A Few Random Observations

1) Yes, I've changed the format of the blog a bit. I like it.

2) I'm so thankful for good friends. And I miss having them around.

3) Work is rewarding; weekends are perfect.

4) Contentment is feeling immense gratitude for whatever is right before us.

Visually Satisfying Blog

OK, here's a link to a really pretty blog:

HELLOmynameisHeather

This comes courtesy of Zee. But the woman who runs this blog must be amazing. And it's so perfect visually. It gives me something to which to aspire. I can't even get my little book-cover-graphic-thingys to be in proportion to everything else. But this blog is just pretty.

Another Friday Night

I heart Friday nights.

A. left a couple of hours ago. He'll be gone until Tuesday, or so. I miss him already. But I LOVE Friday nights.

I love putting on my jammies and getting into bed and reading while I watch Biography's City Confidential. Tonight's was on Brownsville, Texas, and I'm so ready to visit there. I never thought I'd be saying that. And I suspect that it's probably a passing whim. But that's not the point. The point is that, finally, I'm relaxed, am doing what I want, am enjoying time to myself. And I don't feel like I "should" be doing something else. I'm just being. That, for me, is absolute contentment.

So finally, this week, it's starting, slowly, to feel like spring. And I so have the urge to spend tomorrow digging and planting. But, of course, it's too early for that, because it still gets too cold at night. I'd worry that plants would freeze. But I want to plant and garden and celebrate general spring-y-ness. What could be finer?

Elizabeth George: Payment in Blood

Ok, so I just started George's Payment in Blood. I've read about 75 pages so far. And there are a couple of questions I'm just dying to have answered!

WARNING: PLOT SPOILERS TO FOLLOW.

Ok, so I'm only a little ways in, but what's with Lynley and Lady Helen? Is he suddenly in love with her now that she's hookin' up with someone else? And what's up with Havers? Last novel, I thought SHE was in love with St. James and had these other weird hang-ups about Lynley. Oh, I think Havers is an intriguing character, by the way. But why's she now all sympathetic and empathetic towards Lady Helen. Seriously, is Havers "into" Helen? Is this just a way for her to turn the knife a little in Lynley? So what's the deal. When my friend Zee mentioned George's novels to me, she said that what she liked was the relationships between the characters and this important past that they clearly share, yet what exactly that past is, is not totally clear. And Zee's right; I want to read and read, partly because I want to find out the solution to the murder, but mostly because I want to know about these characters.

A final note: I think that like P.D. James, my other new favorite mystery writer, I feel like George has this interesting understanding of human nature. I so much want to work on the British murder mystery (and yes, I know George is really American) as a genre. This sounds like this great way to bring together so many of my interests: medievalism, women's studies, popular culture.

Today I'm teaching Charlotte's Web. Every time I read it, I'm struck by what a truly brilliant novel it is in so many ways. I find it nurturing on a deep, deep level; this seems to me what literature should be. And it strikes me that this is a novel NOT about Fern or Wilbur, but about Charlotte, the spider. And what's remarkable about Charlotte is that she understands the value of relationships. My favorite moment is towards the end as Charlotte faces her death. She tells Wilbur, "After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. . . By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that." And this, to me, seems so central to understanding the book. Wilbur is, after all, not a particularly remarkable pig. And to save his life somehow goes against the natural order of things as it is emphasized in the book--even Charlotte lives because others die. And yet her remarkable love and devotion saves the life of unremarkable Wilbur. Maybe it's only through this sort of love that any of us can hope to "life up" our "lives a trifle." I don't know--just thoughts.

Year of the Life Makeover

So, as many of you know, Saturday was my 32nd birthday! And, because it's what I really believe in, I have every intention of celebrating for at least a week. Actually, seriously, I believe that on our birthdays, instead of expecting cards and presents and such from others, we all ought to call our mothers and thank them for giving birth to us.

But I have decided that, for so many reasons, this year of my life, my thirty-third year, will be the year of the "Live Makeover." I acknowledge that I have a lot of work to do on myself. I know that it's unhealthy, probably even sinful, but I tend to be very discontent. And that's something I want to change. And so with the help of Cheryl Richardson (see www.cherylrichardson.com) and her books, I'm prepared to do the work and commit to making this next year a year in which I can become a better version of me, a more productive version of me, a contented version of me. Think of it as "Drennan 2.0." Maybe it would really be more accurate to say "Drennan 3.0." You see, I think the original (dare I say "beta"?) version of me was probably birth to age 20 or so. And then Cory happened, and all the negative but untrue things I suspected about myself were suddenly, seemingly irrevocably reinforced. Hence, Drennan 2.0. And while I've grown and healed and all that, I know that there's still all kinds of residual doubt and anxiety and pain. And I think that I deserve to move beyond that. I deserve to devote my time and my life to the things I truly, truly believe in. And I think that, as much as any of us deserves happiness, I do. I certainly want contentment anyway.

And through a series of events that some would call synchronicity, I've stumbled upon the whole "life coach" approach to things. Richardson explains that therapy explores the trauma and hurt in our past. And while this approach is valid, she says, most people want and need to focus on the present and the future. We want skills for building the lives and selves we deserve. And so here I go: I'm allowing Richardson, through her books, to be my new life coach. And this is the year of the Life Makeover.

I was inspired, in part, by the book Julie and Julia, in which Julie someone-or-another decides that to commerate her 30th birthday, she'll spend the year cooking through Julia Child's The Art of French Cooking. I don't feel quite that ambitious, but I do want to do what I know will work for myself. And I want to commit to making this a year in which I'll take really good care of myself. Richardson calls it "extreme self care." The more I meditate on it, the more it seems to make sense that I need to care for myself in order to have energy to give to others.

Anyhow, I've decided that, at least for now, I'm going to really work through Richardson's Life Makeovers, in which she gives a weekly suggestion for recreating one's self and one's life. The task for this week is to simply start keeping a journal--no great feat for me! I do have to admit, however, that I'd like to start journalling more regularly. But it really does feel like a healthy way to start. I've also decided that I'm going to give myself the gift of spending Thursday afternoons at the Back Home Again (see www.backhomeagaincafe.com). I think I can spend a little time grading, time journalling, and time reading and thinking about this whole Life Makeover project. The Back Home Again is really my favorite establishment in town, and it's super relaxing to hang out there. I feel like I need this for my own sanity. So to sum it up, here are my goals, for now anyway, to contribute to this larger project.

Because I deserve it and because I want to, I commit to
1. Richardson's program of the Life Makeover
2. Spending Thursday afternoons at the Back Home Again for work, reflection, planning, and relaxation
3. Getting up 30 minutes early in order to have a half-hour of journalling in the morning.

So I know that to some it seems odd that I choose to post all this publicly. I actually find it empowering to be so open with these things. But I also figure that I'm more likely to actually follow through if I've made this open, public commitment. It's like having accountability of some sort. If you really care about me, ask me periodically how the whole Life Makeover is going. There's more to say--more goals I have for the year, more reflection--and I'll keep posting.

I want to close with this poem from Gerard Manly Hopkins who, along with John Donne, is probably my favorite poet:

Pied Beauty

GLORY be to God for dappled things— For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; 5 And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: 10 Praise him.

Elizabeth George: A Great Deliverance

So, I'm always thinking I "should" read serious literature (have I mentioned what's-his-name's Seven Types of Ambiguity?) and stuff that contributes somehow to my professional development and growth. But what I so long for is a really good, British-feeling murder mystery. And my friend Zee introduced me to Elizabeth George. She's fun, she's a good read, and her detective character, Inspector Lynley, is fascinating and charismatic and just what I want in a good mystery. And how have I missed George all this time. Goodness knows how many times I've been flipping through PBS's Mystery and seen bits and pieces of the Inspector Lynley adaptations. So why didn't I pay more attention? Why didn't I pick up any of the novels? It always puzzles me when there's this great literary "find" that I've been missing out on. It's just like, "How did this happen?" But it's also kinda wonderful, right? Because it's like, "Ooooo, I have a whole series to look forward to!" It's great.

Here's the other thing about George that's happened recently. So this was maybe three weeks ago. I'd finished A Great Deliverance, and was all excited about George. And Dolce Carina (my soulmate and inspiration, you know ;) called and asked if I was interested in going to a conference with her in the fall. And I said yes for so many reasons. And when I looked at the website for the conference, George was scheduled as the keynote speaker. Kismet, I say. I say "Kismet" rather tongue in cheek, although I really do believe in "synchronicity"--maybe that's another post of it's own. But here, again, the universe, God really, is giving me what I need, the nudge, that direction, the encouragement. And so this fall, it's off to Calgary for Elizabeth George and DC and "The Yellow Wallpaper" and feminist theory, and disability and illness studies. And I so feel like I'm doing what I need to be doing with myself and my reading and my work and my career. And, at least for now, the work (not the money, not the recognition, not the step to tenure, although all those things seem nice) but the work is its own reward. My new mantra is this: let the work be its own reward. It sums up so much about what I'm trying to live. And maybe that, also, deserves its own post.

Friday Nights

So here's the new Friday night routine: A. works late (until 10:30 or so) on Fridays. So I'm on my own. And while I'd rather be spending Friday nights with A, I'm kinda enjoying just having time to myself, time to get caught up, time to work on crafts and projects, time to watch DIY and HGTV. But here's the best part about Friday nights with myself. I can get in bed early, and read and write and watch TV (at the moment Nancy Grace is catching me up with the latest on Anna Nicole). I can blog, journal, and read Elizabeth George. Have I mentioned Elizabeth George? As Dolce Carina knows, George is my current favorite mystery writer. To be honest, she's rather a new find for me. And I just started the second of her Inspector Lynley mysteries. She's a good writer, and Lynley is this fascinating character, which is what I look for in a good murder mystery. But the point is that Friday nights are all mine. And I can get in bed early and relax and have the remote to myself and simply do what relaxes and nourishes me. At the moment, I have a cup of adagio.com's Valentines tea. And I'm using my mint green Royal Albert Old Country Roses cup and saucer. And it all feels perfect, like what Friday nights and weekends and time at home should feel like: cozy, secure, warm, nurturing. It's like I simply feel so blessed to have a favorite tea and a favorite cup and a good novel and the internet to be connected to the world. (Have I mentioned that I'm blogging from my bed??? This is so perfect!) I know that I tend to go on and on; it's just that I feel so content with this moment. And tomorrow may be wonderful or may be crappy (either way it'll be my birthday!) but it's almost like tomorrow doesn't matter (or doesn't bear worrying about) because for right now, I'm happy.

Oh, and look forward to posts about the following: Elizabeth George, the Real Housewives of Orange County, Maguire's Wicked (have a conference paper to work up!), Lewis's Narnia, and the apricot tea from Adagio (it'll be new to me--should arrive on Tuesday--I have DC to thank for this, as for so much else!)

"Wardrobe Malfunction"

I nearly had one of those infamous wardrobe malfunctions today. I wore this cute black wrap-around dress and black tights and boots to work. But once I arrived, I realized that the elastic waistband in my tights was really worn out. Seriously. But once you're already there, what can you do? So I tried to ignore it and go about work as ususal. But in the middle of my Intro to Lit class, I realized that my tights were slowly, slowly (but surely) creeping down. Soon, I knew, the crotch of my tights would be to my knees. And how embarrassing would that be? I tried to stand very, very still, to not get overly excited about Gerard Manly Hopkins and hope that my tights wouldn't fall any lower. I was successful. I'm not sure how graceful I was about the whole thing, but at least my tights didn't fall off completely. I mean, how would a person even begin to explain that?

I've finally "arrived"

So I feel as thought my life has reached some sort of pinnacle of my existence. Because I'm finally, actually blogging from bed. Which may not sound like that big of a deal to most of you. But it's what I've dreamed of for so long. Many of you know I'm a "pajamas person," AKA Pajama Dren. But also, I love doing everything in bed: reading, writing, watching movies, even eating popcorn. And now here I am, all bloggy-blog in bed on a Sunday afternoon, and I can't think of anything that would possibly be more relaxing. I've even got this cool in bed, breakfast-tray, lap desk thingy that A. gave me as an early birthday present. And it's all just perfect, like being on vacation or something. And he's at work, writing away. And here I am, all happy and safe. And while blogging in bed may sound ridiculous to the rest of you, something about it feels wonderfully luxurious; maybe it's the sheer ridiculousness of it that makes it luxurious. I'm not sure. But it's great.

It's been a cold, snowy, wintery weekend in VT. We had unseasonably warm temps mid week (close to 60!--that's Ferinheit. Oh, I can't spell that, and of course, I should look it up, but I'm not going to). And then Friday was cold and snowy again. And I'd guess that we've gotten about a foot of snow, all told. And I'm starting to wonder if spring will ever, ever come. Meanwhile back at the ranch, some of you are up into the 80s, I know. Don't rub it in.

I'm coming to my thirty-second birthday at the end of the week. I want to spend time this week reflecting on what I want this next year, the thirty-third of my life to be. Thirty three years seems somehow like a magical number. 33. I keep thinking of Schoolhouse Rock and "Three is a magic number. . . " Completing my thirty second year and moving towards the thirty third seems magical, so full of promise. And so, I want to blog about all of that, I think, over the coming days.

A final quick note: last night A. and I watched the first half or so of the movie Flushed Away. Very funny.

Enter Jeeves

So Ive been reading Wodehouse lately. And it's so great. On Thursday, I was reading while my class was taking a midterm, and it was so funny that I actually had to get up and leave the room, because I was so giggly. I mean, it's gotta take some real talent to write such great comedy. And it's that British comedy, you know? And I remember why Hugh Laurie is my favourite, favourite actor. And Wodehouse is a comic genius. Seriously. And Wodehouse writes in the first person in Bertie's voice. And it's great. And I hear Hugh Laurie. Normally, I don't like it when my reading experience is informed and even controlled by film and TV, but here, it all seems so perfect. So get a load of this:

"I'm not absolutely certain of my facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare--or, if not, some equally brainy lad--who says that it's always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole and more than usually braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping"

OK, so that's so Bertie. And it's too funny. I mean, there's something so wonderful about putting it all that way. And it's the opening to a story. And I have to say that Fate's "bit of lead piping" isn't anything so horrifying in this case. I mean, it's Bertie Wooster, not Oedipus, for Pete's sake. And that's part of the brilliance of Wodehouse's work, you know? I just think we should all be reading things that make us laugh, because we need more of that. I need more Wodehouse and Laurie. And oh, have I mentioned that my new thing is Charlie and Lola. But that's another post.

Anyhow, just now, Jeeves is working is magic, not just on Bertie, but on me.

I've Gone Wireless

OK, so after over an hour on the phone with Verizon's tech support, I'm now all wireless and shit. (Sorry mom, for the use of "shit," only that's how it feels just now. It was all very draining somehow. And, although it may be soap-opera-predictable, I did have to call Stampy-Stamp for help getting all set up. And, you know, for him it's all like this interesting logic problem to try to figure out how to make this whole wi-fi thingy work for me, configuring modems and what-have-you. It's like the rest of us feel about Sudoku. But the point is that here I am. And right now, I'm blogging while watching a repeat of the Real Housewives of the OC. Which I really hope, hope, hope will be back for a third season, because it's my favorite guilty pleasure. Well, the Housewives (I want to be "wife-a-licious" one day!) and Elizabeth George are my favorite guilty pleasures just now. And I wish I were all smart like Dolce Carina blogging about smart, intellectual things. Oh, so today I realized that I say all these entertaining, witty things but mostly only to myself. It's like I think all the really smart things when there's no one around, or maybe just the dogs around, to say them to. So of course, I just say them to myself. But sometimes, I feel like I'm depriving all the rest of you of my wisdom/wit/insight. So here's a good rule of thumb for us literary-researcher types:

For every two pages of literary theory I read and really understand, I reward myself with something really fun, like a murder mystery; only one and a half pages if it's Kristeva.

Ok, so I have this whole thing for Kristeva lately. It's like I want to understand Kristeva, but I'm afraid of Kristeva, but I also want to be Kristeva, and I'm convinced that Kristeva is the only one who *really* understands me, except for maybe my old buddy Virginia W. I know this all sounds really neurotic. But just admitting it is better somehow, right?

OK, so the Housewives are over, and Grease, You're The One That I Want is on. And I'm not all into it, although I do watch bits and pieces here and there. And I'm all for Max.

OK, and I've been reading Wodehouse's Jeeves stories. And they are super great; more about that later. Because Jeeves and Hugh Laurie deserve their own posts, not connected to Kristeva and the Housewives. And really, what does Kristeva have to say about the Housewives?

It's past my bedtime, so I'm going to stop now. But now that I'm all wireless and portable and shit, I promise, promise, at least to myself, that I'm going to post more often, because it's somehow important and somehow helps me get through the day.