in medias res

Faster than a Gallon of Cheetahs

Time for my latest discovery:

My video iPod has made traveling practically painless, but it has also decreased the time spent on soul-searching and goal-making. It's much easier to zone out in front of the Colbert Report ("Coal-bear re-poor"), the Office, or catch up with those crazy kids on Lost. (Thanks to DP...) I've also discovered podcasts. I have Ravi Zacharias's Let My People Think, vintagetooncast, NPR's daily report, Scientific American, BBC's Homegrown (British rap!), Ricky Gervais, the Onion headlines, Knopf's Poem-a-day...

Confession? Scientific American does not get nearly as much play as the vintage tooncast. Chalk up another one to my good intentions. I also sometimes cannot watch the screen on Lost because it scares me and I jump, and that is not a good thing while I am driving. (NOTE: To the naysayers - yes, I realize that driving and watching a tv screen is also not a good idea while driving. Point acknowledged.) And I ONLY watch these on the straight stretches of dead interstate where the only life comes from Pedro's beckonings to his personal kitsch mecca on I-95.

The road is starting to feel more normal than home. Last Thursday night, I drove up to Atlanta and stayed with my brother and his wife. I arrived at 11, we talked until 12:30, and then I started revisions on my popular culture conference paper. Two and a half hours of sleep and several hours of awake later, I printed the incomplete version and navigated into the deep of Atlanta and the Marquis Marriott. I tried to look important in my navy wrap dress (an oldie but kind-of a goodie), camel wedge shoes, modest earrings, and impressive computer bag, and to practice my business woman's strut. And I prayed that no one would show. I felt lucky to get the 8am panel, which coincided with the PCA board meeting and a tour of Atlanta's cemetaries. That precluded two large groups of the PCA crowd. I was nervous about the size of the room; it seated forty and our table was a little too neatly laid out with notepads and pens. I was sweating as much as the silver pitcher perfectly placed in the middle of the table. At 7:50, I was alone in the room.

A few minutes before 8, the panel's chair/presenter arrived with her husband and one of her advisors. Her paper was part of her dissertation in New Media Studies from a Canadian university. Mine was a late-night effort in a class on sympathy and affect. Presenter number three didn't show. The largest part of our audience (three more members) came in slowly while I delivered my paper. I lost my inspiration to really present the paper and make it as interesting as possible. I wanted to move quickly so they wouldn't ask any questions. (I wrote a critique of the use of the image of the suffering child to raise funds for many humanitarian organizations. It's more involved than that, but also a lot more boring.) The other, much more interesting paper was on the mythology of memorial spaces - specifically the space occupied by the twin towers, and the discussion about how it is to be memorialized (and by whom).
Response to both of our papers was wildly positive and encouraging. I felt good (and tired) as I got in the car and headed to Charleston for the weekend and the long stretch of I-20.

Easter weekend at home was good. The family gets together and we all fall into our old roles with one very good new exception - my new sister-in-law. She is wonderfully sweet and caring and we love her. She's a sharp contrast to my biting humor. She's the GOOD Hostetler girl now. I am ornery, and was told so on several occasions this weekend. We went to the beach, ate, talked, rode bikes...it was nice and way too short. (I also tagged along as one of my good friends from Charleston shopped for her wedding dress.) My cousin told his mom that he "can run faster than a whole galllon of cheetahs!!" She asked, "Do you know how many cheetahs are in a gallon? A gallon is what we get our milk in." He gave a sheepish "Oh" and a giggle and ran off (like a cheetah?).

There wasn't any indication of the recent vandalization on our house, but I noticed that my old notebooks and letters had been dumped all over my closet. (They had been in the bottom and back of a closed cabinet.) My mom told me that some of my notebooks were open like someone had been reading through them. I felt sick. I prefer to choose my secrets that get shared with the world.

More news from home will have to wait. Until then, I have to learn espanol para un test on sabado. As you can see, I need major ayuda - more than the Spanish channel can give me ahora.

Sierra del fuego.

posted by tara @ 9:18 PM 1 comments

"Here I Go Again On My Ooooowwnn..."

Quick Updates:

It’s been too long. The stories have piled up so high that the time (and attention) it would take to go through everything recent is more than I can handle. And we all know that I’m often the first person to lose interest in my own story, and make everyone else follow suit.

First of all, after a miserable couple of months since I’ve known that I actually have a choice for my Ph.D., I’ve made a decision. Many of you may have thought that I made the decision already based on the fact that I called everyone and bought a t-shirt and cups (my “I’m going to UF!” stage), and then became so sad about leaving that I left everything in the bag on my floor (my “I’m going to FSU!” stage). I do better without a choice. A big thank you to all the friends who have talked me back and forth about this, the professors who offered their wisdom, and the strangers who asked and had no idea what they were getting themselves into. My apologies, too.

I’m going to the University of Florida in Gainesville.



However, since many people (outside of Florida) don’t know the difference between the two, you probably thought I was going there already. No need to take down that mental post-it – now it’s true. And I haven’t been calling people to tell them; I’m sick of bugging everyone about it.

Ultimately, it came down to the move that would help me have the best career options in four years. Unless you’re an academic rockstar (or working with one), it doesn’t look great that you stay with one program the whole way through. Every time I heard someone disprove this theory, I got excited and decided to stay. Even then, I was disappointed in myself for giving in to fear.

I’m sad to leave the friends I’ve made here, but they’re leaving this year or next year anyway. The grad lounge in the Williams building will fill with strangers and I’ll feel strange. While I am not nearly as endeared to these professors as I am to my old G-dubb professors, I have become more comfortable with them than when I first started.

Now, I’m off to a whole new level of uncomfortable.

I’ll save my goodbyes for later.

In other news, I am still recovering from a spontaneous weekend excursion (remember them??) to Memphis last weekend. Late Thursday night, Mike and I were discussing the emotional disadvantages of our respective geographic locations. When we got off the phone at 2, I (very poorly) packed a bag. I got in touch with his best Memphis friend to let him in on my little plan and, after three hours of sleep and 6 hours of work, I packed up the Camry and headed west on I-10.

Along the way, I gave detailed descriptions of the night out on the town I was having with the girls, even though I was sure he could hear the driving rain of the Mississippi/Tennessee storms in the background. Remember the storms that killed several people last weekend? Tara’s luck: I drove right through them. My brother and my roommate both kept me updated on the tornado warnings. I decided it was not a good time to catch up on my movie-watching. Or my grading.
At a very tired 1am, I walked up to his house and started pounding on the door. Initially, he did not appreciate my excitement and I could hear his grumblings. He jumped as soon as he opened the door. He looked at me, looked at my car, looked at me, looked at my car, and then it hit him. I got a really great hug (one where your feet come off the ground). It was a great trip.

Saturday, we made breakfast at his buddy’s place, and then all three of us hopped in his blazer and headed down to Oxford, Mississippi. We spent a couple of hours at Rowan Oak – Faulkner’s home. Did you know that he has the plot sequence to one of his books written on the walls of his office? Brilliant. Then, Mike and two other Memphis students read their work at Ole Miss. (He’s so good!) We went to an after-party that served Cosmos and wine, and, late that night, pulled back into Memphis. The next day, we went to a friend’s co-ed surprise baby shower, and I left around 4pm. Very sad. Another two hours of sleep on Sunday night and that (kind of) brings you to right now.

Now…when I’m packing up a bag for a conference in Atlanta at 8am tomorrow, then to Charleston for the weekend.

It just doesn’t stop.

And now, I’ve really lost interest in my own stories, so…for now…

Love and decisiveness,

Tara

posted by tara @ 3:54 PM 1 comments