03/11/09
She went to rough neighborhoods in the 60s-70s to register voters. She always called me before to remind me to vote and after to verify that I had, even after the first time when she talked about voting being a hard-earned right for minorities and women. Her words for me somehow imbued the action of casting a ballot with the solemnity of a sacred rite. It must have been from her that I formed the idea that present-day voters exercise our right do so with a sense of responsibility to those who made it possible for us.
I voted for the first time in the Presidential election of 1988. The conversation was typical.
Mom: Did you vote yet?
Me: Not yet. I'll go after my Latin American history class.
Mom: Did you know that Ecuador granted women the right to vote before Spain did? Or was it Uruguay?
Me: That's cool! I'm gonna raise my hand today in class and say that!
Mom: Good. And while you're at it, remind your little school friends to vote. And your young man, too.
Me: Um...ok. My "young man"?? God, Mom! Did you vote yet?
Mom: Of course.
Me: Who'd you vote for?
Mom: As you know, in this country we have a right to a secret ballot and even though I don't have to tell you, I'm choosing to. And this is not to try to influence you to vote the same way I did. You can vote for whoever you want. I voted for Dukakis.
Me: Good job!
Mom: So...who are you gonna vote for?
Me: I don't have to tell you.
Mom: Damn right you don't! Good answer, kid.
Me: Thanks!
Mom: OK, but seriously this time...what are you gonna wear?
I'm not sure my answer to that one garnered the same approval. Besides, I was always pretty much convinced she could see me through the phone.
05 November, 2009
"I can't wait until exam season is over!" I'd exclaimed.
27/10/09
Yes, I certainly wished that for most of the summer when I was going through my own exams, but the first time I uttered this was over a year ago after I'd pushed the visitor out into the hall and shut the door without letting it hit him in the ass. Our panicky litter sibling had stopped by the office on his way to his oral exam, asking what the horse and other things in a poem by Lorca symbolized. He knew perfectly well, but when we tried to calm him by telling him this, he just snapped at us.
I turned to my officemate and complained, "Why are they like this? They're all being just awful!" My littermates were taking Master's exams, but their tension, insecurity and anxiety were no less intense and no less dominant than those that gripped me when I was preparing for the Ph.D. qualifying exams. Sooner than I wanted to, I found out exactly why they were being "like that".
I owe my friends and family more thanks and apologies than can fit on this page.
We all are "like that" to some degree. As the last of my litter waits to take his oral exams this week, I can't help but reflect and remember how the stress did affect each of the people who were "exam-ing" during my time at UCD. And they were affected, altered. Certainly it wasn't the worst experience any of us had ever had, but perhaps it was one of the hardest things we've chosen to do. And the process really brought out a bit of the worst of us. Even the ones who can discourse profoundly on anything, anytime, anywhere were worried about what they were going to be asked. Even the ones who never seem rattled by anything had that look in their eyes and fast heartbeats.
And even though it's been a few weeks, I still feel anxious...I'm fully anticipating nightmares akin to those where I have to go back to high school because one of the classes I took all those years ago "didn't count". Though one of the strange circumstances surrounding my oral exam actually could discount it, I'm pretty sure they won't take away my title. Sometimes I'm glad it went down the way it did, but in other ways, I think a "do-over" without the extraneous worries might actually let me show more of what I know.I guess I'm still "processing" it.
When those who have yet to take the exam ask me for advice about the process, I sometimes don't know what to say. Telling them that they shouldn't worry, that they will do fine does absolutely no good. All I can do is express my confidence in them and try to mention practicalities that no one told me about.
"Should I eat? I don't want to eat too much in case I get so nervous I puke! But then, I should eat something...I might get hungry and I really don't want my stomach to start growling en media res."
"Wow, your 2 years of Latin is really coming in handy!" I complimented him and suggested, "Yeah, you could have a snack before." "Did you?" "No, but they say maybe something like a whole wheat bagel and some apple juice could give you energy without filling you up..." I replied.
"Do you think that your oral would've gone better if you had that?"
"No. I think mine would have gone better if my snack had been a Fioricet and a nice Pinot Noir."
Yes, I certainly wished that for most of the summer when I was going through my own exams, but the first time I uttered this was over a year ago after I'd pushed the visitor out into the hall and shut the door without letting it hit him in the ass. Our panicky litter sibling had stopped by the office on his way to his oral exam, asking what the horse and other things in a poem by Lorca symbolized. He knew perfectly well, but when we tried to calm him by telling him this, he just snapped at us.
I turned to my officemate and complained, "Why are they like this? They're all being just awful!" My littermates were taking Master's exams, but their tension, insecurity and anxiety were no less intense and no less dominant than those that gripped me when I was preparing for the Ph.D. qualifying exams. Sooner than I wanted to, I found out exactly why they were being "like that".
I owe my friends and family more thanks and apologies than can fit on this page.
We all are "like that" to some degree. As the last of my litter waits to take his oral exams this week, I can't help but reflect and remember how the stress did affect each of the people who were "exam-ing" during my time at UCD. And they were affected, altered. Certainly it wasn't the worst experience any of us had ever had, but perhaps it was one of the hardest things we've chosen to do. And the process really brought out a bit of the worst of us. Even the ones who can discourse profoundly on anything, anytime, anywhere were worried about what they were going to be asked. Even the ones who never seem rattled by anything had that look in their eyes and fast heartbeats.
And even though it's been a few weeks, I still feel anxious...I'm fully anticipating nightmares akin to those where I have to go back to high school because one of the classes I took all those years ago "didn't count". Though one of the strange circumstances surrounding my oral exam actually could discount it, I'm pretty sure they won't take away my title. Sometimes I'm glad it went down the way it did, but in other ways, I think a "do-over" without the extraneous worries might actually let me show more of what I know.I guess I'm still "processing" it.
When those who have yet to take the exam ask me for advice about the process, I sometimes don't know what to say. Telling them that they shouldn't worry, that they will do fine does absolutely no good. All I can do is express my confidence in them and try to mention practicalities that no one told me about.
"Should I eat? I don't want to eat too much in case I get so nervous I puke! But then, I should eat something...I might get hungry and I really don't want my stomach to start growling en media res."
"Wow, your 2 years of Latin is really coming in handy!" I complimented him and suggested, "Yeah, you could have a snack before." "Did you?" "No, but they say maybe something like a whole wheat bagel and some apple juice could give you energy without filling you up..." I replied.
"Do you think that your oral would've gone better if you had that?"
"No. I think mine would have gone better if my snack had been a Fioricet and a nice Pinot Noir."
Súbeme paso a pasito, no quieras pegar brinquitos.
22/10/09
I saw the strap suddenly rise up and start flapping. A second later, the ladder jumped from the white construction truck's bed and bounced a few times on the asphalt. As it end-over-ended its way toward me, I slowed to let a few cars go around me and to avoid running over the ladder. The closer I got to it, the more it drifted to the shoulder, where it eventually settled into a position parallel with the road.
As quickly as my car slowed to avoid the ladder, it again sped up and I was able pull up alongside the white truck, catch the driver's eye and gesture to the back. His eyes widened when he saw his ladder was missing. He waved a thanks, but also followed me when I made my usual exit. I pulled over and sat looking at the grapevines until he caught up. He wanted to know if the ladder had hit any cars. I told him it hadn't, that it just bounced off the road and was lying there, just before the Woodland exit. He was shaken up. I wasn't.
I saw the strap suddenly rise up and start flapping. A second later, the ladder jumped from the white construction truck's bed and bounced a few times on the asphalt. As it end-over-ended its way toward me, I slowed to let a few cars go around me and to avoid running over the ladder. The closer I got to it, the more it drifted to the shoulder, where it eventually settled into a position parallel with the road.
As quickly as my car slowed to avoid the ladder, it again sped up and I was able pull up alongside the white truck, catch the driver's eye and gesture to the back. His eyes widened when he saw his ladder was missing. He waved a thanks, but also followed me when I made my usual exit. I pulled over and sat looking at the grapevines until he caught up. He wanted to know if the ladder had hit any cars. I told him it hadn't, that it just bounced off the road and was lying there, just before the Woodland exit. He was shaken up. I wasn't.
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