friday afternoon
the sun has finally broken through a grey and drizzly week in austin.
the number twenty one capital metro bus, particularly crowded.
no seats in front.
i make my way to the back of the bus, take out my ipod, and prepare to spend the ride listening to the emancipation of mimi.
as i am untangling my headphones, a black man seated behind me remarks loudly to no one in particular, "austin is too crowded! it's got too many people for a little town."
a white man sitting diagonal from him responds, equally loudly, "it's because of all the college students!"
"and all the illegal aliens!" the first man adds. i am so startled that i can't help but turn my head abruptly toward him. i turn back just as quickly. having just hit "play" on my ipod, i decide to "pause" so that i can eavesdrop on the rest on the conversation.
"oh you think it's bad here," says the second man. "don't go to houston. it's like little mexico there! you can go three miles and only see hispanics."
"you know they work here, but they don't spend their money here. they send it all back to mexico!"
"i heard that last year they sent back X billion dollars!"
the conversation proceeds. the two men talk about how the president is only fighting this war in iraq because the iraqis tried to assassinate george bush senior. feeling "sorry" for those boys over there. because they never even had a chance to get married. have sex! have families. feeling "sorry" for the NEXT president because THIS president has driven us a trillion dollars more deeply into debt. hating the republican party. how it's never done no good for nobody.
i thought it was funny. these two men on the bus complaining about too many mexicans in texas. crowding their cities, changing them into "little mexico," not contributing enough to the economy. i guess i wouldn't have expected that conversation from self-proclaimed democrats, who are also anti-war and anti-bush.
at a certain point, i wanted to turn around and tell them that there are mexicans fighting in iraq, too. that some are "illegal aliens," fighting for their new country. i want to defend mexican contributions to this country. because i think that these men probably have some of the same struggles as working class mexican immigrants.
but despite my ability to translate language and culture, i don't say anything. just ride through. get off at my stop.
@>-->>---
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
new york new york, part 3
friday
at the recommendation of our hostess, we started the day with breakfast at a colombian bakery. the food was great, as was the coffee. and the ambience, well, one of the patrons made it so special that my roommate and i decided to write a joint blog post about him. and his little dog, too. it was quite the spectacle!
with our bellies full, we headed to the empire state building, where we were going to meet a good friend of mine who moved from texas back to new york four years ago. as we approached the empire state building, olga instructed me to "look up!" and i had a moment right out of An Affair to Remember or Sleepless in Seattle. it was disorienting to look up so high and then to focus back on the street we needed to cross.
we met my friend, EJ, were herded through various lines--security, tickets, elevator--and ascended the eighty plus floors to the observation deck. the city is positively serene 1200 feet from the ground. we could only hear the faintest strains of traffic, but mostly the whistle of wind and tourists (like us) chattering about how beautiful! how small everything is!
after our descent back to street level, we perused a bead store (olga is very crafty) and grabbed a quick bite to eat. then, because i am a big nerd, i insisted that we stop at the new york public library--a stately building with statues of lions perched in front--to poke around.
from there, we walked to grand central station, which is more beautiful than i imagined a train/subway station to be! high ceilings, columns, large chandeliers, it was incredible. and there were all kinds of shops! it was very mall-esque.
heading down to the subway, we heard strains of dance music and noticed that there were breakdancers who'd just finished performing. we decided to linger to see if they would start up again. they did, and they were amazing. the moves, the personalities, the incredible upper body strength... toward the end of the show, one of the guys came around with a can for donations. i threw in a couple of dollars, and he says to me, "see my boy over there?" motioning to one of the breakdancers, a white guy wearing a beanie. "he's single."
my friends teased me about it briefly, but at the end of the show, the original guy came back to me and--again--said, "my boy is single. single and available." i was embarrassed and scurried quickly away. but it might be cool to go out with a breakdancer, right?
anyway, we hopped on the subway and headed toward our next stop, the site where the world trade center had been. olga and her new york friends had all remarked how different the manhattan skyline was without the twin towers. that something was clearly missing. i didn't have that frame of reference because i'd never lived in new york, not long enough to be accustomed to a skyline. but that place--the ruins of it--really give a sense of the enormity of the loss. though the official memorial has yet to be constructed, the site already *feels* like a memorial, solemn and sad. we walked around a bit, looking at the pictures, reading the placards, remembering.
from there we walked into century 21, an emormous discount store. felt better as i emerged with a brand new purse. is it superficial of me to feel that shopping really *is* therapeutic???
we ended the afternoon at a small cafe in SoHo, warming our fingers with hot coffee and appeasing our sweet teeth with chocolate croissants.
that evening, we had dinner and drinks at frank's, an italian restaurant in the east village, where the three of us met up with our hostess and another one of olga's friends. it was the perfect place for dinner. good wine, food, ambience, and, most importantly good friends.
we said our good-byes outside of the restaurant and took the train from grand central station back to queens. olga's friend insisted that we take the local train. it was our last night, and she wanted me to see the manhattan skyline one more time. so that, even as i returned to austin, i could carry the picture in my mind.
@>-->>---
at the recommendation of our hostess, we started the day with breakfast at a colombian bakery. the food was great, as was the coffee. and the ambience, well, one of the patrons made it so special that my roommate and i decided to write a joint blog post about him. and his little dog, too. it was quite the spectacle!
with our bellies full, we headed to the empire state building, where we were going to meet a good friend of mine who moved from texas back to new york four years ago. as we approached the empire state building, olga instructed me to "look up!" and i had a moment right out of An Affair to Remember or Sleepless in Seattle. it was disorienting to look up so high and then to focus back on the street we needed to cross.
we met my friend, EJ, were herded through various lines--security, tickets, elevator--and ascended the eighty plus floors to the observation deck. the city is positively serene 1200 feet from the ground. we could only hear the faintest strains of traffic, but mostly the whistle of wind and tourists (like us) chattering about how beautiful! how small everything is!after our descent back to street level, we perused a bead store (olga is very crafty) and grabbed a quick bite to eat. then, because i am a big nerd, i insisted that we stop at the new york public library--a stately building with statues of lions perched in front--to poke around.
from there, we walked to grand central station, which is more beautiful than i imagined a train/subway station to be! high ceilings, columns, large chandeliers, it was incredible. and there were all kinds of shops! it was very mall-esque.
heading down to the subway, we heard strains of dance music and noticed that there were breakdancers who'd just finished performing. we decided to linger to see if they would start up again. they did, and they were amazing. the moves, the personalities, the incredible upper body strength... toward the end of the show, one of the guys came around with a can for donations. i threw in a couple of dollars, and he says to me, "see my boy over there?" motioning to one of the breakdancers, a white guy wearing a beanie. "he's single."
my friends teased me about it briefly, but at the end of the show, the original guy came back to me and--again--said, "my boy is single. single and available." i was embarrassed and scurried quickly away. but it might be cool to go out with a breakdancer, right?
anyway, we hopped on the subway and headed toward our next stop, the site where the world trade center had been. olga and her new york friends had all remarked how different the manhattan skyline was without the twin towers. that something was clearly missing. i didn't have that frame of reference because i'd never lived in new york, not long enough to be accustomed to a skyline. but that place--the ruins of it--really give a sense of the enormity of the loss. though the official memorial has yet to be constructed, the site already *feels* like a memorial, solemn and sad. we walked around a bit, looking at the pictures, reading the placards, remembering.
from there we walked into century 21, an emormous discount store. felt better as i emerged with a brand new purse. is it superficial of me to feel that shopping really *is* therapeutic???
we ended the afternoon at a small cafe in SoHo, warming our fingers with hot coffee and appeasing our sweet teeth with chocolate croissants.
that evening, we had dinner and drinks at frank's, an italian restaurant in the east village, where the three of us met up with our hostess and another one of olga's friends. it was the perfect place for dinner. good wine, food, ambience, and, most importantly good friends.
we said our good-byes outside of the restaurant and took the train from grand central station back to queens. olga's friend insisted that we take the local train. it was our last night, and she wanted me to see the manhattan skyline one more time. so that, even as i returned to austin, i could carry the picture in my mind.
@>-->>---
Monday, March 20, 2006
new york new york, part 2
wednesday!
always forward-looking and prepared, my roommate sent for tickets to The View, months before our new york trip. we received tickets for wednesday's show, which would feature larry hagman and barbara eden for an I Dream of Jeanie reunion.
we dragged ourselves out of bed early and decided to forego our morning bagels and coffee to be in line at the ABC studio at 9:30AM. we were not, however, the earliest birds to arrive. the earliest birds got the best seats, in front of the talkshow and other personalities. we were in the back, but still had an excellent view of barbara walters!!!
that woman has interviewed everyone from J*Lo to Fidel Castro. and we were sitting in the same room as she was! i felt as if i had narrowed the degrees of separation between me and greatness. it was very exciting. :)
after the view, we were famished and in desperate need of coffee, so we hit cafe europa for lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon walking it off. at central park we noticed the first blossoms of spring on the trees, strolled along fifth avenue and gazed into store windows where i'll never be able to afford anything.
on park avenue we walked by a store i could have sworn was a cosmetics store, its window displays of highly made up women and decor in various shades of pink. but as we walked by, i peeked inside and saw what looked to be a pastry case. that's weird, i thought. pastries in a cosmetics shop?
olga and i decided to investigate and, to our surprise, found that the cosmetics store was actually a french chocolate shop with a very cute, very pink cafe adjacent to the chocolatier. at the cafe, we ordered coffee--their hundred year old blend/recipe at $5 a pop--and shared a pastry. (i actually sent my coffee back because i thought it tasted sour. if i was going to spend five dollars on one cup of joe, i needed it to be toe-curling good! i re-ordered, this time a cappucino that was perfect, except that it cost six dollars!).
i noticed the sun setting only by the softening light, the hues of pink and orange against skyscraping buildings. we ended our afternoon walking by rockefeller center and then through times square before heading back to brooklyn to collect our things.
that night we stayed with one of olga's friends, who lives in queens. met her for dinner at an indian restaurant in jackson heights called jackson diner. we walked in and were welcomed by heat and spice emanating from the kitchen. our waiter, a tall dark and handsome recent arrival from nepal, graciously took our order and made recommendations for us. i asked about the lamb vindaloo.
"is it hot?"
"yes ma'am," he said, "it's hot." paused for a heartbeat before adding, "it's hot like you."
i recovered from my momentary shock at his statement and said, "i'll take it." made a mental note to give him a healthy tip.
hot like vindaloo? no wonder i like indian food so much.
@>-->>---
always forward-looking and prepared, my roommate sent for tickets to The View, months before our new york trip. we received tickets for wednesday's show, which would feature larry hagman and barbara eden for an I Dream of Jeanie reunion.
we dragged ourselves out of bed early and decided to forego our morning bagels and coffee to be in line at the ABC studio at 9:30AM. we were not, however, the earliest birds to arrive. the earliest birds got the best seats, in front of the talkshow and other personalities. we were in the back, but still had an excellent view of barbara walters!!!that woman has interviewed everyone from J*Lo to Fidel Castro. and we were sitting in the same room as she was! i felt as if i had narrowed the degrees of separation between me and greatness. it was very exciting. :)
after the view, we were famished and in desperate need of coffee, so we hit cafe europa for lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon walking it off. at central park we noticed the first blossoms of spring on the trees, strolled along fifth avenue and gazed into store windows where i'll never be able to afford anything.
on park avenue we walked by a store i could have sworn was a cosmetics store, its window displays of highly made up women and decor in various shades of pink. but as we walked by, i peeked inside and saw what looked to be a pastry case. that's weird, i thought. pastries in a cosmetics shop?
olga and i decided to investigate and, to our surprise, found that the cosmetics store was actually a french chocolate shop with a very cute, very pink cafe adjacent to the chocolatier. at the cafe, we ordered coffee--their hundred year old blend/recipe at $5 a pop--and shared a pastry. (i actually sent my coffee back because i thought it tasted sour. if i was going to spend five dollars on one cup of joe, i needed it to be toe-curling good! i re-ordered, this time a cappucino that was perfect, except that it cost six dollars!).
i noticed the sun setting only by the softening light, the hues of pink and orange against skyscraping buildings. we ended our afternoon walking by rockefeller center and then through times square before heading back to brooklyn to collect our things. that night we stayed with one of olga's friends, who lives in queens. met her for dinner at an indian restaurant in jackson heights called jackson diner. we walked in and were welcomed by heat and spice emanating from the kitchen. our waiter, a tall dark and handsome recent arrival from nepal, graciously took our order and made recommendations for us. i asked about the lamb vindaloo.
"is it hot?"
"yes ma'am," he said, "it's hot." paused for a heartbeat before adding, "it's hot like you."
i recovered from my momentary shock at his statement and said, "i'll take it." made a mental note to give him a healthy tip.
hot like vindaloo? no wonder i like indian food so much.
@>-->>---
Sunday, March 19, 2006
new york new york, part 1
touched down in austin on friday afternoon feeling as if i was going to need a vacation to recuperate from my vacation. since monday and friday were travel days, we only had three days to cover the city.
tuesday
we began the day with REAL new york bagels in brooklyn, then hopped a subway to wall street. snapped a pic with the wall street bull (?) and headed to the statue of liberty. we found ourselves in a seemingly interminable line, surrounded by--very loud--fourth graders who were apparently there for a class trip.
i admit that we crowded the fourth graders. we needed to get away from them. we managed to straggle on to a ferry before the kiddies could catch up.
a couple of hours later, we'd learned some interesting tidbits about lady liberty and U.S. immigration from our stops on liberty and ellis island.
cold and hungry, olga led us to greenwich village. though our initial thought was to find a restaurant, we got caught up in the neighborhood, the shops, NYU buildings... i smiled into the cold thinking that this was exactly how i imagined new york to be. olga took my arm and i said, "what?" she says, "i'm excited for you to see this next thing."
we turned a corner and were facing washington square park. and saw the famous arch! (otherwise known as the place where sally left harry after their road trip from the university of chicago to new york).
i loved washington square park. it reminded me of the large plazas in mexico--open spaces where people congregate to sit, eat, read, people watch, whatever. just to be in community with each other. i told olga that the only comparable thing we have in california is the mall.
they were actually shooting a movie while we were there. we hung out for a while before our hunger got the best of us. we discovered a quaint italian place called la lanterna di vittorio where we had a lovely lunch. and coffee, of course.
from the village, we walked to SoHo, where we perused shops, including a well-known yarn store called "purl." olga was in seventh heaven. i was gratified by the cheeriness of the store, but more grateful for the brief reprieve from the cold. i convinced her to duck into another cafe for tea so that we could warm up before heading out again.
we saw a pre- st. patrick's day show that evening at paddy reilly's. an irish band that called themselves the prodigals. they were very upbeat and fun, and they served irish candies and cookies as part of their show. what more could we ask for? ;)
after the show we enjoyed dinner at Rice, a fusion restaurant in brooklyn heights. olga's friend took pains to drive of us along the water's edge so that i could snap pictures across the hudson of the manhattan skyline at night. the pictures didn't turn out, so you'll have to trust me when i tell you that the view was breathtaking.
tuesday
we began the day with REAL new york bagels in brooklyn, then hopped a subway to wall street. snapped a pic with the wall street bull (?) and headed to the statue of liberty. we found ourselves in a seemingly interminable line, surrounded by--very loud--fourth graders who were apparently there for a class trip.
i admit that we crowded the fourth graders. we needed to get away from them. we managed to straggle on to a ferry before the kiddies could catch up.
a couple of hours later, we'd learned some interesting tidbits about lady liberty and U.S. immigration from our stops on liberty and ellis island.
cold and hungry, olga led us to greenwich village. though our initial thought was to find a restaurant, we got caught up in the neighborhood, the shops, NYU buildings... i smiled into the cold thinking that this was exactly how i imagined new york to be. olga took my arm and i said, "what?" she says, "i'm excited for you to see this next thing."
we turned a corner and were facing washington square park. and saw the famous arch! (otherwise known as the place where sally left harry after their road trip from the university of chicago to new york).
i loved washington square park. it reminded me of the large plazas in mexico--open spaces where people congregate to sit, eat, read, people watch, whatever. just to be in community with each other. i told olga that the only comparable thing we have in california is the mall.
they were actually shooting a movie while we were there. we hung out for a while before our hunger got the best of us. we discovered a quaint italian place called la lanterna di vittorio where we had a lovely lunch. and coffee, of course.
from the village, we walked to SoHo, where we perused shops, including a well-known yarn store called "purl." olga was in seventh heaven. i was gratified by the cheeriness of the store, but more grateful for the brief reprieve from the cold. i convinced her to duck into another cafe for tea so that we could warm up before heading out again.
we saw a pre- st. patrick's day show that evening at paddy reilly's. an irish band that called themselves the prodigals. they were very upbeat and fun, and they served irish candies and cookies as part of their show. what more could we ask for? ;)after the show we enjoyed dinner at Rice, a fusion restaurant in brooklyn heights. olga's friend took pains to drive of us along the water's edge so that i could snap pictures across the hudson of the manhattan skyline at night. the pictures didn't turn out, so you'll have to trust me when i tell you that the view was breathtaking.
Monday, March 13, 2006
spring breaking
my graduation gift to myself this year--a trip to new york! i'm tagging along withmy roommate, who used to live there.
as an anthropologist, you know i appreciate the "native" perspective. ;)
hopefully i'll have fun tales to tell upon my return.
hasta luego!
@>-->>---
as an anthropologist, you know i appreciate the "native" perspective. ;)
hopefully i'll have fun tales to tell upon my return.
hasta luego!
@>-->>---
Saturday, March 11, 2006
chicana starstruck
as part of the association of writers and writing programs conference this weekend, i was able to attend a reading by one of my favorite chicana authors, helena maria viramontes.
she had her dark hair cropped short and wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and jeans. she spoke into the microphone quietly at first, but seemed to gain momentum as she delved into her reading. she writes fiction, but her prose is often so beautiful that it might as well be poetry.
i discovered her book under the feet of jesus when i was an undergraduate. the book, which details the life journeys and work of a mexican farm worker family, is incredibly lush, deliberate, and beautifully written. i fell in love with it.
so when i found out that she would be reading in austin this weekend, i had to go.
after she finished at the microphone, most of the crowd dispersed, some helping themselves to drinks from the cash bar, others engaged in loud conversations over the funk band who had begun to play after helena's reading.
i spied helena across the room, talking to some students, and decided to introduce myself.
i walked boldly across the room determined to have a meaningful conversation with her.
she turned to me with a pleasant, albeit curious look on her face.
i began awkwardly, "hi! i just. had to meet you. i'm. jennifer __________."
we shake hands.
"your book. i read. under the feet of jesus. when i was an undergrad. and i. i mean. it's just. beautiful!"
i think that she felt sorry for me because she leaned forward and hugged me. "thank you!"
then she asked, "are you a student?"
"yes! i mean, no! i just. graduated. with a ph.d. in anthropology. and i got a job! at the university of _____________."
"congratulations! i have a good friend who works there."
helena suggests that i invite her to give a reading at my new university.
"i will!" i say, before realizing that i will be the lowest being on the professor totem pole when i get to my new university. am i even allowed to invite authors to come read?
anyway, we talked--helena and i--for a little bit. i even managed to spit out a complete sentence once or twice. she was so friendly and down to earth. at the end of our conversation, she gave me her card in case i wanted to contact her. and then she hugged me again good-bye. :)
and i was completely starstruck.
@>-->>---
she had her dark hair cropped short and wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and jeans. she spoke into the microphone quietly at first, but seemed to gain momentum as she delved into her reading. she writes fiction, but her prose is often so beautiful that it might as well be poetry.
i discovered her book under the feet of jesus when i was an undergraduate. the book, which details the life journeys and work of a mexican farm worker family, is incredibly lush, deliberate, and beautifully written. i fell in love with it.
so when i found out that she would be reading in austin this weekend, i had to go.
after she finished at the microphone, most of the crowd dispersed, some helping themselves to drinks from the cash bar, others engaged in loud conversations over the funk band who had begun to play after helena's reading.
i spied helena across the room, talking to some students, and decided to introduce myself.
i walked boldly across the room determined to have a meaningful conversation with her.
she turned to me with a pleasant, albeit curious look on her face.
i began awkwardly, "hi! i just. had to meet you. i'm. jennifer __________."
we shake hands.
"your book. i read. under the feet of jesus. when i was an undergrad. and i. i mean. it's just. beautiful!"
i think that she felt sorry for me because she leaned forward and hugged me. "thank you!"
then she asked, "are you a student?"
"yes! i mean, no! i just. graduated. with a ph.d. in anthropology. and i got a job! at the university of _____________."
"congratulations! i have a good friend who works there."
helena suggests that i invite her to give a reading at my new university.
"i will!" i say, before realizing that i will be the lowest being on the professor totem pole when i get to my new university. am i even allowed to invite authors to come read?
anyway, we talked--helena and i--for a little bit. i even managed to spit out a complete sentence once or twice. she was so friendly and down to earth. at the end of our conversation, she gave me her card in case i wanted to contact her. and then she hugged me again good-bye. :)
and i was completely starstruck.
@>-->>---
Thursday, March 09, 2006
jenn's journey
thank you all for the congratulations and well-wishes. it's only fitting that after sharing all of my disappointments, i also share my good news.
i've been hesitant to write because i don't know that anything else can top the great news i reported in my last post.
part of me wants to let the high note linger.
my roommate joked, "that's it. the journey's over."
she's right. this part of the journey *is* over.
it's strange when you achieve something you've worked toward for so long.
when i finished my dissertation, there was all this initial celebration. dinners, parties, pin~atas, etc. and i needed to celebrate because that project--from its inception as an idea to field work to writing--was three and a half years in the making.
but then it was done and over. and everyone got sober, and i soberly realized that finishing my dissertation was not enough; i also needed a job.
this has been my third year on the job market. i have received DOZENS of job and rejection letters over the past three years. but now. i have stumbled across my holy grail.
and there has been plenty of celebration--drinks, dinners, drinks (did i already mention that?), mariachis. and i still catch myself grinning into the sky from time to time, like the cheshire cat.
but i'm starting to feel the tiniest bit of anxiety. wondering what the next part of the journey will bring.
@>-->>---
i've been hesitant to write because i don't know that anything else can top the great news i reported in my last post.
part of me wants to let the high note linger.
my roommate joked, "that's it. the journey's over."
she's right. this part of the journey *is* over.
it's strange when you achieve something you've worked toward for so long.
when i finished my dissertation, there was all this initial celebration. dinners, parties, pin~atas, etc. and i needed to celebrate because that project--from its inception as an idea to field work to writing--was three and a half years in the making.
but then it was done and over. and everyone got sober, and i soberly realized that finishing my dissertation was not enough; i also needed a job.
this has been my third year on the job market. i have received DOZENS of job and rejection letters over the past three years. but now. i have stumbled across my holy grail.
and there has been plenty of celebration--drinks, dinners, drinks (did i already mention that?), mariachis. and i still catch myself grinning into the sky from time to time, like the cheshire cat.
but i'm starting to feel the tiniest bit of anxiety. wondering what the next part of the journey will bring.
@>-->>---
Sunday, March 05, 2006
a lenten miracle
i planned to spend tuesday morning with a friend at one of our favorite coffeeshops.
when i arrive i notice that i have missed a call and have a new voicemail message.
it is from the same area code as the university in california where i interviewed a couple of weeks ago.
i listen to the message. it is from the department chair. he asks me to call him back at home.
my mind is racing. why is he calling me from home?
i thought this: the chair was very kind to me during my interview. he is probably calling me, privately, to explain to me, gently, why they haven't chosen me for the position.
but then i think aloud, they can't reject me until the other woman signs her contract. and she couldn't have signed so quickly... or could she?
my friend tells me, "just call him back!"
so i do. he makes polite small talk with me. "how are you? how have you been doing?"
fine fine. i tell him that i have just come back from my sister's wedding.
"oh so you were just in california!"
"yes."
awkward pause.
"well, i'm sorry that it's taken me this long to get back to you," he says. "but i wanted to ask you if you're still interested in the position?'
"yes."
"ok. well, the faculty was very impressed by you."
"ok." (i didn't really know what to say to that. thank you?)
"so i'm going to go ahead and talk to the dean, and i'll call you back in a day or two."
"ok..."
"so i'll call you back in a couple of days to see what kind of offer we can make you."
"are you making me an offer?" i ask, tentatively.
"i have to talk to the dean," he says, quickly. "unofficially yes. but i'll call you back. in a couple of days. bye."
"bye."
a little stunned, i want to be happy, because i think that i've just been offered the job. but not really.
nevertheless, i sprint across the parking lot (i'd been talking on the phone outside) and into the coffeeshop and give my friend an enormous hug.
"i think i got the job!!!!" i say. "kind of."
i recount the conversation to her, and we decide that it would be best not to say anything to anyone until i have been given "official" news. i don't want to raise my family's hopes and then have them be disappointed.
so i wait. one day. two days. on the third day, the chair calls again. we have a remarkably similar conversation.
hello how are you? how have you been? are you still interested in the position?
then, after an eternity of talking around the subject, i ask, "just to clarify. have you chosen ME for the position?"
"yes!" he says. "we would like YOU to fill this position."
forgive the pop culture comparison, but have you all seen the movie legally blonde? during the first part of the movie, everyone ridicules reese for being blonde, not smart enough to be at harvard, etc. finally, she decides to apply herself, to prove everyone wrong. and there are these coveted legal internships. the professor is only going to choose four people. the students gather around the list of names that have been posted. the first three choices were expected.
then one of the students says, "that only leaves one for--"
and reese interjects, wide-eyed, surprised, and wildly happy, "ME!!!!"
it's an amazing moment in the film. her reaction, incredibly raw.
but that is exactly how i felt on friday when he told me they had selected me.
ME!!!
y'all. i'm going back to cali!!!
@>-->>---
when i arrive i notice that i have missed a call and have a new voicemail message.
it is from the same area code as the university in california where i interviewed a couple of weeks ago.
i listen to the message. it is from the department chair. he asks me to call him back at home.
my mind is racing. why is he calling me from home?
i thought this: the chair was very kind to me during my interview. he is probably calling me, privately, to explain to me, gently, why they haven't chosen me for the position.
but then i think aloud, they can't reject me until the other woman signs her contract. and she couldn't have signed so quickly... or could she?
my friend tells me, "just call him back!"
so i do. he makes polite small talk with me. "how are you? how have you been doing?"
fine fine. i tell him that i have just come back from my sister's wedding.
"oh so you were just in california!"
"yes."
awkward pause.
"well, i'm sorry that it's taken me this long to get back to you," he says. "but i wanted to ask you if you're still interested in the position?'
"yes."
"ok. well, the faculty was very impressed by you."
"ok." (i didn't really know what to say to that. thank you?)
"so i'm going to go ahead and talk to the dean, and i'll call you back in a day or two."
"ok..."
"so i'll call you back in a couple of days to see what kind of offer we can make you."
"are you making me an offer?" i ask, tentatively.
"i have to talk to the dean," he says, quickly. "unofficially yes. but i'll call you back. in a couple of days. bye."
"bye."
a little stunned, i want to be happy, because i think that i've just been offered the job. but not really.
nevertheless, i sprint across the parking lot (i'd been talking on the phone outside) and into the coffeeshop and give my friend an enormous hug.
"i think i got the job!!!!" i say. "kind of."
i recount the conversation to her, and we decide that it would be best not to say anything to anyone until i have been given "official" news. i don't want to raise my family's hopes and then have them be disappointed.
so i wait. one day. two days. on the third day, the chair calls again. we have a remarkably similar conversation.
hello how are you? how have you been? are you still interested in the position?
then, after an eternity of talking around the subject, i ask, "just to clarify. have you chosen ME for the position?"
"yes!" he says. "we would like YOU to fill this position."
forgive the pop culture comparison, but have you all seen the movie legally blonde? during the first part of the movie, everyone ridicules reese for being blonde, not smart enough to be at harvard, etc. finally, she decides to apply herself, to prove everyone wrong. and there are these coveted legal internships. the professor is only going to choose four people. the students gather around the list of names that have been posted. the first three choices were expected.
then one of the students says, "that only leaves one for--"
and reese interjects, wide-eyed, surprised, and wildly happy, "ME!!!!"
it's an amazing moment in the film. her reaction, incredibly raw.
but that is exactly how i felt on friday when he told me they had selected me.
ME!!!
y'all. i'm going back to cali!!!
@>-->>---
Thursday, March 02, 2006
un favor
i got this idea from cindylu.
i'm curious to know how my blog readers would describe me. even if you are not a regular commenter, please consider contributing to my johari window. it only takes a second!
thank you!
@>-->>---
i'm curious to know how my blog readers would describe me. even if you are not a regular commenter, please consider contributing to my johari window. it only takes a second!
thank you!
@>-->>---
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
lenten role modeling
it snuck up on me again this year.
but today is ash wednesday.
i let my students out of class five minutes early and cancelled my office hours so that i could make mass at noon.
one of my students approached me as i was erasing the blackboard and asked if i was going to the university catholic center. i tell her, yes, and she says, "i'll go with you."
we walk across campus together, me in my black pumps, she in her sneakers. it doesn't occur to me to be uncomfortable while we are walking. not even when we enter the sanctuary and bless ourselves with holy water. it's when we take our seats and kneel to pray that i begin to feel awkward.
this is not a separation of church and state issue for me. it's just that my practices of faith are generally very private.
i go to church every sunday by myself; my family is all in california. i've become accustomed to praying with no one watching. singing amidst people who don't really know who i am. and i've come to appreciate my religious privacy. it helps me to focus on the Mass, on my prayers.
but this afternoon, i felt extremely self-conscious praying and singing alongside my student.
i have to think, though, that this is the reason it's important for me to be a university professor. i want my students to see me teaching their university classes and to think that we are similar. we are mexican american. we are women. we are catholic. and we are professors.
so i swallowed my discomfort and participated in the Ash Wednesday celebration alongside my student.
and afterward i accepted her invitation to accompany her for a lenten lunch. ;)
@>-->>---
but today is ash wednesday.
i let my students out of class five minutes early and cancelled my office hours so that i could make mass at noon.
one of my students approached me as i was erasing the blackboard and asked if i was going to the university catholic center. i tell her, yes, and she says, "i'll go with you."
we walk across campus together, me in my black pumps, she in her sneakers. it doesn't occur to me to be uncomfortable while we are walking. not even when we enter the sanctuary and bless ourselves with holy water. it's when we take our seats and kneel to pray that i begin to feel awkward.
this is not a separation of church and state issue for me. it's just that my practices of faith are generally very private.
i go to church every sunday by myself; my family is all in california. i've become accustomed to praying with no one watching. singing amidst people who don't really know who i am. and i've come to appreciate my religious privacy. it helps me to focus on the Mass, on my prayers.
but this afternoon, i felt extremely self-conscious praying and singing alongside my student.
i have to think, though, that this is the reason it's important for me to be a university professor. i want my students to see me teaching their university classes and to think that we are similar. we are mexican american. we are women. we are catholic. and we are professors.
so i swallowed my discomfort and participated in the Ash Wednesday celebration alongside my student.
and afterward i accepted her invitation to accompany her for a lenten lunch. ;)
@>-->>---
Monday, February 27, 2006
a comedy of errors
my sister got married saturday. and not without a little bit of drama.
i woke up that morning feeling sentimental. my sister was asleep on the bed next to me, and i thought, this is the last time that i'm going to share this room with her. my reverie was quickly broken when she sat up on the bed, wide awake and began pacing the house. i sleepily followed her.
within fifteen minutes she was on the phone with the florist and having me help her haul boxes of wedding favors into her car. and then, once at the country club, up the stairs, into the reception area.
she bullies the reception site manager into re-arranging the tables, turns to me, and tells me to sketch the table layout.
my drawing skills are less than desirable, so she ends up doing it herself.
we go home, and she is trying to finalize the seating chart. she looks up at me in frustration and says, "sister, will you do this for me?"
"yeah. go." she had hair and makeup appointments after all.
trying to seat two hundred people in tables of eight, keeping in mind families, friends, and familiarities, is not as easy as it seems. but i managed. and hoped that i wouldn't alienate anyone. my dad and brother helped me alphabetize the place cards (all two hundred of which i had written by hand the night before), and then my dad took the seating arrangements to the reception site while i jumped into the shower.
the bride came back home in a frenzy, just moments before her other bridesmaids started to arrive.
i helped her into her enormous dress, and she emerged, through the layers of tule and sparkle, absolutely stunning. as if she had just stepped out of a bridal magazine.
the other bridesmaids oooh and ahhh minutes before the limo driver is scheduled to arrive. he doesn't. my sister grows increasingly agitated as we make frantic phone calls to the limo company.
the limo is supposed to pick us up, drop us off at the church, then go retrieve the groom and groomsmen, who are to serve as ushers. so if we are late, the ushers will also be late.
the limo driver finally calls. he is lost. my sister gives him directions and hangs up. we see a long white gleaming car driving slowly up the street, and try to flag him down, but he turns down the wrong street. there are four bridesmaids in the middle of the street waving, a bride on the sidewalk on the verge, and a lost limo driver.
he calls again and makes it to the house. drops us off at the church and then asks how to get to the hotel where the groom is staying. (we had given him all the pickup information prior to the wedding day, by the way). i think my sister is going to kill him, and so i tell him to call the hotel for directions.
the photographers, dressed head to toe in black suits, meet us at the church, snap some shots, and then ask us about the flowers.
there are no flowers in the church. and bouquets? do you have bouquets?
we call my mom and ask her to call the florist!!!
my sister turns to me and says, "i should be freaking out now, right? the limo driver is probably lost. there are no flowers, so the photographer doesn't want to take any pictures."
"it's ok. you're still getting married."
this seems to cheer her a bit.
the florist, our cousin, mercifully arrives bearing bouquets and boutonnieres. the photographer snaps a few pictures, and then it is time for the ceremony.
my sister, my dad, and i wait at the back of the church as the other bridesmaids walk down the aisle arm in arm with their groomsmen. soon it is my turn to walk down the aisle. she tells me to walk slowly.
when i turn around at the altar, i see the flower girl--our cousin's three-year old daughter--SPRINTING up the aisle behind me. she'd been fine at the rehearsal, but was now apparently thrown off by the hundred or so people standing in the pews. i take her hand and hold it while my sister and father walk down the aisle, arm in arm.
when my sister arrives at the aisle, she has tears in her eyes, and i think about how she was determined not to ruin her makeup. my dad puts her hand in jerry's and goes to sit by my mom. we all turn and face the priest.
the mass goes smoothly until the reading from the new testament. the priest announces, "the new testament will be read by the bride's aunt."
one moment passes. then another. then, all of a sudden, i hear my dad call my name in a loud whisper, "jennifer! jennifer!"
i turn back toward the congregation.
"she not here!" he whispers loudly.
without missing a beat, i walk up to the lectern and read from the saint paul's letter to the ephesians. in english it was fine. but then i had to read it in spanish. and biblical spanish, well... not so easy. i stumbled through all the "vosotros vais" and "os," and returned to stand next to my sister at the altar.
i thought that would be the last bit of drama until i realized that the arras that i was supposed to present to the groom (so that he could present them to my sister). right before the presentation of the lazo, i turn around in my pew to ask my mom about the arras. but she asks me about the lazo.
"you have it!" i tell her.
she is rummaging through her purse. it is moments before the two families are to present their respective lazos. she pulls a small bag out of her purse and then pulls the lazo out. she has tied it together at various points so that it would not tangle. now she is nudging my dad to help her untie the lazo! i glance back and see that the arras have fallen onto the floor, so i retrieve them when she and my dad go to the altar to place their newly-unbound lazo around my sister's and jerry's shoulders.
the rest of the mass is perfect. the groom kisses the bride. the bridal party walks down the aisle all smiles. a million pictures are snapped.
mariachis entertain guests at the reception before the bridal party makes its entrance. the reception ballroom is beautiful with its plush chairs and tables clad in white linens. white roses and white orchids and candles adorn the tables. waiters and waitresses in white shirts and black bowties round the room with wine and food.
our aunts and uncles, cousins, family friends all smiling and talking, my sister, the bride, and her new husband make their rounds around the room, meeting and greeting and thanking everyone for being there. the sun sets in brilliant swirls of pink outside the large windows on the west side of the ballroom. as the evening wears on, guests meander on to the patio to catch a glance of the city lights below.
inside there are toasts and cake, ice cream, a photo montage, first dances with father and daughter, mother and son. and then dancing. dancing until shoes come off and the guests have worn themselves out.
at the end of the evening, my parents and i along with my brother and my sister's best friend await the limousine that will whisk away the bride and groom.
we are tired. the day has been long. and it has not been perfect. but it's been happy, and, according to my sister, happily ever after.
@>-->>---
i woke up that morning feeling sentimental. my sister was asleep on the bed next to me, and i thought, this is the last time that i'm going to share this room with her. my reverie was quickly broken when she sat up on the bed, wide awake and began pacing the house. i sleepily followed her.
within fifteen minutes she was on the phone with the florist and having me help her haul boxes of wedding favors into her car. and then, once at the country club, up the stairs, into the reception area.
she bullies the reception site manager into re-arranging the tables, turns to me, and tells me to sketch the table layout.
my drawing skills are less than desirable, so she ends up doing it herself.
we go home, and she is trying to finalize the seating chart. she looks up at me in frustration and says, "sister, will you do this for me?"
"yeah. go." she had hair and makeup appointments after all.
trying to seat two hundred people in tables of eight, keeping in mind families, friends, and familiarities, is not as easy as it seems. but i managed. and hoped that i wouldn't alienate anyone. my dad and brother helped me alphabetize the place cards (all two hundred of which i had written by hand the night before), and then my dad took the seating arrangements to the reception site while i jumped into the shower.
the bride came back home in a frenzy, just moments before her other bridesmaids started to arrive.
i helped her into her enormous dress, and she emerged, through the layers of tule and sparkle, absolutely stunning. as if she had just stepped out of a bridal magazine.
the other bridesmaids oooh and ahhh minutes before the limo driver is scheduled to arrive. he doesn't. my sister grows increasingly agitated as we make frantic phone calls to the limo company.
the limo is supposed to pick us up, drop us off at the church, then go retrieve the groom and groomsmen, who are to serve as ushers. so if we are late, the ushers will also be late.
the limo driver finally calls. he is lost. my sister gives him directions and hangs up. we see a long white gleaming car driving slowly up the street, and try to flag him down, but he turns down the wrong street. there are four bridesmaids in the middle of the street waving, a bride on the sidewalk on the verge, and a lost limo driver.
he calls again and makes it to the house. drops us off at the church and then asks how to get to the hotel where the groom is staying. (we had given him all the pickup information prior to the wedding day, by the way). i think my sister is going to kill him, and so i tell him to call the hotel for directions.
the photographers, dressed head to toe in black suits, meet us at the church, snap some shots, and then ask us about the flowers.
there are no flowers in the church. and bouquets? do you have bouquets?
we call my mom and ask her to call the florist!!!
my sister turns to me and says, "i should be freaking out now, right? the limo driver is probably lost. there are no flowers, so the photographer doesn't want to take any pictures."
"it's ok. you're still getting married."
this seems to cheer her a bit.
the florist, our cousin, mercifully arrives bearing bouquets and boutonnieres. the photographer snaps a few pictures, and then it is time for the ceremony.
my sister, my dad, and i wait at the back of the church as the other bridesmaids walk down the aisle arm in arm with their groomsmen. soon it is my turn to walk down the aisle. she tells me to walk slowly.
when i turn around at the altar, i see the flower girl--our cousin's three-year old daughter--SPRINTING up the aisle behind me. she'd been fine at the rehearsal, but was now apparently thrown off by the hundred or so people standing in the pews. i take her hand and hold it while my sister and father walk down the aisle, arm in arm.
when my sister arrives at the aisle, she has tears in her eyes, and i think about how she was determined not to ruin her makeup. my dad puts her hand in jerry's and goes to sit by my mom. we all turn and face the priest.
the mass goes smoothly until the reading from the new testament. the priest announces, "the new testament will be read by the bride's aunt."
one moment passes. then another. then, all of a sudden, i hear my dad call my name in a loud whisper, "jennifer! jennifer!"
i turn back toward the congregation.
"she not here!" he whispers loudly.
without missing a beat, i walk up to the lectern and read from the saint paul's letter to the ephesians. in english it was fine. but then i had to read it in spanish. and biblical spanish, well... not so easy. i stumbled through all the "vosotros vais" and "os," and returned to stand next to my sister at the altar.
i thought that would be the last bit of drama until i realized that the arras that i was supposed to present to the groom (so that he could present them to my sister). right before the presentation of the lazo, i turn around in my pew to ask my mom about the arras. but she asks me about the lazo.
"you have it!" i tell her.
she is rummaging through her purse. it is moments before the two families are to present their respective lazos. she pulls a small bag out of her purse and then pulls the lazo out. she has tied it together at various points so that it would not tangle. now she is nudging my dad to help her untie the lazo! i glance back and see that the arras have fallen onto the floor, so i retrieve them when she and my dad go to the altar to place their newly-unbound lazo around my sister's and jerry's shoulders.
the rest of the mass is perfect. the groom kisses the bride. the bridal party walks down the aisle all smiles. a million pictures are snapped.
mariachis entertain guests at the reception before the bridal party makes its entrance. the reception ballroom is beautiful with its plush chairs and tables clad in white linens. white roses and white orchids and candles adorn the tables. waiters and waitresses in white shirts and black bowties round the room with wine and food.
our aunts and uncles, cousins, family friends all smiling and talking, my sister, the bride, and her new husband make their rounds around the room, meeting and greeting and thanking everyone for being there. the sun sets in brilliant swirls of pink outside the large windows on the west side of the ballroom. as the evening wears on, guests meander on to the patio to catch a glance of the city lights below.
inside there are toasts and cake, ice cream, a photo montage, first dances with father and daughter, mother and son. and then dancing. dancing until shoes come off and the guests have worn themselves out.
at the end of the evening, my parents and i along with my brother and my sister's best friend await the limousine that will whisk away the bride and groom.
we are tired. the day has been long. and it has not been perfect. but it's been happy, and, according to my sister, happily ever after.
@>-->>---
Friday, February 24, 2006
sense of place
the following is an excerpt from luis alberto urrea's in search of snow:
i read that passage en route from houston to bakersfield. a couple of hours later, i found myself looking down at the glow of lights of a night-time bakersfield as my plane prepared to touch down at meadow's field.
my mom and sister were waiting to meet me, and in no time at all we were on our way home. even in the dark i know my part of town by heart. from the airport, we drive toward silhouettes of palm trees dotting the panorama bluffs. minutes later, our view from above is orange lights of oil refineries that never sleep. bakersfield junior college to our right. the gentle wind of panorama drive through a residential area leading to our house.
and i found myself feeling like bobo, loving the palm trees and the oil refineries. the houses on panorama drive i know so well (though i don't know who lives in them!). the college i never attended. i let my gaze drink it all in because it gives me that "sense of place" during this very uncertain/unstable time of life. i am strangely soothed by these ordinary sights because bakersfield is my touchstone. and no matter where i've been or where i'll go, it will always be. home.
@>-->>---
Bobo was as happy as Mike had ever seen him... He envied Bobo his eager stare, the way he looked in every direction, obviously loving each rock, tree, glint of broken glass on the tracks. Mike didn't know what to call it. If Lily had been there, he'd have asked her, and she'd have said, Sense of place. Something fancy like that. Mike had it: it was Home.
i read that passage en route from houston to bakersfield. a couple of hours later, i found myself looking down at the glow of lights of a night-time bakersfield as my plane prepared to touch down at meadow's field.
my mom and sister were waiting to meet me, and in no time at all we were on our way home. even in the dark i know my part of town by heart. from the airport, we drive toward silhouettes of palm trees dotting the panorama bluffs. minutes later, our view from above is orange lights of oil refineries that never sleep. bakersfield junior college to our right. the gentle wind of panorama drive through a residential area leading to our house.
and i found myself feeling like bobo, loving the palm trees and the oil refineries. the houses on panorama drive i know so well (though i don't know who lives in them!). the college i never attended. i let my gaze drink it all in because it gives me that "sense of place" during this very uncertain/unstable time of life. i am strangely soothed by these ordinary sights because bakersfield is my touchstone. and no matter where i've been or where i'll go, it will always be. home.
@>-->>---
Monday, February 20, 2006
the surreal life, cont.
interview day. university in california.
it began with a pleasant breakfast with the chair of the department.
an hour later, another professor.
then shuttled to meet with students, who i love.
everyone i meet very polite. i am on show. they are on show.
at 11AM the day begins to speed downhill. and fast.
a meeting with senior professors. one question i am unable to answer. another. and then another.
i try to speak about issues about which i am only peripherally knowledgeable.
half hour later, i am defeated. jarred at my lack of preparation. feeling like more of an idiot than i've felt in a very long time.
lunch with more professors reveals tensions in the department.
i feel caught in the cross fire.
still jarred from my interview, feeling overwhelmed by what i am learning about departmental politics, i am taken to a room to prepare for my talk.
during the half hour prep before my talk, my friend, the women's studies professor, peeks her head into the room to ask how i am doing.
i have been averaging four hours of sleep a night. i am stressed. i am unsettled. utterly overwhelmed.
it is 12:40, twenty minutes before my job talk.
her face, kind and expectant.
i start to CRY.
but i can't indulge my tears. i have SEVEN more hours of interviews and meetings.
i grab napkins to clean my running mascara and do my best to pull it together.
my talk goes relatively well, but i don't feel that it matters.
questions.
more meetings.
a ride back to my hotel and a beer with a professor.
dinner with two more professors.
8PM and i thank the last two professors for accompanying me to dinner. taking the hint, they ask for the check.
i ride up the elevator to my hotel room, strip off the suit, and fall onto the bed.
exhausted, disappointed.
that was my one shot. and i tanked.
@>-->>---
it began with a pleasant breakfast with the chair of the department.
an hour later, another professor.
then shuttled to meet with students, who i love.
everyone i meet very polite. i am on show. they are on show.
at 11AM the day begins to speed downhill. and fast.
a meeting with senior professors. one question i am unable to answer. another. and then another.
i try to speak about issues about which i am only peripherally knowledgeable.
half hour later, i am defeated. jarred at my lack of preparation. feeling like more of an idiot than i've felt in a very long time.
lunch with more professors reveals tensions in the department.
i feel caught in the cross fire.
still jarred from my interview, feeling overwhelmed by what i am learning about departmental politics, i am taken to a room to prepare for my talk.
during the half hour prep before my talk, my friend, the women's studies professor, peeks her head into the room to ask how i am doing.
i have been averaging four hours of sleep a night. i am stressed. i am unsettled. utterly overwhelmed.
it is 12:40, twenty minutes before my job talk.
her face, kind and expectant.
i start to CRY.
but i can't indulge my tears. i have SEVEN more hours of interviews and meetings.
i grab napkins to clean my running mascara and do my best to pull it together.
my talk goes relatively well, but i don't feel that it matters.
questions.
more meetings.
a ride back to my hotel and a beer with a professor.
dinner with two more professors.
8PM and i thank the last two professors for accompanying me to dinner. taking the hint, they ask for the check.
i ride up the elevator to my hotel room, strip off the suit, and fall onto the bed.
exhausted, disappointed.
that was my one shot. and i tanked.
@>-->>---
Saturday, February 18, 2006
the surreal life
at the vegas airport on valentine's day. en route to california.
the stewardess has made us applaud a couple with matching "bride" and "groom" t-shirts who are heading to some elvis chapel to live happily ever after, beginning today.
i am grumpy and nervous and stressed. and i hate to fly.
i am greeted by the smell of cinnamon and butter emanating from cinabon and the sounds of clanging music and bells rising from the slot machines clustered around the airport waiting areas.
no sooner have i begun to walk toward my gate than do i cross paths with a porn star.
for the record, i do not watch porn. (i'm a good catholic girl!). but i recognize him from the vh1 show, the surreal life. he appears just as he does on screen. short, pudgy, and unkempt with his long-ish black hair, green eyes and faded PETA t-shirt. nevertheless, i am a little bit thrilled to be crossing paths with celebrity. i think to ask him for his autograph, but then think better of it. will i really want to show off my porn star autograph? probably not.
instead, i opt to call my roommate to share my star sighting. i leave a rambling message on her voicemail. "you know who i'm talking about. that guy! i think his name is jeremy something. jeremy irons?" five minutes afterward, it hits me, and i text message her--ron jeremy!
my layover will last nearly two hours, so i decide to play the slot machines. after winning two dollars, i decide to quit while i'm ahead and head to starbucks to spend my winnings on a cup of coffee.
valentine's day in southern california
it is a perfect california day. sun shining through a sky, pristinely blue. a brisk wind blowing through the fronds of thin palm trees. i am waiting curbside at the airport when a black luxury car approaches with the name of my hotel stenciled on the side. i am embarrassed to hand my suitcase with its busted zipper to the driver.
i talk nervously to the driver as we weave through the afternoon traffic. we talk about everything from austin, to my job interview, to his family, my family, music, his girlfriend, our careers. i am overwhelmed when we arrive at the hotel, an enormous spanish style complex, its old stones illuminated by soft lights as the sun sets, its palm trees strung with white lights. my driver unloads my bags and wishes me luck.
the driver has told me that the hotel complex--the rooms and the three restaurants it houses inside--is nearly booked tonight because of valentine's day. as i wheel my suitcase into the lobby, i see that he is right. there are couples dressed to the nines in the hotel lobby and in restaurant waiting areas. women carrying long-stemmed roses. i check in and traverse long hallways to my room. i notice "privacy please" signs hanging from nearly all of the doorknobs along the way.
a friend, who is a professor of women's studies at the university where i will be interviewing, picks me up and takes me to her house to have dinner with her family. i marvel at how her ten-year old daughter has grown tall and cut her hair short. they introduce me to the newest addition to their family, a baby girl who is hardly a baby any more! (my friend was just a month pregnant the last time we saw each other). we enjoy a dinner that my friend's mother has prepared, white rice with a kind of japanese beef curry.
back at the hotel, i make last minute preparations for my interview. review the history of the department, faculty profiles, rewrite the introduction to my job talk.
the chair of the department calls to make sure i've arrived safely, to inform me that he'll be picking me up for breakfast the next morning at 8AM. he will try not to be late.
to be continued...
@>-->>---
the stewardess has made us applaud a couple with matching "bride" and "groom" t-shirts who are heading to some elvis chapel to live happily ever after, beginning today.
i am grumpy and nervous and stressed. and i hate to fly.
i am greeted by the smell of cinnamon and butter emanating from cinabon and the sounds of clanging music and bells rising from the slot machines clustered around the airport waiting areas.
no sooner have i begun to walk toward my gate than do i cross paths with a porn star.
for the record, i do not watch porn. (i'm a good catholic girl!). but i recognize him from the vh1 show, the surreal life. he appears just as he does on screen. short, pudgy, and unkempt with his long-ish black hair, green eyes and faded PETA t-shirt. nevertheless, i am a little bit thrilled to be crossing paths with celebrity. i think to ask him for his autograph, but then think better of it. will i really want to show off my porn star autograph? probably not.
instead, i opt to call my roommate to share my star sighting. i leave a rambling message on her voicemail. "you know who i'm talking about. that guy! i think his name is jeremy something. jeremy irons?" five minutes afterward, it hits me, and i text message her--ron jeremy!
my layover will last nearly two hours, so i decide to play the slot machines. after winning two dollars, i decide to quit while i'm ahead and head to starbucks to spend my winnings on a cup of coffee.
valentine's day in southern california
it is a perfect california day. sun shining through a sky, pristinely blue. a brisk wind blowing through the fronds of thin palm trees. i am waiting curbside at the airport when a black luxury car approaches with the name of my hotel stenciled on the side. i am embarrassed to hand my suitcase with its busted zipper to the driver.
i talk nervously to the driver as we weave through the afternoon traffic. we talk about everything from austin, to my job interview, to his family, my family, music, his girlfriend, our careers. i am overwhelmed when we arrive at the hotel, an enormous spanish style complex, its old stones illuminated by soft lights as the sun sets, its palm trees strung with white lights. my driver unloads my bags and wishes me luck.
the driver has told me that the hotel complex--the rooms and the three restaurants it houses inside--is nearly booked tonight because of valentine's day. as i wheel my suitcase into the lobby, i see that he is right. there are couples dressed to the nines in the hotel lobby and in restaurant waiting areas. women carrying long-stemmed roses. i check in and traverse long hallways to my room. i notice "privacy please" signs hanging from nearly all of the doorknobs along the way.
a friend, who is a professor of women's studies at the university where i will be interviewing, picks me up and takes me to her house to have dinner with her family. i marvel at how her ten-year old daughter has grown tall and cut her hair short. they introduce me to the newest addition to their family, a baby girl who is hardly a baby any more! (my friend was just a month pregnant the last time we saw each other). we enjoy a dinner that my friend's mother has prepared, white rice with a kind of japanese beef curry.
back at the hotel, i make last minute preparations for my interview. review the history of the department, faculty profiles, rewrite the introduction to my job talk.
the chair of the department calls to make sure i've arrived safely, to inform me that he'll be picking me up for breakfast the next morning at 8AM. he will try not to be late.
to be continued...
@>-->>---
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
happy valentine's day
i discovered this poem during this past year and thought it beautiful. i hope that you all enjoy it, too.
i carry your heart with me
by e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
+++
for all of you poetry aficionados, my roommate posted another great love poem on her blog a few days ago. click here for a take on love by sandra cisneros.
@>-->>---
i carry your heart with me
by e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
+++
for all of you poetry aficionados, my roommate posted another great love poem on her blog a few days ago. click here for a take on love by sandra cisneros.
@>-->>---
random thoughts before my big day
rewriting this post. when i wrote it last night, i was too bleary-eyed and distracted to be very coherent.
in preparation for the job talk, i have:
* taken my suit to the cleaners. only one suit, but many tops and accessories.
* cancelled my class on wednesday. (my students were very sad.)
* researched the history of the department where i'll be interviewing.
* printed out the faculty profiles of everyone with whom i'll be meeting tomorrow.
* made sure that all of the overheads for my job talk were in order. (i know; i'm old school. i need to learn how to use powerpoint. i just feel like there is so much that can go wrong with something as high-tech as power point. the overheads are v. simple).
* done laundry. well, actually, i'm at the laundromat right now. :)
before i leave for the airport (in three hours), i have to:
* pack!
sometime between the plane ride and my first meeting tomorrow at 8AM, i have to:
* write a new introduction to my talk.
* write in my journal. i need to get my thoughts straightened out before all the madness ensues.
* sleep. this is important. i was sick for my first job talk last year, couldn't sleep at all. woke up feeling horrible, which i could hide. what i couldn't hide were my bloodshot eyes. maybe the reason i didn't get that job was because they thought i was a druggie? now i make sure to pack visene among my toiletries.
today is a day of preparation.
because tomorrow i will be en friega. every moment of my day, from eight in the morning to approximately eight at night is accounted for. breakfast, mid-morning meetings, lunch, job talk, mid-afternoon meetings, dinner. i'm scheduled to meet with about ten people wednesday.
i wonder how charming i'll manage to be with person #10...
usually, some members of the search committee take the candidate to dinner the evening before the big day, but i have no dinner scheduled. i thought that odd until i realized what today is.
i guess none of the members of the search committee want to have dinner with the job candidate on valentine's day.
go figure. ;)
@>-->>---
in preparation for the job talk, i have:
* taken my suit to the cleaners. only one suit, but many tops and accessories.
* cancelled my class on wednesday. (my students were very sad.)
* researched the history of the department where i'll be interviewing.
* printed out the faculty profiles of everyone with whom i'll be meeting tomorrow.
* made sure that all of the overheads for my job talk were in order. (i know; i'm old school. i need to learn how to use powerpoint. i just feel like there is so much that can go wrong with something as high-tech as power point. the overheads are v. simple).
* done laundry. well, actually, i'm at the laundromat right now. :)
before i leave for the airport (in three hours), i have to:
* pack!
sometime between the plane ride and my first meeting tomorrow at 8AM, i have to:
* write a new introduction to my talk.
* write in my journal. i need to get my thoughts straightened out before all the madness ensues.
* sleep. this is important. i was sick for my first job talk last year, couldn't sleep at all. woke up feeling horrible, which i could hide. what i couldn't hide were my bloodshot eyes. maybe the reason i didn't get that job was because they thought i was a druggie? now i make sure to pack visene among my toiletries.
today is a day of preparation.
because tomorrow i will be en friega. every moment of my day, from eight in the morning to approximately eight at night is accounted for. breakfast, mid-morning meetings, lunch, job talk, mid-afternoon meetings, dinner. i'm scheduled to meet with about ten people wednesday.
i wonder how charming i'll manage to be with person #10...
usually, some members of the search committee take the candidate to dinner the evening before the big day, but i have no dinner scheduled. i thought that odd until i realized what today is.
i guess none of the members of the search committee want to have dinner with the job candidate on valentine's day.
go figure. ;)
@>-->>---
Thursday, February 09, 2006
las vivas de vivo's
thursday afternoon of the rejection email, my roommate, olga, comes in to find me on the phone, crying to my dad. when i get off the phone, i start my sobbing to her.
earlier in the afternoon, before the email, we agreed that we would spend the late afternoon working at a coffeeshop with another one of our girlfriends.
i'm clearly in no shape to be writing my article this afternoon.
"do you want to go get a drink?" she asks me.
"but it's only four in the afternoon."
"it's after noon!" she says.
"ok." (she was twisting my arm after all.)
olga calls for reinforcements. she rounds up two of our girlfriends and we agree to meet for drinks at vivo's, a bright restaurant/bar near our house.
"first drink's on me," olga says.
i am still puffy-eyed and sniffling when we get to vivo's. cristina and laura are already at the bar, looking sympathetic as i sit and start to whine. how hard i'd worked on that application. how much i wanted this postdoc. how upset i'd be if i knew anyone else had gotten it. i am sad and selfish and angry.
three shots of tequila and one shared plate of appetizers later, i'm feeling significantly better. we are sharing gossip, poking fun of professors, commiserating about grad school workloads, job possibilities, attempting to uncover the mysteries of the male mind.
olga suggests clementine's for a sobering cup of coffee. we sit on red couches in front of large rectangular windows, and watch the last light of the day fade. olga and laura talk about knitting projects; cristina and i talk about boys. actually, i talk; cristina gives me advice.
i look at these girls, and i love them so much for dropping everything to help nurse me back to happiness. they all have work; they are all stressed; but they are all here with me.
it's true. i have still been rejected by my postdoc. i still have no idea where i'll be or how i'll be paying my bills come july. but i realize that the afternoon has somehow become sweet.
@>-->>---
earlier in the afternoon, before the email, we agreed that we would spend the late afternoon working at a coffeeshop with another one of our girlfriends.
i'm clearly in no shape to be writing my article this afternoon.
"do you want to go get a drink?" she asks me.
"but it's only four in the afternoon."
"it's after noon!" she says.
"ok." (she was twisting my arm after all.)
olga calls for reinforcements. she rounds up two of our girlfriends and we agree to meet for drinks at vivo's, a bright restaurant/bar near our house.
"first drink's on me," olga says.
i am still puffy-eyed and sniffling when we get to vivo's. cristina and laura are already at the bar, looking sympathetic as i sit and start to whine. how hard i'd worked on that application. how much i wanted this postdoc. how upset i'd be if i knew anyone else had gotten it. i am sad and selfish and angry.
three shots of tequila and one shared plate of appetizers later, i'm feeling significantly better. we are sharing gossip, poking fun of professors, commiserating about grad school workloads, job possibilities, attempting to uncover the mysteries of the male mind.
olga suggests clementine's for a sobering cup of coffee. we sit on red couches in front of large rectangular windows, and watch the last light of the day fade. olga and laura talk about knitting projects; cristina and i talk about boys. actually, i talk; cristina gives me advice.
i look at these girls, and i love them so much for dropping everything to help nurse me back to happiness. they all have work; they are all stressed; but they are all here with me.
it's true. i have still been rejected by my postdoc. i still have no idea where i'll be or how i'll be paying my bills come july. but i realize that the afternoon has somehow become sweet.
@>-->>---
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
wanting
yesterday, i was talking to a couple of my friends about the problem of wanting something too much.
you never get that one thing you really want.
there was the dream job i blogged about a few weeks ago. there's not a job i wanted more in the world than that one. and i did not get called for an interview.
there are a few boys with whom i've had flirtacious exchanges over the fast few weeks. the one i'm not that excited about, very consistent about calling. the one that i like best, the one that i want, hasn't called in a week. of course.
and now this. i have applied for this particular postdoctoral fellowship THREE TIMES. it is my dream postdoc. a two year stint at a university of california school. if you get this postdoc, you are practically guaranteed a job in one of the UC schools afterward. i just got my THIRD rejection from them today. the same, we-had-many-qualified-applicants-but-have-limited-funding variety of letter. it's like someone breaking up with you: it's not you; you're great. it's us; we can't afford you!
i worked so hard on the application. revised and re-revised the essays. had secured the mentorship of an anthropologist at one of the UC schools whom i really respect and like. but it was all for nothing.
i have to admit that i'm a little bit devastated. i really wanted this fellowship. and i thought i had a chance. i hoped.
i don't know if it's the universe trying to teach me to be more zen-like in my attitude toward professional achievement. that it's not about getting what i want, but learning to want what i get (yes, i'm stealing that from a sheryl crow song).
so here is my pessimistic lesson of the day: want not, be disappointed not.
@>-->>---
you never get that one thing you really want.
there was the dream job i blogged about a few weeks ago. there's not a job i wanted more in the world than that one. and i did not get called for an interview.
there are a few boys with whom i've had flirtacious exchanges over the fast few weeks. the one i'm not that excited about, very consistent about calling. the one that i like best, the one that i want, hasn't called in a week. of course.
and now this. i have applied for this particular postdoctoral fellowship THREE TIMES. it is my dream postdoc. a two year stint at a university of california school. if you get this postdoc, you are practically guaranteed a job in one of the UC schools afterward. i just got my THIRD rejection from them today. the same, we-had-many-qualified-applicants-but-have-limited-funding variety of letter. it's like someone breaking up with you: it's not you; you're great. it's us; we can't afford you!
i worked so hard on the application. revised and re-revised the essays. had secured the mentorship of an anthropologist at one of the UC schools whom i really respect and like. but it was all for nothing.
i have to admit that i'm a little bit devastated. i really wanted this fellowship. and i thought i had a chance. i hoped.
i don't know if it's the universe trying to teach me to be more zen-like in my attitude toward professional achievement. that it's not about getting what i want, but learning to want what i get (yes, i'm stealing that from a sheryl crow song).
so here is my pessimistic lesson of the day: want not, be disappointed not.
@>-->>---
Saturday, February 04, 2006
friday afternoon faux pas
i call my dad friday afternoon to touch base. he answers, but says that he can't hear me. bad connection in the office. he'll go outside and call me right back.
within thirty seconds, my phone rings and i answer, "hey."
silence.
"dad?"
more silence.
thinking our connection still bad, i continue, "dad? can you hear me?" then louder, "DAD? DAD!"
all of a sudden, a male voice.
"may i please speak with jennifer ________?"
"this is she," i say, slowly, hoping that it is a telemarketer, but knowing that it is not.
"this is dr. ____________ from the department of chicano studies at (a university in california)."
i feel my stomach sink.
"oh. i'm sorry. i was talking to my dad and we got. cut off. i thought you were. him. calling back."
"that's ok," dr. X says, generously, though i feel extremely foolish.
he then asks me if i am still interested in the assistant professor position at his school, wants to know if i've already accepted a position somewhere else.
"no, i'm definitely still interested."
he tells me that i am not guaranteed the job, but that he will be in touch soon about an interview.
"thank you," i tell him.
"thank you, dear," he says.
little wonder that he didn't say, "thank you, m'ija."
i'm so mortified. here i am trying to pass myself off as a PROFESSOR and he catches me yelling for my dad.
*sigh*
@>-->>---
within thirty seconds, my phone rings and i answer, "hey."
silence.
"dad?"
more silence.
thinking our connection still bad, i continue, "dad? can you hear me?" then louder, "DAD? DAD!"
all of a sudden, a male voice.
"may i please speak with jennifer ________?"
"this is she," i say, slowly, hoping that it is a telemarketer, but knowing that it is not.
"this is dr. ____________ from the department of chicano studies at (a university in california)."
i feel my stomach sink.
"oh. i'm sorry. i was talking to my dad and we got. cut off. i thought you were. him. calling back."
"that's ok," dr. X says, generously, though i feel extremely foolish.
he then asks me if i am still interested in the assistant professor position at his school, wants to know if i've already accepted a position somewhere else.
"no, i'm definitely still interested."
he tells me that i am not guaranteed the job, but that he will be in touch soon about an interview.
"thank you," i tell him.
"thank you, dear," he says.
little wonder that he didn't say, "thank you, m'ija."
i'm so mortified. here i am trying to pass myself off as a PROFESSOR and he catches me yelling for my dad.
*sigh*
@>-->>---
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
mexico meanderings
my roommate, olga , and i made a break for it last weekend, headed down to south texas. spent saturday morning at the beach, the afternoon in matamoros.
we thought we would be brave and drive instead of walk over the border. i had never driven in mexico before and was, admittedly a little nervous. but it was fine. we paid our toll at the bridge and cruised right into town. followed the signs that pointed toward el centro and found un estacionamiento. once downtown, we wanted to spend our time walking through the grid of one way streets.
we were immediately drawn to the plaza in the middle of town, where people were setting up rows of white plastic chairs and a stage with with balloon figures, bending in the wind. wandered around park benches, tried not to stare at the couples who were were spending their mid-afternoon cuddling, and marveled over the tiles that adorned the quiosco in the middle of the park.
though our stomachs were grumbling, i asked olga if we could take a detour into the church, a pink stoned building, with a simple facade. we walked inside the dimly-lit sanctuary and blessed ourselves in front of a white statue depicting the virgin mary cradling jesus in her arms after his death. walked along the aisles, noting the gold plated decor around the altar, and took our seats in a pew facing a statue of juan diego.
neither of us had ever seen a statue of juan diego before. he was brown-skinned, with an image of la virgen de guadalupe on his tilma and a cascade of bright roses tumbling down from the image. olga thought his features more spanish than indigenous.
emerging from the dark church everything too bright outside, despite the overcast sky.
having foregone lunch, we were on a mission to find tacos. i am a taco snob. i have yet to find a place in the US where they make good tacos. they seem simple, and yet there are endless ways to not cook them well.
well. olga and i stumbled upon riko taquito in el centro and each ordered one taco de carne asada and one taco al pastor. washed them down with toronja soda in long-necked green bottles. and let me tell you, it was like happiness on a plate.
with our bellies full, we wandered among the throngs of saturday afternoon shoppers. at one point olga turns to me and says, "do you know what i love about mexico?" a million little things, i think. being able to blend in with people--not too short, not too brown. the rhythm of the afternoon. the tacos! the balloon vendors. the melody of language.
"what?" i ask her.
"the shoe stores!" she declares.
i laugh aloud and agree. there are rows and rows of adorable and affordable shoes at any given zapateria.
we ended our afternoon at a cafe, where we sat outside on a lovely patio. we treated ourselves to two cafe americanos and one shared flan while listening to american music humming through the speakers. "globalization," olga tells me, and i want to cover my ears (to avoid her comment, not the music).
we head back in the late afternoon, and miraculously find our way back to the border. no maps. just instinct. i was feeling very cavalier on the way back to the US, thinking that the border patrol would simply wave us back into the states. our border patrol agent, however, had other ideas. he asks the usual questions about our nativity and why we were in matamoros. "just for fun!" i say, flippantly.
then asks to see our IDs and runs them through the system. i'm dying to know what comes up on the screen when he runs my ID (crazy marxist academic?). he asks for us to open the trunk. i'm certain that he is impressed by my yoga mat and hand weights before he closes it and lets us pass. olga theorizes that we were victims of racial profiling (would they have stopped two blond women crossing back over?). i say it's because we're so cute! he clearly wanted us to hang out with him for a while. ;)
border troubles aside, there's nothing like an adventure with a good friend.
+++
for another perspective on this trip (and some cute pics), check out olga's blog.
@>-->>---
we thought we would be brave and drive instead of walk over the border. i had never driven in mexico before and was, admittedly a little nervous. but it was fine. we paid our toll at the bridge and cruised right into town. followed the signs that pointed toward el centro and found un estacionamiento. once downtown, we wanted to spend our time walking through the grid of one way streets.
we were immediately drawn to the plaza in the middle of town, where people were setting up rows of white plastic chairs and a stage with with balloon figures, bending in the wind. wandered around park benches, tried not to stare at the couples who were were spending their mid-afternoon cuddling, and marveled over the tiles that adorned the quiosco in the middle of the park.
though our stomachs were grumbling, i asked olga if we could take a detour into the church, a pink stoned building, with a simple facade. we walked inside the dimly-lit sanctuary and blessed ourselves in front of a white statue depicting the virgin mary cradling jesus in her arms after his death. walked along the aisles, noting the gold plated decor around the altar, and took our seats in a pew facing a statue of juan diego.
neither of us had ever seen a statue of juan diego before. he was brown-skinned, with an image of la virgen de guadalupe on his tilma and a cascade of bright roses tumbling down from the image. olga thought his features more spanish than indigenous.
emerging from the dark church everything too bright outside, despite the overcast sky.
having foregone lunch, we were on a mission to find tacos. i am a taco snob. i have yet to find a place in the US where they make good tacos. they seem simple, and yet there are endless ways to not cook them well.
well. olga and i stumbled upon riko taquito in el centro and each ordered one taco de carne asada and one taco al pastor. washed them down with toronja soda in long-necked green bottles. and let me tell you, it was like happiness on a plate.
with our bellies full, we wandered among the throngs of saturday afternoon shoppers. at one point olga turns to me and says, "do you know what i love about mexico?" a million little things, i think. being able to blend in with people--not too short, not too brown. the rhythm of the afternoon. the tacos! the balloon vendors. the melody of language.
"what?" i ask her.
"the shoe stores!" she declares.
i laugh aloud and agree. there are rows and rows of adorable and affordable shoes at any given zapateria.
we ended our afternoon at a cafe, where we sat outside on a lovely patio. we treated ourselves to two cafe americanos and one shared flan while listening to american music humming through the speakers. "globalization," olga tells me, and i want to cover my ears (to avoid her comment, not the music).
we head back in the late afternoon, and miraculously find our way back to the border. no maps. just instinct. i was feeling very cavalier on the way back to the US, thinking that the border patrol would simply wave us back into the states. our border patrol agent, however, had other ideas. he asks the usual questions about our nativity and why we were in matamoros. "just for fun!" i say, flippantly.
then asks to see our IDs and runs them through the system. i'm dying to know what comes up on the screen when he runs my ID (crazy marxist academic?). he asks for us to open the trunk. i'm certain that he is impressed by my yoga mat and hand weights before he closes it and lets us pass. olga theorizes that we were victims of racial profiling (would they have stopped two blond women crossing back over?). i say it's because we're so cute! he clearly wanted us to hang out with him for a while. ;)
border troubles aside, there's nothing like an adventure with a good friend.
+++
for another perspective on this trip (and some cute pics), check out olga's blog.
@>-->>---
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