Finishing March on a snow day...

31 January 2021: Got up a bit early (for a Sunday) and there was already a dusting of snow on the ground. Started my walk by 7:30 and it wasn't bad at all (except for when the snow would blow right in my face). Once again, I sing the praises of Yaktrax.

After I got back, I took a shower, did a bit of cleaning, and it's been reading, TV, and occasional shoveling since then. Not bad.

I finished Geraldine Brooks' March today, which is a beautifully written book that I enjoyed quite a bit. It's a book that you sit with kind of uneasily at times, as Brooks gives us, in March, an earnest and sympathetic protagonist who nonetheless comes across as out-of-touch, too idealistic, and frustrating at times. I was frustrated with the book at times, wondering if Brooks realized this. Then she does something really unexpected (at least to me) and welcome about two hundred pages in that made me get very excited. And the ending made me cry. When you think about it, it's quite a flex to try to riff on Little Women, much less foregrounding a man, but Brooks knows what she's doing. 

By the way, this book sat on a table in my bedroom for at least 10 years. Feels good to have finally read it. 

Storm watch...

30 January 2021: Bracing for 6-12 inches of snow between early tomorrow and Tuesday. Really hoping for the lower number. Less would be nice, too. 

This will be our second big snow of the winter, after about 8 inches in mid-December. I remember not feeling as anxious and bummed about that first batch. The semester was over, where was I going to go, pandemic and all that... 

Not sure entirely why the old feelings are sort of back with this one, though not as much as in previous years. I suppose the disruption to my Monday classes is part of it. I was texting with Vogel about this last night, and we were talking about how teaching really is our only socialization these days. Another part of it is the idea that my walks might be disrupted. So, routine interrupted and two sustaining parts of my life put on hold? No fun. 

(By the way, it's hard to think of a more on-brand purchase for this particular mood than the new Yaktrax I bought--which arrived tonight. I still have my old ones, but anxiety brain says to me, "They are getting awfully old. What if they break?" And then I am grateful to have the money to usually silence anxiety brain.)

But, as I said to my dad on the phone earlier, after that 40.5 inches back in 2016, 6-12 doesn't sound too bad. (Again, though, less to none would be great!)

Pandemic Comfort Songs...

29 January 2021: I have been compiling a list of "Pandemic Comfort Songs" in my head: tracks that make me feel better in the midst of all of this. And this song--this version--is on the list. Hitting the spot on a winter-y, Friday evening as I am still in my office, getting stuff done...

  

"Early to bed" days...

28 January 2021: Even pre-pandemic, when the days were cold, it got dark early, I had no plans, and my mood was low, I would say to myself, "I am just going to go to bed early." To be clear, "early" for me is before 10:00 or so. 

I don't like doing this--it feels like retreating (in a bad way) and wishing time away. And in this pandemic winter, I am clocking more and more of these urges, including tonight. Found myself thinking, "Maybe I'll go to bed soon" at like 6:00 p.m. tonight. Yikes. 

It is true that things always do feel at least a bit better in the morning. 

Sigh...

27 January 2020: One of those days (well, afternoons/evenings, really) where everything just gets to you. BS, bad news, and anxiety at work. Stupid decisions made by people with power who don't know what they are doing. Seeing people I love angry and sad. And not seeing them in person because of this f*cking pandemic. Ten and a half months of this thing. You sit there and realize it's not close to over yet. It's a lot to take. 

Glad to be home with my cat crew. Grateful for a warm and comfortable house and the pretty darn good soup I made for dinner. Grateful to see AOC on Chris Hayes' show talk with such enthusiasm about President Biden's climate initiatives. Lots to be grateful for and optimistic about even at the end of a tough day. So that helps...

Back to Wuthering...

26 January 2021: We are starting Wuthering Heights this week in my seminar and Lord help me: every time I read this book, I forget about this sentence that always makes me go, "Wait, what?" and then I remember the actual meaning of this word...and then I giggle.

Three things...

25 January 2021: At a Focus on Student Learning (FOSL) workshop today, one of our fantastic counselors, Wendy, offered tips and strategies for teaching in the time of COVID. I was particularly interested in her ideas for self-care and stress-relief. One of her tips is inspiring my post for today: "Write three things that happened over the course of your day that you are grateful for." 

I tried versions of this as a blog theme in 2014, when I used the theme "Year of Thanks," and in 2016, when I used the theme "One Good Thing." In general, it's an idea I like a lot, and feel like today (a cold and cloudy Monday in the midst of a pandemic) is a good day to give it a try again.

1) I am grateful for the FOSL itself, especially for Wendy, who is such a blessing to our students and to faculty and staff. I was texting a friend earlier today that since I've been at Shepherd, every counselor who has worked here has been an angel on earth.

2) I am grateful for the homemade jam (made by her) and the homemade beer (made by her husband) my friend/colleague Eva gave me today. She's a special person and I am lucky to know her and work with her.

3) I am grateful for this poem, which I just heard my friend and colleague James talk about during an (online) event tonight about 2020's Nobel prize winners.

"A Change Is Gonna Come"

24 January 2021: 

This song has been running through my head for the past 24 hours or so. I watched One Night in Miami last night and watch Remastered: The Two Killings of Sam Cooke today. Both are really good and both taught me quite a bit I didn't know about Cooke. 

Seems like an appropriate song to be thinking about after last week/year/four years/400+ years. One of the folks in the documentary talks about how sad it is that we still need this song, which strikes me as absolutely correct.  

Update: right after the Youtube version linked above ended, I told Alexa to go back to playing the Pandora station that I paused...and it played "A Change Is Gonna Come." Spooky.

Benevolent ding, dong, dash continues...

23 January 2021: Always have a craving for chicken fingers (apparently the quarantined college student's preferred comfort food) after delivering meals. Doing it twice a week this semester (Saturday and Sunday). This isn't pure altruism, of course; it makes me feel good to do something, even something this small. And it's not like my weekends are jam-packed these days.

One week (almost) done...

22 January 2021: Perhaps nothing says we are back in semester-mode than still being in my office after 6 p.m. when I got here at 7:30 this morning. This is, as with so many things, both a bit sad and comforting. Ha. 

It was a bit of strange day, though. Some HVAC issues at home meant I had to schedule a repair this afternoon with a 12-4 window. So I moved my 2:10 class to Zoom, headed home after my first two classes, met the repairman (who actually came early), and then headed back to campus when he finished just in time to do my class via Zoom from here. (Better internet connection on campus!) 

Since then, I've been up here getting stuff done for next week. Feels good to be all prepped for Monday. I will go pick up my take-out in a little bit, head home, take a bath, and settle in for some relaxation. I think (hope/pray?) I will sleep well tonight since I did not sleep at all last night. (HVAC anxiety! Fun!)

WFH challenges endure...

21 January 2021: Someone is still trying to understand that sometimes we need to work when we work from home. He could not believe I wouldn't let him cuddle up in my arms, choosing rather to read, write, and type. In addition to his usual tapping and nudging, I had to fight off at least two attempted incursions. Eventually, he gave up and found a patch of sunshine to take a nap in. 

Here we go!

20 January 2021: I have used this post's title a few times to mark the first day of a new semester, which always feels like the beginning of a journey. I'm always full of anticipation and a bit of anxiety (I still can't sleep well the night before) and promise. And I always welcome the return to the rhythms of the semester. 

Of course, the post's title has additional resonance today, on the day I watched Joe Biden and Kamala Harris take their oaths of office. I was sitting at my desk between classes, a mask hanging from my ear, in a very quiet building at the start of another very different semester. (Only 25% of classes are in person.) I texted with my college group as we watched together in four different states. An inauguration day like no other, but one that absolutely reflected our current moment. 

My emotions are a simultaneous mix of grief, anger, hope, and joy. It has been an absolutely brutal four years, worse than I could have imagined. There is so much to do and things are going to hard for so long. 

But here we go, you know? A decent man in the Oval Office. A Black, Asian-American woman VP who made me not just cry but sob at my desk when she took the oath. One of my favorite rhetorical moves President Biden deploys is one he repeated in his speech: "Don't tell me things can't change." Lord, even as I type that, I tear up again. They can. They must. We can do it. 

So, on so many levels, here we go...

400,000

19 January 2021: The US marked 400,000 COVID deaths today. Unbelievable and almost unbearable. And it did not have to be this way. Early on in the pandemic, I remember so clearly saying to some friends, "We've lost 8,000 Americans. Unimaginable." Now we are losing more than that every week. The change that is coming tomorrow cannot happen soon enough.

Almost time, but not quite...

18 January 2021: Because Shepherd built an extra week into the break between semesters (at the cost of Spring Break) and because today is a federal holiday, my classes (MWF) are starting about a week and a half later than usual, and starting on a Wednesday. It's strange how I can feel that difference. It feels off. And starting mid-week is also weird. But I am a creature of such habit that I suppose that's not surprising. 

I did manage to get quite a bit done today: finished prepping for all my classes, made the copies, got the attendance cards ready. Washed the chalkboards in the second-floor classrooms, something that makes me feel good and soothes me. Last week, Betty, Brenda, and I rearranged the rooms so that desks are actually six feet apart. (They were not last semester, frustratingly.) The rooms look so different and strange. I cannot wait to get our seminar table formation back. Weird vibes before the semester even starts, especially recognizing that the silence in the building today won't be that different from what it's like when things start up tomorrow. Campus is going to be so quiet. 

When I went for a little walk around town, I saw Carrie coming back from her own stroll, so we visited outside for a bit, which made me happy. 

Then I had to head back to the dentist for a follow-up on this filled tooth that still doesn't feel right. Fortunately, nothing looks wrong and he thinks I just take longer to feel normal after these things. There really isn't much pain so I don't mind waiting it out, especially when he kept saying, "I'm not going anywhere" (in case it gets bad). He gets me. 

Now I am watching an old Super Password re-run (which really soothes me). Then I'll get some fun reading done and settle in for a night of guilty-pleasure-but-I-don't-care TV. Day by day, we get through...

(Sometimes I hesitate to write these diary/log-of-my-day posts. They are kind of boring, I think. But every once in a while, I suppose they are good for capturing a frame of mind, a moment in time.)

"one of those isolation days..."

17 January 2021: "Having one of those isolation days where I know I'm going to keep doing this and I'm basically okay but my brain keeps yelling that I can't keep doing this." --Linda Holmes, in a tweet today

I always joke that Linda and I would be friends if we met, given our common interests and general attitudes/responses. More importantly, lately she helps me feel seen, too, which I know sounds weird. I am profoundly grateful for that, especially as she too navigates this pandemic as a person who lives alone. And man, did I feel seen by this tweet. Sundays, you know? Especially cloudy, quiet Sundays...

With some time to spare...

16 January 2021: Remember this? Check off the last items this morning...

 

Toasty...

15 January 2021: Until the moment I unwrapped it, I didn't know a) these existed and b) I wanted one very much. Having broken it in this evening, I can report that it's quite nice!

And yes: exchanged presents with my parents today, at long last. Stayed masked, but will be nervous for a couple weeks regardless. 

Why Fish Don't Exist

14 January 2021: I finished Lulu Miller's wonderfully compelling and strange book last night. Basically read it in three sittings. I first heard about it on Radiolab and actually bought the book for my dad. He read it, but I don't think he enjoyed it, telling me it was "kind of depressing." I think I see why he feels that way--it comes from a worldview that he might find hard to swallow. It kind of rests in the idea of chaos and uncertainty. 

From the closing pages: "When I give up the fish, I get, at long last, that thing I had been searching for: a mantra, a trick, a prescription for hope. I get the promise that there are good things in store. Not because I deserve them. Not because I worked for them. But because they are as much a part of the Chaos as destruction and loss. Life, the flip side of death. Growth, of rot" (191). 

I am so much my father's daughter that I can see and feel how that would not be his thing (and there are other reasons, too, I fear he might not have liked it). I found it utterly captivating, though, and quietly thrilling. In this moment, the idea of maybe somehow plucking happiness out of chaos gives me hope. 

"Every age gets the lunatics it deserves"

13 January 2021: I read this quotation (from British historian Roy Porter) in Why Fish Don't Exist, by Lulu Miller, which I am working my way through. It sort of stopped me in my tracks, thinking about what that means for this moment, with an unhinged president and so many people willing to support him. On the other hand, he just got impeached again, so at least the sane continue to outnumber the lunatics. 

"see the sort of things we might see if we only looked for ourselves"

12 January 2021: "Thoreau's desire to elevate nature by featuring its most humble aspect is just one of many things that make me think of his work as modern, not dated or wishy-washy....Thoreau wasn't pushing us to see the world through his eyes, exactly as he saw it. Instead, he wanted us to see the sort of things we might see if we only looked for ourselves--including the interval he opened up between Walden and Walden." --Andrew Menard, Learning from Thoreau

My neighbor Ed, a Thoreau enthusiast, lent me this book. I started it yesterday and found myself appreciating how well Menard frames a point I try to make for students. He also touches on why Walden has been on peoples' minds (including my own) so much during these pandemic days, as we explore the ordinary world around us. 

These old boys...

11 January 2021: Wesley really gave me a scare over the past few days, with a couple of days of bad diarrhea (sorry) and some disinterest in food. I called late last week for a vet appointment and they couldn't see me until Tuesday (tomorrow). Between then and now, he has really turned a corner and seems much better--better enough that I canceled the appointment. What a relief. 

But boy, did this put me through the ringer. I know that my time with both of them is absolutely drawing to a close and likely soon. Yesterday morning, when Wes wouldn't eat his breakfast, I figured that was it, that I'd say good-bye to him on Tuesday. It was rough to think about, to cry and cry (like I had on and off each day since Thursday) in anticipation of that loss. Then he ate his dinner last night and has been solid (ha) since then. (As I write this, I hear him eating in the kitchen.) 

I have been thinking about whether one will miss the other when the first one goes. They've been together for over 16 years, after all, though never really best buddies. It's hard to say. They have never been big snugglers with each other (or with Veronica, much to her sadness). Each has always been much more intensely interested in people, especially me, than in each other. But today, I found them pretty close (touching, even!) and sound asleep. By the time I got my camera, they had woken up.

So for now, I still have them both, happy and content even if their days are dwindling. And they have each other (and Veronica, as she would love to remind them). Who knows for how much longer? But gratefully I'll take what we've got now and what you see in this picture. (And yes, Bing's face does have a bit of "WTF?" written on it, indicating that Wesley arrived second and sidled up to him. Trust me: that is almost certainly what happened. Veronica does the same thing to him. Ha.)

How We Fight For Our Lives

10 January 2020: "People don't just happen. We sacrifice former version of ourselves." --Saeed Jones, How We Fight For Our Lives

Spent some time reading this incredible memoir today. Sundays are always hard, especially as day stretches towards night, especially in winter months. (And need I add, "especially in a pandemic"?) But this book--particularly ideas like the one above--makes me feel a little less unique (in a good way) and alone. 

Little updates

9 January 2021: Trying to push back against the gloom with little (and I mean little!) projects around the house. Organize this thing, clean that thing. One really easy update that I should have done long ago? Replacing the original, 20+ year-old lamp shades in the living room. The second one arrived today and Veronica was kind enough to bask in the glow as I snapped a picture.

It's not much, but it helps a bit on long, cold days when most of the news is so bad.

"my road map for the rest of my life"

8 January 2020: “My wife captured it perfectly: She said that there is so much pain and so much love, and it’s all mixed together,” he said. “But every day we’re able to disentangle them more, so that we can experience the love more purely and the pain more purely, and it doesn’t hurt to love him.” --Jamie Raskin, quoting his wife, talking about grieving their son, in this Atlantic piece.

I have been thinking a lot about Raskin and his family ever since his son Tommy took his own life. The family's heartbreaking tribute to Tommy made me cry and cry. They buried Tommy on Tuesday. On Wednesday, Raskin went back to work. He and his family then endured a siege by insurrectionists. The next day, he started working on much-needed articles of impeachment.

He hasn't had a chance to stop, really. Maybe that's good? Work can be healing, motivating. But there's so much pain out there. So much to do. I just feel for them all, these people I have never met, who lost their dear boy to the same sort of struggles that take so many. 

The Raskins included their son's final note in his tribute: "Please forgive me. My illness won today. Please look after each other, the animals, and the global poor for me. All my love, Tommy.” As I type this, I am crying again. 

The Atlantic piece talks about the note: "I told him that it was notable to include the reality of Tommy’s mental illness in the tribute essay, including the message from his suicide note. 'Why would we suppress that?' Raskin asked. 'I want to live by that note. That is my road map for the rest of my life.' He said Americans need to use society’s resources to work toward a cure for depression. 'But in the meantime,' he said, 'we obviously have to bring it out of the shadows.'"

God bless this family, role models for so many of us in these dark days.

Dark days...

7 January 2020: Still at a loss for words to describe what happened yesterday. A devastating display of white privilege, racism, toxic masculinity, and the fear and hate Trump and his GOP enablers have fostered for years. Everyone should have seen this coming. It's devastating. It's terrifying. It will be inexcusable to go back to "normal" after this with no accountability. 

It's sometimes so easy to love this great country. Most of the time, in fact, if you don't think too hard about it. But sometimes it is so hard. As a privileged white woman, well, I can't imagine what Black folks are going through. 

And the pandemic rages on and on and he does nothing.

Impeach him. Invoke the 25th. He has to go. (They won't, but they have to try.)

(I write this for myself, as a kind of record for the day(s). I know it's not profound or original or even that interesting. But I wanted to get it out.)

Georgia!

6 January 2021: Trying to remember the last time I felt a combination of such sheer joy and shock as I am feeling today. Right up until the votes started coming in, I never thought both Ossoff and Warnock stood a chance. Didn't even intend on watching any coverage beyond following on Twitter. By 10:00 or so, I turned on MSNBC because I know it would feel good to do so. Stayed up until after 1:00 watching not out of dread but of the good kind of disbelief. 

"Love...lives in the mundane..."

5 January 2021: "It isn't easy to narrate happiness or love, and it's hard to prove their existence through recorded facts and descriptions. What is the precise evidence for love? Documentation of sexual encounter? Examples of daily intimacies? Easier to tell and to corroborate are stories of pain, dramatic events, betrayals. Love meanwhile lives in the mundane, the moment-to-moment exchanges, and can so easily become invisible after the people who shared it are no longer alive. But, of course, one leaves traces." -Jenn Shapland, My Autobiography of Carson McCullers

Finished this remarkable book late last night and can't stop thinking about what it says about identity, love, legacy, the way we search for ourselves in our reading, how we shape the stories of others, and how we think about relationships (always filtered through ourselves, of course). 

Take Two...

4 January 2021: When Winter Break is a week longer (at the cost of Spring Break), you don't have any new course preps, and you burn through the three (!) Common Reading books you volunteered to read, you might just finish your "Winter Recess Goal List" by January 4. In that case, you give it another go...

This one, besides having a cheeky title, has more domestic tasks (organizing, cleaning) and includes getting an SSAWW proposal done. Off we go...

Putting Christmas "away," but not really...

3 January 2021: Took down and put away all of the Christmas decorations today (except the outside lights, which I'll do later this week). It seemed to go more quickly this year (probably because I put fewer things out) and it is sort of nice to have everything look clean and normal again, but it's also (always) depressing work. Feels a bit like Christmas didn't really happen. I don't mean in a spiritual sense--I've thought more about the meaning of the Nativity and the Word made flesh more this year than in some time. Rather, of course, I mean Christmas didn't happen in the sense of traditions, family, friends...

I still have my parents' presents, all wrapped and waiting for them. Seeing them sitting in the living room is just a downer. Our eventual gift exchange will probably feel like a poor simulacrum of Christmas. And Lord help me, it's just so hard to know that it didn't have to be this way. That we could have done better to fight this pandemic. That we have failed so miserably. And that my silly sadness about Christmas is nothing compared to what others have lost and what will be lost.

Today also brought more craziness from our corrupt and evil president, this time a nefarious recording of a desperate man trying to persuade and intimidate election officials. This as nearly 350,000 people are dead and he has done nothing but make everything worse. It's infuriating, sickening, and just so wearying. 

The rhythms of this post--moving from personal/individual to a wider look at the country and the world and seeing so much needless pain--are the rhythms of pandemic life for me, I guess. We are, as Walt reminds us, a "knit of identity," and as Frances E.W. Harper tells us "all bound up together in great one bundle of humanity." It is useful, vital, and essential to be reminded of this, and so strange to see it again and again in a time when I feel so physically separated from others. 

I am telling myself now (as I write this) that it's worth thinking about the message of Christmas again, the individual child who saved a broken world. A huge gesture of love and sacrifice that we ought to emulate and revere. There is that light in the darkness--I think we can see it if we look hard enough.

Moody, rambling Sunday thoughts, I know...

Jane time...

2 January 2021: Exchanging gifts with my bff while observing appropriate safety protocols or planning a bank robbery with a more stylish accomplice? Who can say?

Slipping into 2021...

1 January 2021: Going to choose to read it as funny that, given yesterday's post, as I wrapped up my walk this morning, I slipped and fell on a nearly invisible patch of ice right before I got home. (I'm fine--my leg is a tiny bit sore, but that's it.)

I chose to read that tumble as affirmation for the day I had planned: get the walk done before the freezing rain picked up (so close on that one!) and then spend the rest of the day hunkered down inside. So far, I've done some cleaning, watched one comedy special, one movie, and am about to finish the final episode of a TV show. I've got a little pork roast in the oven and holy cow, does it smell good. Might watch one more movie and get some reading done. A quiet start to 2021, but good enough.