It had to happen.
I had three pairs of jeans, but one pair had a hole ripped in the bum, and one was so old there was no more bum. And the third was a pair of skinny jeans I bought a couple of years ago just to be done buying jeans that made me look lumpy in all the wrong places.
I decided to be strategic this time.
Rather than standing in the dressing room trying variations on low-rise, mid-rise, mommy-rise, ripped thighs, curvy thighs, fat thighs, boot cut, skinny cut, short cut, dark black, dark blue, dark gray, faded, acid washed, distressed, muffin top, high pockets, girl pockets, no pockets....
This time I would instead try on all the jeans already at home and decide which ones were for me.
First I tried on my own jeans, and they were Too Small.
Then I tried on Tim's jeans. And they were Too Big.
So then I snuck into Jonathan's room and stole a pair of his jeans out of his drawer. And they were Just Right.
I used to be jealous of friends who could share clothes with their daughter. But not anymore. Who needs a daughter for that? And it turns out that boy jeans have deep pockets that can even hold a phone without it riding up your butt and falling into the toilet when you forget to take it out before unzipping in the public restroom. Plus, I knew exactly where I had bought those jeans for him.
So Saturday morning, early, I took the tram up to the city and pulled five pairs of jeans off the shelf on the men's floor, stood in line at the dressing room, ignored all the funny looks by the other teenage boys in line for said dressing room, pretended not to see the raised eyebrows of those dressing room attendants, and found, out of the five, two perfect pairs of jeans. Black and dark gray. Skinny but not lumpy. With pockets.
Hoping this means I can go another decade without buying jeans again.
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Some things I've been thinking about
1. How everyone has left this space. Ten years ago, I regularly read several blogs that were important to me. They helped me process my world as a new academic and a relatively new mother, in a heavily religious community. The blogs are still there. No one writes anymore. The people are all gone. The other new mothers, the other women working through their religion and their careers, they're gone. I'm not really around as much myself. I no longer write eleven posts per month. But occasionally something happens to make me look at a post in an archive, and I remember what used to be, and I miss them.
2. Building community. I've especially been thinking about the communities built by religion. The communities offer support, friendship, fellowship, but only to those who become part of the religion wholly. And friendship isn't the only benefit. There are physiological benefits as well, that help us, the human animal, feel rewarded for our sacrifices in the name of community and in the name of religion. It would all be extremely fascinating if it weren't so weird.
3. Work-life balance. Jonathan's school is on my campus, so we take the train together in the morning, and leave for home together about 8.5 hours after arriving. It often feels like we're leaving too early. Like if I spent just one more hour at work, I could finish a whole bunch of little things and keep on top of all my projects. But I've already spent more than an eight hour day at work. There are other things to do besides work all the time. Aren't there? I think there should be....
4. What it means to live a good life. I live with people I love. We are financially stable. I am mostly healthy. I only work 8.5 hour days and the occasional Saturday or Sunday afternoon. I like my job. People like me. Isn't this good enough? What more can you ask for? Where am I going?
2. Building community. I've especially been thinking about the communities built by religion. The communities offer support, friendship, fellowship, but only to those who become part of the religion wholly. And friendship isn't the only benefit. There are physiological benefits as well, that help us, the human animal, feel rewarded for our sacrifices in the name of community and in the name of religion. It would all be extremely fascinating if it weren't so weird.
3. Work-life balance. Jonathan's school is on my campus, so we take the train together in the morning, and leave for home together about 8.5 hours after arriving. It often feels like we're leaving too early. Like if I spent just one more hour at work, I could finish a whole bunch of little things and keep on top of all my projects. But I've already spent more than an eight hour day at work. There are other things to do besides work all the time. Aren't there? I think there should be....
4. What it means to live a good life. I live with people I love. We are financially stable. I am mostly healthy. I only work 8.5 hour days and the occasional Saturday or Sunday afternoon. I like my job. People like me. Isn't this good enough? What more can you ask for? Where am I going?
Friday, August 23, 2019
Rolling closer to spring
The wattle trees are in bloom again, and they are gorgeous. And they smell heavenly.
They start blooming around late July. They stay in bloom through August, and then the weaker non-native flowering trees join them with flowers in September.
Wattle trees are a good reminder that spring is coming.
Sunshine also is a good indication of spring. There is sunlight during the morning walk to school, and the afternoon walk home, although still no sunlight for the evening walk around the park.
***
I signed up to be in Germany next week, but I canceled a few weeks ago. My latest jetlag was just too painful to endure another thirty hours of travel for a week of meetings and a thirty hour flight home. I promised I would spend the week working on a related paper instead. So work on that paper starts ... now.
Next time I'll decide the conference is less painful.
Saturday, August 3, 2019
Machine
I am a machine.
You input to-do lists, and I output tasks.
Laundry.
Groceries.
Email Carolina.
Revise section five.
At the beginning of the year, I got myself a beautiful book with hundreds of empty lined pages, in which I would write down all the deep thoughts that occurred to me each day, for three-hundred and sixty five days.
I have been writing in my new journal every day. I take it with me to and from work. More than half way through the year, it is now full more than half full -- of to-do lists.
There is a to-do list for nearly every single day of the year.
26 June 2019 (Wednesday)
Send copyright form
Mark honours reports
Need to submit rejoinder today --
9am Christine
11am Dan
12:30 seminar lunch
2pm Seminar
But very few deep thoughts. Occasionally I have written a thought:
25 Mary 2019 (Monday) (in the margin): "Project C: Should we drop it? I don't think it is adding much".
2 April 2019 (Tuesday) "Should celebrate submitting book. Maybe discuss over lunch tomorrow?"
I never did celebrate submitting the book. Because it didn't make it into a to-do list.
Today's deep thoughts: send seven emails. Change Jonathan's sheets. Return library books. And maybe give the machine a break from to-do lists for a while. It wants to sit on the couch and watch TV.
You input to-do lists, and I output tasks.
Laundry.
Groceries.
Email Carolina.
Revise section five.
At the beginning of the year, I got myself a beautiful book with hundreds of empty lined pages, in which I would write down all the deep thoughts that occurred to me each day, for three-hundred and sixty five days.
I have been writing in my new journal every day. I take it with me to and from work. More than half way through the year, it is now full more than half full -- of to-do lists.
There is a to-do list for nearly every single day of the year.
26 June 2019 (Wednesday)
Send copyright form
Mark honours reports
Need to submit rejoinder today --
9am Christine
11am Dan
12:30 seminar lunch
2pm Seminar
But very few deep thoughts. Occasionally I have written a thought:
25 Mary 2019 (Monday) (in the margin): "Project C: Should we drop it? I don't think it is adding much".
2 April 2019 (Tuesday) "Should celebrate submitting book. Maybe discuss over lunch tomorrow?"
I never did celebrate submitting the book. Because it didn't make it into a to-do list.
Today's deep thoughts: send seven emails. Change Jonathan's sheets. Return library books. And maybe give the machine a break from to-do lists for a while. It wants to sit on the couch and watch TV.
Sunday, July 28, 2019
July travel: San Diego
July was a month of travel. I have been deciding whether or not to post anything at all about July, because of the travel, and because this blog now seems like a travel log. But I have decided that it has to be done. So here we go. Photos and people and places all through July.
It always starts now with this: Giant airplane to cross the Pacific for 14-15 hours.
San Diego greeted us with a lovely sunset.
First day: Cousins from Washington DC, and a walk through a historic neighbourhood over a pedestrian bridge.
Followed by grilled hot dogs at the beach on the bay.
Day two: A hike through a sandstone canyon....
... with cousins from Memphis ...
... and Nashville, and Salt Lake ...
... Everyone was there!
Day three: Family photos day. Here's a good one of us.
Incidentally, Jonathan is the tallest of all his cousins.
Aquarium.
Day four: Zoo! I actually only took pictures of birds....
... and family. We hung out with these people. (Hi Grandma and Grandpa.)
I love the sky rail at the San Diego zoo. It's my favourite part. We rode it three times.
Day five: Pelicans.
And sea lions. This photo with cousins from all the previous places but also cousins from California.
... and the one from Australia.
San Diego cousins in a heap. Oh wait, they aren't actually our relatives.
A super cute one from Texas.
Star of the show. Until she danced right into that icy cold water. Then the party was over.
Party still ending in the photo below.
Day six. A celebration of all the July birthdays in all the extended family, with cake created by the 12-ish year old girls from California and Tennessee.
Day seven: Pack up and go ... well, not home. On to the next adventure.
It always starts now with this: Giant airplane to cross the Pacific for 14-15 hours.
San Diego greeted us with a lovely sunset.
First day: Cousins from Washington DC, and a walk through a historic neighbourhood over a pedestrian bridge.
Followed by grilled hot dogs at the beach on the bay.
Day two: A hike through a sandstone canyon....
... and Nashville, and Salt Lake ...
... Everyone was there!
Day three: Family photos day. Here's a good one of us.
Incidentally, Jonathan is the tallest of all his cousins.
Aquarium.
Day four: Zoo! I actually only took pictures of birds....
... and family. We hung out with these people. (Hi Grandma and Grandpa.)
I love the sky rail at the San Diego zoo. It's my favourite part. We rode it three times.
Day five: Pelicans.
And sea lions. This photo with cousins from all the previous places but also cousins from California.
... and the one from Australia.
San Diego cousins in a heap. Oh wait, they aren't actually our relatives.
A super cute one from Texas.
Star of the show. Until she danced right into that icy cold water. Then the party was over.
Party still ending in the photo below.
Day six. A celebration of all the July birthdays in all the extended family, with cake created by the 12-ish year old girls from California and Tennessee.
Day seven: Pack up and go ... well, not home. On to the next adventure.
Sunday, June 9, 2019
Vietnam
Now that I live in Melbourne, somewhat closer to Asia, I find myself trying to agree to go to conferences that I never would have considered attending when living in North America. An example: a couple of weeks ago I attended a conference in Vietnam. The conference was great. The main organizer was originally Vietnamese, now living in the US, bringing excellent research back to his home country, while also helping an international community see the great things Vietnam has to offer. He was helping to shrink the world a little bit, if you will. That is noble.
But me, I suffer from culture shock. This was a particularly difficult trip for me in a few ways.
Way number one: The currency. It was very hard for me to figure out what things cost. One hundred US dollars was about 1.3 million Vietnamese dong. So there were at least three extra zeros attached to every charge, and those zeros were sometimes suppressed. For example, the taxi from the airport. The meter read 84.5. What does that mean, when the only thing in my wallet is 500,000? I gave the driver one 500,000 bill, and he said "Two". So I gave him another. Then he looked confused. Then I looked confused. Then he spoke to me in Vietnamese. Then I spoke to him in English. I pointed to the meter. He pointed to the meter. After some back and forth, he gave me back 500,000, plus an extra 200,000 and two more 100,000 bills, and threw me out. So I think 84.5 meant 84,500 and he figured out his own tip. Ok. Thank you taxi driver.
Way number two: Daylight. We were only three hours earlier than Melbourne time, but somehow the time zone was shifted so sunrise and sunset were earlier than you would expect. Sunrise was 5:15am. I was awake by 5:30am my first morning. I looked outside, beach front view, and saw that the beach was crowded! Apparently the locals get up at 5am and go swimming between 5am and 6am.
So I got up, too. I walked up and down the sidewalk along the beach. There were people swimming, playing volleyball, and lots of groups of older women dancing.
After my short walk, shower, breakfast, and conference talks one, two, three, I went back out to the beach. At noon, the beach was almost totally and completely empty. Apparently swimming is only for 5am. (And 5pm, near sunset.)
Way number three: The food. Choose your own seafood.
Then the restaurant will cook it for you.
I have no idea how much it costs. Just hand over the appropriate number of 100,000 bills when you are finished. Oh, and get a coconut for drinking.
When submitting receipts later, it turned out that meals ranged from $5 AUD to $18 AUD, which made them really quite cheap. It was hard for me to comprehend prices, though, with all those extra zeros on the bills.
Way number four: Shopping. You're supposed to negotiate, and bargain. I wanted to buy a traditional Vietnamese dress:
But with the coaxing of friends, I ended up with the banana dress instead:
And it cost about $20AUD, after I went home and did some math. I think the shopkeeper won that bargain. But it was worth it. Mine was the best dressed talk the next day.
Way number five: The weather. It was warm and humid and sooo lovely. I wish I had a job in a climate that is warm and humid. Like a warm hug. It feels so good on your skin and lungs. But I live in a climate that is cold and dry in the winter. And I went from warm and humid back to cold and dry and winter. The result? Within a week, I came down with a mean cold. Today, I am in the grip of that mean cold.
In fact, I am writing this post while all hopped up on cold medicine, at 5:30 in the morning. And here, I am the only one awake at 5:30 on a Sunday morning. There is no one outside swimming or dancing or playing volleyball. It is just me, in the winter, in the cold, with a cold. But at least I know how much money is in my wallet.
But me, I suffer from culture shock. This was a particularly difficult trip for me in a few ways.
Way number one: The currency. It was very hard for me to figure out what things cost. One hundred US dollars was about 1.3 million Vietnamese dong. So there were at least three extra zeros attached to every charge, and those zeros were sometimes suppressed. For example, the taxi from the airport. The meter read 84.5. What does that mean, when the only thing in my wallet is 500,000? I gave the driver one 500,000 bill, and he said "Two". So I gave him another. Then he looked confused. Then I looked confused. Then he spoke to me in Vietnamese. Then I spoke to him in English. I pointed to the meter. He pointed to the meter. After some back and forth, he gave me back 500,000, plus an extra 200,000 and two more 100,000 bills, and threw me out. So I think 84.5 meant 84,500 and he figured out his own tip. Ok. Thank you taxi driver.
Way number two: Daylight. We were only three hours earlier than Melbourne time, but somehow the time zone was shifted so sunrise and sunset were earlier than you would expect. Sunrise was 5:15am. I was awake by 5:30am my first morning. I looked outside, beach front view, and saw that the beach was crowded! Apparently the locals get up at 5am and go swimming between 5am and 6am.
Way number three: The food. Choose your own seafood.
Way number four: Shopping. You're supposed to negotiate, and bargain. I wanted to buy a traditional Vietnamese dress:
Way number five: The weather. It was warm and humid and sooo lovely. I wish I had a job in a climate that is warm and humid. Like a warm hug. It feels so good on your skin and lungs. But I live in a climate that is cold and dry in the winter. And I went from warm and humid back to cold and dry and winter. The result? Within a week, I came down with a mean cold. Today, I am in the grip of that mean cold.
In fact, I am writing this post while all hopped up on cold medicine, at 5:30 in the morning. And here, I am the only one awake at 5:30 on a Sunday morning. There is no one outside swimming or dancing or playing volleyball. It is just me, in the winter, in the cold, with a cold. But at least I know how much money is in my wallet.
Friday, May 3, 2019
Panic spikes
I haven't been teaching this semester. I've just been hiding away in my office working on interesting research problems. Working almost exclusively on research has been very fun, which totally surprised me. I think this is the first time in my life when a research-only position has been more fun than stressful.
This semester isn't the first one where I haven't been teaching. But somehow during other teaching-free semesters, I felt a lot more pressure. I had to get a project done or I wouldn't get the next job. Or I wouldn't get tenure. Or I wouldn't be able to write up a sabbatical report. This time around, the report isn't due for two years. Plus I got the promotion I had hoped for last year, so I don't feel any pressure to impress. And so research is just ... fun. It really is mostly fun. Even the parts I normally don't like, such as getting stuck. It feels ok to be stuck. It makes me learn things.
Anyway, because of this happy research place I've been in, I've felt exceptionally calm. That is, my base level-of-being seems to be calm. Again this was totally surprising. It's been a long time since my baseline was calm -- if that ever happened. My whole life I have been a tumbling ball of stress only just keeping things together. But this semester, I have been enjoying working on research, and feeling exceptionally calm.
One of the strangest things about being calm, is that I can actually easily identify things that happen in my life to break that calm. I have been able to identify things that cause my panic level to spike. It has been educational.
In no particular order, the following life events definitely lead to panic.
1. Public speaking. Yes, giving important talks for work are stressful, but I have realized that even unimportant, low-key public speaking assignments make me panic. Like speaking to undergraduates in the informal seminar. And it isn't just standing in front of the undergraduates that causes my panic level to spike. It is receiving the email from the people organizing the undergraduate talks that pushes the panic level. Just thinking about giving the talk terrifies me. And yet I signed up and gave a talk again anyway. Because it was my turn.
Just think about it: when I am teaching, I am giving one of these panic-inducing lectures multiple times a day. No wonder I've had chronic gum problems, eh?
2. This is probably the same thing, but I'm writing it separately. I also panic when high school teachers say vague things like maybe they should get me to give a presentation in Jonathan's class. I spent years and years giving math presentations to Jonathan's classes. But when his current teacher said they maybe would think about inviting me to speak, I felt my panic level spike. I have *not* volunteered for this one. Because it is so scary!
3. Travel. Finding the hotel. Getting a plane ticket. Applying for a visa. Making sure I've filled out the appropriate paperwork for work to reimburse me. I've done it dozens of times. But it is still totally and completely terrifying.
4. Running the meeting. We're talking electronic meetings, with a group of enthusiastic volunteers who are happy to be there and will do anything they can to make me look good. But I so much don't want to run the meetings. Just starting to plan makes the panic meter spike.
5. Adult interaction. Yes, we can totally have those people over for dinner, and I know it will be fun. But getting myself ready to host people ratchets my panic level up from "calm" to "not so calm." Maybe not "anxious" yet. But I am clearly and identifiably an introvert.
6. Buying a house.
This semester isn't the first one where I haven't been teaching. But somehow during other teaching-free semesters, I felt a lot more pressure. I had to get a project done or I wouldn't get the next job. Or I wouldn't get tenure. Or I wouldn't be able to write up a sabbatical report. This time around, the report isn't due for two years. Plus I got the promotion I had hoped for last year, so I don't feel any pressure to impress. And so research is just ... fun. It really is mostly fun. Even the parts I normally don't like, such as getting stuck. It feels ok to be stuck. It makes me learn things.
Anyway, because of this happy research place I've been in, I've felt exceptionally calm. That is, my base level-of-being seems to be calm. Again this was totally surprising. It's been a long time since my baseline was calm -- if that ever happened. My whole life I have been a tumbling ball of stress only just keeping things together. But this semester, I have been enjoying working on research, and feeling exceptionally calm.
One of the strangest things about being calm, is that I can actually easily identify things that happen in my life to break that calm. I have been able to identify things that cause my panic level to spike. It has been educational.
In no particular order, the following life events definitely lead to panic.
1. Public speaking. Yes, giving important talks for work are stressful, but I have realized that even unimportant, low-key public speaking assignments make me panic. Like speaking to undergraduates in the informal seminar. And it isn't just standing in front of the undergraduates that causes my panic level to spike. It is receiving the email from the people organizing the undergraduate talks that pushes the panic level. Just thinking about giving the talk terrifies me. And yet I signed up and gave a talk again anyway. Because it was my turn.
Just think about it: when I am teaching, I am giving one of these panic-inducing lectures multiple times a day. No wonder I've had chronic gum problems, eh?
2. This is probably the same thing, but I'm writing it separately. I also panic when high school teachers say vague things like maybe they should get me to give a presentation in Jonathan's class. I spent years and years giving math presentations to Jonathan's classes. But when his current teacher said they maybe would think about inviting me to speak, I felt my panic level spike. I have *not* volunteered for this one. Because it is so scary!
3. Travel. Finding the hotel. Getting a plane ticket. Applying for a visa. Making sure I've filled out the appropriate paperwork for work to reimburse me. I've done it dozens of times. But it is still totally and completely terrifying.
4. Running the meeting. We're talking electronic meetings, with a group of enthusiastic volunteers who are happy to be there and will do anything they can to make me look good. But I so much don't want to run the meetings. Just starting to plan makes the panic meter spike.
5. Adult interaction. Yes, we can totally have those people over for dinner, and I know it will be fun. But getting myself ready to host people ratchets my panic level up from "calm" to "not so calm." Maybe not "anxious" yet. But I am clearly and identifiably an introvert.
6. Buying a house.
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