytic without suffering anything worse than boredom and fatigue. The fact is unfortunate. If children suffered agonies from the process of mental distortion at the hands of their pastors, if the stupid and mechanical teaching of German grammar or arithmetic actually made them scream with pain, we should by this time have learned something about right education. Finding themselves liable to prosecution by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, bad teachers would soon mend their ways."
[Okay, I cheated and copied 4 sentences! But really, that last one was hard to resist.]
So because the dissertation deals with literacy, which wasn't always talked about as such, "education" is a relevant topic for me, though often discussed more generally than is useful.
So I tag: Entropy at Sphere of Influence, Sarah at just another day of Catholic pondering, Jen at Et-tu? (oops, Darwin tagged her, too!), Anastasia, and Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made On!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
An Ambiguous Sacrifice
Well, like so many Catholic bloggers this Lent and last, I am planning to give up blogging for Lent. I figure, everyone will lose interest & forget about me and my sitemeter stats will drop, but vanity is certainly not a good reason enough reason to stop me. I may get blogworthy ideas, but if they don't keep, perhaps I will focus on other things. Which brings me to the ambiguity. . .
No doubt I will miss blogging, and reading blogs (since that occupies more of my time than writing), and I will feel cut off from the community and the friends I have found, but when I considered posting about this a few days ago, I was thinking about my reasons for giving up blogging. Do I think that by giving up blogging and blog-reading, that I will devote more time to prayer, meditation and contemplation? Will this sacrifice bring me closer to God? Not to shock the Catholic blogging community, but no. Not even remotely. Not blogging will not make me saintlier, and that was nowhere in my motives for giving it up. Which caused me to pause. Was I giving up blogging the way others (like myself in the past) give up favorite food items--because it'll be healthier overall, kind of hard, and perhaps have the unanticipated benefit of weight loss? Well, it was true that I figured I would make my life more productive--I would be focusing on what I really should be doing--taking care of two little girls, a big brother, and (dare I say?) my husband and the house, working on the dissertation, and working for my assistantship--but isn't this more of a New Years resolution? Perhaps not, since I don't want to give it up permanently, but going cold turkey might help me regulate it more when I start back up after Easter. But isn't the Lenten sacrifice about turning back to God and making oneself holier? Reading the Catholic blogs probably makes me think about God more in a given day, albeit in a more cerebral or smug way (depending on the blog--mostly the ones whose authors don't read mine) than humble and spiritual. Well, this is what I figured. . .
I have talked a bit about vocation on this blog, here and there, from time to time. I am certainly called to motherhood and marriage, but there is this small matter of the dissertation, and the fact that I need to complete it in order for my family to move on from here, and for us to be able to pay the loans that have allowed us to pay the other bills and. . . well, you get the idea. And as for the argument (and I've seen it around the blogs) that the husband should be the provider, sometimes you have you go with the person who can do the narrowest job search instead of trawling the country for any job within a certain salary range for which one is qualified, and moving one's family accordingly. So the way I figure, the dissertation, at this point in time, is part of the family vocation. And, well, blogging is a kind of guilty pleasure in the middle of all of this. I really need to channel my creative energy into the dissertation, and these 40 days or so of Lent give me a chance to do that in an intense way, with few distractions. So how does this relate to a path to holiness? Because it relates to my vocation. And perhaps even to discernment of vocation, which I see as an ongoing process, though we've got to be settled sometime, right? My family just can't keep waiting indefinitely for the rest of our lives to begin.
So perhaps I will discover some spiritual elements in the pursuit of intellectual activity that is the dissertation, instead of the pursuit of intellectual activity that is the blogosphere for me. And perhaps by getting closer to my family vocation, I will move closer to God. Or maybe this is just my rationalization to force myself to do some work this Lent. You decide!!
P.S.--I will still be doing email, so if you feel like emailing, I wouldn't mind! (Please email me!!) ;)
P.P.S.--I will still be updating the family blog.
No doubt I will miss blogging, and reading blogs (since that occupies more of my time than writing), and I will feel cut off from the community and the friends I have found, but when I considered posting about this a few days ago, I was thinking about my reasons for giving up blogging. Do I think that by giving up blogging and blog-reading, that I will devote more time to prayer, meditation and contemplation? Will this sacrifice bring me closer to God? Not to shock the Catholic blogging community, but no. Not even remotely. Not blogging will not make me saintlier, and that was nowhere in my motives for giving it up. Which caused me to pause. Was I giving up blogging the way others (like myself in the past) give up favorite food items--because it'll be healthier overall, kind of hard, and perhaps have the unanticipated benefit of weight loss? Well, it was true that I figured I would make my life more productive--I would be focusing on what I really should be doing--taking care of two little girls, a big brother, and (dare I say?) my husband and the house, working on the dissertation, and working for my assistantship--but isn't this more of a New Years resolution? Perhaps not, since I don't want to give it up permanently, but going cold turkey might help me regulate it more when I start back up after Easter. But isn't the Lenten sacrifice about turning back to God and making oneself holier? Reading the Catholic blogs probably makes me think about God more in a given day, albeit in a more cerebral or smug way (depending on the blog--mostly the ones whose authors don't read mine) than humble and spiritual. Well, this is what I figured. . .
I have talked a bit about vocation on this blog, here and there, from time to time. I am certainly called to motherhood and marriage, but there is this small matter of the dissertation, and the fact that I need to complete it in order for my family to move on from here, and for us to be able to pay the loans that have allowed us to pay the other bills and. . . well, you get the idea. And as for the argument (and I've seen it around the blogs) that the husband should be the provider, sometimes you have you go with the person who can do the narrowest job search instead of trawling the country for any job within a certain salary range for which one is qualified, and moving one's family accordingly. So the way I figure, the dissertation, at this point in time, is part of the family vocation. And, well, blogging is a kind of guilty pleasure in the middle of all of this. I really need to channel my creative energy into the dissertation, and these 40 days or so of Lent give me a chance to do that in an intense way, with few distractions. So how does this relate to a path to holiness? Because it relates to my vocation. And perhaps even to discernment of vocation, which I see as an ongoing process, though we've got to be settled sometime, right? My family just can't keep waiting indefinitely for the rest of our lives to begin.
So perhaps I will discover some spiritual elements in the pursuit of intellectual activity that is the dissertation, instead of the pursuit of intellectual activity that is the blogosphere for me. And perhaps by getting closer to my family vocation, I will move closer to God. Or maybe this is just my rationalization to force myself to do some work this Lent. You decide!!
P.S.--I will still be doing email, so if you feel like emailing, I wouldn't mind! (Please email me!!) ;)
P.P.S.--I will still be updating the family blog.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Chickenpox!!!!!!!!!
We have had an infectious January. Two weeks ago, my toddler came down with Coxsackievirus, commonly (or uncommonly!) known as Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease. Very unpleasant. I caught it after her, then my son. Last week, while my son & I were still feeling the effects (which luckily didn't hinder our enjoyment of king cake & ice cream cake too much), I took my daughters to the doctors, and the Chiclette received some immunizations. This week, my son, who was not immunized against chicken pox, who we thought had had 2 milder cases when he was younger, came down with a full-blown case. Remember those? So it's Aveeno & Calomine for him! And another 3-4 days off of school. And the 4th copay in 3 weeks! This gave me the opportunity to ask the doctor about the vaccine. He brought it up, actually.
I really like my son's PCP. I like the girls' PCP also, as she believes in parental judgment, but I never feel as comfortable around female pediatricians as I do around a certain type of male pediatrician--the "old school" variety. This is quite different from how I feel about male vs. female OBs. But it's nice to have--for once--two pediatricians I trust.
So the doctor brought up the old cliche that chicken pox used to be a "rite of passage," that there were (ill-advised) chicken pox parties, etc., before the vaccine. He asked if the toddler was vaccinated (she is) and said that she could still get it (!!) but that it would be mild if she did. The baby should still be protected by maternal antibodies. So I asked about the vaccine--since there are reports of breakthrough infections, increased instances of shingles, and need for booster shots. He said that they always knew that a booster would be needed (!!). He hasn't heard of increased cases of shingles. And then he told us a few interesting things:
The Japanese have been vaccinating against chicken pox for about 20 years to our 15.
When my son was little, it had not yet become routine to vaccinate them at 1 yr., and that was only 10 years ago. By the time he was school age, the chicken pox vaccine was mandatory, but we skirted the issue.
Our current pediatrician did not recommend the vaccine when it was new for a few years, until the sample size was larger than the original test subjects.
He had a friend whose son (now 23 and an animator for Cartoon Network) had chicken pox induced meningitis. He was on the phone with the father when the boy had a seizure. It was at that point that he began to take chicken pox seriously as a disease.
The real reason that they vaccinate against chicken pox is not the disease but the secondary infections. The secondary staph infections landed 8,000 in the hospital on average, and would result in 40-50 deaths a year (which he whispered to avoid causing anxiety in the 11-year-old). With antibiotic resistant strains of staph, this is a valid concern to my mind.
I value such frankness in a doctor. It gives me much more to work with hearing these things from an informed person whom I trust.
Interestingly, the local news was reporting increased cases of chicken pox in spite of the vaccines only days before he came down with it. Picking up my son's homework today, my husband told one of the teachers that he had chicken pox. She said that a number of people do. It's "going around." Hmmm. . . I though that wasn't supposed to happen now!!
I really like my son's PCP. I like the girls' PCP also, as she believes in parental judgment, but I never feel as comfortable around female pediatricians as I do around a certain type of male pediatrician--the "old school" variety. This is quite different from how I feel about male vs. female OBs. But it's nice to have--for once--two pediatricians I trust.
So the doctor brought up the old cliche that chicken pox used to be a "rite of passage," that there were (ill-advised) chicken pox parties, etc., before the vaccine. He asked if the toddler was vaccinated (she is) and said that she could still get it (!!) but that it would be mild if she did. The baby should still be protected by maternal antibodies. So I asked about the vaccine--since there are reports of breakthrough infections, increased instances of shingles, and need for booster shots. He said that they always knew that a booster would be needed (!!). He hasn't heard of increased cases of shingles. And then he told us a few interesting things:
The Japanese have been vaccinating against chicken pox for about 20 years to our 15.
When my son was little, it had not yet become routine to vaccinate them at 1 yr., and that was only 10 years ago. By the time he was school age, the chicken pox vaccine was mandatory, but we skirted the issue.
Our current pediatrician did not recommend the vaccine when it was new for a few years, until the sample size was larger than the original test subjects.
He had a friend whose son (now 23 and an animator for Cartoon Network) had chicken pox induced meningitis. He was on the phone with the father when the boy had a seizure. It was at that point that he began to take chicken pox seriously as a disease.
The real reason that they vaccinate against chicken pox is not the disease but the secondary infections. The secondary staph infections landed 8,000 in the hospital on average, and would result in 40-50 deaths a year (which he whispered to avoid causing anxiety in the 11-year-old). With antibiotic resistant strains of staph, this is a valid concern to my mind.
I value such frankness in a doctor. It gives me much more to work with hearing these things from an informed person whom I trust.
Interestingly, the local news was reporting increased cases of chicken pox in spite of the vaccines only days before he came down with it. Picking up my son's homework today, my husband told one of the teachers that he had chicken pox. She said that a number of people do. It's "going around." Hmmm. . . I though that wasn't supposed to happen now!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)