Yesterday was my 24th birthday. This seems neither too old nor too young for me, but somehow the wrong age anyway. Then again, I am the girl who when quizzed on her age by strangers sometimes still accidentally answers that she is 18, an age I have had the pleasure of not being for many years now.
My birthday was good for a lot of reasons. I spent the morning at the library looking at old photos, then took a long walk. I got a card from my mother, many calls and emails from friends and family (including a priceless voicemail from my brother in which he admitted that he 1) had initially forgotten my birthday 2) didn't know how old I was at first and 3) didn't know what city I currently live in), and went out for a ridiculously delicious dinner with Bron.
The best part about my birthday is that I'm gearing up for a lot of changes. Soon I'll be leaving one of my library jobs (the unpaid one), which is sad, because I really adore the work I do there--leaving so I can have that time to work on graduate school applications, including revising my master's thesis from last summer (more on that in a moment). I've also recently quit my job at the cafe, which is somewhat less prudent financially, but personally is like a dead weight lifted from my shoulders.
I'm excited about the fall and having a little more free time (or, at least, self-scheduled time). I baked a pie last week (peach pie with cornmeal crust) and realized how little I've had time to bake in the past year.
I've been surprised as I've started looking over my research and writing for my thesis just how much I love the topic I chose, and just how much more I have to say about it. The fact that I still have so much enthusiasm for Sigurd is galvanizing--in some false small way it makes me feel justified for wanting to undertake a PhD, like my ability to resurrect enthusiasm for a project I had spent so much time on and then not looked at for months is somehow proof that I'm cut out for it. Truth is there is no way to prove that I'm cut out for anything, except to try it on, give it a good go, and see if it fits.
I'm also considering submitting an abstract, based on my thesis, to NEMLA. The deadline is at the end of September, and there is a panel on spatio-temporal shifts in 19th century literature that I think my thesis would speak to well--there's a large section in the beginning about Morris's ellision of landscape, mythos/storytelling, and past-ness that I was planning on fleshing out more.
It's just too bad I can't think of a plausible way to tie the project to the panel on "The Politics of Meat in the 19th Century Novel."
According to Bron, there are quite a few of us baby Academes-in-training who are hoping to hop to NEMLA this year. Are you?
Showing posts with label jobs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jobs. Show all posts
12 August 2009
15 January 2009
Pedagogy, or Why I Have No Direction in Life
Currently, I have no job. Partly this is because I finished my Master's degree and have moved cities twice in the past 5 months. Mostly it is (I think) because I have no idea what I want to do with my life. [note: I feel I should clarify that before I moved to Philadelphia I had two jobs, so the internets should not get the idea that I am completely lazy].
Before I went to England last year, I thought I wanted to go on to get a PhD in late 19th century British Literature. Sometimes I think I still might want to do that, but at several points in time last year (once when I was opening the Kelmscott edition of Sigurd the Volsung, once when I was standing on the landing of the V&A with Anne, watching some museum workers refurbish the cast court collection, and some other times as well) I began to second guess myself about things. I want to learn things, and I want to teach things, but I don't know if I want to be a professor.
So now the odyssey of life. I'm taking some time off to work (if I can find a job--damn you economy!), to learn about new things, and figure out what I actually want to do with the rest of my life.
It's a frustrating task, I think, in part, because actually I know exactly what I want to do in life. I want to bake pies and sew things. I want to read books and be excited about them, and maybe even write books of my own, not for any purpose but just to write them. I want to create bad art and good conversation. I want, in short, this:
Then last night because I couldn't sleep I was reading Lady's copy of 1066 and All That, which has the following to say in the introduction about history:
"History is not what you thought. It is what you can remember. All other history defeats itself."
And the first thing I thought when I read this was, "wouldn't this be a great first day discussion for a history class?" So many great places you could take that discussion: What history can you remember? What is the purpose of history if you can't remember it? What is the purpose of history? What did you think history was before this statement told you differently? Is history self-defeating? How do we remember the history we thought we knew but really forgot? Does history remain history if some people remember it but not all people?
Then there is this post on Historiann about history classrooms, pedagogy, and investigative teaching methods, which also made me really excited about teaching.
There is no point to this post, except perhaps that whether or not I ever get a PhD, maybe I do want to teach and that also I am still of the opinion that occupation is a way overrated way to plan your life. And also that I want to be employed. The End.
Before I went to England last year, I thought I wanted to go on to get a PhD in late 19th century British Literature. Sometimes I think I still might want to do that, but at several points in time last year (once when I was opening the Kelmscott edition of Sigurd the Volsung, once when I was standing on the landing of the V&A with Anne, watching some museum workers refurbish the cast court collection, and some other times as well) I began to second guess myself about things. I want to learn things, and I want to teach things, but I don't know if I want to be a professor.
So now the odyssey of life. I'm taking some time off to work (if I can find a job--damn you economy!), to learn about new things, and figure out what I actually want to do with the rest of my life.
It's a frustrating task, I think, in part, because actually I know exactly what I want to do in life. I want to bake pies and sew things. I want to read books and be excited about them, and maybe even write books of my own, not for any purpose but just to write them. I want to create bad art and good conversation. I want, in short, this:
Then last night because I couldn't sleep I was reading Lady's copy of 1066 and All That, which has the following to say in the introduction about history:
"History is not what you thought. It is what you can remember. All other history defeats itself."
And the first thing I thought when I read this was, "wouldn't this be a great first day discussion for a history class?" So many great places you could take that discussion: What history can you remember? What is the purpose of history if you can't remember it? What is the purpose of history? What did you think history was before this statement told you differently? Is history self-defeating? How do we remember the history we thought we knew but really forgot? Does history remain history if some people remember it but not all people?
Then there is this post on Historiann about history classrooms, pedagogy, and investigative teaching methods, which also made me really excited about teaching.
There is no point to this post, except perhaps that whether or not I ever get a PhD, maybe I do want to teach and that also I am still of the opinion that occupation is a way overrated way to plan your life. And also that I want to be employed. The End.
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