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.

Things (and I do mean things) making me happy (a little bit) and lessons I could take away

In order of expense, I suppose:

1. Bluey is back! My little big all-electric S.U.V. is back from the dealership! I dropped it off in JANUARY because the battery wasn't responding. When I wrote about missing my teal-blue Bluey back in May, Nance was horrified it had already been that long. But here's the thing. We got this all-electric thing in 2019. And we were early Elon Musk haters, so it's not a Tesla.  And by January 2024, it was out of warranty. But it was a first-gen vehicle and the dealership was quite kind in setting me up with a loaner and working on it till they got it right... and they didn't charge me anything for the loaner or the repair. They even joked on text once in a while. Lessons: Things take time; people are doing their best. 

2. The kitchen faucet gave up during our Diwali bash, and we just had it replaced. The faucet itself only cost about forty dollars. Afterward, we marveled at how strong the stream of water gushing out was whenever we turned the handle. Although the handle on the old one had been wonky for over a year, I kept putting off the repair, and somehow--probably because it had happened gradually--we had gotten used to the slow flow. Lessons: Fix things promptly; don't settle for less because of the "slow boil."

3. Lavender oil has been my mainstay for a long time. A few drops in the household laundry before it goes in the dryer (rose oil for my clothes); a few drops on pillowcases, and extra for the people who can't fall asleep easily; rubbed into skin as a pain reliever for small sprains and bruises; a sprinkle on a cushion as a room freshener; and on and on. I've recently started using it as a hair detangler too--and I think it leaves my hair glossy. When I use it on damp hair and air dry as usual, it really defines my waves. Lessons: Keep it simple; go with what you know to be good.

4. The open can of coconut milk I found in the fridge. I love my Big A. And I love that he made me cauliflower wings with Thai seasoning. But apparently, the recipe called for a tablespoon of coconut milk, so the rest of the can got shoved into the fridge? Anyway finding the the open can helped me de-spicy-fy the Thai Tom Yum I made for dinner. For a half-Indian child, Nu doesn't do spicy very well... Lessons: Use what you have, even if sometimes it's someone else's "mistake."

Pic: Max is almost camouflaged in the leaves here. Gah. This week, I wish I could disappear too.

mid-night, mid-life, mid-everything

Do you remember how childhood used to be real and we lived inside it?

I just got off the phone with my mom... we were chatting and having a great time, but suddenly she did some time math (it's around 3:00 am here, 1:30 pm in India) and told me to go to bed. 

She also said she would send me 100$ to buy "something nice" on my December trip with my sister and I suddenly felt about 12 years old. When I did the currency math, $100 is like 8400 rupees, and I demurred, but my mom won't let me refuse. 

Something about being hustled off to bed and the delight in my mom's voice about treating me makes me feel precious and small and cared for. And it makes me want to cry. But of course this week, everything makes me want to cry.

Pic: Sanford Woods last week. 

orison for an apocalypse

let us praise the ghosts

tired as they return 

home to us 

let us pry open a time 

until nothing is left

unremembered

let us pray we can shine 

redundantly into a day 

already radiant 

let us practice coming 

to the reopened door 

with hope

___________________________

Pic: This is my favorite thing--sorry not the dead flowers and the gunky birdbath--but yes, the flaking Buddha statue with the verdigris and faded prayer flags and the accidental hole in his thigh and the CHIPMUNK FAMILY WHO SHELTERS INSIDE HIM. 

group shout... out

It was supposed to be a communal scream to rage against the election results. As it turned out, we did a lot of talking and shared info about local organizations doing good work (the Refugee Development Center, The Fledge, and Salus Center, to name a few; a Google doc is forthcoming). 

One person suggested we shout from our diaphragm rather than scream because screaming might hurt our vocal cords and increase our cortisol levels while shouting would make us feel powerful. So that's what we did much to the surprise of the ducks and geese out on the lake.

I lacked the energy to go to yesterday's potluck, so I wondered if I would make it out of the house today, but the person organizing the communal scream was sick, and somehow suddenly I was the facilitator, so I had to go. (I wish I'd stop doing this, btw--at Friday's Faculty Meeting, I agreed to be the humanities rep on a committee because there was no humanities rep and I was afraid if I didn't volunteer then the humanities wouldn't be represented at all.) 

Anyway, I'm glad I went today. It was good to be in community and to meet new people. (I can't say I feel radically unburdened or different though.)

Pic: Sharp Park at sunset after our group scream shout. 

there is no map to the unreal

the long lines won't let go

I cannot even write

who is it that sold the world

who birthed it breaking

words turn, unlatch, and then

run away

I am run over in the middle of 

of nowhere

the journey is now a recovery

just a few steps 

forward and then I carefully

re-turn back 

I'm eclipsed in the small forevers

of amnesias

a place I have all the time I want

to not be here

_____________

 Pic: My today, basically: books, work, puppies. It's sad and hilarious how terrified Max is of the purple ball when it rolls towards him. He was scared of it when he was a puppy and it was bigger than him, and somehow scared of it still although he's much bigger than it now. Perhaps there's some lesson there for me?

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.

this is so bad

It's 3 am, He is one state away from winning this election. I don't get it, I just don't get it... 

I expected Harris-Walz to struggle in Michigan because of their mistreatment of Uncommitted voters, but I did not expect that Trump would be preferred almost universally. What a strange world in which people overwhelmingly voted for the greater evil instead of the lesser evil. 

I'm telling myself that the work that was there yesterday remains today. And there are so many of us---we are not alone.

Pic: Six of the winners of the "I Voted" sticker contest held by the Michigan Dept. of State. The Werewolf one (top left) was featured on the John Oliver show and is apparently selling like hotcakes on eBay. I got a regular sticker, but friends in other polling areas got some of these cool ones.

the election is now

As many, especially those who have voted early have said, the election is not on November 5th--the election is underway, and will be over on November 5th. 

That's tomorrow.

Big A and I plan to vote after work tomorrow. We have a lot of conversations about our votes--or we have the same conversation about our votes--it's quite Sisyphean. Our family and friends are--for the most part--aligned with our values, so being in a place where our voting decision, whatever it is, will annoy/pain/harm/disappoint various leftists amongst them is a new dilemma for us. 

No matter what happens in this U.S. election these two things will still be true: 
1) An ongoing genocide has been supported by U.S. tax dollars.
2) People with MAGA values are nearly 50% of the U.S. electorate.
If we care about either of those things, we must give our effort, time, and care to work beyond the ballot box. 

Pic: MSU Spirit Rock. "Vote for Our Futures" is not just a reminder to vote for our own future; the back of the rock lists people we may want to think of--our immigrant, trans, poor, female, queer, Muslim, disabled, minority, friends + family in the throes of a climate crisis.

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. 

Happy Hallowali!

Happy Diwali-ween!

I'm taking the beginning of Diwali celebrations today as an assurance that love endures, and that light perseveres... all Hallow's Eve is actually the same thing, right? 

Nu dressed as Rainbow Dash today and is out with friends. Diwali is a multi-day affair and they have the day off tomorrow to celebrate Diwali anyway. Yay! 

I gather from friends in New Jersey that school districts there have the day off too. When I was at the fireworks store yesterday to buy sparklers for the party, the guys there wished me "Happy Diwali!" All this feels surprisingly mainstream!

I'm excited (and a teensy bit anxious--so many moving parts) about our Diwali party on Saturday--my baby cousin and her friends, a former student and their partner, and my in-laws are coming for the weekend... and to help me prep! 

Pic: Max and Huck with JL and Henry, who has recovered from his amputation like the champion he is!

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.

translated 5 am prayer

for mine is the kingdom 

mine the braids of music  

mine the mimesis of 

"This is Morning Edition"

heard in the next room

*

soon I will love what

my mother cannot love 

soon enough, recover 

myself, the messy stems

of stirrings since flooded

*

keep me from stony

accounting, teach me 

to be trying for peace

gather me with those

who tend to the night 

*

to pass over the heads,

the beds of my children

Pic: Fall along the Red Cedar. View from the walking bridge yesterday.

snap

I'm talking to myself...

Telling myself I had a very good weekend with JG sleeping over Friday, a Halloween party with Big A Saturday, and brunch with EM Sunday. 

Telling myself that I'm working hard at grading, prepping my regular classes + independent studies + the prison class + the Gaza class + editing the book. 

Telling myself that it's okay to feel anxious because there are plenty of reasons for anxiety...  I can even count off the reasons in every realm from the international, national, extended family, friends, family, physical... but I really am doing the best I can.

And also... doing that awful calculus of figuring out how many hours of sleep I can get if I fall asleep like right now... while the clock acts like an assshole countdown ticker... 

Pic: I spy a Great Blue Heron on the rapids of the Red Cedar.  From a long walk to clear my head early this morning.

evening report

you know this is Sunday anxiety

the lurch of the coming week 

sitting unsafe as dust before 

a wind

by the nail the night hangs on 

by the new day at the door 

I am trying to tell myself 

to remember

about how even stones support

each  other  like friends do 

in every wandering corner 

of the universe

_________________

Pic: Old neighbor BL's ethereal picture of Ellis Pond in Yellow Springs, OH. 

busy and strange

I threw on a mask for the second day in a row... I guess it's the season? Yesterday the queer students' alliance organized Masqueerade and I went to celebrate them. The older I get, the more delighted I am about every little sweet thing young people do. I'm so here for it. 

Today was our friends' Halloween party. Big A worked hard on his costume ordering things online weeks in advance. He is Adam Yauch (R.I.P.) a.k.a. MCA as Nathan Wind as Cochese in the Beastie Boys music video for Sabotage (1994). I kinda forgot all about today's party because I had a late work night, we had a house guest with whom I was up late, and then I had to prep and teach my Gaza class early this morning, attend a two-hour meeting where I was elected Secretary to The Michigan Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters etc. But I found the feathered mask that has been hanging on my mirror forever and a peacock-patterned wrap and went as a "strange bird." 

Pic: There's too much going on in this picture--it's so busy and strange and we're an odd pair, for sure.

women's ways

Everyone in a class earlier this week was familiar with the idea of "toxic masculinity," but we had to put some work in to figure out what it might mean for women and other people in male-centric spaces.  

As in how women may have to perform patriarchy and even misogyny in order to get ahead in the workplace. As in does female achievement on male terms equal feminism? As in if a woman leader values profit over human welfare or attacks another country, is it feminist just because a woman is doing it? Let's say... Margaret Thatcher. Sure she is the first woman to be Prime Minister in the UK, but can we count her as a feminist? 

I revisited some of those class discussions as I walked with AK this morning. One of the many things I absolutely love about AK is how she normalizes gentleness and softness in the workplace. She is the first person I know who signed a work email with "Love," and now I feel I can do that too. Her rapport with students is legendary and if there is an initiative to get the college to do better, AK is there in the lead. When I searched my blog for "AK" I found so many instances of why I'm just so lucky to know her. She said something so kind and funny mid-walk this morning, we just stopped to chuckle and hug. I'll treasure that moment. 

Pic: AK is running for office, and this is one of her campaign stickers. (I got her permission to use it here, but I'm going to continue to use her initials so this post doesn't show up in searches.) I LOVE how the "her" part of her name is sized up! 💗

(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...

the young(er) guy I married...

is now 51! How does that happen?! It seems like just yesterday when turning 30 was such a big deal :). And now here we are with grown-up kids ourselves. 

Happy Birthday, Big A!!

We had dinner out with the kids and then dessert and presents at home. I made a pineapple upside-down cake (birthday request) that turned out perfectly. (I subbed freeze-dried raspberries for maraschino cherries as At has allergies.) And the Fireclaw I drove to pick up yesterday was a BIG hit! (Nu wanted one too!) 

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.

Some instances of writing I was happy to see today:

*     All the progress I'm making with indexing the book--a task I've never undertaken before.

*     The kind, nondramatic way the henna artist responded to my gentle breakup text: "it was nice meeting you...thats fiiiinee" (She was at the party yesterday, and I'd planned to have her at our Diwali party next week too, but her work was different from what I had in mind.)

*     The most perfect set of answers to a quiz about the British Romantics from a student in Gaza. They described "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" as "the quintessential romantic poem," which it certainly is. 

*     My seventh piece of handwritten mail urging me to vote. Some were postcards, this one was an actual letter. The Michigan vote will matter, and I guess it's making non-Michiganders anxious. (How I wish Harris-Walz had treated the folks from Uncommitted with more care and respect.)

*     A weird Lord of the Rings meme At sent me at 5:25 am in the morning... I'm not sure why, but it's from my lovey, and sure, I'll take it!

Pic: I inscribed a walking path amongst the falling leaves with my rake and Max engraved his own tracks too. 

Athithi Deivo Bhava

I looked up from gathering my things to see the host's father talking to his daughter, pointing at me from across the room accusingly, and saying something about "that girl..." My crime? I was trying to leave without taking food home with me. So I was properly chastised and packed up with leftovers.

It was lovely to take a break and celebrate an early Diwali with the girlfriends, play with some delicious babies, eat some delicious food, and celebrate life and light today.

The thing with the food reminds me that according to legend, Alexander the Great is supposed to have said that in all his conquests, he'd never encountered hospitality as pronounced as that in India. And that always made me wonder (1) how can you tell if the people you conquered are acting hospitable or servile (2) the Greeks and Persians whom Alexander conquered before he got to the Indians also make a big deal of hospitality in my experience (to this day), so I'm not sure what he was talking about. 

The title of this post is from the Sanskrit saying "the guest is (like a) God," which people like to drop into conversation. 

Pic: A crop of me from a group photo today--I tried a thing with bangs, my first time since giving myself pandemic bangs early in 2020.

this intercession

I wear today like a kingdom
though weary and rugged 
how many times can I speak 
about having grown

my memories into answers

and into prayers

begging for rain and reprieve

and reasons to remain

history doesn't have to betray

it can be a recipe

you've always meant to try 

...keep reading

overhead, birds circle in clouds

I map them in words

coax them to perch as guards

although tomorrow

they want to be in the parade

and have the last line

_________

Pic: It's so beautifully, unbelievably golden when I look up.

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.

"exchanged"

"May she is not her daughter. Hospital exchanged" [unedited]

I got this text from my mom last night as I was getting ready for bed and I couldn't understand it. Sometimes when my mom types Hindi or Telugu words autocorrect changes them into English and really messes things up, so I have to guess at her texts sometimes--I'm used to that. But I showed this one to Big A because it was so strange, and he got it right away and I was SO impressed... he knows my mom and all her quirks so well! 

(I was trying to highlight my mom's quirks and couldn't decide whether to point out she likes the rapper Nelly or she likes to tease me or she loves to hear me sing or that she has the most unorthodox views of marriage and Hinduism or her pre-marriage days or her fighting days with my dad or how I feel my relationship with her was cloned in a novel after we'd had dinner with the novelist. Yes, I kind of went down a rabbit hole after I searched "mom" on my blog.)

Anyway, the background to that text is my mom's baby sister was widowed earlier this year, and although my aunt had wanted to live by herself, the family pressured her to live with her only child who appears to have put themselves on my aunt's bank accounts and then kicked her out. Big A interpreted my mom's text thus: "Athamma is saying your shitty cousin is not your aunt's real daughter, and that your aunt was given the wrong baby when she delivered at the hospital." I mean, what would it matter--my aunt had brought up my cousin, but yes, that is what my mom was saying. And my mom was so proud of A for figuring it out. 

Pic: This one made me cry. Max was hanging out outside and when I went to find him, he was curled up by Scout's memorial. He never met Scout, of course, but we do sound the wind chimes on our first trip outside every morning, perhaps that's why Max is feeling good vibes there? Or maybe (just maybe) Scout lingers there somehow? I swear--every morning, the tree-of-life solar lantern flickers when I sound the chimes... 

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! 

missing, mixed up, and meandering

Thank you to everyone who sent good wishes to my missing students in Gaza. I hope it's just that they're goofing off. Also, can you imagine signing up for something like "Literature Survey 2: Romanticism to Post-Modernism," while being bombed and displaced? (I can't.)

I've been thinking about them all day and then those thoughts get mixed up with how much I love my human kids and my canine kids (I don't think I'll ever recover from losing Scout). And then about how when the kids were younger they'd get jealous because they could tell I loved my students. It's no secret that students matter a great deal to me and for the time they are in my care, I love them dearly and consider it an honor when I get to continue to be in their lives as a mentor and get to see their new jobs, and weddings and kids and reinventions. Someday, I'll be like Mr. Chips, my kids just lists of all the young people who have meant so much to me.

(And lately, as I get older, I feel waves of affection for young people in general. Babies and toddlers and little kids and tweens and teens obviously. But also random young people. Like the other day, I passed these two young women with their bags of Trader Joe's groceries and two-buck Chucks under their arms and just... I don't know... could see the evening they'd planned for themselves and was just overcome and hoped they'd have the best time.)

This is why I can't understand how we're going about our lives while children are being killed in the most gruesome ways. When there is so much visual evidence of it happening every day. 

Apparently, there's a video on the news now showing children being burned alive in a hospital. Children. Being burned. While alive. In a hospital. Every detail is a new level of hell. 

A whole year ago, I was horrified and the horrors have just kept multiplying and spreading. At the time, I quoted James Baldwin, "The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this is incapable of morality." And I love the strength and conviction of Baldwin's statement and simultaneously feel so helpless about getting my government (that could end this horror with a single phone call) to acknowledge it. I feel like a character from The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas protecting sanity and the status quo.

(In the meantime, I better go to bed, so I can do ok for my students who can show up. One of them wrote last week, "This class is my all-time favorite class if I could take this class over and over again I would. Everyday is a favorite moment." [unedited] I mean it sounds a bit Groundhog Day, but little did they know when they wrote that, that it would give me a reason to show up this week.)

entering the scene

still all these years later 

and probably always 

I will know how 

                     even in fall's dull decay 

                     even as I am emptied

                     how rich the world

how it reads many books all 

at once even as I strive

to get through one

                     I wish I didn't lose plots

                     as if I had holes in my 

                     hands and my head

I've even lost the character 

I used to be--who waits

for me to return

                     all her soul's myriad lights 

                     merely dormant mirrors

                     for right now  

________________

Note: I'm trying to escape. I'm playing word games in word worlds because things in the world are too horrific. Another refugee camp (Jabalia) and another hospital (Al Aqsa) were bombed today. The eleven students from Gaza who had signed up for the online course, "Literature Survey 2: Romanticism to Post-Modernism," neither showed up to our weekly class meeting nor responded to the class materials. If this were a regular class, I'd be worried things weren't going well, but in this extraordinary circumstance, I'm so worried something has happened to all my students.

Pic: Autumn colors and orange koi who came up to say hello. (Radiology Gardens; from a walk with LB. Big A and I took a walk right after this one. We got rained on, but stubbornly persisted for a full Super Sparty loop.) 

just look up

I'm not alarmed 

by the new 
today

                       forever is now

                       remembering  

                       is yesterday

cues alighting

on  our  lips

and eyelids

                       speak warnings/

                       seek welcome

                       like this

_____

Pic: I did it! Last month, I hoped to get a picture of geese heading out in a "V" and seem to have managed it. (Not perfectly, but I'm counting it.)

 

A beast and some beauty

It was a beast of a day. The college board has decided that with declining numbers they'll need to cut 33 full-time positions to stay fiscally viable. The sense of panic and grief was constant at today's faculty meeting and at most of the meetings leading into it. Tears, gallows humor, anger... I saw it all. 

On top of the lowgrade panic of the election, this job uncertainty feels almost unbearable. The plan is to announce the cuts by December 15th, which is apparently the deadline the AAUP suggests so people can begin to look for jobs for the next academic year. (But also, with the state of higher ed, what jobs?) 

The two bright spots at work were completing some more paperwork for the prison class (I always procrastinate on paperwork) and a mood-uplifting meeting with my student, faculty, and staff sisters on the Women's Board.

At home, it was Nu's actual birthday, and they seem kind of lit up from within. Heart eyes. 

Pic: The evening sky on my way home from work. The wind turbines and the cornfields make this so innately mid-Michgan. (I cropped out most of the car--I know, I know, I shouldn't be taking pictures--it was just so pretty though.)

going on 17

Nu turns 17 tomorrow and they have plans with friends, so we had our family celebration today with pizza, cake, and presents. Nu rarely wants things, so we collaborated on a list of 70 songs about 17-year-olds that they loved. Steph, did something like this for North, I think? We weeded out the more letchy ones (there are so many songs about adult men checking out 17-year-old girls!) and tried to find songs that described being 17. The top ones: "Seventeen without a purpose or direction, we don't owe anyone a fucking explanation" (The Rock Show, Blink-182); "You won't be seventeen forever and we can get away with this tonight" (Seventeen Forever, Metro Station); "Pack me up and put me in a time machine, so I can remember when we were seventeen" (Seventeen, Four Year Strong). There are so many songs about being 17, and Nu thinks it has something to do with the number of syllables in "seventeen," rather than the age itself. Also: The grandparents sent gift cards and cash, this Pack Rat puppet who carries a knapsack might be their new purse, they have a new speaker for their room, and a snack box from Japan. 

Big A is working tonight, so he headed to bed after dinner while the kids and I headed out to see The Substance. It was a bit heavy-handed and the body horror was extreme enough to make me want to retch--but the kids thought it was all hilarious. What on earth have I wrought?! 

After we dropped At off, Nu started to play Imogen Heap on the car stereo. I don't even know how Nu found this music that's now nearly 20 years old... I internally debated whether I should tell them that I had always thought of "Goodnight and Go" as my song for A (not the stalker-y bits, but the "must you make me laugh so much" section and also the oops missed the train home part). I ended up telling them, and then they earnestly asked me if I would be okay "sharing" the song with them. I guess the kids are alright after all. 

(Whom am I kidding? I love my little humans to bits... I can't believe this may be Nu's last birthday at home.)

Pic: Nu's delicious (pumpkin cheese)cake looks like it has a hundred candles because there are candles spelling out "Happy Birthday" in addition to their 17 candles.