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