Songs from 1988-93

I'm working on a series of essays that focus on my life from 1988-93, which are my undergraduate years (though the essays are not really about college).  I've been thinking for a while of creating a playlist of songs from the time because music was always in the background, whether from my car radio, my CD player when I was riding the bus, or the background in bars and clubs.  Thanks to Wikipedia, I am able to find out when the songs were released and put them in order.  But that's not just my Virgo mentality at work.  I can look at the list and see a kind of progression, my transition from boyhood to manhood.  I just set my timer for twenty minutes today and got the list started.  It'll be fun to listen to on the treadmill, though I better have a notebook handy for the memories that arise.

If anyone can think of any songs from that time period, feel free to let me know in the comments.  My only rules for including them on the playlist are 1) only one song from an artist or I'll end up putting all of Depeche Mode's Violator and R.E.M.'s Out of Time on the list and 2) they have to be something that played a role, however minor, in my own life.  Perhaps your memories might trigger some of my own.  You can click on the image to enlarge it.

What I Learned in 2011

• Just because everyone else is excited about it doesn't mean I have to be.

• You really cannot over-prepare for the financial side of a sabbatical.

• The opposite of holding a grudge is not re-inviting someone back into my life.  Sometimes it is just better to say, "That's in the past, and I'm now in a good place in my life. I wish you the same." And then let go.

• Just get the work done.

• I cannot think or write in soundbites, and that is fine.

• New York City is best nine floors up.

• I prefer Facebook over Google+ because I do not like picking and choosing who gets what from me; I'd rather throw it all out there and let other people pick and choose what they want (if anything).

• The less I carry with me, the happier I am; I mean that literally, but it works figuratively, too.

• When my mother died, my life changed forever.  There was a time to grieve what I lost.  Now is the time to celebrate the life I have, which she gave me.

• Schadenfreude may have its place in life, but it's a small one.

• I have no reason ever to step on a scale again because it is better to pay attention to the numbers on my blood pressure machine than the numbers on a scale.  Even during my annual physical, I can tell the doctor I don't want to know what the scale says even if he does.

• Diet and exercise are words I don't want or need to use in my life.

• There is value and pleasure in reading fiction.

• How many times do I have to be hit across the head before I ask, "Excuse me. What was that again?" Actually, asking that happens often; it's listening to the answer that needs to happen now.

• I'm missing out on less than I think I am.

Open the Window

People think I live a life of complete freedom, and they are largely right.  It's a gift I cannot ignore.  Despite the homophobia I still encounter regularly, I still live a life where I can be out in my personal and professional life.  Despite the criticisms of the tenure process in academia, I have earned tenure, which means I've earned the right to pursue just about any professional project I want.  On a personal level, I have a supportive husband who gives me the space to be me.  Though I often think of him whenever I make just about any decision about anything, there is no one else on this planet who factors into choices about how I live my life.  It's a dream scenario to so many people, and I cannot take it for granted.

But it's amazing how easy it is to feel constrained by so many conscious and unconscious things.  It's annoying and frustrating.  There are some logical aspects of my life that hold me back, comments, judgments, and experiences that occurred in the first half of my life that wreck havoc on the second.  I'm not talking about anything severe but just the typical things that happen to most of us, the things that get called "whining" by a lot of people when mentioned in public.  And, yeah, it can feel like whining, too, when we think about them and wonder, "Oh, sure, that hurt, but that was then.  This is now."

Someone once told me that one of the biggest roadblocks to many of my dreams was my freedom.  I don't have to struggle to find time to write, so I don't make time to write because it's too easy to imagine putting it off later, after watching another episode of thirtysomething through Netflix on the Wii or checking Twitter one more time.  From August 2002 to June 2003, I wrote a dissertation, conducted a national job search, and held my first full-time academic position.  I look back at that time and wonder how I did it.  The answer?  I had to do it.

Now, in the state of privilege that defines my life, I often don't get things done when I don't really have to do them.  Oh, the "whining" label is starting to approach the tongue, isn't it?  But I'm more writing this out like this to get myself to face this.  It's not the first time I've talked to myself like this, but I've been thinking a lot these last few months about the next phase of my life.  I have some ideas, but I'm holding myself back for the same reasons I've held myself back my entire life.

And the reasons aren't that valid at all.

Part Two

I've been feeling a little down tonight, which I wasn't expecting because today was just fine.  But I was watching the Rosie O'Donnell interview on Oprah, and a lot of it resonated with me.  Part of it is just listening to Rosie talk about losing her mother.  I was much luckier than she was since I had my mother for thirty-seven years, and she had hers for ten.  But I was thinking of my mother, nonetheless.

And that connects to the second topic.  Rosie was talking about reaching forty-five and wondering what she was going to do with the rest of her life, which is something that's been on my mind, too.  I am beyond lucky that I have reached forty having achieved what I've hoped to achieve in my life.  I have the career I intended to have, I live in the home in which I've always wanted to live, and I live with a partner I hope to have for the rest of my life.  All of that's great, and I do not mean to be taking it for granted.  But while I will have to work to maintain those things, I've been thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my life.  I don't want to just spin my wheels for the next twenty, thirty years.  I want to do something, but I'm not sure what it should be.

Part of this is brought on by recent conversations I've had resulting from the job search in my department that has just been canceled due to budget cuts.  Yes, that happens, and it's sad, but the conversations I've had with various people have been eye-opening and confusing.  People have been giving me some unsolicited advice.  It's all been thought-provoking, and some people are being quite considerate.  But I'm more confused about what I want to do next in my life/career (which are deeply integrated).  I don't want to write a book.  I know I'm supposed to want to write one, but I don't.  Edit, yes, but write, no.  I'm not sure if I want to write academically or creatively or for what kind of audience.  I'm not sure if I want to work on some other area like photography or something similar.

I know I need to make some decisions before I wake up at fifty-five or something and wonder what I have to show for the last decade or whatever.  Yes, I could say that maintaining this life, if I can do it, is something to be proud of.  But the security I have now means I have opportunities, and I think it's sad to waste them.

Ah, well.  I'll certainly be reporting whatever I do online, I'm sure.

Wendy Smiga Kirk, Requiescat in Pace

The photo above is of the one-act play cast and crew from when I was a senior in high school. The play was The Dancers by Horton Foote. This was a play we did for contest. We'd won district, and this photo was taken at area, where we lost. But all of that is irrelevant. This photo matters to me today because the girl in the pink and glasses at the far right was murdered yesterday by her husband. Her children, who are 13 and 8, were home at the time but knew nothing about it. The unsubstantiated rumor is that she wanted a divorce, and he did not.

She was in her first year of high school when I was a senior. We met because we were in theatre together. For the play, she was a part of the crew. If you read any articles about her, they all mention that she was sweet and quiet, and she smiled a lot. That's exactly how I remember her. That's how everyone seems to be remembering her. She was not a part of my close circle of friends. I'm not trying to claim some intimate attachment to her that doesn't exist. She was a part of my outer circle of friends, at least as much as possible between first-year high school students and seniors.

There were two memories that came to mine when I started thinking about her. First, she gave each of the graduating seniors in theatre a plastic cup that she'd painted with little designs like flowers and curlicues and messages of good luck. At the bottom, she'd written, "Love, Wendy." I used mine as a pencil holder in the dorms, but the paint started wearing away after a couple of years, and I think I threw it out. It might be in a box somewhere, but I don't remember having seen it in years. I also remember a weekend when I'd returned home my first month of college. A Friday night, some of us who were in college and some who were still in high school went out for the night. I remember that she was in my car, and I just remember a lot of goofing around and laughing. This stands out to me because she wasn't as quiet as usual but was being just as silly as the rest of us. I remember thinking that she already seemed older than before.

This afternoon, I went downstairs to find my yearbook from senior year to see if she signed it. She had, telling me how thankful she was that I was her taxi all those late nights when we were out at theatre contests. She also said that class seemed empty with all us seniors gone. I did go to see the contest play when she would have been a sophomore, and I'm pretty sure she had a speaking role then, but I don't remember. That was probably the last time I saw her, I'm sure, and that was in 1989.

There's an incredible irony here. Tomorrow, November 25, is International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. I don't even know what to say about that. I look at the calendar with the date of her murder and the date of that commemoration and just shake my head.

I also can't help but think about her husband, the man who killed her. In no way at all am I trying to defend him in any sort of way, but I can't help but think about the way we treat healthcare and mental illness in this country. I know very, very few details, obviously, but he must have been sick to think that murdering the mother of his children was a viable option for handling whatever pain he was handling. I can't help but wonder if Wendy would still be alive if we as a culture took a more honest view of mental health or if there were more viable options for women and men to handle the pains of our lives.

But I don't know. That's a lot of speculation. My head is still swirling with all of this. I've thought of her now and then and wondered how she was. Now, all I keep thinking is that what happened to her is so, so wrong.

Clarifications

I've been off-line for the past twenty-four hours or so, trying to process a few things. I made a comment on Twitter/Facebook that some people were critical of, and I'll admit the criticisms surprised me. What troubled me is that I thought people who have been part of my online world for the past few years would take what they knew about me and assume that I'm someone who tries to do the best I can to treat people respectfully and that I really try to do my job well. Instead, I encountered some assumptions that I was missing something, that I was in the wrong; therefore, I needed to be told what people assumed I was missing or wrong about. I thought people who did not know the specifics would give me the benefit of the doubt based on the history of what I have written here and elsewhere.

I often question what I post online just like I tell my students they shold be doing. In thinking about that particular comment, I knew how it could be read, but I really did tell myself, "the people who know you online know you get it and that this isn't about you." But that wasn't really the case. In a short time frame, I encountered several criticisms every time I clicked a link to go from Facebook to Twitter to email to elsewhere, and the collective effect stung.

It was probably pretty naive to think that specifics weren't necessary for those who have known me online for a few years to have shot me a "hang in there" or something. And many people did do that. I've tried to let the collective effect of the support outshine the collective effect of the criticisms, but that's hard for me. As I wrote in yesterday's entry, I have long been known as a highly sensitive person. I used to feel ashamed of that. One of the reasons I went into therapy in 2005 was to get a better handle on my emotions and how hard things can hit me. When I ended therapy a few months ago, I had actually learned to celebrate that sensitivity because it has helped lead me to a pretty good place in life.

This entry is not directed at anyone in particular, so I hope no one looks at any comments they might have seen in a specific space and think it's about them. No one has seen it all since no one has read my email. As I said, there were several criticisms that ran the gamut from minor to, frankly, direct and extreme. This entry is just meant to explain what I've been thinking for the past day and why I wrote yesterday's entry, which I've received a couple of kind, concerned questions about. I realized today how it might come across as passive-aggressive, and I didn't mean for that. I thought some clarification was in order.

Old-People Glasses

I'm old.

Yep, I received my new pair of glasses today, the ones with bifocals. Well, I actually did get progressive lenses, but when I say that to people, they think I have the ones that turn light or dark based on light conditions. But I want to say I've got old-people glasses.

Actually, I'm pretty happy about them. The glasses themselves are just like the last couple of pairs I bought in terms of style: thick, dark frames. I went with Paul Bartlett frames this time; my last ones were from the Randy Jackson Collection. And after the hemorrhage in my eye in 2007, I'm happy with any glasses that enable me to see better. The hemorrhage stabilized a while ago, but my doctor says it's pretty common for someone who is far-sighted, like I am, to have my ability to read plummet quickly at my age. When I picked up the books I was teaching for class at the start of the semester, I was stunned at how difficult it was to read them. I was worried it was part of the hemorrhage, but it was ordinary aging. And I'm quite fine with that.

Especially since I can see much better now.

Disrupting the Patterns

Da Man and I love our routines. We do the same things on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, for example. We park in the same spots when we go shopping or to the movies. We have the same little rituals before we go to bed or when we get up. The way we look at it, there are so many things in our lives that demand our attention, we don't want to have to think about things if we don't have to. Hence, the patterns in our lives.

We love the place we've moved into. I am typing this from my home office, which I have not had since we left Ohio in 2003. We look around and walk around (since there's enough space to walk around in), and we talk about what we plan to do over the next few years and how great things are going to be.

For now, though, the patterns have been greatly disrupted. In terms of our home life, they've been destroyed. And it's shaken us up. Last night, I started to feel down, and it threw me a bit. But Da Man was feeling it, too, which is a good thing. One of the reasons why we've been together as long as we have is because we agree about certain foundational principles in terms of how we live our lives. And we know we'll get through these next few weeks and be very happy about the move. Until then, though, we are certainly discombobulated.

This, too, shall pass. Step by step until then.

The Saga of Buying a Home

As I mentioned on Twitter and Facebook earlier, we closed on our new condo today. For the first few hours after signing the papers, I was still in a bit of shock. I've mentioned here and there some of the struggles we had with the process this time around, and there were moments when I was ready to end the process and lose the place, but Da Man was determined to make it happen for us. And it did!

We had our list of what we wanted in a new home, and we knew we'd look at the start of the summer. We looked at a few places on our first trip out, but this one was third on our list. The more we thought about it, though, the more we thought this place might be the best for us. It has a two-car attached garage and enough rooms for us each to have our own office and a guest room. It has a formal dining room, which we wanted, but also a sun room off the kitchen. The kitchen is fully updated, and there's new, plush carpet throughout the place. It's 2140 square feet; the one we have now is about 1400.

And the economy means it's a buyers market. We got it at a good price, and the mortgage came with a great rate. The problem was always with the down payment. See, in the past, it was much easier to use the equity in the home you own toward a new one, but the economy really screwed that up. We assumed that we would get a bridge loan from the equity on this place. The problem? A lot of banks don't give them anymore, and none we could find would give them on condos. Too many people bought condos as investment properties and defaulted on the mortgages.

What upset me so much this summer is that everyone kept telling us that we were doing everything right, but the programs just didn't exist anymore. What I learned from this process is how all-or-nothing banks have been these last few years in playing with people's lives. For a while there, banks gave everyone money in ways that made it difficult to pay back--variable-rate mortgages and balloon payments and all that. Then, after getting burned, they started holding money back from everyone. It became impossible to get money even after years of doing everything right. And please let me be clear that I'm blaming the banking industry and not individual people trying to build homes for themselves and their families. I've had friends who got into trouble when they got involved in mortgage programs that were designed to make money for bankers rather than help people survive.

The bank that gave us our mortgage did pull some strings for us and helped us with the down payment. Once they realized we were going to have to drop out completely and withdraw from the mortgage, they started working with us. In the end, it was just harder to get the down payment for our third place than it was for the first place. And we weren't expecting that. We've heard stories since then from other people who encountered similar problems. Of course, when we sell this place, all of this will probably be moot, but the market is a bit saturated right now. We do have the cheapest condo in our entire complex, so if anyone want's a little place in Connecticut, check us out!

It is a bit strange to buy the place that we intend to be the final one for each of us. I just turned forty, and I could be here for the next thirty or forty years. As Da Man has said more than once, "I'm not leaving this place unless it's in a box." This is the first place we've bought out of choice The first we bought because we felt it was time to move from renting to owning. The second one was because I got a job here. This one? We could stay where we are now for the rest of our lives. Or we could move to a bigger place that has more features. We had no intention of buying until we found exactly what we wanted, and that's what we did.

I did get a bit shaken earlier, though, when I realized that this is a place that will have no connection at all to my mother. Though she never visited where we live now, she knew about it. She saw pictures and mailed things here. And it was in this place that I heard she'd died. This new place? It's completely disconnected from her, and that felt like a little kick in the stomach.

But she would love this place. She's be so happy to see all the space and the nice kitchen and my office and the sun room and back patio. It won't be long before the house becomes a home for us. That's for sure.

The Need for Gratitude

Anyone who has been around me for the last weeks, and especially the last few days, knows I've been having a rough time of things, trying to handle things beyond my control. Yes, the house we're trying to buy is taking a toll on us. With the housing crisis, banks no longer have the programs they used to have, like bridge loans where you can use the equity in the home you are selling as a down payment on a new home. We keep being told that we'd be all done if this were two years ago. But it's not two years ago. Add to that some work issues where people who promised to do certain things didn't do them and left me to clean up the mess, and it's understandable why it's been rough lately. Yes, I'm very lucky to have a job and a partner and a home. But, damn, when it hits the fan, it can really hit the fan.

Look at it this way. I've been such a prick lately that I bought Da Man flowers today to thank him for being there and trying so hard to make things better for me.

At one point today, I thought of writing a blog entry about more of this. I had one in mind titled, "Idiotic Things People Have Said to Me Lately," and there have been some doozies. I thought about an entry on Connecticut drivers, starting with the one who flipped me off today when I drove forward through a green light as he turned left in front of me, cutting me off. Right of way, anyone?

But all of that is so negative. I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of crying about things. I'm tired of feeling torn apart. I'm tired of turning cold whenever anyone tries to talk to me. I'm tired of starting to hate my life and most people in it.

So, a change is in order. And I decided that I wanted to do a bit of the Gratitude Journal thing. You know, this was popular a few years ago. People would write down five things each night that they were grateful for that day. I should probably do it daily, but I don't need to add the pressure to myself. Instead, I'm thinking I should do this regularly to remind myself of what is working and what does make me happy. With that in mind, here are five things that do make things look brighter in no particular order.

1. Classes start tomorrow. Okay, this one is in order since it's the biggest, the most important, and the thing that makes me happiest. I am excited, once again, about what I'm teaching and ready to do it. Whether it makes me a geek or not, the classroom is where I am happiest. I wish I was teaching three class like usual and not doing administration, but I'll embrace what I can get.

2. The new department scanner/photocopier. We have one of those new photocopiers where you can also scan documents and email them to yourself. Oh, I was so excited when I found out that the scanning feature had been activated. I have several articles for class I wanted scanned, and it took mere minutes to get it all done, whereas copying would have taken much longer. Yes, I'm planning to go through my paper files and scan a lot.

3. Finding out I'm not alone in thinking last night's True Blood episode was pretty bad. Okay, this has some negative in it, but it does feel good to find out I'm not alone. Last week's episode was near perfection. And last night's was a total disaster. But I've read several things from people online who agree and talked to a few people today who agree. Good, it's not just me!

4. The finale of Dance Your Ass Off in thirty minutes. Yes, I want Ruben to win, but that's primarily because he's a gay man who is really trying to be there for his ill partner, and I remember what it's like to be in that position. And he's cute, too. But I like each of the three finalists, and if Shayla or Pinky takes it, they will deserve it.

5. Anthony Bourdain's and Andrew Zimmern's TV shows. I could watch these shows for days and am so glad they are in new seasons. I learn a lot and see things I'd never see otherwise. And I can have them on in the background for days and days because I always notice something new. I'm reading one of Bourdain's books now, too, and loving it.

So, here's to the new semester and new year and the good things in them.

Summer To-Do List

First of all, Happy Birthday to Da Man! We keep birthdays pretty simple around here. We don't do presents but just focus on a sincere card and a dinner out. About the card, it has gotten much easier to find cards. Someone should do a study (if it hasn't already been done) about the changing language or greeting cards. There were hardly any that said "For My Husband From Your Wife" like I saw a decade ago. The one I bought said, "For My Guy," and there were several saying things like, "For the Man in My Life" or just not saying anything gender-specific at all. And the passages often don't mention the gender of the giver, either. It's nice having a lot of relevant options. As for dinner, we have reservations at Braza, a Brazilian churrascaria in Hartford. It'll be a meat fest!

But knowing that it's his birthday reminds me that the summer is at its halfway point. Yikes! I've done a lot already, and I'm going to do my best not to pressure myself to accomplish anything other than what has to get done because of already established deadlines (probably one of the best post-tenure privileges). That said, I don't want to get to the end of the summer and feel like I've wasted time. So, today I made the to-do list I've been thinking of making since May. Daily, I now commit to:

30 min. of academic writing,
30 min. of creative writing,
30 min. of sabbatical prep,
30 min. of academic reading,
30 min. of personal reading, and
30 min. of organizing.

Yes, cry me a river. I'm committing myself to three hours or work a day (though that doesn't include administrative tasks and such). But on days I've done some serious reading, I've often forgotten the writing. And there are some things piling up around me, literally, that I need to address. In a few weeks, I'll add class prep to the list, too.

And, yes, I'll often be setting a timer for much of this. I like the timer thing; it helps me focus. And, I'll certainly be allowed to work longer when I get on a role. I just can't forget the other things on the list. Oh, and I'm allowing myself two days a week not to do any of these things, either full days where I do nothing or days when I do half the list on one day and the other half on another.

I just have to find some balance between pressuring myself to work and not getting anything done at all.

The End of an Era

As I mentioned on Twitter/Facebook, I had my last therapy session today. I suspected it was going to be the last, which I've talked about before. I think the value of therapy is that you are talking to someone who is completely on your side and whom you don't have to make happy. That last part is important. Yes, Da Man is 100% on my side, but if I vent to him, he might start to worry. When the anxiety was getting to me so much that I'd vomit, he was very concerned. So I needed someone I could talk to who wouldn't worry. I needed a place where I could say anything without worrying about a reaction. Usually, I'd vent and find a way to talk about the same issues with Da Man later without him worrying. And it's been great.

As we reached the end of today's session, I started to choke up. That surprised me. Yes, I cry at the drop of a hat, but I didn't think it was going to happen. And while a little of it was fear of change, a lot of it was joy. I have grown. I will never handle things perfectly or with ease, but I'm not letting things eat at me like I used to do. I'm more aware of how, when certain feelings start to rise in me, it's not the end of the world. I've started to feel anger, which is a real switch for me. I would turn things inward, and now I recognize that I sometimes have the right to get pissed. And can you believe that Da Man is happy about that? He's happy when he thinks I'm standing up for myself, even when it means I'm standing up against him.

I told my therapist that there are certainly things we could talk about but, right now, I don't feel like they are holding me back. And it would feel like nitpicking. Plus, I no longer want to spend the energy working on so many things. I want to take the time to enjoy my life. I've had a rough few years what with tenure stress and my mother's death and some other problems with other people in my life (and, no, Da Man is not one of them). And I've gotten to a good, solid place with all of that. Things do change, but I have the option and the right to enjoy where I am in my life.

So that's what I'm now trying to do.

On the Other Hand...

In my last post, I wrote about trying to figure out when to apply for a sabbatical. Originally, I said that I was going to wait until Da Man and I moved to a bigger place even though we aren't sure when that will happen. Since this might be the last move we ever make, we have a very specific list of demands, and we aren't moving until they are all met. But then I started thinking, and that always creates trouble.

Seriously, I was thinking much along the lines of what Susan commented to that post. Why not grab the opportunity when I can? Yes, there's a financial considerations because the year-long one comes with a paycut down to 60%. But I then thought, quite obviously, of spending the next year living on 80% of my salary, banking 20% so that, if the sabbatical works out, I've got enough to raise it to 80%, which I would already have been living on. And I've got to become more conscious of my spending.

We are true GA-DINKs (gay, double-income, no kids). We've spent the last few years getting our bills to a place where we can pay them without a lot of stress or thought. It's true that things can change in this economy, but things have been looking good for us, and I'm really grateful for that. I should be able to bank 20% each month if I watch what I spend at Amazon and out to eat and all that. Yes, the bills get paid. Yes, I don't go wild with the credit card. But I'm not that conscious of a spender after that.

I feel like I need to make the conscious choice about when I'm applying so that I can make other choices about next year, too. For example, I now think I will not be going to any conferences next year. There were a couple I was thinking about, but there are none that are pivotal to my professional development right now. And even with my professional development money, conferences cost a fair amount out-of-pocket. I'll be thinking about other things like that, too.

I know someone else who has a sabbatical who has comfortably taken the attitude that it will all work out and that hir family and kids will all be fine. But I did want to talk to Da Man about it and make sure he's on board, and it would really stress me out if I didn't have some kind of general plan to follow. I'm not a seat-of-my-pants kinds of guy, in case you haven't noticed. And if the sabbatical doesn't work out, then I've got more in savings for when we apply for the next mortgage and/or for the move itself.

This may all sound like a lot of silly mental hoopla. It's a sabbatical, so go for it! But the anal-retentive Virgo needs some structure. And then I can get excited. My project will build on the work I've been doing on Wojnarowicz, and it's fun to develop those ideas and make those plans.

So let's go for it.

The Creative Urge

Every Wednesday, I've been taking the train to NYC to audit a class at NYU, taking the train back that night. Some people think it's nuts since I spend as much time traveling as I do in the city, but I love it. My last Wednesday is this week, and I'm going to miss it. I've gotten into a rhythm of doing lots of little things throughout the day. I read an article about Wojnarowicz. I flip through a book or magazine. I listen to some music. I watch parts of a TV show or movie. I jot down some notes for an academic piece. I grade. I get down some images for a creative piece. And, at the end of the day, I feel like I did a lot. More than that, I feel like I did a lot of things I would not have done if I hadn't spent the day away from home, campus, and the internet.

Yesterday, I read the last two issues of The Sun. When I was in Puerto Rico, some of the other participants turned me on to the journal. I'd heard of it before, and some of my favorite pieces from Best American Essays have been from it. I subscribed to it as soon as I got home, and I had a couple of issues at hand on the train. Wow, do I love it, especially the Readers Write section. This is where readers have submited short pieces--vignettes really--on a specific topic. The two issues I had were on "The Dining Room Table" and "Faith." Wow, the pieces just blew me away. All of these images just kept coliding in my head. The ride back, when I was reading these sections, went by so fast. When I was in Puerto Rico, I wrote one and sent it in. I don't know how great it is, but I was happy about it. And reading these, I got an idea and jotted down some notes for the next one, which had had me stumped.

And this all got me thinking about the sabbatical that I'm eligible to apply for next year. I've been telling people that I'm not going to apply until Da Man and I move into a bigger place because those on a year-long sabbatical get a reduced salaray (while those on a semester-long one get full pay). I want to do the year because I want to get all out of it that I can. And the trips to NYU plus the other reading/writing I've been doing has gotten me thinking about how much I can get from a sabbatical. And how maybe I should grab it now.

Of course, part of this is an urge to disappear that often arises at this time of the year, as everyone rushes to complete the semester and the year while still preparing for next year. It's the time when everyone on campus seems upset and when I feel like I can do nothing right.

No need to make any decisions now, though.

Processing What CCCC 2009 Meant to Me

I'm at the airport in San Francisco about four hours before my flight, the red-eye to Minneapolis where I'll transfer to a Hartford flight, arriving close to lunch tomorrow. Having grown up in the Central time zone, I'll often joke with Da Man--who grew up with Eastern--about which time zone is "correct." I don't think either of us will ever want to argue for Pacific. It's only three hours, but I'm too used to things over on the other side. As Da Man said, "If it's good enough for the Founding Fathers, it's good enough for me."

But this has been a pretty damn good trip. If it hasn't already, the complaining will begin soon. And, sure, sometimes we have to complain to make needed change happen, but it seems like I hear the same complaints about CCCC every year, that it's out of touch and too massive and too expensive, that too many people read their papers or that too many people didn't put enough effort into their presentations and spoke off-the-cuff too much. I've been going to this conference off-and-on since 1996, so I've heard a lot of complaints. And maybe they are justified. Maybe I'm not invested enough in the field to see what should happen. But that fact remains that I always leave this conference inspired.

Some of the inspiration is professional. My presentation went better than I exepcted. I had people stop me throughout the day to comment on it, which I wasn't expecting. All joking aside about a PowerPoint full of pensises, I do think porn is worth talking about, and I'll continue to do so. I now know others are open to hearing it.

Also, I'm inspired to continue thinking of myself as a teacher first and a scholar second. It's how I've thought of myself for a long time, but I didn't say it a lot because there is a certain amount of shame that comes with putting teaching first, at leasat in academia in general. But I got tenure with that attitude, and I know I can and shoudl maintain it. The panels that I attended where people talked specifically about what they did in the classroom were, as always, my favorites. I got a lot of ideas. After Jenny's panel, I'd love to incorporate some archival work into my classes. And from other panel, I came away with a list of readings or assignments or ideas. The only time I was disappointed was when one panel was less about teaching than it sounded. Ah, well. I'm sure it worked for others in the audience.

At various points, I ran into each of the colleagues from Univ. of Illinois at Chicago who did their job search the same year I did. Back in 2003, we each found good jobs. And in 2009, we each earned tenure at them. That was great to hear, whether we were close or not. I also got to spend several hours yesterday with one of my best friends from my years at Ohio State, a woman who also went on the market and started her job in 2003. She earned tenure this year, too, which makes me so happy. She was actually in literature but with a strong rhet/comp background, and we meet back in 1995. She spent many Thanksgivings and July Fourths are our place, calling Da Man and I her Ohio family. I hadn't seen her since 2003 when we all went to dinner with our mentor before moving to other parts of the country. Since then, she'd married, and I got to meet her husband yesterday, too. And he's way better for her than either of the guys she dated seriously back in Ohio. Da Man didn't feel like he was missing anything by not joining me on this trip until he heard that she had flown in. She hadn't told any of us and just called my room and left a message on Thursday. It's great to see so many people from my grad school days doing well.

That partly exemplifes how conferences for me are not just about the professional inspiration. I usually do see people from my past who played a role in the person and professional that I've become, and it's great to feel like I've grown. It reminds me of the work I did to get to this point in my life and the work I have to do to stay here (or continuing moving in the directions I want).

I guess you could say it's also inspiring to be in a great city like San Francisco. I've only been here twice, but I've had a blast both times. Yes, "gay-friendly" does not even begin to describe this city, and it's great to have a range of places to choose from for a night out. And it's great to have a good time, too. Okay, I will admit that I get hit on more in San Francisco than anywhere else. Even happily-married, middle-aged, overweight guys like to get attention now and then. Da Man was not sorry he missed seeing any of that happen.

But there's more, too. I spent a good chunk of today at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It was free since it was Family Day sponsered by Target. Thanks, Target! And, about six months ago, they started allowing people to take photos of the art (without flash). As soon as I heard that, I geeked out. I took about three hundred photos. I got up close and just took shots of bright colors and odd lines. I got on the floor to get some odd-angled shots of various sculptures. They don't allow photos of all exhibits, and I did get told twice to stop, but it's not like I saw any signs and knew what was allowed when. And they didn't make me delete anything I took. I can't wait to download them and seee what came out. Working without flash or tripod can be tricky, but out of three hundred, some have to be good. I realized once again that a contemporary art museum is always a happy place for me to be. I need to go to them more often, which I know I've said before.

All this said, though, I think I'll be opting out of CCCC 2010 in Lousiville. I had a blast when I went to the Watson conference there in 2006, but I often need a break from the intense energy of CCCC, which is why I like to have a city in which I can wander, places where I know I can "hide" a bit, whether those places be clubs or museums like I did on this trip. And Louisville isn't that kind of place for me. Plus, there are some other conferences I'm thinking of for next year.

At any rate, CCCC 2009 was a hit in my book. I'm ready to get home, really ready. But I'm glad I came.

What Now?

There are two comments/questions that I've been hearing a bit regularly as the dust settles from the tenure process. First, many tenured faculty have told me to do as little this summer as possible. I've been advised to garden and go hiking and spend time with Da Man and read things that have nothing to do with work and all that. I will say that I have decided to make no plans for July. I have a few things in June, but I'm going to keep July off-limits. I almost sent a proposal to a conference, but I decided not to do anything, that the last thing I really wanted to do was create another conference presentation even if it sounded like fun.

But the second thing has come mostly from the recently tenured. They often ask what I plan to do next in regards to scholarship. Someone made a joke that I could just sit for the rest of my life and never write another word again. While that might technically be true, I do feel like I have an ethical responsibility to keep up with scholarship and professional development. Now, I also think that workshops and other things I done through NYU count as professional development and certainly suffice. But while I'm happy I no longer have the pressure to produce writing, I still want to produce it.

So what to do next? Some of my colleagues have talked about how their writing took entirely new directions after tenure, like they had permission to play and explore. Some immediately set their sights on a book. We don't need one for tenure, and while we don't need one to be promoted to Full Professor, either (as long as we have significant scholarship in other ways), a lot of people turn to a book project.

I'm not sure what to do, but I know me. I can't just plan to follow my whims. If I do, I will accomplish nothing. I need some kind of plan. Yes, I can certainly change my mind if I want, but I need an initial road map. And last night I decided that I am going to work on four articles right now. They are each things that have been tickling the back of my mind in various ways for a few years now. I'll write each of them, working on one a year (2009, 2010, 2011, and 2012). As I work on them, I'll keep track of both how I feel about them and how they are received. And in four years, I'll decide if I want to build any of them into a book or do something else.

No, I don't plan to talk about any in detail at such an early stage, but the general topics are David Wojnarowicz, rape jokes, gay porn, and truth in memoir. Last night, I created binders for each project and put in whatever I already had for each. I plan to take a couple of articles with me on the plane to CCCC this week, too.

It's certainly not a major, life-altering decision, but it feels good to know that I'm working on this and not that. Also, it doesn't really feel like I've closed any doors but still have some leeway, too.

Of course, I could completely change my mind in the next hour, too.

The Trip to the Salon

One of the things I wanted to do after earning tenure was make a trip to a real salon. For the last couple of years, I had my head shaved on the sides and just a bit on top. After October, I just let it grow. I started thinking that I would wait until tenure and then try something fancy and new. Time passed, though, and this was the first weekday when I was free and in town during the day.

Last Monday, I looked like this:



And this afternoon, I looked like this:



You can't see, but I colored it. I certainly wasn't afraid of the grey. After all, I've had it for years. But I wanted something brighter. And I knew color would just create a nice look. It's a bit poofier and straighter than normal since she used a blow drier, so it'll probably look different tomorrow, but I'll probably like it more then. I ended up trimming the beard this afternoon since it really needed it after the new 'do. I gotta get better about keeping up with that.

Part of the transitions I've been undertaking lately, trying to celebrate life and look forward to the future.

The Right Time

In the past few weeks of not blogging, I missed something important. February 6, 2009, marked the ten-year anniversary of when I started writing about my life online. Back then, there were no blogs, but there were people who kept online journals using a wacky thing called HTML. I thought it was great because I could use Netscape Composer to keep mine, which I started on February 6, 1999. For the first couple of years, I used a pseudonym. Then I stopped. The online record of my life has taken different forms over the years, but it's been going on for just over a decade.

Something that I've heard more than once over the years is that people forget I don't write under a pseudonym. People comment on the fact that I provide certain details about my life that others choose not to reveal. Remember when I started the blog before this one in 2003 and kept track of my weight in the sidebar? Good times.

Though some people would not talk about their lives in the ways that I have, it's always felt pretty comfortable to me for reasons I've talked about before. I teach autobiography, which means I surround myself by people's stories of themselves. And these stories are often pretty intense and traumatic. What I talk about on this blog is nothing and feels like nothing, though I can understand why everyone makes her or his choices about how much to reveal.

Of course, it's not like I say everything on this blog even if, especially in the past, it looked like it. For example, I've been seeing a therapist since July 2005. At times, I almost talked about it, but I always held back. I think a part of me worried that it would affect tenure, especially since I started therapy out of job anxiety. Those who were reading my old blog around that time may remember that I would have bouts of vomiting every few weeks. I always thought it was something I ate, but they started to happen more frequently. And Da Man was worrying, of course. I largely started because of him, because I didn't want him to worry.

And therapy was what it was supposed to be. Either weekly or biweekly, I would vent. About anything in my head. And I said it all, no matter how minor or major it seemed. I've had friends in therapy talk about tense sessions where neither they nor the therapist would speak for several minutes, but not me. There were times when I would even think, "He keeps interrupting me!" When I started, I thought I was intensely screwed up. But I just needed to talk. I wondered about meds but didn't end up on any (not that I have a problem with them since they have helped many people I know). I just needed to talk and talk and talk. And I've been doing that ever since.

I haven't exactly kept it secret, though. I told some people now and then. In almost every case, the response was something about how they had seen one or were seeing one or thought about seeing one. Only once did someone look at me with a bit of horror on hir face. And that should have been a sign that I did not need this person in my life, but that's another story. It certainly worked out that I was seeing someone when my mother died. There were several other times when the timing of my sessions coincided perfectly with other events I needed to process. I've been very fortunate to have found the right person at the right time.

That's why today's session felt a little odd. I am shifting to seeing him once a month, possibly with an eye toward ending it all together. It's a perfectly logical move. I started to see him because of anxiety I had about doing my job well and earning tenure. And I've earned tenure. For the few sessions before that final letter, it felt like we were biding time, waiting for the final word. And when that word arrived, our sessions shifted to celebration.

As I told him and Da Man, I do have a stupid worry that something big will happen now that I'm not seeing him regularly. But if that were to happen, I could easily call him for an immediate appointment. And while bad things can happen at anytime, there's nothing on the horizon that needs my attention or worry. He asked me if I felt able to celebrate tenure or if I felt guilty considering some of the other things people close to me are suffering, especially in this economy. And I quickly said yes. Sure, I worry about some friends and family. I wonder if there is anything I can do while also belieiving it all will work out, just hoping that any transitions are as smooth as possible.

But when he asked if I could celebrate this time in my life, I said yes because I remembered where I was a year ago. I was at a pretty severe low. Any protective shock I had built around me about my mother's death was gone. I felt the loss more deeply than I had in previous months. And some other things were happening with other people in my life that were difficult to handle because my mind was already elsewhere. I started a paper journal again, and I wrote page after page. The first day, I sat in Starbucks and wrote more by hand than I had written in years. And I didn't stop. I refuse to read it now because I don't want to go back there. I am in a different place today, and I am thankful.

There's plenty of other stuff I could talk about in therapy. There's other things that I wonder about and that I'd like to make better. But I can't create perfection. And it is time for the next phase of my life, whatever that is. In just a few minutes, I could break down easily about my mother. But I can turn that off a little more easily than before. Actually, a lot more easily. And this past year, I've grown closer to some friends and distant from others. The confusion and fear from last year is gone, pretty much, for now.

Oh, I still have anxiety. I am me, after all. And the other day I was in a pissy, annoyed mood. Da Man said, "I thought you'd never be in a bad mood again." My answer? "Who'd you think you married?" I do worry a little about losing the crutch of the regular sessions I have had for almost four years. But it's also the right time.

It's the right time for a lot of things.

Gratitude

I wanted to say thanks to everyone for all of the congratulatory messages all over the internet about my receiving tenure and being promoted. It really does mean a lot to me, and I know people are genuinely happy for me. But there are two groups I feel like I need to thank specifically.

First, there are my external reviewers. We have to send our scholarship to three people for review. We put together a list of a few names, and our dean contacts three. I'd heard some horror stories about this process, which freaked me out, of course. But the three people who wrote for me were very generous with their time and efforts. It's not just that they said good things, but they offered copious amounts of detail. They really read things closely. And they characterized my work in ways that I'd never really thought about. I'd mention their names, but I'm not sure how private that part of the process is supposed to be. I was just genuinely humbled by their words.

Second, there are my students. I have been told since I was interviewed that teaching matters heavily here, and that made me happy because I think that's where my gifts lie. Student evaluations play a big role here, something many people have criticized. But, again, I have to thank my students not for saying good things about me but for offering great details on so many evaluations. Sure, there are lots of blank or monosyllabic ones, but many students got very specific about what went well in our classes. It made it very easy to say everything else I had to say about my teaching, and I am very grateful for that.

Obviously, I have to thank Da Man, too, for being a freaking saint through this process. I'm not easy to deal with when I'm stressed, but he knows just how I need to be handled. I'm glad that this means security for him, too.

Thanks, everyone!

I'm Done!

Just in case you're not on Twitter. Or Facebook. Or everywhere else I've posted this!