"The Japanese in America"

16 March 2022: “Sometimes I dream of the day when all of us will be world citizens—not citizens merely of petty portions of the earth, showing our teeth at each other, snarling, sneering, biting, and with the ambition of the murderer at our heart’s core—every man with the savage instinct of the wild beast to get the better of his brother—to prove his greater strength—his mightier mind—the superiority of his color." --Onoto Watanna, "The Japanese in America," p. 177

I've been working on my book's entry on Onoto Watanna (Winnifred Eaton) and boy, is she interesting. The lines above--from the closing of an essay first published in 1907--are striking for a number of reasons. For instance, they make me think of works by her contemporaries like Zitkala Sa or W.E.B. DuBois who also speak of dreams of racial equality. 

But they also stand out to me because--spatially--she spends so much more time on the nastiness (from "showing our teeth" onward) than the dream. She was a Canadian/American with British and Chinese roots who presented herself as Japanese writer, a fraught choice that gave her access and some degree of agency. She knew how to speak to white writers with essentialist notions, exploiting them to sell books and pay her bills. She was, in fact, quite good at it. But those very choices that led to her success must have left her feeling quite cynical at times, which we can see, I think, in those lines above.  

Work Cited

Watanna, Onoto. “A Half-Caste” and Other Writings, edited by Linda Trinh Moser, U of Illinois P, 2003.

Spring Break grading laugh...

15 March 2022: Working through two kind of ambitious (and boring and slightly depressing) Spring Break to-do lists. (Yes: there are two lists.) But making steady progress. And I found myself laughing out loud at this phrase from a paper by one of my seminar students: "intelligent ladies using occult knowledge to outwit death." "Sounds like a cool club," I wrote in my comments. 

Job's "outraged honesty"

14 March 2022: "In the face of all that appears to be in front of the world today, amid all the calamities we are hurtling toward or already enduring, I’ve found no choice but to share Job’s outraged honesty. Job provides a framework for why it’s worth it to keep going." --Abraham Riesman, in this terrific essay about the book of Job

I read Riesman's essay last night and I think it colored both my dreams and my mindset today. As I continue to think about loss, grief, anger, death, injustice--as we have no choice but to do so--there is something rich to be found digging into what he says here. 

Proud sister...

13 March 2022: Had a nice conversation with Erin today, who is leaving her position in academia to join a practice. Proud of her for making a change that feels right (even if it feels bittersweet). Proud of her for doing work that will help children. Proud of her always. 

Go Rams!

12 March 2022: After a really thrilling double-overtime win last night, the women's basketball team lost in a heartbreaker tonight, ending their season. I am so proud of them and how far they went. Watching these games all season was a constant source of distraction and joy during some tough times. Grateful for that and for those young women. 

"precarity feels like a world I live in now..."

11 March 2022: 

"I don't think I understood like precarity, like the being delicate, having my life built, be built on things that are so contingent and it could betaken away. And that maybe precarity is not something we can never really get over. Maybe it's something we have to learn how to live beautifully inside. I did not have that, you know, [laughing] because my life had been relatively durable before and predictable. And I think precarity feels like a world I live in now. And what I love about it is that now I can see it everywhere. And it helps me kind of abandoned some of the vanity of individualism, and be like, “'Oh my gosh, like we all belong to each other because we have to.'” --Kate Bower, in an episode of This is Love

This morning on my walk, I finally listened to this episode of This is Love that I have been putting off listening to because it hits so close to home. I am so deeply worried about my friend and feel so helpless to do anything to help her. And I don't even know how to ask in ways that won't add to her burden. I feel like all I keep saying is, "I am so sorry. This sucks and is so unfair." Was kind of relieved to see that Bower says it's what she wants to hear on her toughest days. 

It's also on my mind that today--the Friday before Spring Break--marks two years since we sent our students home and didn't see them again that semester. 

What have I learned since then? I look over that post from two years ago and think about where I am now and it's not that I see many radically new takes. Rather, everything is deeper and more poignant, the good and the bad. The sadness and anger and hopeless is much deeper. So, too, though, are the wells of joy and love and hope. I tried to articulate that a bit in this post. I think it's why so many posts in the past two years have been about gratitude and surprising, uplifting joy. It's a way to push back against the darkness.

But the darkness pushes back. And I worry and feel so sad about my friend. And so many others. And so much.

And, this morning as my walk was winding down, I stopped and sat on a bench out back of Knutti, listening to the last ten minutes of the episode, letting sunlight shine on me and crying a bit, thinking about what a gift and responsibility love is--both giving and receiving. Everything--everything--seems so fragile. And therefore precious when we find and hold it. So we keep watch and honor it.

I need to wrap this up and make sure my eyes aren't too red because in about 15 minutes, I have to go into my ENGL 204 class and finish our discussion of "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." My goodness, what a poem for this day and this precise mood. And then I'll send them off, wishing them a restful break, eager for some respite myself, but also excited to see them come back. 

A bit of decompression...

10 March 2022: Long day with lots of meetings, so it felt good to head to Martinsburg with Amy to have dinner at Finn Thai. Sometimes a good drive, a great meal, lots of conversation just lifts my spirits so much. 

Good timing...one week later...

9 March 2022: He does it again. So consistently, the best parts of my "day-to-day" days are my students and this cat. Both consistently lift me out of whatever bad stuff I am feeling. Both are gifts for which I am so grateful.

Hallway encouragement...

8 March 2022: Left campus before 4:00 today. I was encouraged by a group of our wonderful upper-division students who were gathered in the hallway. 

"I might leave before 4:00 today," I said to them, almost thinking out loud. 

"You should!" one said. 

"Treat yourself!" said another. 

"Go see your cats," said a third. 

Such sweet kids. When I told them I needed to go pick up Wesley's food from the vet before it closed, they were even more encouraging. They are such blessings. 

Pachinko

7 March 2022: "There was consolation. The people you love, they were always there with you, she had learned. Sometimes, she could be in front of a train kiosk or the window of a bookstore, and she could feel Noa's small hand when he was a boy, and she would close her eyes and think of his sweet, grassy smell and remember that he had always tried his best. At those moments, it was good to be alone to hold on to him." --Min Jin Lee, Pachinko

Last night, I finished this book, which has been my bathtub reading for the past month or so. I wept a bit as I read the words above and moved through the closing pages. The way those few phrases about Noa sum him up perfectly for a reader, the way Sunja endures, the way Lee sticks the landing. Amazing. It's been on my mind on and off all day. 

Almost here...

6 March 2022: It's gotten into the 70s here today, so I opened the front window for Wes and Veronica. They almost immediately jumped to sit in it, even looking like they like each other. (She loves him, he [barely] tolerates her.) Wish I had gotten a picture. 

Later, when I got back from working on campus for most of the morning/early afternoon, I sat in the living room, holding Wesley, watching Veronica watch the birds, and just thinking about how spring is almost here. The earliest flowers are out. Others are peeking through. And it will get cold again. Might even snow again before all is said and done on this year's winter. But spring is coming. I sat here and scratched my old boy's neck as he purred and leaned into me. 

Felt filled with so much: gratitude, relief, sadness, uncertainty, and weariness mixed with faith in rebounding energy. 

Accepted Students Day 2022

5 March 2022: How many programs can ask ten students to give up their Saturday mornings and have them ALL say yes without any hesitation? Wish I got a picture of all of them...

800

 4 March 2022: Today marks 800 straight days of at least 10,000 steps. Feels pretty cool!

"Survival Guide"

3 March 2022:

"No matter how old you are,
it helps to be young
when you’re coming to life,

to be unfinished, a mysterious statement,
a journey from star to star." -Joy Ladin, "Survival Guide"

Good timing...

2 March 2022: Feeling a bit overwhelmed and down all of the sudden--and he shows up. What a gift.