October 12

Oh, look, I am still pissed.

1978

Why study history?

This is you, in the present: 

*

Where are you? Where are you going? 
History can give you insight into the past, and a sense of direction. 
That’s why.

1979

It’s back to Antietam Creek for a day and a night, to rest and reflect. The tent appears to be ok…it’s not real exciting, but what can you expect for free? I am having trouble convincing my advisor to accept the outside suggestions about my method. I think he’s emotionally attached to my original proposal. It is very hard to argue with him, especially when I really have not spent much time thinking about it. Here it is, mid-October, and I am slogged down. Or, more accurately, my advisor is slogged down and I am slogged down with him.

Comment 2023 My dissertation was about late-19^th century cartoons about men’s clothing. My advisor was a materials engineer. A very nice person, but not a historian.

1984

Connie and Jack (and Quincy!) arrive today for a visit. Short, but bound to be fun anyway. I stopped Kiddo at Hope, then went to the library for video tapes, then home for a quick pee and to get my checkbook. The sight of the leaves falling in the backyard made me stop in my tracks, so I thought I would stop and say hello to myself.

Hello.

It is such a marvelous time of year, full of color and energy. Even is winter is coming, so what? Washington winters are so wimpy.

1986

It wasn’t labor, obviously. (Thank heaven) Mom stays about the same. Jim’s working more. My nose keeps running. I wake up now and then at night, or just plain wake up at 3 or 4 and they up. This is truly delightful.

Comment 2023

Putting this in context: I am nearly eight months pregnant with Kiddo 2, my mother is in a state mental hospital being treated for depression, Jim has to work increasing overtime for the holiday rush (he’s a carpenter for a large chain of department stores), and we have a four-year-old in preschool. And I am working full time. 

My life is not extraordinary. If my daily slice of journal entries reveals anything, it’s just what an “ordinary” life looks like, year by year. If I omitted a day, it was either uneventful or so tumultuous that there was no time to write about it. This is everything in between.

2004

Thank heavens the weather is pleasant, because my schedule today definitely is not. Two classes and two meetings, with not a whole lot of time between each event. Not enough to actually get anything of substance accomplished, anyway.

It was a lovely weekend, better even than I expected. Got to see both kids (yay) and actually painted the downstairs.

Yesterday I got a whole bunch of stuff done and also made a pan of lasagna. So I guess if I slack off a bit today, it’s ok. (It had better be!)

2007

The American Studies Association is not home. I feel stupid at ASA, tongue-tied and stupid. I look like a professor, but frankly I feel like a fraud. The best part is meeting old friends, though after “hello” they want to know what you’re doing. “No, you actually don’t want to know”, I think. Because I am not reading your book or going to your session. I am just standing here, pretending to be a professor.

I used to be a real professor. I went to conferences and people read my name badge and screamed “My god, it’s you!! I read your article!” I read their work, and went to their sessions. I was real.

Is it possible to do a reverse Velveteen Rabbit?

Plastic Bunny

I used to be real.
I was visible and warm and strong,
And even a little intimidating, I’m told.
I was real.

2011

Advance program
Why am I already feeling my heart sink like a rock?
Maybe because:
1) it is too late to consider promotion
2) I realize that I wasted my time on projects that served the university at the expense of my career

Comment 2023

I was at the first meeting of the Advance program, an effort by the university to rectify its abysmal record of promoting female faculty. My case was typical; promoted in 1987 and then diverted into mid-level administrative positions for twenty years. My male colleagues wrote books, mentored doctoral students, and were promoted to full professors; my female colleagues advised undergraduate students, mentored masters students and were perpetual associate professors. So the campus assembled a few female full professors - as I recall, most hired from elsewhere at that level - and created this program for mentoring and support. I was pissed, and never went back to any of their gatherings.

Soon after that, I claimed my next sabbatical leave, gave notice that I would not be returning as undergraduate director when it was over, and started work on “Pink and Blue”. Finally. Then they said I needed a second book for promotion, because my 30+ articles from twenty years ago didn’t count. So I wrote “Sex and Unisex”, got promoted, and retired before they could make me department chair. Now I use the hell out of my free emeritus parking and library privileges, and I will never serve on another campus committee ever again. Oh, look, I am still pissed.

2018

Inktober2018 day 12 “whale”

2019

Looked over yesterday’s revisions, read further in the typescript. There are a few things to move around, but generally I think I am on the right track.

Later- instead, I spent ALL DAY trying to update my laptop to the new operating system.

2024

I return to The Third Book, which morphed into Books Four and Five and is now on the verge of becoming Book Six. (Just to be clear, #3,4, and 5 were never finished.) When I wake up in the middle of the night it is clear to me that I should just stop trying so hard and enjoy what is left of my still-lucid existence. But then in the morning, I look at the stacks of notes and the kilobytes of drafts and think of the promises I have made and so here I am at the keyboard again.

Before you drop by to comment that I shouldn’t give up, consider this: Maybe a third book about gender and clothing might be what the world needs to read, but it might not be what I need to write.

#inktober2024remote Missing you, Katie King! (She’s still alive, but moved far away.)