Becoming the People We Read About & Why History's Still Relevant

Suffering from a bout of insomnia this morning, I polished off Julia Child's My Life in France, a great little book (not nearly as lengthy as her cookbooks) that I'd been stuck on for about a week; it's amazing how I read half in the book in a fit of rest and then, sleepless, finished off 150 pages+ this morning. It seems so odd when I think about some of the other books I have going that I'm muddling through: The Emperor of All Maladies and The Worst Hard Time, the former because of its sometimes-lengthy tangents into the science and concomitant scientific-jargon of cancer and the latter for unknown reasons. Nonetheless, it's always satisfying to complete a book, especially one whose author I've been imitating for a week or so in the kitchen. The result has been some delicious concoctions and the conclusion that I'm imitating Meryl Streep playing Julia Child, not actually Julia Child. (I just can't master the finer, airy tones of her voice; I can only make myself more high-pitched.)

Oh how adorable Paul and Julia Child were, always choosing to send out Valentine's Day cards because Christmas was simply too hectic for them.

At the moment, I've got some delicious honey-cinnamon-butter-glazed squash in the oven and it looks promising! But, I couldn't help but be conscious of the fact that in my journal today I recorded all the wonderful food I've been eating for the past few days while Nathan was visiting. There's a sense that as I read more, I try to write more. This conclusion doesn't seem extraordinary, but it does have vast implications. It means that as I write more, I trove my mind for increasing details to be recalled to the page. It's giving my writing (journal-writing, at least) a broader consciousness that means I am recording experiences I wouldn't otherwise note. Having watched (okay, I muddled through) the Republican debate this weekend, I also scribbled-off a few political observations. The result: a journal that is decreasingly selfish. Writing seems to be becoming a less selfish pursuit than before as my broader, worldly observations turn into essays, commentaries on news websites, etc. Maybe I'm just being optimistic.

As a historian, I found it difficult to take Julia Child at face value. Forgive me, I'm a natural skeptic (which, according to some people make me a negativist). It was quite the conflict, to love her and interrogate her every word simultaneously. What I loved most was her self-consciousness, her belief in her own ignorance, her feelings that she was never quite good enough that co-existed with her natural optimism...how refreshing to discover someone quite like me! It was also another check mark on the list of strong women, women I love. The history of women, especially those who forge their own paths resembles and do it outside the mainstream movements. (She talks so little about the way in which she was an icon for women.) I guess, maybe that is how I imagine myself someday, that is, existing outside the mainstream of queer people and yet blazing a path for others. Oh the dreams Julia Child gives me!

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Here's a link to a great article about jobs and historians (notice: not jobs for historians) from The Chronicle: http://chronicle.com/article/Historians-Reflect-on-Forces/130262/

Given my personal squabbles with UMF's History Department and my own feelings about history, I found the article timely and poignant. It touched on feelings I hadn't really been able to verbalize: this idea that I am going into the field of Social Work, but I am a trained Humanities and Social Sciences scholar and that I will find a place for those skills within Social Work and, more importantly, within the job market.

It doesn't feel like almost a month since my last post, but it's surely evidence of how fast time flies. On the upside, the days are (slowly) getting longer and this cosmic process always pleases me. Even now, with only five additional minutes in the day, the sun seems poised to stay in the sky longer.

Break began with a bang! and slowly tapered-off. Well, sort of...
I worked a lot during my first week off, while fighting a cold. After Christmas, the store is always quiet so I've had more free time to read: Julia Child's Ma Vie en France and Siddhartha Mukherjee's The Emperor of Maladies. I haven't made one visit to the USM library, deciding instead to use our town's public library; I had a card after all and I figured I should use it before its funding gets taken away or someone calls it an entitlement program.

Mel came to visit for a few days and we had a great time. Nathan comes this Friday for the weekend and I'm excited. He's one of the few people I think I could wander the city with for hours and just look at things. We both have eyes for the minutiae of life, only he sees art and I see words (and sometimes photography).

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I've finally made up my mind about graduate school: I'm going to defer for one year. (Well...if the program director calls me back tomorrow and approves the deferral **crosses fingers**.) In that time, I really hope to find a (teaching) job and then maybe slide into a Master's program.

The job-hunting process is a bit maddening and overwhelming and I tend to stress eat my way out of things...so here's to running a lot!