Sigh.

"I don't do goodbyes."

That's what I used to tell people. That is, until college made different kinds of goodbyes more than real for me. When you're in college people leave all the time, professors and students alike. And as much as I haven't enjoyed these goodbyes, I've dealt with them accordingly. Now, I would revise that phrase to read, "I don't do goodbyes very well."

People that have known me forever know that I refuse to end any type of conversation first, unless I absolutely have to. I don't really know what that's about, but it might have something to do with my always wanting to be sure that the person has said all that they wanted or needed to say.  It's one of my very many weird habits. 

I've been contemplating when to write my goodbye post to the ACM Newberry Seminar program since I wrote the last post here, on 3 December. It seemed appropriate to write this post exactly one week after we participated in the all-day conference and presented our topics. 

I didn't come to Chicago, the Newberry, or the ACM Seminar thinking that I would make good friends. I imagined that I would write my paper, spend lots of time in the library, and hang out in Chicago. For some reason, I imagined that I would do all of that alone. I was very excited to meet people, but I wasn't so sure that friendships would be in our future. I was so wrong. There was a huge difference between saying goodbye to the people from the ACM Seminar and saying goodbye to the people from home before I headed to college, and the people on my college campus before I headed to Chicago. I had more time to prepare for the latter set of goodbyes. For the former, we submitted a paper, had a final seminar, presented our papers, had an end-of-the-semester party, packed, and then left before I even realized that I was *actually* leaving.

More from me on Thursday. 

Third Base.

We've reached third base this week. One week from tomorrow, we will have our fifteen minute presentations in an all-day conference at the Newberry. That evening, we will have our end-of-the-semester party. The next day, most of us will be gone.

I can only speak for myself, but I cannot think too much about next Thursday, until I think about next Tuesday at noon. Our papers are now due Tuesday at noon, giving us an extra twelve hours to do more polishing and proofreading, I suspect. I do not plan to steal home plate, and score a run (something that I always did when I played softball). I will wait patiently until it's safe for me to go. That way, a run will be a promise as opposed to a hope. But I will get to home plate. And I won't even have to slide and dirty my uniform.

This week, I'm letting music carry me through. Well, mostly. If I had to describe the paper-writing process in two words, I'd call it "oddly invigorating." This week, if I could summarize my feelings in a song, I would sing the chorus of  "Try a Little Tenderness"(don't watch the video, just listen to the music). I definitely appreciate Otis Redding's original singing and performance, but Chris Brown's rendition has me this week. 

Songs of the week: Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough  and Try a Little Tenderness

Phrase of the week for paper-related conversations: "Hi. Tell me that I can do this, please."

Phrase of the week for other conversations: "Hey, I'll talk to you next week. I have to finish my paper."

So, if you know and/or love me, try a little tenderness with me this week. I'm not too far from normal these days, but I will be all the way back soon. And once I'm back, I'll celebrate by singing  Whitney Houston's Greatest Love of All. 

Change.

This post is pretty unrelated to the Newberry Seminar, but it's not unrelated to the changes and growth that we experience when we are away from home.

Two years ago, you couldn't have paid me one million dollars to get close to a dog. I was the type of child that would dash into the street in order to stay away from a dog. In inner-city Cleveland, there are very many stray dogs and cats. There were so many when I was growing up that I'd mastered an escape plan for the many times that I'd been chased home by a dog while walking from school. I didn't like dogs. I was deathly afraid of them. I even felt uncomfortable being in the same house as dogs. My friends always laughed at me. And whenever I'd suddenly break into a sprint, they always knew that a dog was around. That was a difficult fear to have growing up in my neighborhood, where all of my friends had dogs. I always felt bad when they had to, say, put their dog in a basement just because I was coming over. But I was too afraid of the creatures to let them stay while I was visiting. And I would cringe at the phrase, "S/he doesn't bite." Because, in my opinion, if they have teeth, they bite.

Moving into Gambier as a student at Kenyon College was a huge deal for me, in almost every way that I could imagine. But mostly when it came to animals. I did a summer program at Kenyon, and one of our directors invited us over for a picnic-style dinner. This dinner invitation did not come with the warning that a dog would be present. As soon as I heard the bark, I jumped on the table. Everyone was laughing, but I was nearly in tears. See, this cynophobia was a terrible thing for me. Especially in Gambier, Ohio.

The people of Gambier love their pets. Many people have cats, but the dogs are the ones that roam the township with their owners, the ones that are allowed into offices, and the ones that students care for when families are away. You see, in Gambier's Fourth of July Parade, there is a section devoted to people walking their dogs in the parade. That's how we roll, in Gambier. Even most of these people knew about my fear of dogs, and so they mostly let me be.

I would go to professors's houses that owned dogs, but they would put them away well in advance of my arrival. This happened for all of my first year. I would often see a beautiful Husky named Monty walking with his parents in the village, but refused to get close to him. I thought he was beautiful, but that didn't stop me from crossing to the other side of the street to avoid this dog. One summer evening, when Monty's parents were away, my Super Professor was taking care of him and offered to let me go on a walk with them, at a time that I was feeling sad about some things. I'd always wanted to be friendly with this handsome dog, and my Super Professor helped me to muster up the courage to do so. Sometime between 29 June and 4 July 2007, I went on this walk and got really comfortable with Monty.  And that is when my world started to change even more.

I found myself dog-sitting TJ (a cute, energetic and fluffy monster), and also my beloved Ebony (who is semi-fluffly, calm, and loves me to pieces). 

And then I (sort of) met Rusty. Rusty belongs to my Fierce Professor. He's the type of dog that comes with the warning, "Stay away from this dog! He will bite you!" But he's so loyal to his wonderful owners. I've had many dinners at Rusty's house, and he almost always has to be put away. I've even gone on walks with the Fierce Professor, Rusty, and his sister Geni (who is quite the opposite, in behavior, of Rusty), and have been warned to stay away from him. I think that I fell in love with Rusty, the dog, for precisely that reason. I knew where he stood, I knew that I couldn't touch him, and I knew how much he loved his owners. And I was perfectly OK with that. I always admired--and will continue to admire--his stubborn loyalty.  I like to think that I, too, am loyal in that way. But a bit more sociable. Today, there is sadness all around. Rusty had to be put to sleep, as a result of physical and mental ailments. But he was fifteen years old, and dearly loved by those that knew him and knew how fiercely his owners loved and valued him. When I received the e-mail today confirming that Rusty had been put to sleep, I cried for over fifteen minutes and am still very sad. Rusty had become so much a part of what I consider my Kenyon world, that it will be weird to be in Gambier and go to his house without hearing him bark, and without my Fierce Professor yelling, "Papito! That's Titi Janae! You know her!" Rusty will be missed by all of us that have grown to love him and his family. His passing has honestly made me realize how far along I've come with animals. And also how much one can be affected by the passing of an animal, something that I probably wouldn't have thought twice about two years ago. Rusty is in a better place now, but that doesn't mean that his presence here on earth won't be missed. Rest in peace, Rusty. 

I've dived back into Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet today. And the more I read the text the more necessary and appropriate I'm finding it to be, for helping to me understand some of the things that happen in life. Today, this part is especially helpful for understanding people's relationships with their animals: 

if there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still full of happening, in which you may participate.

I'm even understanding more about how I've come to love certain peoples' pets that are in my life. I'm keeping Rusty's parents and other family members in my thoughts and prayers, as I always do, but even more so. I am sure that even though Rusty is gone, he will never desert his mami. I'm a firm believer that memories and love keep spirits alive.

Since I've been in college, I have been growing in my own way. Sometimes, I think about my freshman self, and am surprised at how, for example, this summer my rising junior self took care of Monty for a while. I appreciate everyone, every thing, and all of my favorite animals that have helped me to become who I am today. And I appreciate this program for getting me even further along in the process. For now, I'm going to get back to Rilke. Later, I will get back to revising. We have ten days left in this program.

(Addendum: I have to say that there *was* one dog in my life before. He was a German Shepherd mixed with a Rottweiler that my father's parents bought for me when I was four years old. It seemed that they had forgotten that my mother and her mother, whom I lived with, were not fond of animals. At any rate, Duke stayed there, and I barely got to know him. He became an outdoor dog and was quite huge. I don't remember ever going near him.)   

Break!

My Thanksgiving break officially started today at noon. I submitted my 40+ page paper this morning at 11:03am, just in time to head out for a parting breakfast for two of my three wonderful guests that visited this weekend. Most people in the program jetted out this past Thursday. Two of us will remain for the entire break (there is another still around, but he leaves Wednesday). 

This week will be full of many visitors, many lunch dates, many dinner dates, many museum trips, and many heart-to-hearts. And yet I will still find time for that extra research and writing. 

But, my goodness, I didn't realize how heavily everything has been weighing down on me. Turning this draft in was such a relief! After I submitted the draft, and as we sat in the cutesie cafe for our late breakfast today, I exhaled in a way that I haven't in a while. And tonight at the Thai restaurant with my dear friend (a recent Kenyon grad), and two first-year Kenyon friends of mine, I exhaled a bit more. And I've just done it again. 

Now, we will eat some ice-cream and watch a movie in my warm and cozy apartment. I'll likely distract myself, every now and again, by looking out the window to see if tonight's snow will stick.

Not quite.

It's 10:37pm. I'm sitting in my apartment with all three lights on, and it's still pretty dark. But I won't complain because our handbook told us to bring our own lamps for extra light, and I obviously ignored that advice. I guess I just didn't imagine that I would write in my apartment. I imagined writing everything in the library. But that just doesn't happen. Not quite.

It's a Friday night, and I'm working on my draft. Outside, the taxis lay on their horns, and people scream at one another.  Inside, I'm wondering how much more I'll actually accomplish tonight. 

(People--specifically the bar-goers in this neighborhood--yell the weirdest things! I could write entire stories based on the conversations I hear from inside my apartment.) (It's great for eavesdropping!) (Why, again, haven't I written any poems here? I would have some great material!)

As great as these conversations (and sometimes arguments) are, these are the days when I miss the (semi-) quietude of my college town. City-life is fantastic, but I'm finding that, despite having lived in a city for eighteen years, it doesn't quite work for me anymore. But when I think about the fact that I haven't had the same adventure twice here, I remember how great it is to have access to so many excellent things. 

Except quietness. Which is an excellent thing that is hard to find, when you aren't at the library. 

Ah. So, *this* is how it works:

Use the weekend to think about it. Go to office hours on Monday. Focus. Think of the idea (out of the many that are in the paper right now) that you want to write about most. Ah! there's your thesis. And now think through the setbacks (and even talk to some of your Kenyon people about them). You'll find that they were not setbacks, just more interesting complications. (This is a good thing.) On your walk home, smile to yourself as you think about how much easier this would be if you had a muse. Continue to smile when you realize that you actually do, in some ways. When you get home, map an outline. No, really: map it. Draw it out, diagram style. Organize your thoughts. Structure your ideas and themes. Write. Make some tea, and drink out of your Superwoman mug from the Alicia Keys concert. Breathe a little easier. And don't forget to take heart. You can do it. Just keep writing and thinking and developing and pushing. Now you're starting to get the hang of this thing.

Quick pick-me-up.

Turns out that visitors, and a talent show/potluck dinner this weekend were just what I needed. 

Friday night, we had our ACM Newberry Talent Show and Potluck dinner. I can't tell you how happy I am that it turned out to be such a great evening. Everyone that was in town contributed to the potluck dinner AND performed a talent. And our professors cooked some of the best soup I've had in a long time. 

After dinner, the talent show portion of the night started with an awesomely entertaining performance of the Calypso dance from Beetlejuice. Awe. Some. I was the emcee of the talent show, and ended up "performing" thrice. There was an amazing Spicegirls/Diana Ross and the Supremes/Three Dog Night/Bobby Vinton medley, a nursery rhyme reading in *six* different languages, some autoharp playing, some guitar playing and chinese love song recitation, a creative writing flash fiction dedication, some super intense juggling, a performance of "I'd Be Surprisingly Good For You" by Evita, a dramatic reading (which channeled a muse!) of three chapters from a 1952 etiquette book, a reading of poems by insomniacs as well as a poem read for speed in good, high school debate fashion, a performance on how to make bread, and finally (or so I thought...) some saxophone playing. 

***stretches fingers after typing that long sentence***

I'm sure that my guests appreciated meeting the people I've come to know, in this particular way! 

On Saturday, me and my guests ate, shopped, ate, shopped, napped, ate, coffeed (I know that it's not a *real* word, but it *should* be!), prepared for bed, had tea, and slept some good sleep. After a nice breakfast at the Original Pancake House this morning, my guests headed back to Gambier. My heart feels a little empty whenever I say good bye to people. Be it a telephone, instant message, or in-person good bye. But it won't be long before I see them again. 

It was so good to have them here, and to be able to vent about what I've been calling my Tragedy AKA my-setback-that-has-turned-my-research-into-bits-and-pieces-of-incoherent-ideas-arguments-and-words. But I won't be talking about that on this blog. Only about how, starting tomorrow, I will approach this setback and my incoherent pages with a ready attitude.

Our 40-page drafts are due next Monday. That Monday also kicks off our week long Thanksgiving break. So this week will be about working, writing, and thinking like I've learned to! I will get the job done. I believe that.

This post's picture is of my group's performance (the medley) for the talent show. This is the only picture I'm posting, because I haven't asked permission to post anyone else's. What a great way to take a break from the intensity of the program, and cool down for a night, over some great food with our professors. 

As I went up to end the show and thank everyone, a few members of the crowd interrupted, "but Janae, you didn't do a solo talent!" I responded, "Do I seriously need to do a solo talent? I've been up here all night," They said yes. And so I recited my most favorite poem, "As Kingfishers Catch Fire" by Gerard Manley Hopkins. 

"Yes."

A classmate-friend of mine took that funny picture of me while I was writing in the library today. I took the camera from her, and took a picture from my point of view. I almost always build some sort of fort with my books when I go into the library to research and write. It keeps me focused.

The other day I received this (below) surprise in the mail from a guy friend at Kenyon. He had been painting to relieve some stress, and painted me a picture of Kenyon in the fall. He thought that I might enjoy seeing a piece of fall from Kenyon. I hadn't even told him how much I missed it.

This Friday is the program's potluck dinner and talent show, organized by Professor Schell and I. The rule is if you don't perform a talent, you don't eat. And lets just say that I've proved to be quite persuasive and everyone (including our professors!) is planning to perform. But at about the same time that dinner is supposed to start on Friday, my two weekend visitors from Gambier should be arriving. As much as I'm looking forward to seeing those two wonderful women, I'll admit that I'm worried about how much writing I'll manage to get done while they're here.

There is a sign on the back of a newspaper stand on the corner of our block that reads:

"Yes" We are open 24 hours.

I have it posted on the sidebar of this blog. We've been laughing at this sign for three months now, and still haven't decided why the yes is being hugged by quotation marks. Does it mean "yes" as in, "we only say we're open 24 hours but we really aren't?" I like to think so.We know that it's probably just meant to emphasize the "yes," but it's more fun to debate the meaning. Sometimes, if we are out pretty late, we even check to see if anyone is inside the small stand. And so far they've always been there, even if they were sound asleep.

"Yes," I'm calm.

"No," I'm not worried.

"No," I'm not freaking out.

But, yes, it will all work out just fine. I believe that.

Drafting.

Did you know that there are at least thirteen definitions for draft? And that's only on the Merriam Webster Online Dictionary. AND that's only for its noun form. Heaven only knows what might have happened to my brain tonight if I had access to the OED from my apartment. 

I've come to appreciate turning in drafts to our professors here. If it weren't for those deadlines, there is a good chance that I may not have been as far into the paper as I am right now. The kind of drafting we are doing is pretty close to the second definition of the transitive verb form: "[drawing] the preliminary sketch, version, or plan of" (MWOD). But I'd like to think of them as being closest to the fifth definition of the noun form, which calls a draft a scheme. It's true--we are scheming! We have each found projects and topics that excite the kind of passion in us that independent research fosters. The scheming comes in when we work to get others excited about the project, and prove to them that our arguments are worth reading and discussing.

I was working on this week's thirty-page draft today when I first thought to myself, "What does it even *mean* to draft?!" There is a very simple way to answer that question. But that's no fun. So, quite naturally, I looked up the word's definition. Finding out that I needed to scroll down the page to read all of the definitions, I started thinking about what some of these various drafts have meant for me this semester. 

I can identify with definitions 1-6, 9, and 11-13 of the noun form, and definitions 1 and 2 of the verb form. (Some of the identifications are a stretch, but where there's a will, there's a way. Many of the definitions use terms that make it so easy to use creative liberties.)

The thirty-page draft is due in T minus five days. The forty-page draft is due in T minus fifteen days. The paper is due in T minus twenty-nine days.

This program offers us many worlds. Not only are we writing these research papers, but we are living in a fabulous city, taking a seminar with great professors, spending a semester away from our campuses (and becoming familiar with what that even means for--and to--us), and experiencing some serious intellectual growth, to name a few things. But still, especially these days, I'm missing many of the great people in my life.

I missed my grandmother's call on Sunday, because I was out to dinner at an excellent Ethiopian restaurant with six other people in the program. Being the sports fanatic that she is, my grandmother left a message letting me know that her Cleveland Cavaliers were going to beat my Chicago Bulls. My immediate response when I called her back was, "When exactly did they become my Chicago Bulls? and does that mean that, somehow, I've lost my status as a Clevelander because I've been away?" She laughed.

In a little under five weeks, on a Sunday, I'll be back in Cleveland. Today, when I realized that our time here is winding down, I got really sad. I've met some great people here, and it will be weird to not be around them once this program is over. 

I'm already finding comfort in the fact that, for at least a few weeks, I'll be going back to some of the things and people I've missed the most. 

This evening, four of us watched The Sting, and, as always, we laughed and joked with one another, while still managing to pay close attention to the movie. I'm already missing these small types of things with this group of people, and I'm not even gone yet. 

On another note, I won't miss the significant draft (henh. Forgive me, but it's true!) that comes through my window, even though it's closed. Partly because I'm anticipating the warmth that being around my closest friends from Ohio will bring me, just before I head off to do this thing all over again in England.

 

Just keep swimming.

We are knee-deep in research and writing. In very few ways, this week has been lighter than usual because the next draft is not due until Friday 14 November. But we are all pressing on, and working hard. I am not really feeling discouraged, but I am learning about the intensity of independent research papers. I have to keep reminding myself to continue to work, even when I feel inclined to take a break. It is always better to stay ahead. Sometimes work is reading. Most times work is writing. Other times, work is thinking. My goal for the rest of the semester is to work for at least seven hours a day. I am going to just keep swimming.

In other news, after working on my paper and working at my job in Special Collections today, I am taking the evening off. I am going to see the Margaret Garner opera at the Auditorium Theatre. This will be my first big adventure alone, since I have been here. But with my excellent seat and this most heartrending of fugitive slave stories being performed, I will be more than OK. With the opera being centered around a fugitive slave, it will probably be hard for me to not think about my research. And so I will end up putting in a couple of "work" hours anyway. :)

Exhausted.

I cannot decide whether tonight's post will be about my time in Grant Park last night, how full I have been feeling all day, or something totally different.

This morning, my city-walking-face morphed into my I-am-so-happy-that-America-wants-change face. There was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it from happening. And there was nothing that I wanted to do to stop it either.

As if it were not significant enough to me before, I find myself more and more invested in my research.  I know that this is a young love, but it feels so real. A friend of mine, a first-year graduate student at Yale, sent me a message with a subject line asking, "did you ever read this?" This is one of my most favorite subjects to read in my inbox, after "dude!" and "really?" Messages like those usually promise to reveal something cool.

This particular message led me to Frederick Douglass's short and simple, yet loaded, speech "What I Would Do If I Were President,"  which rocked me on at least two levels. 

The first level is all about my research. A couple of days ago, I finally decided to use Frederick Douglass's narratives in my research, along with Henson's narratives. This was a huge decision for me. It means that many pages that are already written may not find their way into the final draft at all, which is something I expected, but in a far different way. And although I have been reading all of these narratives with a more suspicious eye, after reading articles on and by the "masters of the hermeneutics of suspicion" in this seminar, I do my best to keep in mind my subjects' humanity and the more simple reasons that they tell their stories. I am just trying to treat their texts the way that I feel they deserve to be treated.

I am all about authorship, audience, memory, and trauma (though trauma may turn into body soon). These themes and all of their theories have me wrapped around their metaphorical fingers until (at least) 8 December at midnight.

For now, I am taking a *very* short break from my research and taking part in this Obama-mania!

 

 

Last night's historic election results made me susceptible to being rocked on the second level. I think that it should go without saying that we, as a country, have been needing the kind of change that President-elect Obama promises for a while now. That we might finally be able to address and conquer concerns leaders had over a century and a half ago makes my heart all the more happy.

The countdown to the California polls started at 7 seconds. As soon as the countdown ended, CNN projected an Obama victory. The crowd went absolutely wild with excitement. But just as soon as the excitement and noise started, it stopped. The wave of silence was unreal to me. There was not a face around me that was not stained with tears of joy. Everyone hugged everyone. No matter the race, gender, height, age--nothing stopped everyone in Grant Park from showing one another how important that moment was! It was like a huge love-fest, full of people that were just excited for change.

YES WE DID.  

Election Day!

GET OUT THERE AND VOTE TODAY! As for the Newberry Seminar, we all voted early! And some of us will be at Grant Park tonight, to (hopefully) witness the results of one of the most historic elections ever. Vote smart and informed!

Peer Review.

Peer reviewing, in my opinion, is one of *the* most difficult things to do. Yet when it's done right, it is quite rewarding. Our lovely professors partnered us up, and we exchanged our twenty page drafts this weekend. We have a list of questions to answer after going over our partner's paper. I am confident that everyone in this program will do it right. Once we receive our drafts from our partners, we are supposed to discuss the papers with one another. Then, the draft owners will write a cover letter responding to the peer-editing,  and we will hand everything in to our professors at our brown bag lunch on Tuesday.

Things are happening. They really, really are!

Happy Halloween!

Presentations went well. Now, I'm off to have dinner with Kenyon's campus advisor for the program (my first year advisor) and his wife (another professor of mine). But I'll leave two more pictures for you.

First, a Graceland Cemetery tombstone (from our lovely tour):

And now a Navy Pier tombstone:

And so it goes.

This week's writing is not coming along AT ALL. Our twenty page draft is due this Friday, and I haven't even started writing my next ten pages. BUT we got our ten page drafts back today, and apparently I'm off to a good start! That's exciting. What's kind of frustrating is that I've slipped back into my dark habits. Those habits being late-night brainstorming and writing. Usually, I don't mind falling into my pattern. But it's hard to do that here, where most of our books are non-circulating, and the latest the library is open during the week is 7.45pm. So I'm going to have to be a little better about having disciplined writing. But that's not my style. At least it used to not be my style. So I'm going to have to pretend that it's me, this semester, for my sanity's sake! We'll see how it all works out. I'm sure that it will.

After we turn in our twenty page drafts this Friday, we will be presenting to the campus advisors from all of the ACM/GLCA  schools. Eek! By the time I leave here, I won't have a presentation-shy bone in my body. 

My schedule is going to be crazy demanding, from here on out. But in such great ways that I'm sure I'll find it hard to complain. Well, maybe not. I'm pretty good at complaining, when I need to be. Maybe I'll just tone it down a bit though. I don't generally complain aloud. So.

I'm getting excited for the Chicago Humanities Festival which kicks off this weekend. Because we're in this program, we get to participate in the Chicago Humanities Festival, and the ACM paid for us to attend some sessions. This year's Chicago Tribune Literary Prize goes to David McCullough. This weekend I'm attending a breakfast on Saturday, and a breakfast on Sunday, followed by McCullough's lecture, among the other sessions that I plan to hit up. I think that it actually lasts about two weeks, so I'll try to attend plenty of events. 

My research is changing and taking shape in ways that I hardly imagined it would. But the research is getting a lot more focused, now that I know what I'm looking for in each of my sources. And I'm learning the art of skimming. Skimming used to be virtually impossible for me to do. I never liked to skip over words, sentences, and paragraphs! I still don't like it, but I can appreciate having to do it a bit more!

 I'm about to watch a few episodes of Rome with some friends, after I  try to knock out at least two or three pages of this draft. I'm feeling super bad about not having started this draft. But all is well that ends well--I'm counting on that. Well, I'm going to end here, for fear that I won't have any words left when I try to start the next ten pages of my draft. :) That's not a real fear, but I thought that it would be an interesting way to end. Except that, apparently, I'm not ending there anymore. I'm ending here.

In the groove.

Things are moving along here. It is getting real. I actually see words on paper. I'm writing. This is happening. And it won't stop until 8 December, when the paper is due. For some, the writing aspect of research is the most rewarding part. For me, I never want to stop researching. If I could just research for the entire semester, that would be all right with me. But I can't. I'm sure that in a week, or so, I'll feel rewarded by the execution of my research that is writing. For now, though, it hardly feels real! My topic is developing really well, and that is something that I sometimes forget that writing does for me. I've come to a conclusion about the relationship between the memories in Henson's narrative. However, I have yet to decide what that even means. But I don't need to do that just yet. Not yet.

Tonight I'm going to see the opera, Manon, with a colleague. This will be my first opera experience, and I'm pretty excited about going. In November, I'm planning to go the Margaret Garner opera performance, just to get a taste of that performance. And Toni Morrison writes the Libretto (I hope that's the right word--I don't know opera talk).

While my research is going really well, and the city is fantastic, for some reason I keep crying. Randomly. Just crying. I could just be sitting in my apartment and something completely meaningless can happen and I just start crying. And many of us have experienced this. It's part of being in an off-campus studies program.

We had a sleep-over in my room last night where we watched Now and Then, ate popcorn and snacks, and just had girl talk. It was all good fun. I'm finding that the people in this program are genuinely good people. I look for realness in people long before I can consider them friends. It's very important for me to see how a person treats others, before I determine to what extent they might fit into my life, and also to what extent I might fit in theirs. I didn't start doing this until my sophomore year, when I discovered that everyone that says they are for you aren't. And so I re-evaluated my friendships and minor associations. I didn't put people through tests to see who was the best, but I examined the relationships on my own. This is sort of how I determined who to spend my time with. It seemed to me that if someone was bringing me down I should let them go. For example, I *had* a friend at Kenyon that would criticize every, single thing that I did. It frustrated me to the point that I would sometimes cry. It occurred to me that my friendship with her was in no way, shape, or form making me a better person. A good friend of mine, Jamesy Flaherty wrote to me once that he was happy to be surrounded by people that make him want to love in a better way. Those are the types of relationships I stick with; I want to be better and do things in a better way. The Newberry program and the seminar dynamics are amazing. I'm writing all this to let you know that I'm happy here in terms of the friends I have made. I'm surrounded by a community of scholars that make me want to work and learn in a better way. That's fantastic.

A lot of my classmates here are sick, and I'm doing my best to stay healthy. I have to! Mostly because we have draft, after draft, after draft, after draft due. Ten pages this Friday, twenty the next Friday, thirty two Fridays later, and about a week later  FORTY!. Our full sixty pages is due on 8 December at midnight! This is all frightening and exciting at the same time! I'm beginning to recognize that I will, without a doubt, be able to write sixty pages on my topic. And it continues to get more and more fascinating to me!

I've discovered that it is not writing that I love, at first. It's the research that I love. I get a kick out of learning, learning, and learning. For some reason, it's always painful for me to start writing. But once I start I remember why application is so important. I love that my words are providing information, and giving even more substance to my research. Because what good is knowing, if you don't share your knowledge?! I know this is kind of backwards. Many people that I know rush through the research to get to the writing parts. I always have to *force* myself to stop reading and researching. But, at this point, I'm loving writing again. I'm realizing that I can write and research simultaneously! That's no small thing. Honestly. I used to think of writing and research as either/or, meaning that you do them one at a time. But I like that I now think of it as a both/and deal. How could I have not realized that before?! I probably sound so silly right now, but extensive research makes one that way. I love it. :)

Fall(ing).

I hear that back home it's starting to look like fall. Here in Chicago, it's starting to feel like fall, but we don't quite have the look down pat. We went on a class field trip to Graceland Cemetery this past Friday, and it definitely looked like fall there. I have been looking for fall a little closer to home (the Near North area of Chicago), these days. For example, I've been getting a kick out of the fire red leaves that climb the bricks that surround the huge windows on the second floor of the Newberry. That view has worked wonders for me this week. 

 

I think that we are experiencing the point in the semester where work is picking up, research is picking up, and everyone is missing home. I know that I've definitely reached that point. I've been worried that I would fall back into my bad habit of procrastinating (big time!). Just when things were starting to look bad, I decided to make some changes. Spice up my experience a bit. Make myself as excited as I was when I first got here. Get it? And so I did. I started going to Operas with my colleagues, experiencing more fine Chicago dining, and hanging out with the group more. 

Most importantly, I changed the way I saw my research. Literally. When I work in 2-West at the Newberry, I'm surrounded by what my colleagues consider my fort of books. I take notes in a new journal, *always* write with my super-pencil, and keep my focus rock in my field of vision at all times. These little things help. I'm now back into my research with renewed energy! My weapons of mass destruction were all made possible by the woman that, I think, cultivated my intellectual side more than anyone else. She's a super-professor, with a super-brain. And my weapons remind me that I, too, have super-qualities. And I am here in the Newberry's intellectual community to nurture them.

We are working hard, people. All of us.

Guilty Pleasures.

You learn to cope with extensive research projects. This evening, I've just finished watching a couple of episodes from season two of The Tudors and one episode from season one of Rome. Great shows, great shows. Tonight, before I lay down and rest my body and brain for 7.5 hours, I will probably watch an episode or two of The Secret Life of the American Teenager. THAT show is a guilty pleasure of mine. Thank God for TV on the interwebs. :)

If you've never watched Tina Fey's 30 Rock, you're missing out on life.

We each had to turn in a prospectus for our research projects last week. We are supposed to get them back tomorrow, and we are all a bit nervous about our professors' comments. This is one event that I'm not so nervous about. I'm generally only nervous when I don't think that I know what I'm talking/writing about. That is not the case with this project. In some ways, I feel like I know a little too much about what I want to write about. So, I'll be looking forward to seeing their comments on my initial approach to tackling this project. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

In the meantime, I'm back to my guilty pleasures. And tonight I'm not feeling ashamed. At least not *too* ashamed.

And some nights.

Some nights, you are so researched-out that you don't know what goes where. All you know is that Chicago Deep Dish pizza sounds really good.

*Eating pizza with a friend at Gino's East.

President's Reception, and such.

Tonight we were invited to the Newberry President's reception for the fellows. We mixed, and mingled, and met some brilliant scholars. I think that I speak for us all when I say that we are exhausted. 

Yet research and class must go on!

This morning was so foggy that I thought something outside was afire.

Happy October.

I think that this is the earliest I've written on here so far. It's 10am here, and I've just finished my reading for tomorrow's class. It is strange for me, this having a full day to read but completing it in the morning. But I think that I like it. We don't have our seminar class on Tuesdays, but we have Brown Bag lunches from noon until 1pm, and I have to work from 2-5pm. Once I've finished this post, I will head out and do an hour, or so, of research before the lunch. After work I will probably sink into my chair in front of my reading desk, in a cozy corner of the Newberry beside a huge window on the second floor. While there, I will (deo volante!) finish the third edition of Josiah Henson's narratives. My research is proving to be quite fruitful, mostly in that each of his editions have enough difference for me to want to examine--Mr. Henson is truly an interesting man. I'll tell more about it, when I'm confident enough. :) 

Today's weather is beautiful. I was only out of the apartment for my 7am walk, which wasn't very sunny because the sun was just rising, but I'm excited to go  back outside and walk around.  

I'm missing Gambier and my Kenyon people an awful lot this week. I don't know that I'd call it home-sickness yet. But if there were a way to bring my Kenyon people to Chicago with me, I would be ALL over it! I like this city a lot. My affection for it does not compare to my affection for Gambier, but it's pretty close. It's so different, in a way that I am completely in love with right now. This past Saturday, after I went to a banned books reading here at Pioneer Plaza, I hung out with some recent Kenyon grads and I had a blast. We went on the river and lake boat cruise, which is actually a really cool architectural tour, in a boat. I realized when we were out to dinner after the cruise that I missed Kenyon a lot. They are cool people. I hardly spent time with them at Kenyon, but I suspect that we'll all be hanging out--at least a few times--here. 

I'm going to go on and make my way to the library. I'm going to take the long way, just to enjoy being outdoors in the sun for a little longer. It's scarf weather--my favorite!

Flag Bearing, The Whirling Dervishes, and A Birthday. Research goes on.

This is the latest I've written so far, and it's because I've forced myself to stay off of the internet and get many other things done. This turned into me taking an extra walk along Lake Michigan's coast. I found a concrete peninsula. And I sat on that peninsula, with my feet hanging off. And I wrote. For about two hours.

Two days ago, eight of us went over to the World Music Festival at Millennium Park to see the Whirling Dervishes perform. It was so nice. Also, one of my colleagues and I ended up being flag bearers for the World Peace Flag Ceremony that opened the event. They were missing eleven people, and since we were there early, the director asked if we would volunteer. And two of us did. Seriously! I carried Iceland's flag.

To celebrate my birthday, about ten of us went to the Grand Lux Cafe on Michigan Avenue for dinner. Enjoy these few pictures from the past two nights.

 

There is not much happening on my end this next week, except for gearing into my research paper. I've narrowed my research even more. I've decided to work with the slave narratives of Josiah Henson. He is supposedly the "Uncle Tom" that Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote her novel about. He wrote four different autobiographies himself. The first was written in 1849, the last in 1879 or 1881. I would give you more information on this, except I pretty much researched for eight hours today, and I'd like to take a break from thinking about him. But soon, I'll give you a more detailed project description. We seal the deal on our topics this Friday with two or three sentences stating our intentions. The Josiah Henson topic is the one that everyone (including myself) is especially excited about. I'm excited to tell you about the topic some time soon.

This is how it works.

I'm sort of scatter-brained today. I was at the library from 7:30am until 4pm today, so my brain is sort of fed up with me. I am going to head out to Lake Michigan (only two blocks away!) and take some pictures. For now, feast on the picture of the Bean-Mirror Thingy that I photographed just before Andrew Bird's free concert at Millenium Park a week (or two?) ago. The sculpture is actually called Cloud Gate.

 

Kenyon in Chicago!

What a coincidence that the semester that I'm away from Kenyon, Kenyon comes to Chicago? Earlier today, Kenyon beat the University of Chicago in football. My Kenyon advisor told me once that if you walk around downtown Chicago with a Kenyon t-shirt on, there is a good chance that someone will approach you telling you that they are an alum, or something along those lines. I think that at today's football game there were more Kenyon supporters than U of C supporters! I ended up sitting close to the fabulous President Nugent, the chair of Kenyon's board of trustees, Dean Gocial and their loved ones. In good Kenyon fashion, I made fast friends with some alumni that ended up on the same bus as me. Our connection was, of course, our Kenyon t-shirts. 

The best part about this was seeing some of my friends. Everyone in the Newberry program is cool, but that doesn't mean that I don't miss my friends like crazy.

The Book as a World Rocker.

Today, in Chicago, I cannot find a single cloud in the sky. This would make the average person super excited. But me? It scares me a little. I have no idea why it scares me, but it does. At any rate, I will confess that I think that a cloudless sky is extraordinarily beautiful. Especially when the western sun swipes the side of an off-white brick high-rise against the sky, while crows circle the top of the building. That is what I see right now, when I look to the northeast, from my left window.

The past week has been intense here at the Newberry. I can already sense that I won't be writing here every two days, as I had planned. We handed in our second papers at noon today. Tomorrow, we will discuss the introduction and opening chapter of our third book! (Third book! And classes just started, really, last Tuesday.) It is nothing short of fantastic. The seminar that I'm taking is Community and Memory: Texts, Images, and Monuments. I will generally approach the seminar from the themes of Memory and Text, while being sure to dive into issues of Community, I suspect. I am being consumed by the awesomeness of the texts we are reading already.  I definitely appreciate how loaded words like "community," "text," and "memory" are these days. I thought that I appreciated them before, but now I see them in an entirely different light.

I start my job in Special Collections at the Newberry Library tomorrow. It is a closed-stacks library, but one of the perks of my job is being one the people that goes into the stacks (all five floors of them!) and handles the manuscripts, books, and maps that can date all the way back to the thirteenth century. The stacks look a bit like the Department (or Hall? I cannot remember.) of Mysteries in the Harry Potter movies. I am utterly amazed by what goes on in this research library. In the best of ways. For this program, we were able to take a look at different job descriptions and "interview" for those jobs. I am so happy that I am going to be working for special collections! I can't wait!

My project? I have a new development in that area, and after reading this section you will be the first to know besides the professor that I had to meet with today. We went to a presentation today on the "Book as Object" and it ROCKED MY WORLD. I had never thought very much about books as objects, and about the issues and decisions that go into the printing, publishing, and distributing of them. For the past few hours, that has been all I have been able to think about. I could not even force myself to take a nap because my brain would not turn off. That is the kind of learning that I love. But I also love to take naps, so I hope that I learn to control my thoughts. I will be working with slave narratives, and for the first time I will approach them from a history of print, or history of the book point of view, I think. I want to figure out who published slave narratives, and under what circumstances. What types of people were these publishers? What kinds of audiences might they attract? How much did this complicate what the slaves were able to write? Where slave narratives bound, and taken care of? And, if so, with how much detail? Did these publishers face any opposition? Did they stick to the manuscripts they were given? Or were there stipulations? Right now, I am full of questions, but this idea should develop more fully by Thursday. It actually *has* to develop by Thursday. We have to present three proposals to our professors this Thursday for feedback. We basically have to convince them that what we want to pursue is worthy. It should be interesting.

Seminar!

We had our first seminar today. It was quite an interesting meeting, too. They handed out the syllabus, and we went through it as a group. This is going to be a fun group of people to get to know. We have four people from Lawrence University, two from Beloit, two from Kenyon, one from Macalester, one from Colorado College, one from Grinnell, and one person from Knox College. Although Lawrence's numbers dominate, they didn't seem like a faction, which is good. 

Our seminar is team taught by two very cool profesoras. They are appropriately nerdy in their habits and interactions, so I am very much looking forward to working with them. The professor from Beloit is a Medievalist, and the professor from Monmouth teaches Religion and Philosophy.

I am not yet wired in my apartment, so today I write surrounded by stack after stack of reference books at the Newberry Library. I am sitting in the Eliphalet W. Blatchford Reference and Bibliographical Center on the library's third floor. Even that name intimidates me.

Speaking of being intimidated, yesterday we turned in our first papers on St. Augustine's Confessions. Because this was our summer assignment, I am a bit nervous about the outcome, seeing as how I do not really know what the professors are looking for in our writing. I guess we will have to wait and see! We have started our first round of Library Orientations. From the looks of the schedule, it seems that we will have orientations for at least the next four weeks! We'll see how that goes!

For now, I will just go back to my apartment to refresh my reading of the Confessions to prepare for tomorrow's discussion. And you can check out the way the sunlight shines through my windows in the mornings.

 

First Days, First Days.

It's Labor Day. And instead of being at home, attending the annual family picnic, I'm in Chicago settling into my new apartment. The Canterbury Court apartments are pretty nice. These studio apartments sure beat the dorm rooms I've lived in. I live on the sixth floor, with windows that face the east. From my right window I can see the Hancock Building! I heard that this program houses you in an ideal location, but now I'm seeing that it's true!

Check out my room!

Three other program participants live down the hall from me. Yesterday, I went over to meet two of them. Tonight, our professors are hosting our first social gathering as a big group. What better way to meet and greet than over dinner?