Second Monday...

31 August 2020: The second Monday of the semester is almost in the books. For the most part, it was almost ordinary. A rainy day cast a kind of mellow but not quite gloomy vibe over everything. I got a decent amount done. The computer didn't work in Reynolds, where my 204 class has been moved. And with masks and 20 students spread out over a big theater, I needed that computer to project some stuff and to make my reading quiz happen. So that made me want to hit something and scream. But again, for the most part, an almost normal day.

But you know how I know it's not completely normal, besides the masks and the different rooms and the health check forms and all that? A student emailed me that she woke up feeling awful and running a high fever. "I don't think it's COVID," she wrote. I told her to feel better and get a test anyway. And I will worry until I hear she's okay. 

"the Scaffolds drop / Affirming it a Soul."

30 August 2020: In reading Kamilla Denman's "Emily Dickinson's Volcanic Punctuation" for my seminar, I came across her reading of the poem below, one I wasn't familiar with before. Denman writes, "Towards the end of her life, [Dickinson] described the process by which one moves from propped up dependence to mature self-sufficiency" (41). 

The Props assist the House
Until the House is built
And then the Props withdraw
And adequate, erect,
The House support itself
And cease to recollect
The Augur and the Carpenter –
Just such a retrospect
Hath the perfected Life –
A Past of Plank and Nail
And slowness – then the scaffolds drop
Affirming it a Soul –

I've been thinking about this since I read it yesterday, in fact, in the light of my own journey, specifically the last year and a half and especially since March. Though I hope I am not anywhere near the end of my life, I do think where I am (internally?) is a place of removing some of those props and structures. Like it or not, I am seeing how it goes with even more self-sufficiency. I am still, at 43, figuring out just what this Soul of mine is like and is capable of. I suppose this process never really ends. 

Work Cited

Denman, Kamilla. “Emily Dickinson’s Volcanic Punctuation.” The Emily Dickinson Journal, Vol. 2, No. 1, Spring 1993, pp. 22-46.

"...she would have to begin again, to learn..."

 29 August 2020: So much pain and loss in the world, especially for the Black community, this past week. I've been thinking about Kenan all day, particularly the section above from "The Foundations of the Earth," which I've written about before. I first encountered his work when I was young--an M.A. student--but even then, I could sense writing that would make me learn, make me begin again, make me be a better person. 

We are sad to share the news that Randall Kenan, professor of English, died at his home this week. The College joins the Creative Writing Program, @uncecl and others in the Carolina community in mourning this great loss and extend condolences to his family. pic.twitter.com/QRrZjWOpEW

— UNC College (@unccollege) August 29, 2020

"How to Be Alone"

 29 August 2020: I am behind on This American Life podcasts, but maybe it worked out well to have listened to this episode (from mid-July) today. The prologue and Act I particularly put into words things I have struggled to articulate myself: not being touched for months, being worried about getting sick while living alone...even feeling anxiety about being labeled just by co-morbidities if the worst happened. 

A new phase of this pandemic is a whole new kind of strange. This week, I've been around students and other folks all day (at least on M, T, W, and F). But it's still different and hard. And I still come home and look at lonely nights and weekends in front of me. And we've got so far to go before normal comes back. 

De-densifying...

 27 August 2020: On an ordinary Thursday in an ordinary semester, I almost certainly would have gone into my campus office today, just to get a couple of small things done: some paperwork for a student, printing a draft of a project, maybe even working there to break up the day and re-focus. I particularly felt the impulse to do that last thing when Wesley kept walking all over my desk, demanding my attention. Somehow it seems easier to leave the house than push him or Bing off the desk and out of the room.

But this isn't an ordinary semester. I didn't have any classes to teach, so I stayed home. Trying to do my part to de-densify our campus. Does it actually make a bit of a difference? Probably not, but I am trying. 

Just another reminder of how strange everything is, how far we are from normal. 

So I stayed home, got a decent amount of work done, and had a pretty quiet day. If I was still in what used to be Project Balance, that would be a good thing, I guess. But it feels different under these circumstances. Everything does. 

[While the world seems to be on fire outside of my little house and neighborhood, I know that staying close to home today is a kind of privilege. Feels weird to post about a day spent here without acknowledging how absolutely messed up everything seems to be. I can't stop thinking about it all, particularly what's going on in Wisconsin.]

"Little Prayer"

 26 August 2020: Feeling the Samson allusions here, but also just yearning for peace, healing, and space to breathe.

"little prayer"
Danez Smith

let ruin end here

let him find honey
where there was once a slaughter

let him enter the lion’s cage
& find a field of lilacs

let this be the healing
& if not   let it be

Second First Day

 25 August 2020: Just like every semester, these early days are about finding the rhythm that works. My only class today is GWST 201, which meets in the afternoon. This first day is just about meeting the class, introducing ourselves (this is a team-taught class), going over the syllabus... Like yesterday, it felt familiar and strange, good and anxious. Didn't get as much done as I should have otherwise, but I'll figure it out.

One day down...

24 August 2020: Goes without saying that this was the weirdest first day ever. Unsettling, quieter than usual, lots of moving parts (not all of them working). I am really tired. 

There were some moments "ah, that's it!" joy: really getting into talking about the three quotations on the top of my ENGL 204 syllabus, talking about Kate Chopin in ENGL 301, a bit of Dickinson in my seminar, especially when a particularly bright student who I am quite fond of said something really great. n

I don't know how long it will last, but...one day down. 

Ready or not...

23 August 2020: Spent most of this morning and afternoon up on campus, trying to get things ready for tomorrow. A friend just texted me asking how I'm feeling about tomorrow. My answer: "Anxious. A bit afraid. Unsettled. And I've never started a semester before with less excitement." I am hoping that things go well enough tomorrow that the excitement will come, but who knows? 

Two days to go...

 22 August 2020: Chugging along on a Saturday. Like everything else associated with this new semester, this particular day of preparation feels very different as I assemble documents about online office hours, post technology surveys (so I can get a sense of my students' remote learning capabilities when we get to that point), and try to get ahead on every single thing I can get ahead on. It's all sad and stressful and ominous. Missing that usual excitement.

Anyway, here's a bit of today's soundtrack, not exactly helping with my mood, but oh well...

Animal therapy

 21 August 2020: Today exhausted me in a million ways. But this just made me laugh, so it's today's post.

i’ve been laughing for the past 10 minutes 😂
pic.twitter.com/H1B1rVTizF

— Animals Being Jerks (@MeanAnimals) August 21, 2020

Deep breath...

 20 August 2020: A long day, filled with so many different and tough emotions. Here's just a few parts: mowing the lawn, going to a couple of meetings, two visits to check out technology in my classrooms (not successful, btw), taping numbered signs onto every seat in our newly-laid out "socially distanced" classrooms, scanning and posting readings for my classes, taking part in a virtual town hall on education in the age of COVID, and a virtual trivia game/hang-out with some of my favorite friends/colleagues. 

Whew. It's a lot. 

So, yeah: time for a deep breath (or two). And here's a lovely soundtrack, that seems appropriate in its gravity, melancholy, and beauty.

good morning to these vocals!!!!!!!! pic.twitter.com/GrbrhHGIwc

— Jordan Appugliesi (@JordanApps) August 20, 2020

Letter 173

19 August 2020: I think I am just about done with the syllabus for my Dickinson Seminar. I know there are important ideas/topics that I am leaving out, but I keep telling myself that it's okay since this semester is going to be such a challenge and it's best to keep expectations reasonable. 

Finally decided today which of Dickinson's letters to Sue to include, and am adding the one below, letter #173, probably from 1854, which I haven't taught before. Apparently, there is no further reference to any split between them, but the drama unfolding here is pretty clear and really speaks to me. I am just going to paste the whole thing, which includes a poem at the end.

 Sue - you can go or stay - There is but one alternative - We differ often lately, and this must be the last.

     You need not fear to leave me lest I should be alone, for I often part with things I fancy I have loved, - sometimes to the grave, and sometimes to an oblivion rather bitterer that death - thus my heart bleeds so frequently that I shant mind the hemorrhage, and I only add an agony to several previous ones, and at the end of day remark - a bubble burst!

     Such incidents would grieve me when I was but a child, and perhaps I could have wept when little feet hard by mine, stood still in the coffin, but eyes grow dry sometimes, and hearts get crisp and cinder, and had as lief burn.

     Sue - I have lived by this. It is the lingering emblem of the Heaven I once dreamed, and though if this is taken, I shall remain alone, and though in that last day, the Jesus Christ you love, remark he does not know me - there is a darker spirit will not disown it's child.

     Few have been given me, and if I love them so, that for idolatry, they are removed from me - I simply murmur gone, and the billow dies away into the boundless blue, and no one knows but me, that one went down today. We have walked very pleasantly - Perhaps this is the point at which our paths diverge - then pass on -singing Sue, and up the distant hill I journey on.

I have a Bird in spring

Which for myself doth sing -

The spring decoys.

And as the summer nears -

And as the Rose appears,

Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown -

Learneth beyond the sea

Melody new for me

And will return.

Fast in a safer hand

Held in a truer Land

Are mine -

And though they now depart,

Tell I my doubting heart

They're thine.

In a serener Bright,

In a more golden light

I see

Each little doubt and fear,

Each little discord here

Removed.

Then will I not repine,

Knowing that Bird of mine

Though flown

Shall in a distant tree

Bright melody for me

Return.

Project 19

 18 August 2020: After a long day working on my Emily Dickinson syllabus, I just spent some time looking at the Project 19 website, which collects poems from contemporary poets celebrating the ratification of the 19th Amendment. Not a bad way to wrap up the "thinking" part of my day, though my brain is fried just enough tonight that I'm going to need to revisit the site a bunch.

Time capsule

 17 August 2020: Finally got back into one of my classrooms today and found this on the chalkboard. I was instantly transported back to that final day, entering the room and seeing one of my students had written it. I think most of them assumed we'd be back that semester.

A different balancing act...

 16 August 2020: I've written about "balance" before, in the sense of trying to balance my devotion to work with some sense of self-care or life outside of work. That project is, for a bunch of reasons, even more complicated at the moment. How can I not think obsessively about work when it's so fluid, fraught, and uncertain?  And when I know it will require more time and effort this semester? But I can't only think about that, or I will just spiral. I need an existence outside of work. Yet! What is there when my world is still shut down in so many ways (can't visit friends, can't see a movie, can't go to a restaurant, etc., etc.)? 

But there's another kind of balance I've been thinking about lately, also connected to self-care. I was just texting a dear friend about it. We are both anxious about our respective universities opening in about a week. 

How strange to want something so desperately but also not want it. How strange to think about all the ways it can go wrong and obsess over them while clinging to the little ways it might feel good to be back. 

This reflects, I think, a rhetorical/mental pattern I find myself moving through again and again: as I texted my friend, "I am--sometimes in the same breath--going from 'everything is awful' to 'but it's okay.'" And both are true, aren't they? Vigilance and survival (perhaps literally?) depend on that uneasy balance. I am so sad, overwhelmed, and filled with despair. But I am also blessed, safe, and filled with hope, (even if that hope is sometimes almost entirely based on a vaccine that is months and months away).

Jane time!

 15 August 2020: Got to see Jane face-to-face for the first time since maybe December (?). She drove here and we mostly stayed outside, doing our best to socially distance. We got some lunch, opened birthday gifts (hers is in about a week and a half), and just talked and laughed. It was, like so many attempts at normal these days, entirely welcome but also bittersweet. Mostly, though, I am just so glad we got to do it.

Testing...

 14 August 2020: Got my mandatory COVID test today. (It was fine--didn't have to use the long swab; my eyes watered a bit, but it was fine.) Shepherd had a smooth operation going--friendly volunteers, very little waiting, everything clear and pretty easy. The nursing student who administered my test was so kind and pleasant. Of course, I always have a soft spot for our nursing students--my heart kind of swells when I see them in their scrubs. 

As I was walking back to my office, I stopped for a moment, ostensibly to fix my mask, put my earbuds back in, etc. But really, I had to stop and collect myself because the whole experience moved me so. Here was our lovely little community in action and in person, something I haven't seen in person since March. Here they were, working hard on a complicated and long task because they love this place, they love this community, they want to keep people safe, and they want this re-opening to work. 

That last part seems the most tenuous, of course. But the other parts? So lovely and bittersweet to see. A reminder of how much I love Shepherd and all of these folks. 

"Go get 'em, girl"

 13 August 2020: 

View this post on Instagram

You get used to it, even as a little girl—opening the newspaper, turning on the TV, and hardly ever seeing anyone who looks like you. You train yourself to not get your hopes up. And sometimes it’s a battle just to keep telling yourself that you might deserve more. Because no matter how much you prepare, no matter what grades you get or even how high you rise at work, it always feels like someone is waiting to tell you that you’re not qualified. That you’re not smart enough. That you’re too loud or too bossy. That there’s just something about you…you’re just not quite the right fit. Change can be slow and frustrating, but signs of progress are all around us. This week Senator @KamalaHarris, the daughter of Jamaican and Indian immigrants, became the first Black woman and first Asian-American woman on a major party’s presidential ticket. I’ve been thinking about all those girls growing up today who will be able to take it for granted that someone who looks like them can grow up to lead a nation like ours. Because @KamalaHarris may be the first, but she won’t be the last. I am here for it all. Let us embrace and celebrate this moment. Go get ‘em girl. 💪🏾

A post shared by Michelle Obama (@michelleobama) on Aug 13, 2020 at 12:07pm PDT

43

 12 August 2020: Pretty darn quiet birthday today, which is perfectly understandable given the pandemic. But I did get a nice porch visit with Anna, some thoughtful gifts dropped off, and lots of warm wishes from folks I love. 

Look, so much in the world is utter shit right now, but I am so grateful for what I do have and today gave some lovely reminders.

Rescue mission...

 11 August 2020: Rescued just now from a slightly confused Wesley: the tiniest little toad I've ever seen that somehow got in the house. After a bit of me pleading with it, "Why won't you let me help you?", it is back outside. And no, it was too shy and (literally) jumpy to pose for better pics.

Back patio visit...

 10 August 2020: Hannah came over this evening for a little pre-birthday celebration. She brought dinner and a gift, too. It was really lovely and she's just the best. 

It *still* never fails...

9 August 2020: Over eight years ago, I wrote about how Bing always jumps in the box that the popcorn maker came in. 

Here he is at age 18. Needed a little help to get in this time--I held the box steady for him. And then he decided her preferred it on its side. No problem, buddy. I got you.

Normal People

8 August 2020: Earlier this summer, I burned through Sally Rooney's Normal People (the book). Just today, I finished watching the television adaptation. Hot take (that isn't incredibly rare): I liked the TV show more--and I liked the book a lot. 

Those lead performances just killed me. It's so achingly beautiful and heartbreaking. Scenes that made me feel moved in the book were even more poignant and moving on screen. I teared up more than once. (I went back and listened to Pop Culture Happy Hour and Slate Culture Gabfest episodes about it that I first listened to before I had read/watched. My take lies much closer to PCCH's, particularly Katie Presley's comments.)

It's kind of hard to articulate right now just what I found so moving, but I think it's the way both characters (especially Connell) just can't say what they are feeling because they are so scared of what will happen. The reasons for that reticence shift and change, but when it is because they are afraid of being hurt or rejected? It's just too much. 

Cape acquired...

 7 August 2020: Every once in a while--and for years now, because I don't do a good job generating new material--I make a joke about some new task I take up, some committee I serve on and say what I really want is a cape. I don't remember doing it, but I must have made that joke to my neighbor Eleanor (who I've written about here and here) about my new position as Faculty Senate President because on my walk today, she came out of her house and handed me this little package wrapped in tissue paper. This little duck was inside.

"How did you know?" I asked her, meaning how did she know I liked ducks. She said she didn't. It was about the cape. She had it from when her grandchildren were little and saw it and thought of me. 

We only really talk when I walk by her house, but she sure is a gift of a friend. 

"wide open to the moment..."

6 August 2020: "The poem 'I dwell in Possibility' contains no images of a wilting, scorching sun, no directives, and no expectations. To be that wide open to the moment, oblivious to prosaic social demands and stultifying theological ones, is poetry, possibility, and perhaps even paradise." --Wendy Barker, "Emily Dickinson and Poetic Strategy" 

Really enjoyed this essay (in The Cambridge Companion to Emily Dickinson), particularly how Barker connects her particular reading of "I dwell in Possibility" to larger ideas Dickinson's poetry overall. The conclusion--quoted above--is one of those that makes me want to pump my first in the air.

In the Dream House

5 August 2020: "You wondered, when she came along, if this was what most people got to experience in their lives: a straight line from want to satisfaction; desire manifested and satisfied in reasonable succession. This had never been the case before; it had always been fraught. How many times had you said, 'If I just looked a little different, I'd be drowning in love'? Now you got to drown without needing to change a single cell. Lucky you." --Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House

Started this book yesterday and I am so into it. (I kind of wish I related less at times, but I am riveted.) Going into it, I knew it was a memoir about an abusive relationship (not a part I relate to, thankfully). I am still in the "happy" part of the relationship, but since we know it will turn bad, everything is tinged with darkness and dread. 

It's one of those books (have I written about this before? I need a phrase for it...) where I feel like if I am in the other room, I almost have an itching urge to go get it and keep reading. Like, I'll be sitting downstairs and I've this vague sense always of a kind of invisible string leading to it upstairs, tugging at me a bit. (Mixed metaphors, I know...)

Simple and good...

4 August 2020: A friend gave me a bunch of tomatoes she grew. Then I remembered that I had bacon in the freezer. (I rarely make it at home--kind of messy for just a piece or two.) I got some good sourdough bread and an avocado at the store. Added some romaine and made a really great BLTA for dinner. I love when you kind of forget how tasty some simple meals can be. It's a lovely little "oh right!" kind of easy and pure joy. 

Some good (admittedly a bit boring) things from today...

1) A committee I've been on turned in some major documents today and we can see the light at the end of a tunnel that has taken up way too much of our time this summer. I don't feel elated--too resentful of how much time it took--but I do feel pretty good and quite relieved.

2) I finished a pretty decent draft of the Dorothy Allison paper I am presenting at SAMLA (to be held online) in November. I gave myself an August 12 deadline for this, so I am early and that feels pretty darn good.

3) I think I just wrote a pretty darn good recommendation for a colleague's P&T application. This is so minor--very little rests on what I say--but I sometimes really love writing these for those moments when I remember a specific anecdote that illustrates how awesome I think the person is. It is such a pleasure to write those little stories and make the "facts" personal and clear. They make the letter more lively and real and I love being able to do that. 

So: three good (if boring) things. Here's hoping for a few more for tomorrow. It's helps with the pushing through...

"IN Solidarity"

2 August 2020: A former student of mine (from my first semester at Shepherd!) posted this video. She's the soprano in the lower left corner. Just lovely and uplifting.

"Polly Platt: The Invisible Woman"

1 August 2020: I finished up the last episode of Karina Longworth's season on Polly Platt on my walk this morning. It's such a great season. I knew barely anything about Platt, but Longworth creates a portrait of a fascinating and complicated woman. And it's heck of a depiction of how misogyny and the patriarchy held her back and limited her, even (of course!) making her complicit in her own oppression. 

The ways previous, not-so-long-ago generations wrestled with the patriarchy has been a minor theme of my quarantine cultural consumption. I think about the second season of Dirty John, based on the Betty Broderick story, which I couldn't bring myself to finish because I found it so depressing. (It's also why I haven't yet watched Mrs. America, though I know it's supposed to be great.)