In Which Iowa City Forgets What Autumn is Supposed to Feel Like
I'm serious. It has been in the low to mid 80s all week, and shall be through the weekend. I do not approve. I have swapped my cardigans and polyester blouses for tank tops, my boots for ballet flats. It's 'casual Friday' and it's too hot outside to wear jeans. I was getting into the swing of fall! I was drinking several cups of tea each day, and making stews in my slow cooker. I was beginning to go to the gym multiple times a week, not breaking out in a colossal sweat on the bicycle ride there, and cooling off on the bicycle ride back to my apartment. But now?
Now I mostly complain, I guess.
Well, and life goes on as well. I am just beginning to grade my students' op-ed analyses, and my Victorian class is finishing up Aurora Leigh. This week I taught proposals by showing three clips from Doctor Who:
1. Nine proposing to Rose that she come with him on the TARDIS.
2. Ten proposing to Martha that he take her on one trip on the TARDIS.
3. Eleven proposing to Amy that she join him on the TARDIS.
And instead of falling in love, the majority of my students maintained that all three regenerations of The Doctor were creepy! One of my students even professed that Ten's eyes, especially, were creepy. Ugh, if by creepy you mean beautiful? So I had no converts. But, they did enjoy the activity, and subsequently I have received proposals for their first speech that have greatly improved on the proposals that I received last month for the papers that I am just about to start grading. So even if they don't love The Doctor, they did at least learn something from him!
Friday, October 07, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
It is rather when
We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge
Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound,
Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth–
'Tis then we get the right good from a book.
--from Aurora Leigh, EBB
I could do with some "gloriously forgetting myself" about now, EBB. What a week! I'm exhausted. I've edited and edited and edited my students' rough drafts during insanely extended office hours, and explained over and over again just what a thesis is and ought to accomplish. I can better appreciate now what my professors were going through in Journeys, or first year English classes like the Chaucer I took with my beloved Dr. West (I should really shoot her an email or a letter). I had my students practice the workshopping of a paper as a class with me last week, and we looked at a paper that I wrote on The Tempest for Literary Analysis when I was 19. It seemed shockingly bad to me--and to them, the grades they gave it ranged from a D to a B--but I do remember having received an A- from Dr. Entzminger. How generous!
I did a little stress-baking earlier in the week and baked oatmeal pecan cookies to send to Robert in Austin. They aren't bad, but I think I still need to work on my baking skills. They might have been better with real butter and chocolate chips, but I don't think those should make a huge difference.
Most exciting, I think, was my stretch of a lesson today (and tomorrow, for my morning section). In honor of Banned Books Week, I managed to tie Harry Potter in to a lesson from our textbook. Having read the chapter called "Arguments of Definition," my students were today instructed to discuss the 'definitions' of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins. I had volunteers read the two songs of the Sorting Hat aloud, and I then jotted down on the board defining features of each House as called out by my students. We discussed what evidence we had of these as definitions and compared them to later stereotypes in the series; but the best part for me was when, in the last 10 minutes of class we Sorted ourselves. I had 4 Gryffs, 3 Ravies, 6 Hufflepuffs, and 7 Slytherins. I was shocked at the results! People admitted to being self-serving and hedonistic rather than noble. And virtually no one wanted to call themselves witty or bookish. Go figure. I dressed appropriately for the occassion as something like a Ravenclaw prefect:
shirt: American Apparel
vest: thrifted
skirt: thrifted
shoes: Urban Outfitters
socks: Sock Dreams
scarf: homemade, gifted
We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge
Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound,
Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth–
'Tis then we get the right good from a book.
--from Aurora Leigh, EBB
I could do with some "gloriously forgetting myself" about now, EBB. What a week! I'm exhausted. I've edited and edited and edited my students' rough drafts during insanely extended office hours, and explained over and over again just what a thesis is and ought to accomplish. I can better appreciate now what my professors were going through in Journeys, or first year English classes like the Chaucer I took with my beloved Dr. West (I should really shoot her an email or a letter). I had my students practice the workshopping of a paper as a class with me last week, and we looked at a paper that I wrote on The Tempest for Literary Analysis when I was 19. It seemed shockingly bad to me--and to them, the grades they gave it ranged from a D to a B--but I do remember having received an A- from Dr. Entzminger. How generous!
I did a little stress-baking earlier in the week and baked oatmeal pecan cookies to send to Robert in Austin. They aren't bad, but I think I still need to work on my baking skills. They might have been better with real butter and chocolate chips, but I don't think those should make a huge difference.
Most exciting, I think, was my stretch of a lesson today (and tomorrow, for my morning section). In honor of Banned Books Week, I managed to tie Harry Potter in to a lesson from our textbook. Having read the chapter called "Arguments of Definition," my students were today instructed to discuss the 'definitions' of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins. I had volunteers read the two songs of the Sorting Hat aloud, and I then jotted down on the board defining features of each House as called out by my students. We discussed what evidence we had of these as definitions and compared them to later stereotypes in the series; but the best part for me was when, in the last 10 minutes of class we Sorted ourselves. I had 4 Gryffs, 3 Ravies, 6 Hufflepuffs, and 7 Slytherins. I was shocked at the results! People admitted to being self-serving and hedonistic rather than noble. And virtually no one wanted to call themselves witty or bookish. Go figure. I dressed appropriately for the occassion as something like a Ravenclaw prefect:
shirt: American Apparel
vest: thrifted
skirt: thrifted
shoes: Urban Outfitters
socks: Sock Dreams
scarf: homemade, gifted
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Autumn Blog Revival
I feel pretty confident in my latest brainwave for an engaging and informative lesson, and as the leaves change and autumn rolls into Iowa, I have decided to revive this blog and describe this lesson plan.
The class I am teaching is called Rhetoric, and it is important that you all understand that it is not within the Department of English. The class is required for all first year students, and its purpose seems to be to teach freshmen how to analyze an argument, map a controversy, and advocate a point of view. We are strictly forbidden to assign a novel; the only books we are allowed to order are from a list of approved textbooks and "trade books," the latter being nonfiction books (my trade book is JSF's Eating Animals). I have two sections, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, both with twenty children in them.
Today's lesson was rooted in the chapter of the textbook entitled "What Counts as Evidence?" This weekend I was trying to devise an activity for the class when I had a brilliant thought. In the 7th grade I took a class called Media in which we spent an extended amount of time studying the Kennedy Assassination. It made a huge impression on me; for the next two years whenever I met someone I would ask them "Who do you think killed Kennedy?" before anything else. A softball coach told my mother based on this fact that I was a very unique child.
I watched the majority of the movie JFK last night and chose scenes that I thought would be good for my kids to watch. The majority of the clips are from DA Jim Garrison's actual trial against Clay Shaw (Tommy Lee Jones with the most amazingly ridiculous white mini-afro). During the next class period we weill have a discussion where we critique the film/conspiracy against the textbook; in other words, regarding the Kennedy Assassination, what counts as evidence towards which conclusions? I suspect they will agree and disagree about some things. Although technically the purpose will be to get them to think deeply about what is and what isn't admissible as evidence in an argumnt, I will also be very glad to get them to think about this. As cynical as my kids are about things like advertising, I am not under the impression that any of them have bothered to ponder whether or not there was a massive government plot to murder its chief executive in 1963. Though cynical, they often seem apathetic. Which just breaks my little overenthusiastic English grad student heart!
I wanted to have them look at some of those Fiske and Princeton Review "guides to colleges" in groups later this week and have them read the chapter "Arguments of Fact" in the textbook together. I thought it'd be interesting for them to critique just how factual and persuasive those types of books are, to test them for certain arguments and see what happened. However, it turns out that in both the public and our school library, there is only one copy of a college guide and it is in the reference section and thus unavailable for check-out. Figures. So I'm going to allow the JFK activities to go on for a couple of days. They also have their first major paper due this week, so I might as well be kind and refrain from assigning homework on at least one of the days, right? I've already extended my office hours from 10:30-12:30 today to 9:30-12:30 and 2:30-4:00. And I'm offering office hours tomorrow despite my not actually having any. R says this is why I'm a good teacher, but I suspect it's mostly just more evidence of my being a nice person.
I feel pretty confident in my latest brainwave for an engaging and informative lesson, and as the leaves change and autumn rolls into Iowa, I have decided to revive this blog and describe this lesson plan.
The class I am teaching is called Rhetoric, and it is important that you all understand that it is not within the Department of English. The class is required for all first year students, and its purpose seems to be to teach freshmen how to analyze an argument, map a controversy, and advocate a point of view. We are strictly forbidden to assign a novel; the only books we are allowed to order are from a list of approved textbooks and "trade books," the latter being nonfiction books (my trade book is JSF's Eating Animals). I have two sections, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, both with twenty children in them.
Today's lesson was rooted in the chapter of the textbook entitled "What Counts as Evidence?" This weekend I was trying to devise an activity for the class when I had a brilliant thought. In the 7th grade I took a class called Media in which we spent an extended amount of time studying the Kennedy Assassination. It made a huge impression on me; for the next two years whenever I met someone I would ask them "Who do you think killed Kennedy?" before anything else. A softball coach told my mother based on this fact that I was a very unique child.
I watched the majority of the movie JFK last night and chose scenes that I thought would be good for my kids to watch. The majority of the clips are from DA Jim Garrison's actual trial against Clay Shaw (Tommy Lee Jones with the most amazingly ridiculous white mini-afro). During the next class period we weill have a discussion where we critique the film/conspiracy against the textbook; in other words, regarding the Kennedy Assassination, what counts as evidence towards which conclusions? I suspect they will agree and disagree about some things. Although technically the purpose will be to get them to think deeply about what is and what isn't admissible as evidence in an argumnt, I will also be very glad to get them to think about this. As cynical as my kids are about things like advertising, I am not under the impression that any of them have bothered to ponder whether or not there was a massive government plot to murder its chief executive in 1963. Though cynical, they often seem apathetic. Which just breaks my little overenthusiastic English grad student heart!
I wanted to have them look at some of those Fiske and Princeton Review "guides to colleges" in groups later this week and have them read the chapter "Arguments of Fact" in the textbook together. I thought it'd be interesting for them to critique just how factual and persuasive those types of books are, to test them for certain arguments and see what happened. However, it turns out that in both the public and our school library, there is only one copy of a college guide and it is in the reference section and thus unavailable for check-out. Figures. So I'm going to allow the JFK activities to go on for a couple of days. They also have their first major paper due this week, so I might as well be kind and refrain from assigning homework on at least one of the days, right? I've already extended my office hours from 10:30-12:30 today to 9:30-12:30 and 2:30-4:00. And I'm offering office hours tomorrow despite my not actually having any. R says this is why I'm a good teacher, but I suspect it's mostly just more evidence of my being a nice person.
Friday, August 05, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
I had a plan. I was going to start getting up early and going to the gym again. And just in case there's no time stamp on this post, just let me tell you that it is in fact 5:30 in the morning on the dot. I got up at 4:30 on the dot. It also started thunderstorming (again) at about 4:23 on the dot. I know because it was quite loud, and R checked his phone for the time while I curled up into a ball like a frightened puppy, which I tend to do during thunderstorms.
"I'm taking you to work," I informed him after the rain began to pelt the windows with great zeal.
So I got up and made pancakes and scrambled eggs and coffee. I'm just that great.
But back to my plan. I was all dressed down in old frisbee clothes with a water bottle in my tote bag when I took R to work yesterday (more rain). I pulled into the gym's parking lot at 5:48. There wasn't an attendant in the little pay-as-you-leave booth, but I imagined that they probably didn't have to be clocked in until 6. The gym, as it turned out, was not open yet, either. I figured I could drive home and hop on my bike to avoid having to pay for parking, so off I went... only to discover, upon arriving home and checking the hours online for the rec center, that it did not in fact open until 8am. I had to wait for two hours--and in that two hours I finished Nicholson Baker's 2003 novel A Box of Matches, which was a super-quick though only vaguely interesting read.
(I cannot decide if I am a huge fan of Nicholson Baker or if I am going to boycott any reading of his other novels. He focuses minutely on the absolute ordinary--which I love. I am both intellectually and just plain humanly interested in depictions of the ordinary. But there's just something about his writing--I can't put my finger on it, unless it's his demonstrated need to always have a page or three describing in detail the bathroom "rules" of "all men", which I find a little too easy, like he's going for the obvious joke, and also too generalizing for a writer of his possible power. But the 178-paged book is from the point of view of a man who has started getting up between 4-6 in the morning each day before his household awakens and who sits in the dark slowly burning a pile of wood and scrap paper with a new match. The book ends when he finishes the box of matches. What the book is really 'about' are his thoughts during those morning sessions, which has a lot of potential. His family has a pet duck and that was probably my favorite thing in the whole novel. )
But-the gym. I feel sometimes as though I need more of a routine. Class each morning for an hour and twenty minutes, then six hours of work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, is just not enough somehow. I know I promise myself this every few months or so and almost nothing ever comes of it, but I want to add the gym back into my life. And blogging. So at some point I'll devise some kind of a plan for those things. At the moment I need to think about my Adrienne Rich paper and put that on some kind of an organized timeline so that it gets done before R and I fly out to Boston.
And, you know, pack. I move in exactly a week!
"I'm taking you to work," I informed him after the rain began to pelt the windows with great zeal.
So I got up and made pancakes and scrambled eggs and coffee. I'm just that great.
But back to my plan. I was all dressed down in old frisbee clothes with a water bottle in my tote bag when I took R to work yesterday (more rain). I pulled into the gym's parking lot at 5:48. There wasn't an attendant in the little pay-as-you-leave booth, but I imagined that they probably didn't have to be clocked in until 6. The gym, as it turned out, was not open yet, either. I figured I could drive home and hop on my bike to avoid having to pay for parking, so off I went... only to discover, upon arriving home and checking the hours online for the rec center, that it did not in fact open until 8am. I had to wait for two hours--and in that two hours I finished Nicholson Baker's 2003 novel A Box of Matches, which was a super-quick though only vaguely interesting read.
(I cannot decide if I am a huge fan of Nicholson Baker or if I am going to boycott any reading of his other novels. He focuses minutely on the absolute ordinary--which I love. I am both intellectually and just plain humanly interested in depictions of the ordinary. But there's just something about his writing--I can't put my finger on it, unless it's his demonstrated need to always have a page or three describing in detail the bathroom "rules" of "all men", which I find a little too easy, like he's going for the obvious joke, and also too generalizing for a writer of his possible power. But the 178-paged book is from the point of view of a man who has started getting up between 4-6 in the morning each day before his household awakens and who sits in the dark slowly burning a pile of wood and scrap paper with a new match. The book ends when he finishes the box of matches. What the book is really 'about' are his thoughts during those morning sessions, which has a lot of potential. His family has a pet duck and that was probably my favorite thing in the whole novel. )
But-the gym. I feel sometimes as though I need more of a routine. Class each morning for an hour and twenty minutes, then six hours of work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, is just not enough somehow. I know I promise myself this every few months or so and almost nothing ever comes of it, but I want to add the gym back into my life. And blogging. So at some point I'll devise some kind of a plan for those things. At the moment I need to think about my Adrienne Rich paper and put that on some kind of an organized timeline so that it gets done before R and I fly out to Boston.
And, you know, pack. I move in exactly a week!
Friday, July 22, 2011
Ladies and gentlemen, it's thunderstorming. What does one do on a day like this? I got up at six to drive R into work and tried to make myself breakfast tacos. I use the word "tried" because the hashbrowns (which were frozen solid and I had to hack off with a knife) turned out rather disgusting. What a waste of perfectly decent flour tortillas.
One skips French class.
One does the dishes from the failed breakfast taco bonanza with a towel on her head and be-boppin' to a playlist:
We Used to Wait- Arcade Fire
Putting the Dog to Sleep- Antlers
In the Flowers- Animal Collective
Ada- The National
To Kingdom Come- Passion Pit
Bluish- Animal Collective
Chinatown- Destroyer
No Windows- Antlers
Modern Man- Arcade Fire
Eyes as Candles- Passion Pit
One frenchbraids one's hair.
One hunts for recipes on Broke-Ass Gourmet.
One reads What is Found There by Adrienne Rich for a long overdue seminar paper. One considers reading boring nonfiction from the 1800s in French to make up for missing class. One decides she would rather not just now.
One looks at the new clothes on Ruche. One reminds herself for the millionth time that she's going to Boston in a couple of weeks and has no money to spare for pretty clothes (or, really, anything at all including groceries, toiletries, and beer).
One updates her blog instead of packing boxes.
Okay, fine, I'll go pack some boxes.
One skips French class.
One does the dishes from the failed breakfast taco bonanza with a towel on her head and be-boppin' to a playlist:
We Used to Wait- Arcade Fire
Putting the Dog to Sleep- Antlers
In the Flowers- Animal Collective
Ada- The National
To Kingdom Come- Passion Pit
Bluish- Animal Collective
Chinatown- Destroyer
No Windows- Antlers
Modern Man- Arcade Fire
Eyes as Candles- Passion Pit
One frenchbraids one's hair.
One hunts for recipes on Broke-Ass Gourmet.
One reads What is Found There by Adrienne Rich for a long overdue seminar paper. One considers reading boring nonfiction from the 1800s in French to make up for missing class. One decides she would rather not just now.
One looks at the new clothes on Ruche. One reminds herself for the millionth time that she's going to Boston in a couple of weeks and has no money to spare for pretty clothes (or, really, anything at all including groceries, toiletries, and beer).
One updates her blog instead of packing boxes.
Okay, fine, I'll go pack some boxes.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Predictably, whenever I watch Julie and Julia I feel hella-inspired (yeah, this English PhD student just used "hella" in a non-ironic way)to blog more. And to cook more. But here's the thing about cooking more. I live in a very poorly ventilated apartment, and it is 97 degrees outside with a heat index of up to 112 degrees--for the next not one, not two, not three--but possibly six days. And I'm a poor grad student--who just booked an awesome trip to Boston, but more on that in a moment--and thus cannot afford to blast the air conditioning whenever I feel "inspired" to bake a peach pie, or pear bread, or Boeuf Bourguignon. So, perhaps the cooking inspiration will simply have to wait until the Iowa weather decides to chill out. And I had such ambition for what I was going to do in the kitchen once I had the time! Perhaps I ought to say that I will do these amazing things in the kitchen when I have a kitchen of reasonable size. Which, incidentally, will be in... 14 days. I move in two weeks!
....Oh shit I have a lot of packing to do before then! Robert has been utterly amazing, bringing unwanted boxes home from the pharmacy for me to stuff with, well... all of my stuff. And believe me, there is a lot of it. My mum is in town until Thursday, and we'll probably get a bit of packing done while she's here. She promised to help me fill the holes I put in the wall for all of my posters.
Did I mention that it's really hot in central Iowa these days? I thought I moved, you know, further from the equator. Closer to The North Pole. Ugh.
But in most exciting news, Robert and I are going to Boston! I'm not entirely sure how I am going to afford it. But the plane tickets are purchased, and the bed and breakfast booked! I'm already planning which books I want to a) take on the trip and b) seek at used bookshops. I want to hit up the modern art museum (free admission on Thursdays!), eat fresh seafood, and just... generally exist--just be--in a place that is not Iowa City. Don't get me wrong--I do like it here in Iowa City. It beats the hell out of Conway, Arkansas, right? But when I'm here, I feel this constant obligation to be working. I associate this town with school, with academic work, and thus, in a manner of speaking, with stress. It should be wonderful to escape and to relax.
(On an interesting and related note, I also should probably make some significant progress towards my Adrienne Rich paper. I'm less than halfway through What is Found There, her notebooks on politics and poetry. I need to inhale that and reacquaint myself with Levinas by the end of this upcoming week...)
I'm never taking an Incomplete again.
....Oh shit I have a lot of packing to do before then! Robert has been utterly amazing, bringing unwanted boxes home from the pharmacy for me to stuff with, well... all of my stuff. And believe me, there is a lot of it. My mum is in town until Thursday, and we'll probably get a bit of packing done while she's here. She promised to help me fill the holes I put in the wall for all of my posters.
Did I mention that it's really hot in central Iowa these days? I thought I moved, you know, further from the equator. Closer to The North Pole. Ugh.
But in most exciting news, Robert and I are going to Boston! I'm not entirely sure how I am going to afford it. But the plane tickets are purchased, and the bed and breakfast booked! I'm already planning which books I want to a) take on the trip and b) seek at used bookshops. I want to hit up the modern art museum (free admission on Thursdays!), eat fresh seafood, and just... generally exist--just be--in a place that is not Iowa City. Don't get me wrong--I do like it here in Iowa City. It beats the hell out of Conway, Arkansas, right? But when I'm here, I feel this constant obligation to be working. I associate this town with school, with academic work, and thus, in a manner of speaking, with stress. It should be wonderful to escape and to relax.
(On an interesting and related note, I also should probably make some significant progress towards my Adrienne Rich paper. I'm less than halfway through What is Found There, her notebooks on politics and poetry. I need to inhale that and reacquaint myself with Levinas by the end of this upcoming week...)
I'm never taking an Incomplete again.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
I Need Your Spare Boxes.
I'm trying to pack a tiny bit each day so that come the end of July, I don't have to go crazy with moving stress. So far I have packed three boxes full of the contents of about 85% of one of my two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Hey, it's a start.
In the spirit of 'hey, it's summer--we should be doing stuff!' Robert and I went to the Cedar Rapids BBQ Round Up last Sunday. Having seen on their website that one of the booths was going to be from Memphis and another from Amarillo, I thought, "YES. Real BBQ!" And who doesn't love a downtown festival with plenty of people-watching? However, when we arrived at the Round Up, we found that it wasn't even downtown. It was in what I believe to have been a glorified parking lot. The booths were these incredibly tacky phenomenon; the order counter was surrounded by flamboyant sign after sign proclaiming that particular BBQ company's ribs or pulled pork or sauce to have won first or second place at some other festival in another town in a different year. Three 'taster' ribs were $4. A small pulled pork sandwich was $7. We settled on splitting one sandwich to begin with--I think it was from the stall from Memphis. Then we paid $5 for a Budweiser and sat down. We were unimpressed--even with the people-watching. My shoulders began to slump in disappointment. "We could get better and cheaper BBQ than this at Jimmy John's in Iowa City," R commented. And I knew he was right.
So, what did we do? In a fit of determination to stay cheery, we purchased a snow cone and decided to head back to Iowa City and do just that--eat better and cheaper BBQ at Jimmy John's. My dear friend Zach, who until that afternoon had been waylaid in Indiana with the ordeal of getting his wisdom teeth pulled, joined us.
I know that Iowa will never be Austin with all of its festivals (Austin City Limits Music Festival, the Zilker Kite Festival) or other quirky exciting events (Annual O. Henry Pun-Off, Shakespeare at Winedale). I knew that before I moved here. But I'm a firm believer in making the most of things. So the Cedar Rapids BBQ Round-Up was a disappointment? There's always the Jazz Fest this weekend here in Iowa City! I'll be downtown in my small collection of strapless dresses, sipping margaritas or Blue Moon, reading Luce Irigaray and playing travel Scrabble. Sounds pretty great, doesn't it?
I'm trying to pack a tiny bit each day so that come the end of July, I don't have to go crazy with moving stress. So far I have packed three boxes full of the contents of about 85% of one of my two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Hey, it's a start.
In the spirit of 'hey, it's summer--we should be doing stuff!' Robert and I went to the Cedar Rapids BBQ Round Up last Sunday. Having seen on their website that one of the booths was going to be from Memphis and another from Amarillo, I thought, "YES. Real BBQ!" And who doesn't love a downtown festival with plenty of people-watching? However, when we arrived at the Round Up, we found that it wasn't even downtown. It was in what I believe to have been a glorified parking lot. The booths were these incredibly tacky phenomenon; the order counter was surrounded by flamboyant sign after sign proclaiming that particular BBQ company's ribs or pulled pork or sauce to have won first or second place at some other festival in another town in a different year. Three 'taster' ribs were $4. A small pulled pork sandwich was $7. We settled on splitting one sandwich to begin with--I think it was from the stall from Memphis. Then we paid $5 for a Budweiser and sat down. We were unimpressed--even with the people-watching. My shoulders began to slump in disappointment. "We could get better and cheaper BBQ than this at Jimmy John's in Iowa City," R commented. And I knew he was right.
So, what did we do? In a fit of determination to stay cheery, we purchased a snow cone and decided to head back to Iowa City and do just that--eat better and cheaper BBQ at Jimmy John's. My dear friend Zach, who until that afternoon had been waylaid in Indiana with the ordeal of getting his wisdom teeth pulled, joined us.
I know that Iowa will never be Austin with all of its festivals (Austin City Limits Music Festival, the Zilker Kite Festival) or other quirky exciting events (Annual O. Henry Pun-Off, Shakespeare at Winedale). I knew that before I moved here. But I'm a firm believer in making the most of things. So the Cedar Rapids BBQ Round-Up was a disappointment? There's always the Jazz Fest this weekend here in Iowa City! I'll be downtown in my small collection of strapless dresses, sipping margaritas or Blue Moon, reading Luce Irigaray and playing travel Scrabble. Sounds pretty great, doesn't it?
Friday, June 24, 2011
So, it's still summer.
That's really all you need to know. It explains my lack of updates, because clearly without an abundance of assignments to avoid with procrastination I am not able to update a blog regularly. Well, I also plead that I've been spending a bit of time in Coralville at R's place, and I never take a computer over there. Besides, let's be honest. You can all guess what I've been up to: reading.
Yup. Give an English PhD student some spare time--genuine spare time--and what will she do? Bury herself in about three books at a time, of course. I finished Force of Circumstance, the 700-page third installment of Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs this past weekend in South Dakota, and meanwhile have been slowly making my way through The Fountainhead (yes, you read that correctly; I am reading it on both R and Zach's heavy recommendations) and two days ago started to reread Wuthering Heights. Before that I sped through Jean Rhys's unfinished autobiography. Have I done any of the ambitious career-related reading I had every intention of doing? Have I opened any of the important feminist texts that were recommended to me by my Sentimentalism professor, or the "Introduction to Everyday Life in Cultural Studies", or the many, many, MANY books of essays by Roland Barthes that already live on my bookshelf?
No. But I will.
That's really all you need to know. It explains my lack of updates, because clearly without an abundance of assignments to avoid with procrastination I am not able to update a blog regularly. Well, I also plead that I've been spending a bit of time in Coralville at R's place, and I never take a computer over there. Besides, let's be honest. You can all guess what I've been up to: reading.
Yup. Give an English PhD student some spare time--genuine spare time--and what will she do? Bury herself in about three books at a time, of course. I finished Force of Circumstance, the 700-page third installment of Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs this past weekend in South Dakota, and meanwhile have been slowly making my way through The Fountainhead (yes, you read that correctly; I am reading it on both R and Zach's heavy recommendations) and two days ago started to reread Wuthering Heights. Before that I sped through Jean Rhys's unfinished autobiography. Have I done any of the ambitious career-related reading I had every intention of doing? Have I opened any of the important feminist texts that were recommended to me by my Sentimentalism professor, or the "Introduction to Everyday Life in Cultural Studies", or the many, many, MANY books of essays by Roland Barthes that already live on my bookshelf?
No. But I will.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
I'm So Sure There Must be Something Else I Should be Doing...
I think that being a grad student can best be encapsulated by this statement. Every morning I wake up and can't help but feel that there is something I ought to be reading. Surely there is a paper I should be skimming sources for. And, if not, then I have probably been doing those things so fervently that I have neglected the upkeep of my apartment and ought to be Swiffering the kitchen floor or Scrubbing Bubbling the bathtub.
I should relax. But when I do sit down on my yellow futon, cup of tea in one hand, bagel-with-peanut-butter in the other, and watch the latest episode of Doctor Who, I can't help but feel that I am somehow procrastinating.
Yet today that is appropriate behavior. This morning has been full of thunderstorms, with the rain pounding against my house so intensely that I needed to wear headphones in order to hear said episode of Doctor Who. What occasions laziness better than a soggy summer Sunday? Even my attire bespeaks this attitude:
shirt: Quack's
skirt: thrifted
shoes: Sperry Topsider
headband: via my mum
Sometimes, you just want to throw on a hippie skirt and a t-shirt and some comfortable shoes. Although, in case you were curious, this is pretty much what High School Lauren wore. Just replace the Sperrys with a pair of Converse All-Stars that had definitely seen better days.
I think that being a grad student can best be encapsulated by this statement. Every morning I wake up and can't help but feel that there is something I ought to be reading. Surely there is a paper I should be skimming sources for. And, if not, then I have probably been doing those things so fervently that I have neglected the upkeep of my apartment and ought to be Swiffering the kitchen floor or Scrubbing Bubbling the bathtub.
I should relax. But when I do sit down on my yellow futon, cup of tea in one hand, bagel-with-peanut-butter in the other, and watch the latest episode of Doctor Who, I can't help but feel that I am somehow procrastinating.
Yet today that is appropriate behavior. This morning has been full of thunderstorms, with the rain pounding against my house so intensely that I needed to wear headphones in order to hear said episode of Doctor Who. What occasions laziness better than a soggy summer Sunday? Even my attire bespeaks this attitude:
shirt: Quack's
skirt: thrifted
shoes: Sperry Topsider
headband: via my mum
Sometimes, you just want to throw on a hippie skirt and a t-shirt and some comfortable shoes. Although, in case you were curious, this is pretty much what High School Lauren wore. Just replace the Sperrys with a pair of Converse All-Stars that had definitely seen better days.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
When You're Losing Your Voice During the Summer?
What a silly occassion to dress for! But out of pure spite, it had to be done. A couple of days ago I was startled to find that I was a wee bit hoarse. And then it continued. And continued. And got worse. When R left for work this morning I could only whisper a pathetic "Have a nice day." And I cough every now and then, but not excessively. My throat doesn't hurt. My nose is not stuffy. I do not generally feel ill, other than a strange ability to go for long periods without getting hungry. Not that I'm complaining about that one.
shirt: thrifted
skirt: American Apparel
belt: thrifted
tights: Sock Dreams
boots: gifted
locket: street vendor, Notting Hill
I finished the second volume of Anais Nin's diary and have since moved onto Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, in which I must admit I am rather disappointed. For one thing, I think it takes some weird liberties that aren't even entertaining--for example, Charlotte Lucas's being stricken and slowly turning into a zombie. I am not amused. Why is it that nobody likes Charlotte Lucas? But I was somewhat decided in my opinion of the book when in the first few chapters I realized that the characters of Mr. Bennet and Mary Bennet were being misrepresented. Mr. Bennet! One of my favorite characters in all of literature! Former members of my Jane Austen seminar at Hendrix College will remember how ardently I defended him. In the zombie version of the narrative, he lacks the dry wit so beloved by myself. Unforgivable. Capital offense. And Mary--Mary Bennet actually dances at a ball. Way to ruin one of the most hilarious characters in all of Austendom.
But, I digress. Perhaps it is better to get worked up over a novel, but let me list a few recent ISSUES that have presented themselves in the past several days.
1. Summer Employment
Loft did not hire me. I was about two seconds away from applying to walk someone's dog all summer for two hours a day when I received information from one of R's friends that she was leaving one of her three part-time jobs, this as a personal assistant to a realtor, and was giving the realtor my name and resume as a potential replacement. The job pays $12 an hour, with about 15-20 flexible hours a week available. I would be doing things like answering emails and putting data into spreadhseets. That seemed pleasant enough. But this entire week has been spent in a neverending game of phone/text/email tag with the realtor, who calls hours after she says she would, and texts me hours after I've gone to bed. She doesn't answer her cell or office phone and when I give her a convenient time to contact me she ignores it. However, it seems that we will FINALLY be meeting late this afternoon. We'll see how that goes.
2. Summer Classes
As you may or may not be aware, I have to learn a foreign language as part of my degree. I've been informed before that it's easy to pass the requirement, but I feel that I actually want to know French and be able to speak it, rather than merely read it. So I decided to go the long route and signed up for First Year French Review for the summer. Two days ago I received information that not enough students had enrolled and thus it was being cancelled. This was especially problematic because in order to receive my summer stipend I must be registered for a class at the University. This morning in a fit of desperation I signed up for the advanced reading course in French designed especially for doctoral students who need to be able to read the language rather than speak it. A a result, I ought to be able to read French quite well by the end of the summer. So I suppose I will be that far ahead in my requirements, and I will just have to learn to speak French on my own time. Bloody ridiculous.
So actually, summer could be going a little bit more smoothly at the moment.
What a silly occassion to dress for! But out of pure spite, it had to be done. A couple of days ago I was startled to find that I was a wee bit hoarse. And then it continued. And continued. And got worse. When R left for work this morning I could only whisper a pathetic "Have a nice day." And I cough every now and then, but not excessively. My throat doesn't hurt. My nose is not stuffy. I do not generally feel ill, other than a strange ability to go for long periods without getting hungry. Not that I'm complaining about that one.
shirt: thrifted
skirt: American Apparel
belt: thrifted
tights: Sock Dreams
boots: gifted
locket: street vendor, Notting Hill
I finished the second volume of Anais Nin's diary and have since moved onto Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, in which I must admit I am rather disappointed. For one thing, I think it takes some weird liberties that aren't even entertaining--for example, Charlotte Lucas's being stricken and slowly turning into a zombie. I am not amused. Why is it that nobody likes Charlotte Lucas? But I was somewhat decided in my opinion of the book when in the first few chapters I realized that the characters of Mr. Bennet and Mary Bennet were being misrepresented. Mr. Bennet! One of my favorite characters in all of literature! Former members of my Jane Austen seminar at Hendrix College will remember how ardently I defended him. In the zombie version of the narrative, he lacks the dry wit so beloved by myself. Unforgivable. Capital offense. And Mary--Mary Bennet actually dances at a ball. Way to ruin one of the most hilarious characters in all of Austendom.
But, I digress. Perhaps it is better to get worked up over a novel, but let me list a few recent ISSUES that have presented themselves in the past several days.
1. Summer Employment
Loft did not hire me. I was about two seconds away from applying to walk someone's dog all summer for two hours a day when I received information from one of R's friends that she was leaving one of her three part-time jobs, this as a personal assistant to a realtor, and was giving the realtor my name and resume as a potential replacement. The job pays $12 an hour, with about 15-20 flexible hours a week available. I would be doing things like answering emails and putting data into spreadhseets. That seemed pleasant enough. But this entire week has been spent in a neverending game of phone/text/email tag with the realtor, who calls hours after she says she would, and texts me hours after I've gone to bed. She doesn't answer her cell or office phone and when I give her a convenient time to contact me she ignores it. However, it seems that we will FINALLY be meeting late this afternoon. We'll see how that goes.
2. Summer Classes
As you may or may not be aware, I have to learn a foreign language as part of my degree. I've been informed before that it's easy to pass the requirement, but I feel that I actually want to know French and be able to speak it, rather than merely read it. So I decided to go the long route and signed up for First Year French Review for the summer. Two days ago I received information that not enough students had enrolled and thus it was being cancelled. This was especially problematic because in order to receive my summer stipend I must be registered for a class at the University. This morning in a fit of desperation I signed up for the advanced reading course in French designed especially for doctoral students who need to be able to read the language rather than speak it. A a result, I ought to be able to read French quite well by the end of the summer. So I suppose I will be that far ahead in my requirements, and I will just have to learn to speak French on my own time. Bloody ridiculous.
So actually, summer could be going a little bit more smoothly at the moment.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
One Thing I Have Learned About This Summer
So, it would seem that now that it's summer and I do not tote my laptop around with me whenever I leave the apartment, I have become a rather poor blogger. Never fear, my loyal readers! I'm going to make a point of updating. For real. And I was going to type up an awesome update on Saturday but while Robert and I were downtown at Copacabana with our computers the tornado sirens went off and rather interrupted any work we were trying to get done.
(Actually, it was this very dramatic moment. I had gone two doors down to the public library to turn in R's book and pick a new one for myself when the sirens went off. Red lights began flashing in the library and a voice came over the loudspeaker saying that they were about to lock down the whole library. I made my way to the exit and then ran, cowboy boots and all, back to find R at Copacabana. The sirens here are a lot more dramatic than the Conway tornado sirens, and running with those blaring in the audible foreground felt very movie-esque).
But you may wonder what I have been up to for the past nearly three weeks!
I finished my paper on Mrs. Dalloway and The Mezzanine and gave a very mediocre presentation on it.
(shirt: Urban Outfitters; belt: via my mum; cardigan: JCrew outlet; jeans: Gap; necklace: gift; boots: gift)
I managed to scrape two A-minuses in my courses for the semester. (Remember, I also have one Incomplete as I have been given the summer to write the seminar paper).
Since then, I've mostly been enjoying the absolute abundance of dandelions in Iowa City!
The weather has teetered between ideal (65ish degrees and sunny, 70ish degrees with a breeze) and just a tad too hot (80 degrees and sunny with little to no breeze). I've taken to sitting out on the pedestrian mall on a bench with iced tea and a book. If R is working he usually joins me when he gets off and we sit in the sun until we get hungry for dinner. This past weekend we managed to find a nice shady bench to enjoy the live music out on the ped mall as well.
I zipped through Sarah Hall's most recent novel, How to Paint a Dead Man, which I thought was beautiful and at times poignant, and reread Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys) to remind myself of my love for Mr. Rochester. At present I have about 30 pages left of the second volume of Anais Nin's diary.
I also baked my first apple pie!
The crust was mediocre, but the filling was quite good.
In perhaps most important news, I finally found an apartment for next year! It is a wee bit pricey (particularly considering the fact that no utilities are included and I'll have to pay for a parking spot), but the location is perfect and the interior gigantic and beautiful. Yay! Obviously there is more to say on this matter, but I'll save that for another post, perhaps when I can post a picture of the outside.
So, it would seem that now that it's summer and I do not tote my laptop around with me whenever I leave the apartment, I have become a rather poor blogger. Never fear, my loyal readers! I'm going to make a point of updating. For real. And I was going to type up an awesome update on Saturday but while Robert and I were downtown at Copacabana with our computers the tornado sirens went off and rather interrupted any work we were trying to get done.
(Actually, it was this very dramatic moment. I had gone two doors down to the public library to turn in R's book and pick a new one for myself when the sirens went off. Red lights began flashing in the library and a voice came over the loudspeaker saying that they were about to lock down the whole library. I made my way to the exit and then ran, cowboy boots and all, back to find R at Copacabana. The sirens here are a lot more dramatic than the Conway tornado sirens, and running with those blaring in the audible foreground felt very movie-esque).
But you may wonder what I have been up to for the past nearly three weeks!
I finished my paper on Mrs. Dalloway and The Mezzanine and gave a very mediocre presentation on it.
(shirt: Urban Outfitters; belt: via my mum; cardigan: JCrew outlet; jeans: Gap; necklace: gift; boots: gift)
I managed to scrape two A-minuses in my courses for the semester. (Remember, I also have one Incomplete as I have been given the summer to write the seminar paper).
Since then, I've mostly been enjoying the absolute abundance of dandelions in Iowa City!
The weather has teetered between ideal (65ish degrees and sunny, 70ish degrees with a breeze) and just a tad too hot (80 degrees and sunny with little to no breeze). I've taken to sitting out on the pedestrian mall on a bench with iced tea and a book. If R is working he usually joins me when he gets off and we sit in the sun until we get hungry for dinner. This past weekend we managed to find a nice shady bench to enjoy the live music out on the ped mall as well.
I zipped through Sarah Hall's most recent novel, How to Paint a Dead Man, which I thought was beautiful and at times poignant, and reread Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys) to remind myself of my love for Mr. Rochester. At present I have about 30 pages left of the second volume of Anais Nin's diary.
I also baked my first apple pie!
The crust was mediocre, but the filling was quite good.
In perhaps most important news, I finally found an apartment for next year! It is a wee bit pricey (particularly considering the fact that no utilities are included and I'll have to pay for a parking spot), but the location is perfect and the interior gigantic and beautiful. Yay! Obviously there is more to say on this matter, but I'll save that for another post, perhaps when I can post a picture of the outside.
Friday, May 06, 2011
Quick Post: Motivation Check
Yesterday I wore bright colors to try to make myself feel like doing work--which was silly! I'm struggling over this American lit paper. I was having a Bad Face Day, too. May today be more productive!
shirt: thrifted
skirt: Anthro
belt: JCrew
tights: Sock Dreams
boots: Clark's
Yesterday I wore bright colors to try to make myself feel like doing work--which was silly! I'm struggling over this American lit paper. I was having a Bad Face Day, too. May today be more productive!
shirt: thrifted
skirt: Anthro
belt: JCrew
tights: Sock Dreams
boots: Clark's
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Yesterday Evening Somebody Called Me a "Woolfie"
And I don't hate it.
Do you all have any idea how much I love Virginia Woolf? Let me tell you. I was so happy to be writing about Mrs. Dalloway last week that as I steadily composed pages of my rough draft I almost burst into tears. It felt so amazing to write about a book that I love so much, to be putting quotes into an academic paper that I have scribbled down again and again in notebooks and onto Post-It notes:
"She sliced like a knife through everything; at the same time was outside, looking on. She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day."
In fact, you may [hopefully] recognize the name of this blog as a reference to the first line of Mrs. Dalloway.
shirt: thrifted
skirt: American Apparel
belt: via my mum
tights: Sock Dreams
boots: old Christmas gift
necklace: thrifted
There is a line in the film Almost Famous where one of the Band-Aids says that the new girls "don't know what it's like to be a fan. To love some silly bit of music so much that it hurts." I think of this quote when people ask me why I decided to do graduate school. Because I love some books so much that it hurts.
And I don't hate it.
Do you all have any idea how much I love Virginia Woolf? Let me tell you. I was so happy to be writing about Mrs. Dalloway last week that as I steadily composed pages of my rough draft I almost burst into tears. It felt so amazing to write about a book that I love so much, to be putting quotes into an academic paper that I have scribbled down again and again in notebooks and onto Post-It notes:
"She sliced like a knife through everything; at the same time was outside, looking on. She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day."
In fact, you may [hopefully] recognize the name of this blog as a reference to the first line of Mrs. Dalloway.
shirt: thrifted
skirt: American Apparel
belt: via my mum
tights: Sock Dreams
boots: old Christmas gift
necklace: thrifted
There is a line in the film Almost Famous where one of the Band-Aids says that the new girls "don't know what it's like to be a fan. To love some silly bit of music so much that it hurts." I think of this quote when people ask me why I decided to do graduate school. Because I love some books so much that it hurts.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
So Close
It's coming to the final countdown, friends. The final draft of my Sentimentalism paper (15 pages) is due on Monday by 5pm. I must present a 10ish page paper on Saturday for my American Lit and Mass Culture course. This is the last week of classes, and I have only two introductions to anthologies to read for Thursday. And then? I have the rest of May to do what I wish before my summer French class begins in June, and before I will probably start to think seriously about my seminar paper (20+ pages) that I imagine I will turn in come August.
I still need to find an apartment for next year.
I still wish I had a cute, vintage bike.
A girl just walked into Copacabana wearing my Dream Anthropologie Skirt that I Still Wish I Had Bought.
I still think I need to lose weight.
But let's forget all of these negative "still"s for a moment. This weekend the yards of all the houses in Coralville near R's place were full of beautiful, bright yellow dandelions. He picked one for me and I wore it in my hair while we made Moroccan Chicken and Orzo (though with riso rather than orzo, to save $5).
We walked to Hy-vee to buy the necessary groceries and I loved the dandelions and the sun. The meal was delicious, and I still have leftovers to heat up for lunch tomorrow. Summer is coming--even if it feels like November and not May--and there is much to look forward to: cooking more ambitious, delicious meals; reading memoirs and letters and literary biographies; reading novels; running; watching people walk their dogs.
"There will be time, there will be time..."
It's coming to the final countdown, friends. The final draft of my Sentimentalism paper (15 pages) is due on Monday by 5pm. I must present a 10ish page paper on Saturday for my American Lit and Mass Culture course. This is the last week of classes, and I have only two introductions to anthologies to read for Thursday. And then? I have the rest of May to do what I wish before my summer French class begins in June, and before I will probably start to think seriously about my seminar paper (20+ pages) that I imagine I will turn in come August.
I still need to find an apartment for next year.
I still wish I had a cute, vintage bike.
A girl just walked into Copacabana wearing my Dream Anthropologie Skirt that I Still Wish I Had Bought.
I still think I need to lose weight.
But let's forget all of these negative "still"s for a moment. This weekend the yards of all the houses in Coralville near R's place were full of beautiful, bright yellow dandelions. He picked one for me and I wore it in my hair while we made Moroccan Chicken and Orzo (though with riso rather than orzo, to save $5).
We walked to Hy-vee to buy the necessary groceries and I loved the dandelions and the sun. The meal was delicious, and I still have leftovers to heat up for lunch tomorrow. Summer is coming--even if it feels like November and not May--and there is much to look forward to: cooking more ambitious, delicious meals; reading memoirs and letters and literary biographies; reading novels; running; watching people walk their dogs.
"There will be time, there will be time..."
Monday, May 02, 2011
In Which I am Sick--SICK, I Tell You--of Tights
Yeah, you heard me right. The Texan cowgirl who couldn't wait for the autumn, specifically because she longed for tights weather, is pretty much OVER leggings, tights, stockings, ALL OF THE ABOVE! It's May. It's May and yesterday I was so happy to walk to the grocery store near R's place in a knee-length dress without stockings that I just about cried.
Unfortunately, we woke up this morning at 7 and when we left the house at nine it was somewhere around 45 degrees and I not only had to step into some tights but in addition had to borrow a jacket from R because I was equipped only with a cotton cardigan. Good god! It's May!
Today, however, I have decided that I am done with tights due to the fact that I am suffering from excruciating outfit remorse. My skirt is sticking to my tights and bunching up both in the front and in the back and making me feel painfully frumpy. I can't wait to get out of class so I can CHANGE CLOTHES. How very sad.
Yeah, you heard me right. The Texan cowgirl who couldn't wait for the autumn, specifically because she longed for tights weather, is pretty much OVER leggings, tights, stockings, ALL OF THE ABOVE! It's May. It's May and yesterday I was so happy to walk to the grocery store near R's place in a knee-length dress without stockings that I just about cried.
Unfortunately, we woke up this morning at 7 and when we left the house at nine it was somewhere around 45 degrees and I not only had to step into some tights but in addition had to borrow a jacket from R because I was equipped only with a cotton cardigan. Good god! It's May!
Today, however, I have decided that I am done with tights due to the fact that I am suffering from excruciating outfit remorse. My skirt is sticking to my tights and bunching up both in the front and in the back and making me feel painfully frumpy. I can't wait to get out of class so I can CHANGE CLOTHES. How very sad.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
One of Those Things You're Not Supposed to Talk About
Sex.
Just kidding. I meant, money. I have a few things to say on the subject. One being that I am this month going to attempt a major budgeting project because I've been thinking about travel again lately (read: London via Mrs. Dalloway and Paris via the Bourne films that R and I have been watching) and of course, to travel one must have some amount of miniature wealth.
And to save money I'm thinking of pulling a 30-for-30 in the month of May, solo, without the entire fashion blogging community attempting the same. I just need to force myself not to shop or even think of shopping for a month, and to remind myself that I do actually love my clothes. Really. I do.
Furthermore, I have an interview at Loft tomorrow. If you aren't familiar with Loft and their clothes, check out their website. I popped into the store last week before studying at Barnes and Nobles in Coralville and the staff was so friendly that I felt like I just had to pick up an application. I'd say that it might be about 30% Lauren-fashion (I mean, let's face it; since 85% of my clothes are thrifted/vintage, it's hard for any store that sells new clothes to carry my style); a 50% discount would certainly help me out in the blazer and trouser department come fall (read: teaching season). Anyhow, my goal is to work part-time this summer while I take French and put together an amazing seminar paper on Adrienne Rich and the ethics of memory.
I want to put away a good chunk of money into my savings account each month in anticipation of next summer--or more likely the one after--and the possibility of spending a month in Europe. A very cheap month.
Outfit Log: This is Making-Plans-and-Lists Lauren
shoes: Urban Outfitters
tights: Sock Dreams
dress: thrifted
cardigan: Urban Outfitters
belt: thrifted
That first photo you see there is my "No way did I think it was this cold outside today, as it's nearly MAY" picture. Get real, weather. I want spring.
Sex.
Just kidding. I meant, money. I have a few things to say on the subject. One being that I am this month going to attempt a major budgeting project because I've been thinking about travel again lately (read: London via Mrs. Dalloway and Paris via the Bourne films that R and I have been watching) and of course, to travel one must have some amount of miniature wealth.
And to save money I'm thinking of pulling a 30-for-30 in the month of May, solo, without the entire fashion blogging community attempting the same. I just need to force myself not to shop or even think of shopping for a month, and to remind myself that I do actually love my clothes. Really. I do.
Furthermore, I have an interview at Loft tomorrow. If you aren't familiar with Loft and their clothes, check out their website. I popped into the store last week before studying at Barnes and Nobles in Coralville and the staff was so friendly that I felt like I just had to pick up an application. I'd say that it might be about 30% Lauren-fashion (I mean, let's face it; since 85% of my clothes are thrifted/vintage, it's hard for any store that sells new clothes to carry my style); a 50% discount would certainly help me out in the blazer and trouser department come fall (read: teaching season). Anyhow, my goal is to work part-time this summer while I take French and put together an amazing seminar paper on Adrienne Rich and the ethics of memory.
I want to put away a good chunk of money into my savings account each month in anticipation of next summer--or more likely the one after--and the possibility of spending a month in Europe. A very cheap month.
Outfit Log: This is Making-Plans-and-Lists Lauren
shoes: Urban Outfitters
tights: Sock Dreams
dress: thrifted
cardigan: Urban Outfitters
belt: thrifted
That first photo you see there is my "No way did I think it was this cold outside today, as it's nearly MAY" picture. Get real, weather. I want spring.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Rainy Day Feminism
So, it's been raining for something like 16 hours straight. I drove R to work so that he didn't have to walk for 30-40 minutes through the mist and fog--not to mention the sludge that is every unpaved area of Iowa City at the moment. I got up at 5:45 and made him scrambled eggs and packed his lunch of leftover spicy spaghetti and meatballs (and surprise ginger snaps via my mother's Easter package). How domestic, you might say. You're right, I might reply.
This is something that I have noticed about myself. Despite the fact that I identify as a feminist--my favorite authors are Virginia Woolf and Simone de Beauvoir, for heaven's sake!--I have a strange proclivity towards the domestic. I like to pull on a vintage apron and bake banana bread. I like to pack R's lunch and leave a little Post-It note on the container that holds his cookies. I like to put away the groceries. In the words of Joni Mitchell: "I want to knit you a sweater, I want to write you a love letter, I want to make you feel better." I might be toting a book about "the political grammar of feminist theory," but I still pause my reading to ask R what kind of dessert he would like when I take a break to bake this weekend.
What strikes me as having been unfair to women in the past was the fact that they were expected (forced?) to cook and clean and be of assistance to the men in their families. They did not have the option to pursue academic (or other) careers. Today I feel that we will sometimes judge our peers who opt to be housewives, or stay-at-home mothers, as if it is a cop-out of some kind. But what is wonderful is that these women choose to do this. Is is their choice.
My problem seems to be that I am in the process of choosing both. Here I am pursuing the highest bookworm degree possible, and as I am working on a paper about affect in Virginia Woolf I am thinking every now and then of what I should pick up at the grocery store for not only myself but R, too (who will berate me for shopping for him without his consent/money/company). I'm fantasizing about the possibility of baking chicken enchiladas next week with homemade salsa verde. I am part intellectual Lauren and part my Mexican grandma, who didn't even finish high school but got married instead. It's not so much a problem that I am torn between these two extremes so much as it is, well, challenging. It's term-paper season for crying out loud! I should be eating fast food and snacking on chips, not baking pie or cooking a well-balanced two-course meal. But I want to do both, and I am trying to do both, and I wonder if this just proves that I tend to challenge myself and that maybe I am a stronger woman than I thought?
Outfit Log: A Day Buried in Schoolwork
vest: thrifted
shirt: H&M
skirt: thrifted
boots: old old Xmas gift
necklace: via my mum
Bicycle courtesy of R. Mine has been living outside of Java House through the rain and freak-snow for a couple of weeks now. I should go pick it up, actually...
So, it's been raining for something like 16 hours straight. I drove R to work so that he didn't have to walk for 30-40 minutes through the mist and fog--not to mention the sludge that is every unpaved area of Iowa City at the moment. I got up at 5:45 and made him scrambled eggs and packed his lunch of leftover spicy spaghetti and meatballs (and surprise ginger snaps via my mother's Easter package). How domestic, you might say. You're right, I might reply.
This is something that I have noticed about myself. Despite the fact that I identify as a feminist--my favorite authors are Virginia Woolf and Simone de Beauvoir, for heaven's sake!--I have a strange proclivity towards the domestic. I like to pull on a vintage apron and bake banana bread. I like to pack R's lunch and leave a little Post-It note on the container that holds his cookies. I like to put away the groceries. In the words of Joni Mitchell: "I want to knit you a sweater, I want to write you a love letter, I want to make you feel better." I might be toting a book about "the political grammar of feminist theory," but I still pause my reading to ask R what kind of dessert he would like when I take a break to bake this weekend.
What strikes me as having been unfair to women in the past was the fact that they were expected (forced?) to cook and clean and be of assistance to the men in their families. They did not have the option to pursue academic (or other) careers. Today I feel that we will sometimes judge our peers who opt to be housewives, or stay-at-home mothers, as if it is a cop-out of some kind. But what is wonderful is that these women choose to do this. Is is their choice.
My problem seems to be that I am in the process of choosing both. Here I am pursuing the highest bookworm degree possible, and as I am working on a paper about affect in Virginia Woolf I am thinking every now and then of what I should pick up at the grocery store for not only myself but R, too (who will berate me for shopping for him without his consent/money/company). I'm fantasizing about the possibility of baking chicken enchiladas next week with homemade salsa verde. I am part intellectual Lauren and part my Mexican grandma, who didn't even finish high school but got married instead. It's not so much a problem that I am torn between these two extremes so much as it is, well, challenging. It's term-paper season for crying out loud! I should be eating fast food and snacking on chips, not baking pie or cooking a well-balanced two-course meal. But I want to do both, and I am trying to do both, and I wonder if this just proves that I tend to challenge myself and that maybe I am a stronger woman than I thought?
Outfit Log: A Day Buried in Schoolwork
vest: thrifted
shirt: H&M
skirt: thrifted
boots: old old Xmas gift
necklace: via my mum
Bicycle courtesy of R. Mine has been living outside of Java House through the rain and freak-snow for a couple of weeks now. I should go pick it up, actually...
Monday, April 25, 2011
My Life and Good Morning, Midnight
On the shelf above my desk, I have begun to place Post-It notes with quotes from my favorite novels on them. The Post-It note that started this project is a yellow one with the following quote from Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys:
"Everything tender and melancholy — as life is sometimes, just for one moment….And when we get to Paris; when – we – get – to – Paris…."
And today I feel this. It is not Paris specifically that I presently ache for, however. I long for the end of the semester, and find myself almost constantly thinking "once the semester is over..." and "when I've finished my term papers..." in a way very similar to that of Sasha in this passage. For those of you who have read this [amazing] novel, you might remember the 4-5 page section where "when-we-get-to-Paris" is on repeat, interspersed between the narration, in an almost mechanical--like a train--manner. The promise of Paris for Sasha while on her honeymoon is not entirely dissimilar to the promise of summer vacation for me. I only hope that my summer does not end in the same disappointment as not only Sasha's time in Paris, but also her marriage at large.
R brought over season five of Top Chef a couple of nights ago (apparently NetFlix doesn't have the first four seasons?) and we have been watching an episode or two each day ever since. I am reminded of how much I enjoy cooking and baking, and how I strove this time last year to try to make a new dessert each week. I made things like sweet potato pound cake and pear crumble and chocolate-raspberry brownies and deposited them in the English faculty office hallway with a note. (The pound cake, by the by, was a HUGE hit). When we watch Top Chef I have a habit of turning to R and saying wistfully, "Over the summer I am going to cook Indian food." Or, pie. Or, cobbler. Or, lamb chops. Or, stuffed poblano peppers. And it's true. This summer I want to cook and bake; I want to try new things; I want to be [at least somewhat] ambitious.
I want to make this:Chicken with Cashew Cream and Mushrooms
And god only knows how many other recipes! I'll compile a list soon. I can even post it here. Expect more "When-I-get-to-the-end-of-the-semester" posts soon.
On the shelf above my desk, I have begun to place Post-It notes with quotes from my favorite novels on them. The Post-It note that started this project is a yellow one with the following quote from Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys:
"Everything tender and melancholy — as life is sometimes, just for one moment….And when we get to Paris; when – we – get – to – Paris…."
And today I feel this. It is not Paris specifically that I presently ache for, however. I long for the end of the semester, and find myself almost constantly thinking "once the semester is over..." and "when I've finished my term papers..." in a way very similar to that of Sasha in this passage. For those of you who have read this [amazing] novel, you might remember the 4-5 page section where "when-we-get-to-Paris" is on repeat, interspersed between the narration, in an almost mechanical--like a train--manner. The promise of Paris for Sasha while on her honeymoon is not entirely dissimilar to the promise of summer vacation for me. I only hope that my summer does not end in the same disappointment as not only Sasha's time in Paris, but also her marriage at large.
R brought over season five of Top Chef a couple of nights ago (apparently NetFlix doesn't have the first four seasons?) and we have been watching an episode or two each day ever since. I am reminded of how much I enjoy cooking and baking, and how I strove this time last year to try to make a new dessert each week. I made things like sweet potato pound cake and pear crumble and chocolate-raspberry brownies and deposited them in the English faculty office hallway with a note. (The pound cake, by the by, was a HUGE hit). When we watch Top Chef I have a habit of turning to R and saying wistfully, "Over the summer I am going to cook Indian food." Or, pie. Or, cobbler. Or, lamb chops. Or, stuffed poblano peppers. And it's true. This summer I want to cook and bake; I want to try new things; I want to be [at least somewhat] ambitious.
I want to make this:Chicken with Cashew Cream and Mushrooms
And god only knows how many other recipes! I'll compile a list soon. I can even post it here. Expect more "When-I-get-to-the-end-of-the-semester" posts soon.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
This morning, R biked to a class at the community college and called me after it was over. He had the (amazing) idea for us to meet at DeLuxe, the bakery in the neighborhood parallel to mine that we've always meant to go to. So my Saturday began with a short stroll through a beautiful, historic-looking neighborhood and an hour's worth of reading Sentimentalism and enjoying conversation over coffee and raspberry scones.
What a delicious scone! I hope to repeat this date again--especially when it is warm enough to sit outside and enjoy the sunshine!
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