Conferences rock my socks

They really do. I know that there will come a day when they feel like a tired, boring, routine, but for I now I love having an excuse stay in a hotel and share my work with other scholars. It's really encouraging to see that there are other people out there who care about nerdy things. It's even better to present a paper and prove to yourself that there can be a final product from all that research. Extra bonus: I got to meet up with two dear friends from high school, and pretty much hang out in Old Town Alexandria in some perfect fall weather.

My presentation was about a project I did years ago on 20th century Catholic churches. It had been a while since I looked at the material, and then I realized all over again what a monstrous pile of information it was. I also realized my undergrad-quality writing was a little clunky - I guess that's a good sign for my current abilities? After two days of editing, I am proud of what I wrote. At my panel I was pleased to find that there are at least 2 professors out there who are interesting in similar topics and liked what I had to say. Should I let this topic die or think about publication?

The conference as a whole was a pretty mixed bag; it was large and varied like the aisles of Costco. There was a pop culture focus, so many papers were about movies and tv. At first this seemed fun, but after 1 hour of scholarly buzzwords mixed with analysis of Twilight, I realized there is a reason academics tend to look down on such things. From what I saw, there were some intelligent points mixed with a lot of things anyone with internet access already knows.

Then again, I can't judge every talk. Here are a few other titles that looked, um, interesting.

"You don't even look Italian!": Counting Italian-Americans on Reality TV
Philosophy from a Pineapple Under the Sea
(Re)presentation of the Body in Pain on Survivor
Mayhem in Motherhood: Working Class Representations on The George Lopez Show
From Genesis to Torah: The Harry Potter "Such a Person" Happening

Oh, and there were 5 Twilight papers, 4 on Harry Potter, 3 on American Psycho, 2 on Avatar, but only 1 about Lady Gaga.

Deadlines

This pretty much sums up my life right now. Tomorrow a classmate and I head to the DC area to present at a conference, and right now I am up to my eyeballs in PowerPoint slides of 1970s church architecture. Oh, and I need to also be working on a thesis seminar presentation that I will give in 5 days. EEEEEK!

At 2:30am last night I hit the point where I usually ask "why do I do this to myself?" But I realized something - maybe I need this adrenaline rush of panic to get my brain to fire on all cylinders. I've been thinking about my thesis for weeks, but have had trouble making a concise argument. Likewise, it took a looming deadline to inspire some serious presentation editing, which was a hard decision to make.

How about you, 2.5 readers? How do you think through a project?

My feminism is acting up again

Today in my awesome history seminar we discussed a really dense, intimidating, intelligent book that is in many ways a diatribe about how other historians got things wrong. A couple of guys in my class really didn't like it. Before discussion started I overheard them wondering how the female author pulled it off. "She must have been like, sitting in the library for hours every day. Geez, she needed to get a boyfriend or something."
Really? Really? When you read her mentor's equally intense tome you didn't question his love life. Is it so painful to have your small mind challenged by a woman, Mr. Sweatpants and energy drink?

Granted, I'm not crazy about her style either. She seems like the kind of person who is such a Type A overachiever they give everyone around them hypertension. If she put work over family, I pity her decision to ignore the important things in life. Being a woman in academia is an especially hard balance - all of us aspiring girl professors worry at times when, if, and how having a family will fit into the equation. (Not gonna lie, at times I feel like I am waiting out grad school until I can just get married and have babies.)

But don't you dare imply that girls can't be or shouldn't be intense scholars. Whether we have boyfriends has nothing to do with it.

The Finale

This weekend I went to my college's ballroom club Homecoming social. Getting back on the floor, I was reminded of what I loved about it. At one point, I danced with a guy a few years my junior who is an excellent lead. I'm not even sure what we were dancing to Michael Buble - Silver Smooth Foxtrot? - but it worked. His effortlessly light but firm directions kept me in line and from stepping on his toes. Drawing on my own dormant skills, I could spin, rise, and fall elegantly. I know we looked good, and it felt like flying.

And then the dance was over, and I remembered everything I disliked about that club.

I am grateful for what it gave me as a freshman - comfort with my own body; awareness of muscles and movement I didn't know I had; confident self-expression; and even *gasp* physical contact with boys; albeit highly structured. Sadly, it failed to give me the close friendships I saw among other members. The dance world can be full of cattiness, judgment, vain preening, and obnoxious cutesiness.

There were three true friends there this weekend who were genuinely interested in hearing about my post-grad life. Otherwise, I looked around the room and realized I am only interested in what these people can give me physically - a fun dance experience. We have no deep personal connections, or really even superficial ones for that matter. And that's no basis for a healthy relationship. This Sunday, I told them goodbye for the last time. I don't think anyone even noticed I was gone.

Off to Colonial Fantasyland!

From 30 Rock, episode 205: “Greenzo” (Via the splendid Kirsten.)

Ohhh CW. It's not an actual time capsule, but rather a conversation about "suspension of disbelief," "public history and memory," and the Colonial Revival. When anthropologists write a book that discusses the decision to leave horse poop in the streets, you know you are in an alternate universe.

This August The Beau was a trooper and let me drag him all over town, but I could tell part of him was skeptical. Why on earth were my college friends and I so excited to walk down a street of not-actually-historic buildings in 90 degree heat?

I think because we are happily brainwashed by our experiences there. No matter how much time I have spent in Williamsburg, it never disappoints. Part of my heart will always reside in that little colonial hamlet-turned college town and haven for retirees. That is where I first lived on my own, where I became an adult, where my life changed dramatically. It's where my friends and I made tons of memories that we'll relive at Homecoming this weekend.

Plus, my little sister is now a costumed interpreter intern in CW! So we'll frolic down the pseudo-historic street singing this song.

Modernist Monday - Kids Edition

The other day I had the TV on as I was getting ready to head to school, and a show called Willa's Wildlife came on. It seemed like a generic cartoon about a girl and talking animals, but then I got a look at her house. Wow! The home was full of angular, clean lines and furniture with mid 20th century flair. It was a little reminiscent of the Brady Bunch home, but it was also unique and fun. There was much more attention to detail than in some other animated shows. (As the oldest of five kids I have seen plenty of programming rated Y.)


I did a little Googling and discovered that Willa's Wildlife is a relatively new show that originated in Canada and Australia. Kids book An Octopus Followed Me Home by Dan Yaccarino is the basis for the concept. The fun architecture and interiors are the work of artist Adrian Thatcher, whose blog provided these images. He recently won a daytime Emmy Award for his art direction. I say, keep up the great work, and keep exposing kids to good design!

Material Culture Alert: Rosary stories

October is the month of the rosary, and in honor of that some Catholic bloggers are sharing their own rosaries and the stories behind them. For instance, the always-entertaining Kat is featuring rosaries all month on The Crescat. So here's my contribution.

First of all, I should confess that the Rosary and I have not always been super close. When you are a kid it can seem endlessly boring. I've had my share of not-great rosary experiences: kneeling on the cafeteria floor in middle school; late at night in the living room when none of my siblings managed to stay awake past the first decade; or those parking lot May Crowning procession that never, ever work, no matter how hard you try to keep your Hail Marys on pace with the people in front of you.

A turning point for me was Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae. He explained that the whole point is not how piously you enunciate each bead, but rather how you contemplate the face of Christ. It's not mindless repetition, it's tuning out the world to meditate on events in scripture.

Since then, I've been finding new ways to incorporate the Rosary into my life. Keeping one near my bed has helped me through many a night of insomnia. Road trips are another good opportunity. Lately, I've prayed through workouts, challenging myself to jog for just one more decade. Although, I learned the hard way today that even though prayer and running are zen, and treadmills technically keep you on a stationary path, you should still not close your eyes!

I have owned numerous rosaries over the the years - agate, pearl, faceted, plastic, Our Father medallions depicting the four Roman basilicas, made out of colored cord on a Jamaica service trip. One was blessed with a relic of Padre Pio, and another was given by a crush at World Youth Day who was bound for the seminary. But the one I want to talk about is the one on my rear view mirror that I see every day. It represents one of my fantastic rosary moments.

When I was a senior in high school, I was sure that I should go to Catholic University in D.C. I had a great time visiting, some friends were going there, and why wouldn't God want me to further my Catholic education? In the end, though, it came down to money, and I had to settle for my second-choice state school.

The week my parents and I made the decision, I was devastated and confused. How could this be the way God wanted it? Happily, there was a chapel at my school with the Blessed Sacrament, so I went there during a free period. In the dim light, I grabbed a plastic rosary from the basket by the door and plopped myself down at the altar rail to demand some answers. One decade along, I looked down at my hands - the rosary had green and yellow beads. The colors of my state school.

That state school ended up being one of the best decisions I ever made. I didn't know then how much it would make me learn and grow. But God knew, and I like to think that He and His Mom decided to send me a little hug of encouragement about it that day.
The rosary in my car is not the original from that story, but it's close. It put it there to remind me that God's providence is never far away, even if it can be mysterious.

What about you, my very few readers? What is your favorite rosary? Do you have any good rosary-related stories?

Cooking on a budget

Lately I've been a little short on cash, due in part to my own stupidity and in part to the perils of being a Poor Grad Student. ($350 student activity fee when I am on campus 3 hours a week? Really?) Since groceries are a flexible budget item, I've tried to spend as little as possible. Actually, it's been a good experience and has made me get more creative. Nostalgia for rice and beans night in the VSC house led me to cooking dried beans in my crock pot, which was possibly the easiest cooking method ever.

Given my current situation, I was thrilled to discover the recipe blog Budget Bytes. I absolutely love how Beth gives prices for ingredients and per serving. This is a nice contrast to Food Network magazine, which has pretty pictures but often requires me to buy some random ingredient I'll barely use.

So last week or so I tried this recipe from the blog, and it was very tasty. Here is how mine turned out:Pasta, protein, and veggies - yum! And yes, I made it gluten free. A word about GF pasta: Trader Joe's sells brown rice spaghetti and fusilli for less than $2. It's very similar to pricier Tinkyada rice pasta, and even my gluten-full friends have eaten it happily. Personally, I don't mess with that goofy stuff made of corn and quinoa. It basically tastes like bland corn, and that is not pasta, my friends.

Modernist Monday - Shakespeare edition

I'm not opposed to a well done modern adaptation of Shakespeare plays; they can help you see the timeless language in a new light. This weekend I watched the 1995 film of Richard III starring Ian McKellen. It was amazing! The 1930s setting had great costumes and music, plus it gave Richard's tyranny a fascist feel. The best moment was Richard at the wheel of a stalled jeep shouting "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!" If that weren't enough, this movie stars just about every British actor you've ever heard of, plus Robert Downey Jr. for good measure.

There were some great modernist buildings used as sets, particularly old power stations. The Tower of London was re-imagined as the Tate Modern gallery building, which is itself an adapted power station. Richard's office headquarters also had striking clean lines. There were even a few art deco touches, like a candy bowl with cobra handles.

What made this modernity even more effective was its contrast with older styles of buildings. I got really excited when I recognized some of our stops on the London trip! King Edward's last days were filmed at the rockin' Brighton Pavilion. Not gonna lie, the best part of the king's deathbed was the overhead shot of the lotus chandeliers. Other royal spaces featured a lot of Gothic revival elements - even the bathroom. Yes, at Horace Walpole's Strawberry Bank estate, there are urinals with Gothic borders. Crazy! Definitely check this movie out if you are interested in historical intrigue in dramatic settings.

Source for view of the Tate Modern

Material Culture Alert: Pants are evil!

Pants are evil. At least that's what my classmate N-slice and I have decided. Pants never do what you want. If you fail to conform to their shape, they either sag and droop or compress your internal organs. Skirts, on the other hand, are forgiving and flexible. Skirts are our friends, especially in a fancy-pants museum school.

Now, you may be aware that there are some conservative religious groups wherein pants on women are evil. My fave Arkansas family the Duggars are an example of this, as are some Catholic homeschooling factions. In their eyes, pants undermine modesty, chastity, the role of women in the family, and the natural complementary differences between the sexes. Those are big issues, so I respect their worrying about them. The worry can lead to some extreme ideas, though. Naturally, if you look around the internet, you can find people in crazy arguements about this topic. For instance:

This article I found today is well meaning, heartfelt ... and totally nuts. When the author suggested that you take your husband shopping with you so he can pick out your clothes, I had to laugh out loud. It also seems to imply that pants simultaneously make you look too fat, too sexual, and too "cheap." Dude, which is it?

This post in response is snarky, skeptical, and full of female common sense. I laughed out loud more than once. Basically it says "I am a busy mom chasing after my kids - PANTS!"

All day I've been hashing out what I would write in response to these ideas about modesty and gender roles. Why can't I stop thinking about it? Here's my own itemized pants/skirt manifesto.

1. This is a material culture issue - clothing has both individual and social meaning. Clothing can assert control, reinforce a group affiliation, express individual creativity, and yes, offend those around you.
2. Longing for the "good old days" of modest clothing is bad history scholarship. Have you ever seen a Hogarth engraving from the 1700s? Not much modesty there. Granted, immodesty may be much more visible and diverse now, but it always existed within the social constructs of its time. That's another thing - clothing culture is a language that evolves. In Jesus' time, everyone wore long robes. Was that blurring the sexes too much?
3. There is extreme immodesty in our culture, but you don't have to go to opposite extremes to combat the cultural poison of, say, Jersey Shore.
   
4. Last night I read Ira Levin's novel The Stepford Wives. That book is a worst case scenario of caricatured gender relations, but the first article has some similarities. In both worlds, men admire women for their beauty, and want to direct how that beauty is displayed and idealized. The Stepford husbands wanted impossible women who would do endless chores with no personal needs; the other author appears to want the impossibility of never remembering that women are sexually attractive.
   
5. I'm the kind of person who takes spiritual advice much too seriously, especially when it is strict. Last year I read Colleen Hammond's Dressing With Dignity, and it troubled me for weeks. Was I really buying into a modern conspiracy of Marxism, Freemasonry, and the downfall of civilization as we know it? Padre Pio, a profoundly holy man, wouldn't even hear the confessions of women in pants. Was he looking down from heaven ashamed of me and my wide leg dress trousers? But then I remembered - that was one holy man's opinion. He was not infallible and he was influenced by the context of his time.
   
6. Lastly, having itemized lists of rules or forbidding entire genres of garments outright is not an adult moral approach. This is a lesson I'm learning myself, since I tend to like structure and direction. But I'm not in my high school anymore with its regulation of shirt collars and prom dress straps. There is no papal checklist approving or condemning every item of clothing you might ever try on in a store. As adults in a mature relationship with God, we must take our properly formed consciences and apply them to the unpredictability and diversity of daily life.
   

So that's my rant. No, I don't think skirts are evil signs of patriarchal oppression. I like wearing skirts and how they make me feel feminine and polished. I like when The Beau tells me I look pretty or my female classmates compliment me on a new dress. Some colleagues are bigger fans of pants, but they still look feminine.

Muli-dimensionality

This weekend I got to visit The Beau up in New Jersey, where he is a history grad student. There was particular cause for celebration because he had finished his first qualifying exam! Huzzah!

One of my favorite parts of New Jersey weekends is brunch after Sunday Mass. Our usual diner instinctively asks "How many this week?" when we show up. In Delaware I don't have a close church community, so I relish the chance to talk about my faith with people my age.

Sometimes conversation only deal with pop culture and the appeal of bacon, but this week we had a weighty discussion of metaphysics and the dimensions of reality. Does God exist in time, or in an outside fourth of fifth dimension? How does our concept of reality's dimensions affect our understanding of heaven, the Mass, and free will? I'm not sure I understood it all, but it was a welcome break from intense material culture research. Objects have meaning, but there is an entire universe of intangible concepts that is equally important.

Anyway, all these metaphysics got me thinking about the dimensions of my own life. Most of the time, I'm in the museum dimension. I fit in there with the colorful books, field trips, and endless conversations about material culture. But every few weeks, I inhabit another dimension up north. Over the past year I have gotten to know The Beau's church friends and his life there. Now I feel like I fit in there, with the Jersey diners, Sunday hymns, walks in the park, and endless conversations about what it means to be a Catholic academic. I am grateful for the opportunity to inhabit both worlds, I just wish they weren't so far apart.