So, I thought I’d update this while at ChLA, or the Children’s Literature Assocation conference, currently being held at Hollins University in Roanoke, VA.
I’m currently typing from a dorm room. Yep. To conserve about an average of 70 bucks each night, I decided to trade in my usual luxury of seascape paintings, bolted-down TVs, and starchy towels for more modest accommodations. I’m switching it up institution-style. And I really mean that. Because it feels like a mental institution in here.
But Hollins is actually a well-groomed, pretty campus. It’s weird because I’ve seen so many staff walking around mowing lawns, taking out trash, and being nice and friendly. But no students or faculty, other than the hundreds or so at the conference. And the campus is also really small and contained with a few brick, colonial-style buildings. It’s nestled in the mountains and I have no idea where the rest of the town is–you know, all the strip malls. It’s a little disconcerting.
It took me 12 hours to drive up here from Tallahassee, which is usually fine. I can handle about a good 15 hours when I get enough sleep. But that’s a good 15 hours on a fairly straight-forward route that sticks to one or two interstates. There isn’t an interstate that runs directly from Tallahassee to mid-west Virginia, so that meant spending half of my driving time going through tiny little towns in backwoods Georgia and having to concentrate every time a new junction popped up. I got lost at least four times, once in a scary scary place where all the townfolk were gathered in a tiny square having a picnic (or lynching someone–okay, that’s a stereotype), and I had to keep looping around and around them. So yeah, Google Maps needs to rethink some of their directions. A slight left is not the same as a left turn!
But I made it. And when the mountains popped up, all hazy and blue against the afternoon sun, I felt really sentimental. I think it’s because the last time I drove through the Shenandoah Valley headed North was with my grandparents the summer after I graduated high school. My grandfather was freaking out about the mountain pass roads and my grandmother would just calmly rebuff his complaints. My grandmother is still alive but I miss their dynamic as a duo. And how naive I was then–no idea what I wanted to do yet–I refused to pick a major applying to school because I loved the idea of being undeclared. After a slew of math and science classes, I resigned to my fate as an English major.
But being at the conference now reminds me of how much I still don’t know. I don’t feel professional. I don’t feel old enough or ready. Still. I mean, what’s it going to fucking take? Popping out a baby? Or maybe a drug addiction where I have to hustle on the streets to get by. Or maybe marrying a really old man with a son my age who thinks I’m trying to steal his father’s wealth? Or maybe plastic surgery? I feel like I’m going to be forever fifteen, trapped in adolescent simplicity. Yet, I look at my face and I’m getting older. I’m also getting a few gray hairs that scare the shit out of me.
(Whoa. Veered way off course there. If this blog were a mountain pass, I’d be tumbling into a polluted river.)
But my point is, my life feels off-kilter. I don’t know if this is what I should be doing. And in my final year of funding, that’s crazy-talk.
Today I tried to hit a panel each session. The first was on mother figures. Beverly Lyon Clark presented and she was awesome. I used a lot of her Little Women research for a paper I wrote my first year as an MFA. I knew she was super smart, but she hit all her points with comedic timing. The other two papers were also really interesting, although I was confused why the panel finished so early when so many people had questions.
The second presentation was also really good–it featured Sarah Park and her colleagues discussing pluralism and other specific issues. Again, everyone was super articulate and on-point. Although I don’t really like it when people give powerpoint presentations that don’t supplement a larger argument. I guess it’s okay to just present facts or research results, but one should try and craft some kind of opinion about said results.
Then there was lunch–I felt really out of place and isolated. There was a huge line and I was worried about not getting seating or being able to eat before my presentation so I just grabbed a burger and fries instead of waiting for the “real” food. I sat in some random place and a bunch of University of Southern Mississippi students sat down and started discussing a colleague’s brain tumor. I kept thinking about my nasal polyp (which is a benign tumor and still hasn’t been extracted–that’s gross, I know).
Then I went to my assigned room for my own panel, which I was moderating. I wish I could say it was surreal and awesome and exposed my genius to the world, but it was one of the most painful presentations I have ever given. First of all, we were in an awful Chemistry room where I had to stand at a counter with a sink. And the lights were so fucking hot. And they forgot to give us water until midway into my reading when one of the student workers busted in with a pitcher and then left the door open. And, worst of all, only ten people showed up and they were all there for the other presenter. My worst nightmare. I though at least a few nostalgic ex-BSC fans would be there. NOPE. (Although Sarah Park did come. I felt almost apologetic–like I wanted to say “LEAVE WHILE YOU CAN”). But the worst of it was that I could not breathe. Maybe it was the lunchtime tumor talk, but my nose kept running and I had dry mouth. At one point midway through, I wanted to just throw my pages in the air and say, “I GIVE UP.” And I was sweating like the devil in church. I felt gross, ugly, and incompetent. The next presentation was interesting, but the girl just read off of her PowerPoint slides (see my above gripe!). And what was weird was that she didn’t come up to the table until a minute or so before we were supposed to start, so I had no idea where she was and was freaking out at the prospect that I would be the only one reading. She also didn’t tell me she had a presentation, so that took time setting up. It was just a horrible horrible experience for me. My advisor didn’t even show up. Which means he wanted to go to a cooler panel. Or that he hates me. I’m not even going to go there.
Whew. I’m tired. More fun (?) tomorrow. Now that I can sit back and just enjoy everyone else’s papers, maybe I’ll find the courage to keep dissertating.
TO BE CONTINUED…
