tipping our hats

Today, Nu was remembering a baby book called Go, Dog, Go! much of whose plotline (if we remember right) consists of one dog asking another if they liked their hat to which the other dog replies they do not like their hat. (So many hats, Engie!). 

We were discussing if this was (a) radical and friendly honesty--the second dog not liking the first one's hat did not cause any bad feelings or (b) negging--with the second dog keeping the first one on their toes so they would keep coming back. It occurred to me at that point that Nu had always been such a good liberal arts classroom discussant. And I'm so happy to say that Nu got into the college they wanted over the holidays. Given their first two rocky years of high school, this was not at all a given. But they've managed to overcome a lot of those early impediments (complicated no doubt by the pandemic and pandemic schooling) and even got a persuasive college essay out of it. Hopes and prayers for my Nu.

Speaking of things evolving to reach maturity, I remember taking At and a baby Nu to a conference on the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) in New York because I didn't have childcare. We had to leave early because, unlike At who as a baby loved going to classes and conferences (or at least was calm when I went), Baby Nu was having none of it. (There was an embarrassing moment where Nu arched their back and slipped straight out of the baby carrier--while I was on stage. It's a wonder I wasn't reported to the U.N.) Anyway, that conference attendance evolved into an idea, then a paper, and now is a book chapter that's coming out later this year; I'm Chapter 12.

Pic: The Portage River in the falling snow. I haven't been outside much in this somewhat breathless week, so this is still from the weekend's hike.

I tug on my seatbelt, I tap on this thing

 "Every day is a faded sign/I get a little bit closer/to feeling fine" Sheryl Crow "Everyday Is a Winding Road"

fifteen days in and you ask

~ how has your year been~ 

                            planes and cranes arrow towards

                            skies pale as paper, and as empty

here on our dear irreplaceable planet 

you say: Don't take things so seriously

                            so ok... maybe not completely empty

                            --you know the bare spots left under

random careless scraps in the garden-- 

that's me, I say--their geometry of loss

                            an aloof echo, upturned in farewell 

                            truly, I have no virtues except for you

_________________________________________________________

A ceasefire is the bare, fucking minimum. And I can't express HOW happy I am that we finally have that in Gaza. I wish this could have happened before any lives were lost... or in May when these same conditions were first negotiated...  but thank you, thank you universe for this reprieve. 

If you want to see something beautiful, here is a clip of Al Jazeera journalist Anas al-Sharif announcing the ceasefire deal while taking off his protective gear while the crowd around him literally carries him on their shoulders and here's another clip of children in Gaza dancing in the streets as news of the ceasefire spreads. 

Also: Cuba should never have been on the US's state sponsors of terrorism list, but happy, it isn't anymore.

Pic: This beautiful sunset on my way home... Near Olive Township acc. to my phone.

heart with the old

I just want to say yes            somewhere, I want 

since we must begin             to watch this again:                            

seeing my problem              through lit windows

and your proof                     where we're made 

                                                                                  without our own consent

                                                                                  like the worst bargain   

__________________________________________________________

Note: I liked writing and reading these couplets in columns, rows, and just mixing it up even diagonally. Somehow it seems to work as long as it ends up where we're born without our consent!

Pics: Last year this calendar lived on my desk at work and brought me joy all year long. Each jar-shaped month was topped by a cheery sprig of flowers and as I shuffled the cards in the bamboo holder from month to month, the composition of the bouquet changed over the year. I was sad about having to throw it out. But I didn't have to throw it out. I cut off the calendar part of the cards and now it lives on as an arrangement of flowers. Perhaps I could add a small picture of Scout to it.

ready, steady, go...

And just like that the holiday break is over. 

I finally got the tree back to the basement yesterday--I coordinate 90%...maybe even 95% of the Christmas around here (almost everything except my own presents) so I was increasingly agitated I had to wait on this--but it is a two-person job. 

I spent most of today making sure everything would be ready for classes tomorrow. And now my classes have been published, syllabi have been uploaded to the Canvas sites, activities and diagnostics for tomorrow are ready to go, and I've just emailed everyone to welcome them to class. I've never been on a rollercoaster (too much of a scaredy-cat), but I imagine it feels like the mix of excitement, anticipation, and anxiety I'm feeling right now. I kind of love it.

Pic: Max and Huck were bored we stayed indoors most of the day. But also, I've always said Huck is half-puppy, half-kitty, and the way she drapes herself across the back of the sofa in the rumpus room proves my point.

things 1 & 2

Friends, has everyone gotten their Flu and COVID vaccines? Big A is seeing an uptick in cases at the E.R. so it may be past time. I'm at two superspreader events this weekend and am hoping my immunity/luck holds.

Shamefully, I haven't gotten mine this year yet--I need two to three days to recover from the shots and the timing hasn't been right with travel to Arches at mid-term break and Greece at the start of winter break. I've promised myself that I'll get it right after Christmas. 

I've also determined to work on my sleep hygiene. In my defense, there are some mitigating circumstances such as A's nighttime job, my own anxiety, my hankering for quiet hours, etc. The overall appeals of health and wellness didn't work on me--I felt I could deal with fatigue, aches and pains, hair loss, wrinkles, and all that. But At's specific warning of dementia really shook me. If I could go to bed at midnight, or even 1:00 am, and get 4-6 hours of continuous sleep that would be an A+ improvement for now.

I'm just saying--once I get my sleep sorted, I'll have no bad habits at all. I will be so boring. 

Pic: Welcome Committee photo. (Too bad Welcome Committee photos are always blurry due to all the excitement and tail wagging.)

2/3 I am meandering; 2/3 a.m. meandering

I've heard that depression is worrying about the past, anxiety is worrying about the future, and happiness is living in the moment. 2/3 isn't so bad, right? 

I think I have anxiety and moments of happiness/joy. I feel fairly done with the past. And also really lucky to have escaped without major trauma given how naive and gullible I used to be. Big A and my sister, who know all the stuff I used to get up to, marvel at this all the time.

I think I get by because I am blessed in my family and friends--I couldn't wait till Friday's book club meeting to see L so I swung by for a chat and hugs (and also got roses because she'd been at the supermarket and they were on sale). Later, LV was in town to run errands and stayed for dinner and we dug out the tiny bottle of prosecco chilling in the fridge to celebrate his tenure. (It was perfect because Big A was working that night and couldn't drink, so LV and I could polish it off ourselves.)

Now it's 2:25 a.m.: Big A is at work; I'm wide awake. It could be worse, it could be 4:00 a.m., he could be home and we could be goofing off. Big A can sleep during the day to even things out, but I won't because my work happens during the day. 

At told me the other day that I'm going to get dementia if I don't get enough sleep. 

I worry about that. 

But then sometimes I think I'm channeling the spirit of my great-grandfather who, according to my mother, would wake in the middle of the night to light an oil lamp and write poems about Hanuman, the god he was passionately devoted to. 

I'm not as religious, but I write? Right?

Pic: Our Christmas tree in the light. Oof, we really are running out of space.  

CAP-ital

 

Nu is better; the grandbaby is here! (But in the NICU, so haven't seen them yet.)

And I had a nerdy time at NWSA. 

One minute I'm squealing because I just saw a conference friend, the next I'm squealing in my head because I saw a feminist icon. It was terrific to be able to say "land back" or "cite Black women" or wear Palestinian support without controversy. It was terrific seeing former students--especially JV, who came all the way from Kalkaska. 

Both my panels went well. Really well, actually. My first panel with EM on "Critical Connectivity" was in a plenary room and it was quite full and very engaged. The second on "Narrative Medicine" was at 5 when people usually head off for dinner but it was still well attended.

Pic: And of course SR and I took our annual Madras Madcap photo as we have since 2017. (We both had some college years in Madras and love wearing hats, so we bring hats to wear for this photo--not a stretch since it's usually in November.) She gave me the bracelet I'm wearing, it's made of an engraved coconut shell.

everything (three things) everywhere (in three places) all at once (and all tomorrow)

It's not quite at the same volume as the movie, but it does feel like I have to be in three places tomorrow: Nu is sick and has to stay home, it's my big NWSA day in Detroit, and BL is in labor in a Lansing hospital.

Today a coach at Nu's school died in a car accident. Apparently, he had been saddened by the student's suicide last week, so the community is wondering if he'd been distracted by that when the accident happened. He was a basketball coach and Nu is... decidedly not on the basketball team. So when I first got the email from the school informing me, I didn't even know if Nu knew him. But when I got home, Nu was full-on crying, their face swollen and snotty, and they were really quite inconsolable. And they felt warm to the touch, and sure enough they were running a temperature. Aaron will be home from work around the time I have to leave for Detroit tomorrow, so I think I'll be able to leave as planned...

... for NWSA! As it is, I'm not going for the whole four-day affair. And as it is, I've already gotten texts from friends I see only at conferences asking if I want to have dinner with them, etc. Alas. But both my panels and my caucus meetings are tomorrow, so my day trip tomorrow will have to do. Perhaps I could go in on Saturday too, if Nu is better and I have the energy and I'm not needed...

...At the hospital where BL is laboring to give birth to my honorary grandchild! I won't be in the delivery room, but I can at least be in town, right? I'm SO EXCITED!!

Pic: I was full of nervous energy + Nu felt like cake, so I baked some banana-pumpkin muffins. It turns out this was the project I'd been holding on to the hibiscus-sugar (that SD brought me when she visited in 2022) for.

Five for Friday: In the Aftermath

1) Yesterday's animus was disturbing, but it is outweighed by all the good memories of other things I've found by my office door--conversations, notes, stickers, buttons, gifts, flowers... I'm not going to let this one (and I hope only) bad experience dismantle all of that. 

2) The college put out a campus-wide email today condemning the harassment--I appreciate how quickly they acted. The email starts "in the aftermath of the recent election" so they're not shying away from why this is happening either.

3) So, so grateful for all the people who reached out or reached back when I reached out to them. I'm not alone in this. I never was. I never will have to be. 

4) I worked from home today. And there's so much work! Student research projects are underway; they're the culmination of the semester's learning and are so exciting. I have two panels to chair at the NWSA next Friday + one paper to write. It's past 3 am, and I'm still putting the final touches on my Gaza class, in a couple of hours... And of course, despite this heavy roster of tasks, I spent too much time today trying to articulate why I should not have been harassed. That's one of the ways racism, sexism, etc. get people to waste their time--by making them try to justify their existence as Toni Morrison explained. 

5) A child in Nu's school died by suicide last night. Friends think it was panic about the election results. Nu did not know them personally but found themselves sobbing inconsolably all day. They told me people were posting supportive Post-it notes everywhere and giving hugs to everyone and that it just made them cry harder because the student who had died could have benefitted from all of this. I want to cry too. I wonder how many people we will lose needlessly in the coming four years...

Pic: Max waits for me to catch up. I'm not usually home at this time, so I was pausing to marvel at all the cool shadows the trees were making in the autumn light. 

the politics of cruelty

When I arrived at work this morning,  my colleague MS told me that a poster advertising his Queer Religion course had been defaced with a Trump picture. We walked over to my office and realized that someone had pinned that same Trump picture to the bulletin board outside my office right next to a safe space sticker. None of our other colleagues on the third floor had received this specific attention. It seems someone on campus wanted to send the two of us who teach queer studies a message. Perhaps one of intimidation?  

It does make me feel a bit weird to think of someone harboring bad feelings for me and walking all the way up to my office knowing I would not be there and leaving me something they think I'll find menacing. But to what end... It's not like I'm going to look at this picture, realize the error of my ways, and suddenly become a white supremacist, patriarchal, heteronormative prig?

In other places in Michigan today: High school boys in Escanaba walked around telling girls, "your body, my choice." A friend in the Ann Arbor area who is black received a text telling them they'd been "selected to pick cotton at our nearest plantation." Clearly, the enabling effects of electing a rapist and a racist to the highest office are immediate.

Pic: I blanked out the more distinctive parts of my name because I'd rather not end up on any more professor watchlists.  LV, my office neighbor tore the picture up like Captain Von Trapp ripping up the Nazi flag in The Sound of Music. That part was so satisfying--as was seeing Big A and At cursing up a storm on family chat.

Hope is a responsibility

I woke up this morning and went right back to work like it was an ordinary day... like nothing out of the ordinary had happened... like I wasn't worried that come January things were going to get very regressive and repressive.

Like I wasn't mad that young voters had given the Dems a clear guide on how to win their votes (progressive policy on climate change, student debt, Gaza, Queer rights, labor), and then the Dems campaigned to Republicans and here we are. (In the meantime, 94% of Republicans continued to vote for Trump--exactly as they did in 2020. Thank God, the Dems landed the Dick Cheney endorsement in an election year marked by some of the largest anti-war demonstrations in the 21st century though. OK, done being snarky.)

But as I say, I went back to work. I got stuff done. I took care of the ones who depend on me. I checked on the kids' passports (Nu needs a new one). There was a stream of texts from friends and groups (mad, bewildered, scared, incredulous). I was mostly kind and supportive. And as the day went on, I was grateful I have people I can let loose and be mad with. There were emails from students that broke my heart. It sounds like the cruelty has already started. I wish my love could shelter them.

I'm craving community. There's a potluck on Saturday to "process and witness," and there's a "scream and fight fascism" on Sunday where the plan is to hike to a nearby lake and scream our hearts out. For today, EM and I got together to work on our presentation for next week and BL stopped by briefly. BL said they didn't have "much bandwidth" to join EM and the fam for dinner but they brought me a cozy hug (I felt the baby kick!) and some beautiful flowers to cheer me up though.

I can't believe we have to fight for the basic stuff all over again. But giving up is not an option.

Pic: Beautiful flowers from BL.

gifts

JV and I were having the nerdiest discussion over breakfast about our favorite fonts under the amused and indulgent gaze of the people who love us anyway. Then she showed me an amazing tik-tok from this guy called Wisdom Kaye who dresses like various fonts. All the outfits are designer-sourced, and they are exactly as though those fonts--Times New Roman, Impact, Papyrus--came to life. It's incredible. This is why they say you should have a mentor who is in the under-thirty age range. This is something I would never have chanced upon by myself.

So many of yesterday's guests were incredibly generous. When people asked what they could bring, I said perhaps fireworks, because I don't know anything beyond sparklers. But people also came bearing gifts because Google told them gifts were appropriate for Diwali? My friend SD who wore a headlamp to last year's party (because Diwali is a festival of light, get it?) gift-wrapped a box of LED lightbulbs this time 😂. And there were so many fragrant candles, and candies, and a salt lamp--so, so perfect because those are not things I would buy for myself.

Then there are the gifts that were completely unexpected and packed an emotional punch: Like the bunch of chrysanthemums from someone who was in youth group with Nu and is now at MSU for college. I know they don't drive, so the flowers were probably an extra stop somewhere in their busy college-student day... Like the carefully gift-wrapped set of glasses from an international student, which reminded me of my own international student days and how I would translate everything via currency exchange rates into what it would cost back home... Like the canisters of tea two lovely young people handed me, which I was already looking forward to enjoying, but totally saved me this morning when I realized I was all out of Earl Grey and my in-laws asked if I had something with caffeine in it... Like the paintings my baby cousin made for me... like the mini-poster of Jennifer Bloomer's motto, which I take quite literally apparently and now lives on our fridge...

Yesterday, the henna artist told me at the end of the evening that she'd been eavesdropping on people's conversations as she worked and that I was lucky that I know so many nice people who love me. (I hope that's true and I wish I'd heard these conversations!) But I do know lovely people and I feel absolutely lucky to be in the world with them. If the whole world was filled with the people who filled my home yesterday, I would not be worried about the elections like at all.

Pic: The world is so beautiful. (And I prefer this sunset to yesterday's smoky fireworks.)

right to party

I spent weeks prepping, and everything went really well (I think!)!!  There was a photo booth, a henna artist, a craft table, a cards table (it's traditional to gamble, I set out dominoes for people to stake), some dupattas for those who wanted to add some desi flair, and a banging playlist. I wish there had been more dancing. 

I'm not sure we'll be in a house this big next year, so might as well use it, right? And our house was FULL. Still is in a way--all the bedrooms are occupied, and poor Nu is sleeping in the rumpus room. (It's an Indian kid rite of passage-- giving up your room to assorted "cousins.") 

The afterparty was curling up with Big A on the sofa and finally eating some food and getting waited on by the fam; having Nu request that I share the playlist with them (WIN); and seeing At's text saying it was an "incredible party." (We stayed on text to talk about Sally Rooney. Do they have stellar politics? Absolutely. Are they a good writer? Maybe? At: "sometimes I feel like they really are capturing something though" "there's this beautifully understatedly marxist scene in a church later in the book that has stayed in my mind forever." I'm not at that part yet... Ok then. )

Anyway, the party is over. I spent weeks prepping, and it was such a nice distraction when I found myself slipping into a funk. Now I have nothing to distract myself with, and have only serious, scary, and sad things to think about...  c'est la vie.)

Pic: Fireworks. I'm happy to see all my people having a good time. (Can we pretend that the smoke is an aurora borealis or something?)

What I heard: the paranoia and plaudits edition

Paranoia: 
I wasn't at my best. It was the end of a long day and I was huffing and puffing my way to the student union to drop a box of clothes off for a clothing swap when a kind colleague stopped me on the sidewalk: "How are you doing?" As a third of our faculty are supposed to be fired by December 15th, this made me feel some sort of way. I burst out: "Omigosh, what did you hear?" He was taken aback, and I was so effing embarrassed.

Plaudits:
I took some consolation from this text exchange from a colleague in the art department later in the day:

"You were a brief conversation topic in my class today!
Seems that the consensus is that you’re awesome!" 

(I think it had something to do with me showing my "Bad Babes and Mad Men" class the difference between the timid Judith painted by Caravaggio versus the powerful and determined Judith painted by Artemisia Gentileschi, who had been a survivor of sexual assault herself.) 

Pic: Red Ivy by Brody Hall on the MSU campus. 

try me twice

Not Trying: 

The 15-year-old radio/CD/I-Pod (I know!) dock that lived in the kitchen and provided the soundtrack to our lives, especially to the puppy kids while we were at school/work.

The online work-related interface, which kept locking me out claiming the confirmation email I provided did not match although I was copy-pasting!

Trying Hard: 

My 17-year-old who has finally decided to take driver education classes and finds themselves in a class full of freshmen and sophomores.

The three green tomatoes I found in the veggie plot who seem to have decided, despite the lateness of the year, that they'd give it a shot.

To Try: 

Plant lasagna. or how to layer bulbs in planters for year-round blooms. I mean, I already do something like this when I press hyacinth bulbs into planters and forget until they begin to bloom and scent the whole room (and then it's such a delightful surprise) but this is for the outside.

Honey-Harissa Chickpeas and then if it didn't already sound awesome, the rec is that you top it with Greek yogurt and mint.

Pic: Three green tomatoes at the end of October.

(be)(holding)

after a  night  spent  begging

openness stays in my hands

alive and scrabbling  

the  half-seen things that stay 

behind my head like lunacy 

sappily live, laugh, love

  

 somewhere lives  resuming

in rubble--radio back, grow

high-pitched as news

I am empty-handed as those

not alive, I  re-collect them

in the lateness of my love

_____________

Pic: I didn't get pictures of the Northern Lights or the Comet last week, but I've been very lucky with sunrises this week...

Socrates on my mind

Well, Socrates was on my mind this morning because I had to drive over an hour on my way to work to pick up a present for Big A's birthday and the town I was picking up from was named "Hemlock." The only reference for hemlock I've ever had is that it was the poison used to execute Socrates in prison. (Why did they name their town that?!?)

And that was the other reason I was thinking about Socrates--prison. Because today was my turn to be in the classroom with the incarcerated students. I'd picked pieces that had been written in prison as readings for today (by Malcolm X, Dr. King, Mandela, O. Henry...) and planned to talk about what each of the authors was in prison for, and how long they'd been unpopular in the public sphere. (It still freaks me out that nearly 70% of White Americans disapproved of Dr. King the year before his assassination and that Nelson Mandela was on the U.S. State Department's list of terrorists until 2008.) As it turned out, my background check didn't come through in time, so I didn't get to go after all and my visit has been postponed to December (maybe?).

I was so disappointed. I know Socrates isn't considered a stoic, but stoicism is what I should aim for right now? (Also, it might help me fall asleep? It's 4:36 am... when will I sleep tonight?)

Pic: My reward for driving along Michigan rural roads early this morning was this aureate sunrise.

marking myself safe

It has been a tough week, but I'm still here. 

One of my besties sent me this meme to remind me that I don't have to be super nice to everyone else while I'm feeling terrible. (The small font at the bottom says, hilariously, "Hello 911? How are you?")

Big A is jokingly pretend-placing bets with the kids on whether I'll be hospitalized for exhaustion or a mental breakdown and whether it'll be by Thanksgiving or Christmas.

But I AM doing things for myself. For instance, I had meetings all day, but I made the time to make and attend a long overdue medical appointment. (My finger is still splinted and I guess the days of just expecting my body to heal over are over?)

Also, I went to book club although I didn't quite finish Niall Williams' This is Happiness. It's a delightful, charming, poetic novel set in Ireland (and I should love it for that anti-colonial attribute alone) but I guess I wasn't in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. What I did enjoy, however, was sitting with a glass of wine and my book club friends while they cursed up a storm and exchanged GOTV stories from the trenches. My multigenerational friendships with women (this book club is mostly in their seventies) are some of the greatest blessings in my life. 

Currently, I'm wondering if it's worth it to go to bed as the Saturday class is at 7 am our time. 

Pic: This picture reminds me of the time I was so tired as an undergrad, I tripped over a beanbag and then reflexively apologized to it. Good times.

lost and found (Four for Thurs)

1) My Gaza students may be ok. (My Moodle skills may not.) But I.T. did some troubleshooting, and they can see students logging in, so hopefully this week's online class will be a go. 

2) I thought I was going to get to work later than I wanted, so I was merrily speeding along... Then, I thought I was definitely going to be late because I saw police lights flashing in my rearview. I got ready to pull over, but they just wanted to pass me. Phew. 

3) I heard about Robert Roberson on the way to work. His two-year-old died of complications from pneumonia--but the hospital thought it was shaken-baby syndrome in part because they thought he wasn't emotional enough (he is on the autism spectrum!) Anyway, he ended up on death row, although everyone including medical experts and the arresting officer now agree he is innocent, with his execution date today. But the Texas Supreme Court halted the execution!

4) Pic: There are definitely hints of Fall color around, but inside the woods, it's still green as summer. Baker Woods with L.

faking, making, breaking

I'm talking to I.T. at Lille and An-Najah Universities to figure out where my Gazan students are and if there is a problem with my Moodle page. 

I expected today to be tough and it was: I was skating on the edge of tears and nauseous all day, but I did ok on this teaching day because I had prepped classes ahead of time, and had willing and engaged students. I even chuckled because of two videos I showed--Trevor Moore's "My Mom's A Bitch" (when we studied Robert Browning's "My Last Duchess" because both are terrific examples of dramatic monologues); and this old B&W clip of Carl Rogers and his client Gloria as we went into Rogerian Rhetoric (to show Rogerian modes in practice and also because it will never not be hilarious to see lightbulbs go off as young people figure out what Gloria's old-fashioned problem is). 

It was a long day at work and I didn't melt down until much later with Big A who is the best. He did suggest that I stop taking on more responsibilities and I kind of am. My CASA director had contacted me with a new case last week, but I'm holding off on accepting it until I figure out how it feels to teach an extra online class this semester.

Pic: Things left for me... The book outside my door was expected. The napkin note is a mystery! It was left under the windshield wiper of my car. At first, I thought it was a parking ticket because I'm driving a loaner from the dealership and it doesn't have my faculty parking sticker. And I can't figure out who it is, because I don't have very many "XOX"-style friendships on campus and none of them are an "L." Perhaps it's an "L" from another facet of my life? Why "L" and not their name? How do they know that's my car? (It's a loaner I picked up just last week.) Mysteries abound!