Wandering Uterus

This is more a follow-up to "The Yellow Wallpaper."

In class yesterday, we discussed "The Yellow Wallpaper," and the narrator there is accused of being hysterical. So I thought it necessary to explain to the class that years ago, hysteria (which comes from the same root as "hysterectomy," right?) was thought to occur because a woman's womb floated around in the body and somehow caused these emotional outbursts. It's the whole wandering uterus theory. And my students actually laughed. They didn't seem to believe that anyone actually believed such a thing. And of course, the implication is that only women become hysterical. I keep having this weird / funny mental image of my uterus getting somehow lodged in the wrong place, like behind my sternum, and that, of course, explains my anxiety.

Peeps and a Pup

In anticipation of spring (which will have to come some day, right?), I offer the following.

Oh, I could sing, "One of these things is not like the others. . . "

Or I could just ask, what does Guinnie have in common with sugar-coated, marshmallow goodness?

"The Yellow Wallpaper"

I just finished Charlotte Perkins Gillman's "The Yellow Wallpaper," and I am reminded that I can never quite decide what I think about this story. So here I am, maddly prepping for this afternoon's class, thinking obsessively about the story, scanning critical stuff. And I'm realizing, not for the first time, that maybe my problem is that, like the narrator seems to be here, I allow myself to become trapped within my own mind, my own emotional problems. I can say this because I just finished a particularly anxiety-ridden weekend. (Was that the right word? "Ridden"?) And I know that, at least in part, my anxiety comes from thinking obsessively about my own mental and emotional state. And if only I'd do something outside myself, something creative, as the narrator in Gillman's story desires initially, I'd get away from that anxiety. Only, it's so hard to do. For me, anxiety becomes so overwhelming that I really believe, in the moment, that I can't break away from it, that I can't actually focus on and do anything else. And so, like our narrator, I attempt to strip away the prison of anxiety that binds me, only to find that I'm simply emprisioning my self more tightly.

Ok, so I know that this isn't some super smart response. It's just that I needed a space to work through this story, at least a little. And you know, women and sickness and hysteria and emobdiment--all these things seem important to me lately.

Ok, for those who are interested, here's an update. This morning, I finally left the house; I'm no longer snowed in. And I'm really kinda relieved to be back to work. I seriously am just not very good at being a New Englander, although just this morning, mom told me that given my personality, I'm possibly better suited to New England than to California. I guess I can see what she means. And it's not that I dislike New England. There are many wonderful, wonderful things about living in Vermont. I actually like having real seasons, although the bitter cold is getting to me. I guess it's that New England just doesn't feel like home; Bakersfield is still home. I know that many people think Bakerspatch is really icky. And it certainly has its faults. But for me, that hot, dry, dusty central California valley is home. And it's like I feel this whole love-hate thing for So Cal. When I see L.A. on TV, I feel oddly nostalgic, not that I actually want to live there. My deep, dark secret is that I have this longing to live in Orange County. I can hardly believe that I'm admitting that. But south county is appealing to me lately. Maybe all this snow is just getting to me. There are 100,000 problems with California, but it just feels like home.

It's cold; I'm cold. And, I don't know, for like the past 10 days, the highs have been only in the teens, maybe the 20s. And I'm not sure that I can even remember what warm feels like. And late tonight through early tomorrow, we're supposed to get a foot of snow. I miss California. I'm not cut out for all this cold nonsense. I'm just tired of it. I guess it's not so bad if I can just stay at home and not have to actually get in the car and go anywhere. But it's still just cold. Everyone says I'll appreciate spring more, when it FINALLY arrives, and I'm sure that's true. But right now, I'm just miserable, cold and dry and miserable.

Hey, I Made the MLA

OK, I know this is kinda silly. But I just looked myself up in the MLA database. And there I was! Well, there my diss was, anyway. It all seemed pretty exciting. I feel like a real professional now, not like I'm just masquerading. "I'm not a real professor; I just play one on TV." Well, that's how I feel sometimes, like I'm standing in front of all these 20 year olds, playing the part of Dr. Drennan. But seeing my name, the title of my diss there on the database makes it more real somehow.

The Perfect Tea

I do want to say that I've discovered, or rather Dolce Carina discovered, what I believe could quite possibly be the perfect tea. It's Adagio's (see www.adagio.com) Valentine's Tea, and it's my new favorite smell. It's wonderful. They advertise it as chocolate strawberry. I'm not sure that I really taste the strawberry, but I just love it. It's not too sweet and is delicate and perfect. Hey, remember the TV commercial with "I'd like to buy the world a Coke?" Well, I'd like to buy the world a cup of tea.

A Note on My Title

Recently, someone suggested that "Drennan's Adventures Underground" is not an apt title for this blog. I completely disagree. And I feel that maybe an explanation / justification would be in order. So here goes:

First, in titling my blog "Drennan's Adventures Underground," I was thinking of Alice's Adventures Underground, the original title of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. This, for me, created all kinds of interesting comparisons. In part, I so often feel like Alice, learning to navigate through a world, or maybe several worlds that seem to make no sense, that feel like nonsense. And like Alice, I so often feel isolated, lost, unsure of myself, as though I can't quite latch onto my own sense of identity.

Second, some months ago, I moved my blog. It was at this point that I chose the title "Drennan's Adventures Underground." Basically, I wanted to go "underground" with this blog in the sense that I was avoiding Crazy-Guy-From-Arizona, who had started reading my blog obsessively. He also e-mailed me obsessively; it began to feel like harrassment.

So now, here I am, having adventures "underground," if Small College, Vermont can be called "underground."

And really, isn't blogging about tea and books just as valid as anything else?