Two things, unrelated

I wrote and published my first magazine feature, an article in Boston Magazine about the nuclear reactor at MIT.

That same week, after 15 years, Alonso and I were married. As a photographer, he couldn't help but set up some of his own shots--here's pic from the photo booth he made.

A Very Long Engagement Essay Published in Coupling

I promised some friends I would do more to get the word out about this essay I recently published so here goes. A colleague handed me her most recently published book at a party and would not accept payment if I promised to tell more people about this essay. Also, I ran into a former student from two years ago who says that he checks my blog when he's bored in class sometimes, but it hasn't been updated in a while.

Lynda Barry's Picture This

If you've ever taken a writing class from me, you know that I love to teach what I learned from taking Lynda Barry's Writing the Unthinkable workshop. Barry has a new book out called Picture This, which is great to have along with What It Is. I went over to visit my niece and nephew today and had Picture This with me. My niece, who is in first grade, looked through the book and took out her art pad. She started making some drawings in pen on good paper. I told my niece that I had taken a class with Lynda Barry once. My niece said, "Tell her that she's a good artist."

Book Review Mentions

A friend congratulated me on my Boston Globe book review being chosen as review of the day at bookforum, which I wasn't aware of until she told me. The same review was also featured in the weekly Roundup on the National Book Critics Circle blog.

Oh and did I ever tell you my Ilustrado review was highlighted on the Harper's blog back in May? That was cool, too.

Whoever you are who linked to my reviews, thank you. I appreciate it. As a speck of dust in the expanding universe of online content, it always gives me a thrill to know that people have read my writing.

Book Review of Emily Fox Gordon's Book of Days

I published my first short book review for a newspaper. I think it came out to under 600 words or about 2 1/2 mss pages. I actually filed a review that was over 1000 words (and I remember telling my students that I didn't think I could make it any shorter), but my editor was right about the changes and cuts. I tried hard in this review not to write about myself.

I'm fascinated that the review available online has stats--how many people tweeted it and liked it on Facebook. How did the link know this?

Nephew with his great aunt drinking a lemonade at the bar. 

My 4 yr old nephew went back to California. I called him and we reminisced about our times together, the books he'd borrowed from the library when he was visiting. I was missing him so I told him that he was always in my heart. He was silent so I asked, "Do you like that you're always in my heart?" And he said, "Yes." And he was still silent so I asked, "Do you understand what that means?" And he said, "Yes." He seemed like he really understood what I meant by that even though it's pretty abstract. I told his mother, my sister, this and she said, "I'm his mother and I don't even know what that means."

My Renaissance lit scholar friend told me once that in earlier times, love was not associated with the heart. I think love was embodied in the gallbladder.

This same friend asked what happened to my blog, why I wasn't updating regularly anymore. I was feeling self-conscious and unsure about why I was blogging and who I imagined I was writing to. I was feeling wary, especially after reading articles like this, The Web Means the End of Forgetting, about my online presence. Many years ago, I'd started this thing to get over my reluctance to share my writing and wanted to experiment with what it was like to have an actual audience instead of the imagined one in my head. But as my goals have changed over time so has being online. It's no big thing to have status updates and twitter feeds.

By the way, did you catch that story of the man who drove over a cliff while tweeting about his dog? That image comes to me and I'm still figuring out what I think of it. There's something about his tragic story--losing his life as a direct result of activities in his online life--that I keep thinking about. It's not a perfect comparison, but I wonder how much of my life that I lose by staring into a screen. I can't wait in a line for one minute without checking email and others around me are doing the same.

Tonight my mother, father, and I all sat in different rooms doing something on our computers. We could hear each other typing and clicking and breathing. Then my father sat down on the couch and ate two pieces of melon while I answered his questions about my farm share while also reading something, which I haven't retained, online.

Goodbye summer 2010

I know we're not quite there yet, but this summer is almost over. I have to say it was one of the best summers of my life. I can't point to one thing about why I feel this way. It's not as though I completed any particular life goals or dreams (writing a book, being in top physical health, buying a home, etc. . .), but I worked on all of these as best I could.

I regularly exercised for the first time since my mastectomy through the amazing Pink Program, a fitness program for those affected by breast cancer treatments. I won a shirt from Be Bright Pink at the FORCE conference at the beginning of the summer and wore that shirt for inspiration as I stretched and worked on the parts of my body that had been affected most by the surgery.

My sister thought it would be quite hilarious to take a picture of me next to a picture of me at the FORCE conference. I just wanted her to hurry up.  

My friends who have the summers off from teaching look at me with pity when I tell them I'm teaching summer school, but I love the slower pace of summer session. One new and wonderful teaching experience was for Bridge to Engineering Success at Tufts (BEST). At the end of the term, my students made podcasts of a short personal essay they wrote and we listened to some of these together. There's something about the inflections and timbre of the author's voice as they read that can be so moving.

In other summers, I was helping one family member or another through cancer treatments,  but this summer everyone was healthy. It's been over five years since my niece was diagnosed with cancer and she's growing up to be an amazing kid who regularly speaks in front of large audiences (hundreds of people) to raise money for places like Camp Sunshine. She says she still gets nervous before her talk, but praying helps her through it. Did I mention she's only seven years old?

Here's what my niece has to say about running on my sister's blog:

Running is good for me because it helps my body get stronger and healthy. It is important for me to be healthy because, well, it’s just good for your body. Because I have cancer, it is important for me to be strong. When I was 2, I almost died from cancer. So, that’s why I ran 2 miles today.

I might run more miles. If you read this, you should do it, too.

Hope you enjoyed your summer, too.  

My nephew balancing on a horse. He did this while trotting too--no hands. When he was trotting past me, he had a proud, exuberant smile. I think about that expression on his face all the time. Just seeing him make that smile made my whole summer. 

I love this pooch couple that my niece made. She posed them on a tiny bench and took their photo.  

Ahem, I'm teaching

The kids with their Lola. 

Two vignettes about the kids in my life:

1. Ovo

I went with my mother and the nieces and nephew to see Ovo at Cirque du Soleil in Boston. They kept saying, "We're going to the circus!" and I thought, "Not sure if this is the circus you're expecting." One of the ushers came over and gave us red booster seats and J didn't want to sit in hers. I told her, "This will help you see better. It doesn't mean you're a baby," but she didn't want it. As soon as the show started though, I looked over and saw that she was on the booster. The kids were leaning forward towards the stage, they loved what they were seeing.  

The trapeze show was right above our head and people were on their swings, propelling and flipping above us. In the audience, there were guys dressed as insects holding the nets and other people with green lights on their hats like fireflies. My 4 yr old nephew wanted me to get him one of the green lights. Teenage boys sat in front of us and I remembered that one day, these little children beside me would grow up and naturally lose interest in spending time with me. 

People applauded for the trapeze artists. I thought, These people are risking their bodies to entertain us. They're swinging and letting go and being caught. One woman flipped off a trapeze, her body hurtling to where two people made a bridge w their arms. She was to land there. But she fell. The net was there, but it was scary. She was fine and climbed back up. I turned to my nephew to see how he reacted to seeing a woman fall from the sky. He'd been frightened at the show's opening w the strobe lights and loud drums and hugged his cousin hard until it was over. 

"What did you think of that?" I started  But he was asleep.

Nephew sleeping. This nap cost at least a dollar a minute. 

2. Ahem, I'm teaching

My nephew G (5 y/o) is in town visiting from Califownya. I was riding in the car with the four oldest of my nieces and nephews. G said, "Tita, did you know that someone is mean to me in school? He sits next to me." And I said, "I'm sorry to hear that. How is he mean?" And G tells the story of this person who is mean and I said, "Your cousin went through something like that on the bus. Hey M, do you think you can tell G what to do when he's being bullied?"

Both M (6 y/o) and J (7 y/o) started talking at the same time to be the first one to tell G what do to in this situation. I was reminded of throwing a piece of bread into the duck pond and watching the ducks fight over that  one piece. J quieted down finally and M sighed and then took a deep breath so she could start. "Well, this is what you do. First, you put your hands on your hips like this and make your face like this--look at my face, G--and then you say, I'm telling the teacher, but you don't tell the teacher, but you sit somewhere else where the person can still see you."

Then J interrupted. "But you're not allowed to move seats--"

And M says, "Ahem, I'm teaching." And she puts her hands on her hips and makes that same face that she told G to make when someone was being mean. And everyone was quiet and I tried not to laugh. G asked, "What else, M?" And M said, "That's it. Just let them watch you to see if you're going to tell the teacher. They'll feel nervous. And if they're still mean, then raise your hand and say, 'Teacher'--but use your real teacher's name (and now G interrupts to list all four of his teacher's full names)--'he's being mean to mean to me.' And you have to say it in front of everyone."