I have to cross the finish line

August 27, 2008 at 10:52 pm (Books, Life)

As part of my teaching duties this year, I’m teaching a Spanish language literature and culture course. In fact, I accepted the job at Private School because I would get to teach classes with cultural and literary content.

In preparing for tomorrow’s lesson, I needed to find my “cheat packets” – two photocopied compilations that have summaries, key words, etc- that help me prepare and look like I’ve spent a lifetime studying every single book I will teach. I couldn’t find them, because they were buried in boxes, which themselves were buried in one of our closets. Said closet is so packed with shit stuff, that I could hardly move around and move the boxes to search in them. When thank God I finally dug out the books, I sat down on one of my boxes to clean out the mess and put away the stuff I had shifted. The last thing I put away was a photocopy that my mom sent me when I was researching for the dissertation. It was a copy of some history pages from a book (whose original publication was 1860) that belonged to my great-grandpa. Mom had found the book in grandpa’s things and in leafing through it, found a chapter that was perfect for my dissertation project.

In looking at that photocopy, my books (even the hateful ones) and the “cheat packets”, I felt a deep sense of sadness. I love that stuff. I loved my projects,  my readings, my classes. I really wanted to teach at a college level, write my books, take students on trips such as the ones I took with my professors in college and Grad School. You all know that my PhD run had to end, and for the most part, I am at peace with how things developed. Yet, in days like today, when I teach a fun class and at night I come home to my books and notes, I realize how much I miss it. How much I feel I’m not done, how much I feel incomplete in my goals.

I know in my heart that I have to cross the finish line. I have to, I want to finish the PhD. But I am scared shitless of returning to my discipline. The experience of the end of the PhD project left me so wounded I don’t think I can start again. I know that it’s wrong to think that. I know that I should really focus on how good I am despite how much the situation crushed me. I know I am smart, capable. But the truth is, last May when I dropped out because I was being booted out (and I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction) due to reasons that had nothing to do with my abilities or hard work, my spirit was crushed and the belief in myself dealt a heavy blow. Truth be told, I haven’t gone back to Grad School because I no longer believe I can hack it. What if once again I am not good enough? What if it turns out I am not PhD material? That my ideas once again are “outdated” and “unoriginal”? What if I can’t do it?

I don’t want my books to sit in boxes forever. I don’t want to tell my grand kids how I could’ve been a college professor and I didn’t have the guts to do it. I don’t want to give the lovely (enter sarcasm) professor who cut my dreams short the satisfaction of killing my dream (which I’m sure he didn’t mean to do, I’m too little a fish for him to actually want to destroy me. I was just carnage in the war, a member of the herd that had to be killed because I was not “fit” enough for the race). But I do not know how to do it. I hate to be paralyzed by fear, but that is really what’s holding me back.

*Sigh*

4 Comments

Cruise control

August 27, 2008 at 9:08 pm (D.C., The VW)

A while ago, I read an article (was it in the New York Times?) about how women with big strollers used them as some sort of crowd-parting device, thrusting them into unsuspecting pedestrians and cutting in line.

This past week, as I’ve been driving back and forth to work here in the D.C. metro area, I was reminded of that article. Except in my world, it’s not strollers and pedestrians, but people on SUVs and my little Jetta and other sedans.

Seriously. What is with people who a) ride car’s butts on the left lane when there’s nowhere for the little car to go? (it’s rush hour, people!) b) change lanes abruptly and then slam the brakes?  or c) won’t; just won’t let you change lanes when you have been patiently waiting with your blinker on?

I used to drive in Texas and people were not this mean. Is it the DC area? Is it the East coast attitude? Is it a big city phenomenon? Or is it than in the four years I lived in NY people got meaner on the road?

1 Comment

Protected: No honeymoon here

August 25, 2008 at 7:25 pm (Teaching, Work)

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You say it best

August 24, 2008 at 11:13 am (Blogs, Life)

I have a fondness for quotes. I love it when someone else says something smart or funny, or simply a bite of food for thought. Mostly, though, I love it when someone says what I have been needing to say, but couldn’t really form in words.

Today, that honor goes to FrekledK, who writes magnificently, and today wrote something that made my heart sigh and feel understood

I’m fuzzy and scattered.  I have an idea as to who I am as a person – what I contribute, what I take.  This sense of self?  It’s not vivid.  Not undeniable, not constant.  The structure itself is still largely intact, but the foundation on which it stands is in question.

Thank you, K.

1 Comment

Late, but whatever

August 16, 2008 at 10:55 pm (Dogs, Sports-kinda, TV)

OK, so I know I’m late to this, since the ad premiered during the Superbowl, but I had never seen it until tonight during the olympics.

Tell me why my eyes watered?

You gotta love dogs.

3 Comments

First day of school

August 16, 2008 at 10:28 pm (Basil, Dogs)

Sorry for the absence, kids. Started work on Monday, so between waking up early (and it will be worst when school starts) and the jam-packed days that leave me tired, I’ve not had time to blog.

Because I was starting work and felt guilty leaving Basil home, because I wanted him to get acclimated to his future boarding facilities and because I had guests in the house (and call me paranoid but I do not trust semi-strangers with my dog), I took him to daycare.

I researched several places, went to tour the facilities and eventually found the perfect place. I chose it because they were super clean and they let me see everything (no “oh, you are not allowed in there”), because they actually have a yard with grass and places to play, and because the dogs are not allowed to pee inside (not only do I find it gross, but I think it goes against potty-training). It was a little on the pricey side, but for two days I could make the sacrifice.

Well, let me tell you people I felt like a mom at the first day of Kindergarten. I accompanied Basil to the room, saw how he interacted and then… well, then I had to leave, no? I gave the attendant a gazillion pieces of advice, sorta hung around the front desk… I felt horrible leaving him there, although I knew he’d make friends. At 10:30 am, when we had a break in our training, I called to see how he was doing. Am I a freak or what? Thank goodness there was another dog mom in the new teacher bunch, who understood how it was to leave a dog in daycare for the first time.

I got the “first day of school” feeling again when I picked him up. I got there, the front desk paged day care (I love hearing “Basil XXXX is going home” :) ). I was giddy with excitement and all jumpy. I couldn’t wait to see my dog! When he walked out I was all “How was your day? Did you have fun?” He was super happy to see me too, but mostly seemed to expect a treat, alternating between jumping and sitting down on his hind legs and raising his front paws (doing the “rabbit” as I call it).

The next day was easier, and I let go faster. I didn’t call to see how he was doing, and when I picked him up I was calmer. In the end I decided this will be a treat, for days when I will have to stay at work forever, but otherwise it makes no sense. They told me he doesn’t play much (I thought it was because he is initially shy, but it may have to do with his meds and the pain from the heart murmur) and mostly chills on a sofa, so he can do that for free at home. Although I do have to say I was shocked when I picked him up the second day and he was moist. “Did you get a bath?” I asked him (note that I asked him, not the workers. I am hopeless). The attendant replied, “oh no, we played with water”. Water? My dog, who hates bathes and the pool played with water? For that alone, the daycare money was worth it.

2 Comments

Quiche Lorraine

August 7, 2008 at 3:40 pm (Cooking, Food)

At Bejeweled’s request, here’s the quiche recipe. It’s good, even when it’s squished :) And Daisy, this one is versatile, so you can put veggies instead of bacon/ham and it still works.

Ingredients:

For the dough:

  • 1 stick of butter
  • 11/2 cups of flour
  • cold water

For the filling:

  • 3 eggs
  • 1 pack of bacon, sliced* (or ham)
  • 1/2 an onion, chopped
  • 1 cup Swiss cheese
  • 2 tablespoon Parmesan cheese
  • 1 cup sour cream
  • nutmeg, salt and pepper

* For a veggie version, use mushrooms, spinach (drained), or broccoli. It will no longer be “Lorraine”, but who cares!

Prep:

Mix the flour and the butter until the mixture looks like sand. Add water, slowly (by teaspoons) until the dough achieves consistency. (Careful not to add too much water, or the mix will become gummy). Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for about 15-20 mins. Preheat the oven at 350º

Meanwhile, fry the bacon in a pan, and when crunchy, transfer to a plate with paper towels (If using ham, just slice it up and reserve). Drain the oil from the pan, reserving a little and cook the onion in it until golden**. In a bowl, mix the eggs, sour cream, and cheeses. And salt and pepper to taste and a pinch of nutmeg. Reserve.

Take out the dough from the fridge and roll it on the counter with a little flour so it doesn’t stick. Spray a round pie or tart pan with non-stick spray and place the rolled dough on it.  Line the dough with aluminum foil (line it, don’t just cover it. Lining it prevents it from bubbling up as it cooks). Bake it in for about 7 minutes.

Remove the dough from the oven, sprinkle the bacon and cheeses evenly and cover them with the egg mixture. Return the pan to the oven and cook for about 40 minutes or until the top is golden and a knife stuck in the center comes out clean.

** For a lo-fat version, cook the bacon in the microwave, on top of paper towels, so they absorb the fat, and use olive oil for the onions.

2 Comments

Pearls of wisdom

August 7, 2008 at 1:06 pm (Uncategorized)

Confucius says: “She who owns white dog should not buy car with black interior”

Clearly, I never read that.

2 Comments

Survey

August 6, 2008 at 9:59 am (Cooking)

So, what do you guys think: Should I keep putting my recipes here with everything else, or make a separate blog with that? I signed up to contribute to Gewel’s cooking blog, but since I no longer blog with blogger, I don’t want my recipes to be in one server and the personal blog in another. I still would post one to two recipes a week, and I’m not sure if I’m up to maintaining two blogs… So I’m thinking about it and thought I’d put it up to a survey.

What do you guys think?

1 Comment

Bacon, flour and my 3-in-one

August 6, 2008 at 8:36 am (Basil, Cooking, Food)

Last night, I wanted to make something simple for dinner. That for me means something I can mix in a pan and stick in the oven. After thinking about what my tummy wanted, I decided to make a quiche. That’s were the “simple” part died, because I decided that since I was going to do quiche, I should do it well, and not the fast version (Mix pancake mix with the filling and stick it in the oven. ) that a friend gave me ages ago.

So I got my flour and my soy-based “butter” and made the dough (yes, you read that right: pie dough from scratch. Did you know that it’s actually super simple to make?), prepared the filling and an hour later, I pulled out the pan from the oven. I happen to be a fan of pans and tart forms that have a removable bottom. They make taking out the food easier. So, I picked up the pan with my left hand, stuck my gloved right arm underneath it and pushed up. As the quiche lifted, the round border slid down fast, past the oven mitt and into my skin, burning me. I slid the hand out, placed the quiche back on the counter. It promptly slid down the side and landed with a thud face-down on the floor.

Now, you may think I overreacted, but to a chef (cook, whatever), one hour’s worth of manual labor ruined on the floor is no fun. Seeing my beautiful quiche squished and splattered on the floor, I started to cry. The BF rushed to my side, hugged me and convinced me to pick it up and eat it anyway. I pointed out that the kitchen floor was filthy: Our shoes, doggie paws, doggie hair, etc. He insisted on picking up the big pieces and eating them, so we did. As he stared at the rest of the quiche crumbles all over the floor, he said “Now what do we do about that?” Simple, of course. I called the clean-up crew that was already standing by behind him, next to the fridge.

So, as the BF and I had our dinner of squished quiche and asparagus, Basil, my 3-in one (dog, vacuum and mop), cleaned my kitchen floor, not leaving ONE crumb behind. Who needs a Swiffer when there’s a terrier in the house?

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