The Unexpected Move

Three and a half weeks ago, the flat that I’ve lived in for nearly two years had a water incident. During a rainstorm, water came pouring out of the bedroom light fixture, shorting the electricity and soaking my bed. Water came in through the kitchen ceiling dripping onto the floor. And water damage went creeping out along the ceiling of the living room. My letting agents were nearly useless, took four days to send a professional electrician, and still haven’t examined the kitchen appliances as the electrician recommended. Yesterday, I discovered that my landlord had been trying to contact me directly about the incident days after it happened, but the property manager went on leave and didn’t forward me his contact details until she returned -- yesterday.

I decided to move.

 

I found a flat and signed a lease in less time than it took my letting agents to send an electrician. I got the keys about two and a half weeks ago. The flat is truly beautiful. It’s bigger than my old flat, in a similar location, and smells clean and freshly remodeled. But the first night I stayed here, I cried. I called my mom in the midst of one of my most severe panic attacks ever, gasping for air and telling her I’d made so many mistakes and instead of finding a flat I should have just come home. She’s a real trooper and got me through. I don’t think I’ve been that bad panic-wise since 2014. Then, I rallied. My friend Charlotte came one day and helped me move over all of my books. My friends Andy and Kate came over with their car and helped move a couple of loads of stuff (properly masked, of course). I am so, so grateful to them.

 

Mostly, though, I walked back and forth from one flat to the other with as much as I could carry. I probably made twelve or fourteen trips back and forth alone. I remember thinking, “How did I get to the point in my life where I’m doing a big move mostly completely alone?” It was exhausting. And a bit demoralizing. But I did it.

 

I also ordered and put together three IKEA bookcases all on my own. I ordered a rug for the living room and a pretty coffee table that makes me smile every time I look at it. I dealt with moving the bed that was here out, and moving my bed in (despite a snafu with my new letting agents over that particular detail). I managed, somehow, to feed myself a few times during all of this. I read Heaven to Betsy by Maud Hart Lovelace as a coping mechanism. Sometimes old favorites are the only way to go.

 

During this same 3.5 week period, my laptop battery decided to go wonky and I had to take it to the Apple Store in Covent Garden, which was a bit terrifying. So many people without masks milling about the area. Came to find out that was the day that the anti-maskers staged a protest in Trafalgar Square. Great. Luckily, I seem to be fine and after a week without my laptop, it returned to me good as new!

 

It’s been a lot, though: water damage, moving, without laptop for a period of time.

 

I haven’t managed to get much done on my thesis, though I did finish reading Cinderella is Dead, started on So This is Love, and have done a lot more thinking on blue dresses and fairy godmothers. I did finish my progression form, and I’ve been attending my children’s cultures reading group. I’ve also managed to officially re-enrol for my third year and paid my tuition – though that, too, made me feel very uneasy and angry and sent me into a bit of a panic. The fees for international students are already so high, and in the age of covid, what is it all for? I can’t even safely use the library facilities!

 

But I’m hopeful that things will begin to stabilize now. I’m hoping I can take a deep breath. I still have a few ends to tie up – getting my name on the utilities accounts, for instance – but the new flat already feels homier. I am so, so lucky to have food, a roof over my head, wonderful parents, and friends who were willing to help me out during my week without a useable home.

 

I think the reason I’m writing, though, is to say – I’m not great right now. I’m not in tip-top Abigail form. I know that I’m so lucky that nothing really bad has happened to me or my family. But I’m sad about lockdown. I miss safely seeing my friends. I’m sad I can’t throw a house-warming party. I’m stressed about all the events of the past month, and the past summer, and the past year. I’m sad for my country and the wildfires. I’m terrified about the rise of conspiracy theories and their role in politics (and now I’m trying to largely stay off social media for my own mental health). I’m worried about my own PhD work – will I get it done? Will I have a job at the end? What to make of the all of the budget cuts in humanities departments? What to make of the fact that the school completely cut the Approaches to Fairy Tales module?

 

I don’t really know how to wrap this up, but I’m grateful for what I have now, and working very, very hard to remain hopeful for the future.

Time Warp, or Thoughts During a Pandemic

It’s a jump to the left. Then a step to the right.

And ope, look at that it’s the end of July and my wall calendar still says March. The past four months have somehow disappeared and it feels like they never happened. What did I do with that time? I keep thinking it can’t be later than April, but then, no, here comes a writing deadline with a PhD progression deadline close on its heels. Didn’t I have months before these were due? Where did those months go?

It’s astounding. Time is fleeting.

Look again, and the calendar on the wall still says March but the calendar on my laptop says July, and that seems to be the general consensus among news websites, podcasters, and the outdoor temperature. Even the sun is in on it, rising early and setting late, taunting me with its mid-summer-ness when honestly if it wanted to do its February thing right now that would better match my mood. Sure, things are reopening, but honestly, I still feel uncomfortable with the idea of eating indoors and I don’t see myself booking a desk at the British Library anytime soon – despite the fact that I would desperately love a place to work that wasn’t my one-bedroom apartment where work-life and home-life have become so intertwined that I’m constantly stressed out, but also constantly eating pizza and watching Netflix (shout out to Schitt’s Creek). I used to catch so many colds at the British Library. Best not to risk it at the moment… right? Am I being overly cautious?

Madness takes its toll.

I spent the first three months of lockdown completely alone. One day in May I looked at my hands and started crying because they were so human, and I hadn’t been within six feet of another living being – animal or person – in more than two months. A glorious spring was passing by, and all the theatre I had booked was canceled. A trip to Paris canceled. A weekend in Cornwall evaporated like a dream. Everything that motivates me to work, gone. “If I write this much I can visit a museum or check TodayTix.” Or, “If I write this much I can get a tea with a friend.” No more. And yet, I knew I was lucky. I know I am lucky. I wasn't sick. I had food and a roof over my head. But I started to feel like a husk of a person, nevertheless. Wandering between the two rooms of my flat, growing older, like that montage in the Ghost of Christmas Past bit of Muppet Christmas Carol that shows Scrooge growing up. I played so much Animal Crossing and became so attached to a few of my islanders that I began to feel like Millie from Fahrenheit 451. Every day I needed to log in to visit my friends. My computer-programmed friends. “Do the white clowns love you, Millie?”

Time meant nothing never would again.

I’ve realized that I’m an analog person. I used to never keep a diary/calendar, because I could remember all of my meetings in my mind. I could visualize myself going to a place, at a time, meeting a person. I never missed appointments or classes or research coffee hours. Now it’s all on my computer and I find I can’t make heads nor tails of the various reading groups and meetings set up through the school. Is it on Zoom? Microsoft Teams? Google Meetings? Skype? WhatsApp? Did I receive an email about this? I even forget plans I made to video chat with friends – I’m shocked every Saturday at 4pm when my computer ‘rings’ and my friend is calling for our standing date. And the school hasn’t been exactly clear about plans for next year, or about sending invoices for all the marking I did at the beginning of lockdown (!!!), and in general, I’m feeling disillusioned with academia. Is it about education or the bottom-line? Look at all the jobs being lost – is this degree worth it?

With a bit of a mind flip, you’re into the time slip.

Then I had a glorious month that flew by far too quickly of Tim visiting me, and we watched movies and cooked dinners and – after his quarantine period ended – became regulars at the coffee shop on the corner. I felt like a normal person again. We spent most of our time in my flat, but with him working, I could work, too. I managed to finish editing/re-working a paper for an academic journal while he was here, and I wrote the only bit of my thesis I’ve managed to eke out since all this began. We’d get coffees and walk through the graveyard, and visit my graveyard boyfriend, Percy (Tim knows, he gets it). (EDIT: Tim would like for me to clarify that Percy died in 1899.) And now… I’m alone again, with mountains of writing ahead of me.

It’s so dreamy, fantasy free me.

Part of the problem is finding value in my writing. Cinderella? At a time like this? ::Gestures broadly at everything.:: But what else am I doing if not distracting myself from the news cycle? Why not distract myself with fairy tales and ballgowns, and thinking more deeply about the role of adaptation and story in the world we live in? Isn’t that valuable? Because stories keep being told, even now. Clothes keep being worn, and if anything, our relationship to our clothing has been under a re-evaluation in the past five months in a way it never has been before. Isn’t that what I study? Our relationship to clothing? Has it ever been more important than now, when dress-codes have crumbled and are being made anew? When the catwalks of Fashion Weeks have moved online, or in the case of Dior, have been made miniature? When fast fashion companies are under scrutiny for their business practices, and we have a chance at pushing for more ethical fashion? Why not disappear for a bit into costume design and iridescent blue chiffon and crinolines? Maybe I just need to have a bit more faith in my dreams, as Cinderella might sing. Maybe if I keep on believing, this thesis will actually take shape.

Let’s do the time warp again.



(Image from Rocky Horror Picture Show, 20th Century Fox)

New Seasons and Clean Slates

Since returning home, the weather has been almost uniformly gray, foggy, and humid.  Those blue-blue skies of autumn have yet to peek out from behind the clouds, and even the cooler temperatures are marred by drenching humidity.  Still, I'm hopeful that as the world turns into October, mornings will become bright and crisp, and golden-red-orange leaves will stand out against a blue sky. 

Regardless of weather, I'm excited for October-- my favorite month.  I can't wait to watch Halloween favorites like Practical Magic, Hocus Pocus, It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, and, of course, Halloweentown.  This year, Zan and I plan to watch some horror films (for real, this time!) like The Orphanage, and maybe have a vampire movie-a-thon (with films like Only Lovers Left Alive and Interview with the Vampire).  I'm also looking forward to the release of Crimson Peak in theaters. 

Besides movies, October is my favorite month for food!  It's finally the time of year for full-on pumpkin ales and porters.  It starts to get cool enough for chili, stew, crusty breads, and roasted vegetables.  I have a million recipes to try (I will make a chicken-chili this year!). 

It's also the best time of year for hot apple cider and sweaters and starting to look forward to Christmas and beginning to work on homemade Christmas gifts.  The change of seasons makes it ideal for a good "autumn cleaning," taking stock of the year as it starts to spin into its last change.  I want to tidy up our apartment, then fill it with seasonal items, like a cinnamon broom and maybe a few decorative gourds.  I also hope to fill it with wonderful smells of baked apples and pumpkin pie.  Autumn is the best time for cozy-ing up with a good book and popcorn and seeing friends and feeling thankful.

Moreover, new months are lovely in and of themselves: as Anne Shirley says, "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it."  New months and new seasons are inspiring-- clean states, all ready to be filled with new (ad)ventures and new memories.  Happy Autumn!

Through the Looking Glass and What I Found There

Just arrived back from an amazing journey to England where I presented a paper as part of the Alice Through the Ages conference at Homerton College, University of Cambridge.

The conference was absolutely amazing.  I heard so many good papers, and so many of them left my mind ruminating over the ideas and ready to explore more.  The three plenary sessions inspired me, especially.  All three were incredible, but the last-- on Alice and Fashion from 1865-1901-- helped me to view Tenniel's illustrations and the popular culture surrounding Alice in entirely new ways.  In addition to the academics, the conference-organizers put together a beautiful "Looking Glass Banquet" in the Great Hall at Homerton on Wednesday night.  The Great Hall was lit entirely by candlelight, huge Alice-inspired props decorated the main dias (including a giant chess board and a huge blue caterpillar with light-up eyes and a hookah), and we ate "Mock Mock Turtle Soup" (French onion), pork chops with vanilla-apple sauce, and a lovely chocolate-strawberry-mousse heart-shaped dessert.

By the time of the banquet, I had also met three incredible women from three different countries, and, summer-camp-like, within three days we were inseparable.  We supported each other in our paper sessions, we took tea together during the breaks, and we marveled at the beauty of the banquet side-by-side.  I fondly hope that these friendships will continue to grow and develop-- and perhaps lead to new intellectual pursuits and travels. 

Cambridge itself was lovely, too.  After the conference officially ended, we spent a few more days exploring the city.  We attended a "Fantastical Victorians" exhibit in the reading room at the Fitzwilliam Museum, and concluded the week with a lovely Mad Tea Party at Homerton College.


Here are a few more pictures of Cambridge and my adventures there!

The Cheshire Cat in a tree at Homerton College. This was just one of the many beautiful decorations spread throughout the grounds and halls of Homerton during the conference.

 A view of punters on the River Cam. We did not go punting, but I must say, I quite envied the people on the boats with their Saturday morning bottles of champagne.

 Mathematician's Bridge. I thought this was an appropriate picture to take, given that Charles Dodgson (better known as Lewis Carroll) was a mathematician.

 Cakes and scones at the Mad Tea Party finale to Wonderland Week and the conference.

September Senses

As September begins I am...

Listening to... the podcast Welcome to Night Vale. I listened to the first episode of this show around Christmas time last year, but didn't fall in love immediately. After attending GeekyCon and meeting the Night Vale guys, I decided to give it another go. So, in August I listened to a few more, and in the last week, quite a few more than that. It's official: I'm totally addicted to this podcast!

Also listening to... a Great Course on the history of London as a city. Just started today, but it's helping me to get (even more) excited for my upcoming trip to the UK.  This course is serving as my bridge between "summer" audiobook listens and "autumn" listens.  I have three books lined up that I hope to finish before mid-November: Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman, Dracula narrated by Alan Cumming and others, and Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury.  Plus, I'm adding to that list both the Night Vale book and The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet which debuts at the end of September.  Technically that last one feels more like a "summer" read, but I plan to listen to it as soon as it's available.

(Note: as expected, I quickly finished Felicia Day's book, and moved on to a short story called The Water Horse by Dick King-Smith. I'm told there's a movie of The Water Horse that is not very good, but the short story was just lovely. I'm consistently impressed with short children's fiction: another of my favorite audiobook 'reads' was Clockwork by Philip Pullman.)

Reading (in book form)... Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and Coraline. I meant to do this ages ago, but now I have literally ten days left to get them re-read and to re-watch the cartoon versions of each.  Also, I may have bought the books for Maryellen Larkin, the new American Girl from the 1950s...

Seeing... golden early autumn sunset outside, best friends inside, fresh clean clothes drying on their drying racks, and two fuzzy kitties who currently want dinner pretty badly. I understand kitties, because it smells insanely good in my apartment since I'm...

Tasting... pulled pork, caramelized green beans and onions, and funfetti cupcakes!  When best friends cook, it's fantastic.  And, now that it's September, I can drink pumpkin ale with impunity!

Excited for... well, my upcoming trip, of course!  But also for the continuation of my job at Special Collections and the chance to see my current collection and its related collection through to the end. Best of all, I love my new work schedule.  It's perfect in terms of hours, and leaves me with time during the week to pour energy into new creative ventures-- and also to take up Spanish language-learning again (which I slacked on a lot during August).  And of course, I'm excited for the beginning of autumn! My favorite season!  As much as I love warm weather, September and October are my favorite months.  There's something about September and that 'back-to-school' feeling that has never gone away (granted, I usually am going back to school).  The cozy nights and crisp days and sweaters and boots and warm stews and crusty breads of fall make me tingly happy.  I can't wait for the World Series and Halloween movies and here's hoping that this year I might finally make it to an autumn festival or two!

Finally, an August Post!

I've been just terrible about blogging this summer.  I keep starting posts, then not finishing them.  Or finishing them, then deciding they are not worth posting.  I never blogged about my amazing trip to GeekyCon nearly four weeks ago, and my visit to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter for the Open at the Close event-- which mostly involved drinking unlimited amounts of butterbeer in Diagon Alley at 1:00 AM.  Aside from that event, the Con itself was fantastic, too!  I attended some really interesting panels, met some wildly creative people, reconnected with favorite artists, and discovered new artists to admire.  I fell in love with the artwork of Casey Robin (check out her etsy shop!), who was as nice as she is talented.  Most excitingly, I finally got to meet Mary Kate Wiles in person-- she is one of my favorite actresses (check out her YouTube channel!).  I listened to interviews with screenwriter James Moran, with the Hillywood girls, and with Anthony Rapp.  I bought a Hermoine time-turner necklace in the marketplace for only $5!  And on the last day, I went to Disney World.  Because really, how could I be so close and not visit?  A few laps around the World Showcase were just what my heart desired.  The potato-wrapped snapper at Flying Fish Cafe didn't hurt either, nor did the Polynesian Pearl cocktail at Trader Sam's Grog Grotto.

In the ensuing weeks, I've taken a short jaunt to the Outer Banks for Zan's family beach week, and this past weekend Zan and I visited Natural Bridge, VA.  For my birthday, my friend Kay gave me a night's stay at the Historic Natural Bridge Hotel.  The package came with tickets to the bridge itself, and to the caverns nearby.  Additionally, Zan and I spent an afternoon at Virginia Safari Park, feeding tons of animals and even petting a kangaroo!  It was an incredible weekend.

Most of my time, of course, I've spent processing my collection at Special Collections.  I will be wrapping up that project soon-- in fact, my last day of full-time employment is Friday.  After that, THE WORLD!  Err, no... after that, I'm a little uncertain.  Change is definitely in the air: from the cooling days and the sun setting noticeably earlier, to the sudden end of the pattern of my days.  I feel a bit like I'm on a ski jump, the kind that let off suddenly into mid-air, leaving the skier flying through the sky-- whoosh!  I'm trying to look at it as a fun adventure, to remain calm and even a little zen, but I've always been too nervous to try skiing.  I have some fun adventures lined up for the autumn (including a presentation at an academic conference in the UK), and I have some ideas for new projects that I hope take off, but I feel like I'm mostly making it up as I go along.  I suppose what I need to learn is that everyone feels like they are making it up as they go along, cobbling together days and activities and hoping for the best.

Before I go, quick book list (if I can remember them): a long while back I read Jade Green by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, an old favorite from middle school.  I've read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (to prepare for GeekyCon, of course).  I read all of Jenny Trout's hilarious/troubling recaps of 50 Shades of Grey on her blog (she read that one so I didn't have to-- thank goodness), which prompted me to read Trout's novels The Boss and The Girlfriend (written under her pen name Abigail Barnette).  I also read an incredibly sweet debut novel by Natalie Lloyd called A Snicker of Magic.  It's a children's novel (think Newbery Award age) with a lot of heart.  The writing is so unique; I can't even explain it.  As for audiobooks, I finished listening to Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, and then pretty much mainlined My Antonia by Willa Cather.  Currently, I'm nearing the end of Felicia Day's audiobook You're Never Weird on the Internet (Almost) and I'm re-reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in order to revise my conference paper.

Until next time, which hopefully won't take another month...  gonna get better at this...

Thoughts on a Re-Read; or, Potter Before Potter

I am re-reading the Harry Potter series.  I finished Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone this afternoon.  Reading it again after all this time felt odd-- it has probably been a good decade since the last time I read it, certainly before the publication of Deathly Hallows.  In a way, re-reading the book felt like reminiscing with old friends about long ago: "Remember the Sorting and your first night at Hogwarts?" "Remember when you thought you'd be expelled but ended up as the Seeker on the Quidditch team?"  But that same nostalgia also gives some pain.  Characters that meant little to me at the time are suddenly fleshed out in my mind with all that I've read since.  I noticed that Lavender Brown got sorted into Gryffindor.  Fred and George are still complete and happy.  Scabbers, still only a rat.  Mostly, Neville: just a meek, nice boy with a toad and a propensity to get picked on, his backstory totally unknown. 

I first read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone when I was eleven years old.  I read it before Harry Potter was *Harry Potter.*  I read it before most of my friends, even.  There were no films, or-- to my knowledge-- even talk of films.  The whole world that Rowling so clearly and carefully built I imagined without the aid of set and costume designers, or actors.  In my mind, Hermione had darker brown hair, like me (of course).  Minerva McGonagall was younger than Dame Maggie Smith, and a bit harsher looking with black hair.  Dumbledore was slightly madder.  Upon a re-read, I notice that the whole book has a whimsical Roald Dahl-esqueness to it that the movies don't quite capture.  And, as an adult, I also notice how wonderfully Rowling controls the prose and plot.  Her world-building is astounding in a way that I could not recognize as a child.  Moreover, the depth of it becomes apparent with the totality of the series, which I did not have when first I read this book.  I remember waiting for Book 3.

Then there's the fact that I've grown up.  I think I cry more easily now.  When I was little, my mom would always read The Polar Express to me on Christmas Eve, and she would always cry at the end when the protagonist says that his sister can no longer hear the bell, but that it rings for him as it does for all true believers.  When I was small, I poked fun at her.  Then, a Christmas came a few years ago when I started crying, too.  I think Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone has undergone a similar transformation for me.  I teared up when Hagrid and Harry entered Diagon Alley (it was so magical!).  I felt myself crumbling a bit when Dumbledore spoke to Harry in the infirmary about love, and when Hagrid gave Harry a scrapbook of pictures of his parents.  I almost full-on cried when Dumbledore gave Neville ten points, because I just knew how much it meant to Neville. 

I've gained so much in the last decade of my life.  Still, a distinct sense of something lost accompanied my re-read.  The closest I can come to describing it is this: I will never again wonder at the cat that reads the street sign on Privet Drive.  I already know. 

as time goes by

Before work, I stop in to have my morning tea in the grad lounge.  A few friends from my cohort, and some from the year behind mine, teach summer classes for high schoolers on campus.  While I take my tea, they lesson plan and grade papers, and we catch up about our weekends, or our upcoming adventures.  There's a bookshelf just outside the lounge full of books free for the taking.  It's magical.  Last week, new books appeared on it everyday.  These are old books, full of markings, with breaking spines.  Or new books, that a professor decided they did not really need cluttering their office or home.  Regardless, I love it.  I love all of the books.  So far, I've managed to pick up seven titles, including Moby Dick and Heart of Darkness, neither of which I've read, and a few anthologies of short stories and creative non-fiction.  And plays, too.  I've taken from the shelf some Caryl Churchill and Tom Stoppard works that I've never owned before, but that I'm excited to read now, after having seen or studied a performance.

Then, the tea drunk, and perhaps some peanut butter crackers eaten, I walk the short path to the library to begin the days work.  I retrieve whatever part of my collection I need from the stacks, and I set up in the work room or the processing room, reading old correspondence, filing it into folders, imposing organization upon a cluttered mess of papers.  Many people today lament the lost art of letter writing, but I feel like I didn't realize how lost it was until the past few weeks.  My collection alone boasts hundreds upon thousands of letters.  Yet, it's not the number that's been lost; it's the conversation.  Perhaps it's simply that I'm reading letters from a rather literary crowd in the 1920s, so their turns of phrase ring with poignancy, but then, perhaps the 1920s was just a different time for the English language.  Certainly, it was a very different time for the average English-language speaker.

And while today the writing of a few select blogs and one or two e-mails makes me pause to relish the beauty of the words and the ideas behind them, most of them are written haphazardly, dashed off in an instant, or written to conform to some kind of lowest-common denominator standard.  Few writers pause, and thus, I think, few readers pause.

Worse, few friends take the care required to compose a worthy letter, or even e-mail, and thus, few friendships deepen via correspondence.  Fewer observations are recorded, and perhaps, fewer observations are made.  We are so hasty.  Not that the 1920s was a slow time-- there were telegrams and telephones-- but most of life did not move quite literally at half the speed of light.  A few things required an actual immediate response in the sense that we associate with immediacy (accomplished via telegram), but most 'immediate' responses could be given at the earliest a day later.  In general, correspondents had at the least a whole night to mull over a missive before needing to send a response.  Life moved much more slowly, and, in many cases it seems, thoughtfully.

Yet, before I wax all rosy-glasses, I must add: things haven't changed all that much in the last hundred years.  War was still horrific, lovers still faithful or untrue by turns, oranges delicious.  Americans still crave terrible boxed 'American' food even in the bounty of delicious foreign local cuisine, and everyone has plenty of room to wonder, "What kind of world are we living in?"  Just as my satire class last year proved to me that seventeenth and eighteenth-century writers critiqued many of the same things about their society that I find wrong with my own, these letters reinforce-- on a much smaller, more intimate scale-- the noble, terrible, humorous, and dull-- but essentially unchanging-- nature of humanity. 

Since Last I Wrote

Things have been a little quiet over here on my blog.  Since last I wrote, Zan and I spent three long, full, tiring, beautiful days at Awesome Con.  We attended a lot of panels, seminars, and workshops with local artists, and-- of course-- got to see a couple large panels with media guests from The Lord of the Rings trilogy and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Since last I wrote, I visited New York City with a group of my best friends.  We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge together, got wonderful-cheap dumplings from a hole-in-the-wall shop, drank cocktails at a 1920s style jazz club, and spent an afternoon stretched out under the trees in Central Park. 

Since last I wrote, I've had a job interview and I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Since last I wrote, I've started using a meditation app called Headspace.  I'm not sure if I'm doing it right or not, but regardless, it's nice to sit still for ten minutes a day and not feel like it's time wasted.  I've also started listening to a couple of new podcasts, after running into a friend who recommended to me Mystery Show, with Starlee Kine.  I also started listening to You Must Remember This, by Karina Longworth, and I'm trying out a few more episodes of Welcome to Night Vale.  Speaking of listening to things, I finished the last season of Cabin Pressure, and now only have the episode "Zurich" and the Christmas special left.  I wish I had hours more left.

Since I last wrote, I finished Adventures of Huckleberry Finn on audiobook, and started on Jurassic Park.  I also read a few books: Unstoppable Octobia May by Sharon Flake, Douglas Fredericks and the House of They by Joe Kelly (illustrated by Ben Roman), The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter, and The Name of the Star by Maureen Johnson.  More on these books in a future post, I think.  Suffice to say, I've found a new favorite author in Angela Carter, and it's been ages since I've been hooked on a book like I was while reading The Name of the Star.

Since last I wrote, I've seen two films in the theater: Tomorrowland and Jurassic World.  This is pretty big for me; I don't go out to movie theaters often.  It's fun, though-- maybe I'll start.  I've been making my way through my Netflix queue, too: I watched the mini-series Death Comes to Pemberley.  I really enjoyed it-- I wasn't sure how a 21st-century Austen 'sequel' would go, but I really felt like it kept the themes of duty, honor, and financial considerations at the heart of the plot.  And love, of course.  Also provided food for thought on the question, What constitutes fan-fiction and what constitutes original work?  Is it simply a matter of publication and/or professional production?

Since last I wrote, I started playing The Legend of Zelda: Wind-Waker HD.  I'm having fun exploring this new world, and really taking in the design elements.  One of my friends did her capstone project on open-world gaming, and it's made me look at the Zelda series in a new, more critical light.  I'm thinking about the music, the animation, and the plot a lot more deeply.

Since last I wrote, I've drunk lots of tea, seen lots of friends, eaten lots of good food, taken lots of walks, and napped in the sunshine with two beautiful cats.  Since last I wrote, life has been pretty good.

Last of the Last Hurrahs

I thought that graduation would give me a sense of finality about this program.  When that didn't happen, I thought for sure that after our fancy-dress party I would suddenly realize how everything had ended.  Surprisingly, that didn't happen either.  In fact, I think it first hit me last Wednesday.  I drove down to Williamsburg mid-week last week for a day-long embroidery class with the Royal School of Needlework.  As I sat there, working on my embroidered teacup with my British tutor, I realized that Amanda was flying home.  She was gone.  I had said my final goodbye to her on Monday night, and now she had left.  And something about that made it feel very, very real.

But then I came home and a round of parties started up again, and that sort of negated my impression of everything ending.  On Saturday, Zan and I attended a Nats baseball game with a few of his high school friends, and we stayed out late talking in Crystal City, despite a wide-spread power outage in the area.  The next morning, we had brunch near Dupont Circle with a few people from Zan's cohort, then went to the zoo with Zan's high school friends to see the panda bears.  Later that night we attended a dinner party with the people from my cohort who have not yet left.  It was an amazing dinner party-- Alex made turkey, roasted potatoes, almond green beans, fantastic carrot cake and gluten-free chocolate granola bars.  We had fun imitating each other, telling jokes, talking about the future.  I got Alex to sign my copy of the book that he wrote-- something I'd been meaning to do for over a year.

Then on Monday, my dad made me and Zan his famous grilled hamburgers for lunch.  Later, Cara and Emmett came over to spend an afternoon at the pool with margaritas, and that evening a group of us got together to watch St. Elmo's Fire (and now we say that everything is "out of hand" and feel grateful that our lives are more together than those of the characters, despite some existential similarities).  And last night we all gathered at Penn Commons for a goodbye round of drinks for Emmett and Emily.  And now... now it feels real.  Emmett leaves today.  Emily leaves tomorrow.  Thomas leaves in a week.  We're all really splitting apart and going our own ways-- teaching in Germany, biking to Portland, starting grad programs in California and New York.  This little bubble of time is over.

Book Update / Dinner Party

Since April, when last I wrote about what I've been reading, I've finished both Sense and Sensibility and Shades of Milk and Honey.  I've also completed the sixth and final book in the Rebecca series, Changes for Rebecca.  It definitely elevated my opinion of the whole series.  Additionally, I've read two of the books that I brought home in my library haul: The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly and Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman.  Plus, I've listened to two shorter stories: Clockwork by Philip Pullman and Porch Lies by Patricia McKissack.  I've also gotten started on The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (audiobook) and I'm still working on Discoverers of the Universe by Michael Hoskin (print book).  Also, I finished another season of the BBC Radio series Cabin Pressure.  Also also, I forgot to mention that long, long ago (in February) I listened to Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen. And, I finished the first four episodes/interviews in Michael Ian Black's podcast, "How To Be Amazing."  As predicted, Lin-Manuel Miranda's interview was my favorite of the four.  I admire Miranda's work so much and I really hope to see Hamilton when it hits Broadway. 

In other news, I forgot to mention that last Wednesday, I held a dinner party!  It was so much fun to actually take the time to cook and to have the food appreciated by my friends.  I made an herb tart and a chicken-plum pie, a loaf of cheddar-thyme bread, a lemon-basil pasta salad, a caprese salad, stewed cherries, buttered crab with tortilla chips, Thug Kitchen cauliflower, and syllabub.  In addition to my friends from graduate school, a couple of friends from college dropped by!  I was so excited to see Mel, since she lives in L.A., but we didn't get to talk a lot (we will have coffee when next I am in L.A. to really catch up).  We all gathered round the kitchen island and ate and drank and watched a Bollywood film on Netflix and at the end of the night there were no leftovers, which I say is the sign of a dinner party well done.

Leaving the Hilltop

 
The commencement ceremony for the class of 2015 happened on Friday morning.  For the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, it was an early morning.  We met at our line-up locations at 7:30 AM, and finally processed out onto Healy Lawn at 9:00.  Luckily, the morning was bright and clear, low humidity, and almost a little cold.  For May in D.C., we couldn't have asked for more.  

The ceremony was much as any graduation ceremony, I suppose.  We donned our caps and gowns, and had our degrees conferred upon us, and put on our Masters Hoods.  We walked across the stage when our name was called, and had a photo taken with the dean.  After the ceremony, friends rushed to congratulate each other, and we parted to have lunch with our families.  My family, Zan, and I went to Good Stuff Eatery on M Street.  Burgers, fries, and milkshakes!  Perfect!  We ran into several of my co-workers from Special Collections also eating lunch there, which was an added bonus.  

After lunch, Zan and I returned to campus to await the English Department Reception.  We visited the library to pick up a DVD I had requested (St. Elmo's Fire, of course), browsed through the DVD section for awhile, then crashed in the grad lounge for a bit.  After that early morning wake up call, I felt exhausted.  Emmett came in to work on a thank you note for his adviser, and then we descended upon Dahlgren Quad for a nice little party.  We spent the afternoon outdoors in the perfect weather

catching up with people who hadn't come to the ceremony, and meeting parents and friends.  After I got home, my parents took me out to a nice dinner and then gave me a lovely Hot Air Balloon Clock for my graduation present-- it's beautiful, and will go nicely with the many other Hot Air Balloon objects I have acquired over the course of this year of thesis-writing.



Still, it doesn't feel quite over yet.  Tonight my cohort is holding our fancy dress party-- the last of the last hurrahs-- and maybe then it will hit me.  Everyone keeps asking, "What's next?", as they will.  I don't know.  Last time 'round I had plans, but the ground kept shifting under my feet.  Maybe it's best to just go with the flow this time, to see where I land, and to trust it will be right where I belong.

Endings and Beginnings

On Thursday, as I usually do, I took my lunch to the graduate lounge to eat before going into work.  Most Thursdays the lounge is teeming with people getting ready for their afternoon class, or-- more recently-- finishing up final papers.  When I opened the door yesterday, the room was empty and still.  A few minutes later a first-year showed up-- finishing a final paper-- and we chatted for a bit as I ate.  Then, as I packed up my bags to walk over to the library, I realized that I had just eaten what would probably be my last lunch in the graduate lounge.  No more will I grab a quick bite before work, or before class.  I have no need to spend hours in the English Department, and no need to stock my shelf in the graduate lounge with tea and popcorn and granola bars.  In fact, my shelf looks rather bare these days, devoid even of my theory reader which has occupied the space for the past two years.

Yesterday marked another momentous 'last.'  My last day of work in Special Collections, at least for the foreseeable future.  For the last time as a graduate student assistant, I pulled open the glass doors into the center and helped researchers at the reception desk.  I cleaned up my space in the workroom and bid adieu to the processing room and the stacks.  One of my co-workers made me brownies from scratch, and we watched the WWII planes fly over DC from the library window.

After work, summer really began.  I met Cara and Amanda by the John Carroll statue and we stretched out in the sun on Healy lawn.  After awhile, we walked to Amanda's to pick up a bottle of Pimms, then headed across the river to sit outside on the balcony at my place.  We met up with Zan, Amanda made Pimms Cup, and we soaked up the warmth of the afternoon.  Around seven, we met up with Harry and Charlotte for a sushi dinner and split bottles of sake, then afterwards we all returned to the balcony to sit out in the warm night talking about the past and the future.  It seems magnificent that the weather is warm enough to sit outside at night.  Not long ago the idea of summer seemed impossible.  Yet, in less than a week we will all have graduated, onto new adventures.  A summer stretches before us, full of possibilities.      
  
Even though I finished all of my requirements for my M.A. a few weeks ago, and received word that my thesis was officially accepted by the graduate school a little over a week ago, the routine of work kept me coming to campus and feeling like this graduate student life would never actually end.  But somehow, it has.  My thesis was difficult, and this year was trying in many ways, but I absolutely could not have asked for a better M.A. cohort than the class of 2015. 

On Breakfast

I'm truly getting better about eating breakfast.  I resolved to eat it in January, and though I've missed my fair share of breakfasts in the ensuing five months, I've eaten more than not.  Another huge help to my breakfasting quest has been the vegan cookbook Thug Kitchen.*  In one of their "Dropping Knowledge" sections the authors reiterate how important breakfast is-- and the fact that those who don't eat it are at a higher risk of heart disease.  As they say, anything goes for breakfast (except they say it in much more colorful language)!  Breakfast doesn't have to take long or be fancy.  Cold leftovers work.  So, while some mornings I make myself a cheddar-cheese-scrambled egg with bacon, and I've gotten really into whipping up Thug Kitchen's vegan French toast with coconut-oil fried bananas, some days it's all I can do to heat up a leftover tuna croquette or finish off a large snickerdoodle cookie I purchased the day before.  Do cookies count for breakfast? I think the answer is yes.


*not a sponsored post in any way, though I do love Thug Kitchen and highly recommend it. It's great, even for non-vegans like me.

Another Last Hurrah

The best moment of this weekend was clasping hands with two of my best friends and walking across the Crim Dell bridge.  Other good parts included spending a very long time in the print shop learning about eighteenth-century printing techniques, walking up and down DoG Street, going to the farmer's market with Amanda, seeing old friends, getting a new skirt, eating so much good food, visiting Wawa, helping Cara get started on Instagram, laying out in the grass enjoying the sunshine and then having a lazy dinner on the back porch, and the feel that for the first time in years I was enjoying an extended slumber party.

Last Hurrahs

This weekend signaled the beginning of the end.  Suddenly, everything feels like the last time.  My last official day of classes.  My last frustrating attempt to print in the grad lounge.  The last time I double-click to open my document entitled "English Masters Thesis" (at least for awhile).  

We had our English MA end-of-the-year party on Saturday, at the same place that we had one of our first beginning-of-the-year parties back in late August.  As we piled BBQ pork, burgers, macaroni salad, and more onto the small table in the dining area, I couldn't help but remember just eight months ago when we set it with home-made lasagna, garlic bread, and salad.  Then, Thomas did all of the cooking as we second-years greeted each other after a long summer apart and began to get to know the first-years.  Then, we all still brimmed with the excitement that comes with the first week of classes, and we gave each other knowing, exasperated sighs as we contemplated the months of thesis-writing ahead of us.  Now, we ask each other about our after-graduation plans, speaking of the far-flung places we'll land, the jobs we want and the jobs we got, and excitedly talk about the moment that we officially submitted our theses and capstones.  I submitted mine on Thursday. 

In three weeks, we will graduate and my cohort will disperse to Germany, England, Michigan, and Massachusetts.  Still others have plans in California, New Hampshire, and Ohio.  Our close-knit little community is breaking apart and once again I feel like Jo March, saddened by all of the change, by a chapter closing.  But now, like Jo, it's time to start realizing some of my own life-long goals.  It's also time to banish fear of failure (or, perhaps, to learn to work with that fear), and to learn to accept that not every path to fulfillment has clear-cut mile markers.  But that's a post for another time.

At the moment, I think there's nothing wrong with reveling in a few more weeks of last hurrahs.

Library Haul

What to do when your apartment becomes a film studio for your MFA-degree seeking partner?  Escape to your parents house!  At least, that's what I did.  Zan is in the midst of a crazy season of final projects, so to get out of his hair I spent the last weekend in Williamsburg.  Three beautiful days of relaxing walks down DoG Street, dinners at La Tolteca and the pub, and some time spent in The Shoe Attic with Brittany.  But the best part of this particular weekend was going to the library to pick out books to read for fun.  Have I mentioned how much I love the public library?  I love its wide windows, its study carrels, its wall of DVDs and audiobooks, but most of all-- I love the children's section.  I never fail to find amazing reads in the children's section (I also enjoy overhearing children picking out new books and discovering what will probably be a life-long love of reading).  I truly believe that some of the best books in the world are housed in that children's section, so often overlooked by so many adults.  So, on this particular visit, I picked out a nice selection of books to see me through the spring, and perhaps to inspire a little bit of my own writing.

Someone is on your side

The weather has finally turned genuinely spring-like.  The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, the past couple of mornings I've only needed to don a light jacket before heading out to work, and the other day I spent a lovely afternoon on our balcony eating cherries, almonds, and goat cheese with honey while listening to a new podcast that had Elizabeth Gilbert as the special guest for the week.  Looking forward to the next one, with Lin Manuel Miranda as the guest!  Very inspiring.  My thesis is, for all intents and purposes, complete.  I have finished my rewrites, my adviser has signed off on everything, and all that remains to do is to upload the document to the graduate school via electronic submission.  Since I'm only auditing one course, I have no final papers or anything.  The freedom is intoxicating.  And overwhelming.  The world is such a wide, varied place, and I don't know how to soak it in to its utmost, nor how to contribute in the most productive way.  Sometimes it's paralyzing.

Yet, even as I wrestle with this, I am reminded of the fragility of life, and strive to be grateful for each day, each breath, each moment that I spend simply being.  The past week has served to remind me what an amazing group of people I have in my life.  My undergraduate improv troupe lost of one of our members.  The news knocked the wind out of me.  I.T. is like a family.  When I was in college, they were the people with whom I spent at least three nights a week.  We had Date Parties, Secret Santa, Improvathon, Fall Tour...  and that feeling of family extends to the alumni.  We still welcome the newbies with e-mails, even years out of college.  We return for homecoming shows and alumni hours.  If the people in I.T. with me were my siblings, those in I.T. now are like my cousins.  The outburst of support and love that has issued this week from members who graduated as long ago as fifteen years, five years, and those still in undergrad has been incredible.  Since Monday morning, the song "No One is Alone" from Into the Woods has been going round and round in my head.  This is for anyone struggling with depression.

 

Ayegazoomba, Paul.  Ayegazoomba, I.T.

Book List Update

Although I no longer keep a sidebar list, I still think it's nice to periodically stop to remember what I've read this year.  Since my last update, I've read mostly American Girl books.  Yes, I'm too old for them.  No, that doesn't stop me from enjoying them or learning from them.  Each book takes about 35 or 45 minutes to read, so I feel like I'm actually accomplishing something in a short period of time.

As rewards for finishing various stages of my thesis, I've read two Kit mysteries: Midnight in Lonesome Hollow and Intruders at Rivermead Manor.  I really loved these, and Midnight in Lonesome Hollow re-sparked an interest in Appalachian culture, anthropology and folklife, and also (tangentially) the history of Shenandoah National Park.  Once upon a time Zan and I were thinking of writing a film about the Great Depression and the National Parks.  I hope to spend some time doing more in-depth research on this stuff once I've officially submitted my thesis. Then, over Spring Break, I wrote around 20 pages of my thesis-- in order to wind down at night (or, actually 2:30 AM or later), I read most of the Rebecca series over the course of the week (Meet Rebecca, Rebecca and Ana, Candlelight for Rebecca, Rebecca and the Movies, Rebecca to the Rescue). 

In addition to American Girl books, I've nearly finished Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (as an audiobook) and I'm about halfway through reading Shades of Milk and Honey by Mary Robinette Kowal (as a print book).  Also--not a book, but-- I listened to the first season of a BBC Radio One show called Cabin Pressure which is hilarious.  It stars Benedict Cumberbatch, Roger Allam, John Finnemore, and Stephanie Cole.  I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a lighthearted sitcom to enjoy whilst cooking dinner or during the morning commute.

So, certainly not the book list I would like to see if I were keeping a sidebar.  A series of books aimed at nine-year-olds?  A radio show (that's not even a book!!!)?  And so little reading, in general!*  But, that's why I got rid of my widget.  These are media that I've highly enjoyed, fluff and all.  And it's what I've needed in the past two months.  Since mid-February I've felt that my world has mostly gone sour, and these little stories have really stood out as bright spots in the dreary landscape.



*Of course, I have written about 80 pages of my thesis since my last update, and have read quite a bit for that-- although, not full books, so that doesn't "count."  I've also managed to Rosetta Stone a little nearly every day, which is about the only thing keeping me sane.

EDIT on 4/18/15: I forgot to mention that I also read Tina Fey's Bossypants and I really enjoyed it.

large matters and small

The past two months have been rough.  The last two weeks have been worse.  My grandmother passed away.  We found out that our cat, Rhett, has irreversible kidney failure and (separately) we had to take him for an enema, which is never pretty.  A thing I really hoped would happen for Zan didn't happen.  All that, plus a few other small disappointments here and there in the last fourteen or so days, have left me feeling all-over-tired and just generally a little sad.  I need something genuinely good to occur: a job offer perhaps, or just one full day that feels like I am truly 'off,' without needing to complete minor rewrites, or read for the class I'm auditing.  I'd like just a day in which to sit outside in the newly spring-like weather and read for fun, or cross-stitch a new pattern, or color in a coloring book, or even just nap.

I did pass my thesis defense on Wednesday, though!  So things could always be worse.