Category Archives: writing

This Is Nothing New…

Tonight, as I was talking to my professor, completely exuberant about my topic, another classmate asked how I have had time to learn so much about Chaucer in these weeks. I didn’t get it at first. But then it dawned on me. People assume this is a recent development because I have only now started openly speaking about it.
I have had this fascination with Chaucer for almost fifteen years. I have written half a dozen papers, and even long after I finished school the first time, I perused this interest independently. I have only recently opened up about it for several reasons. The first of which was my assumption that no one would ever be interested in it, so it would be best to keep it to myself. I remember a few years ago, as I was driving out to a cafe in Hollywood with Sean and Ashlyn, I was reciting Chaucer to them off the top of my head, and they thought it was quite interesting. But I could not imagine anyone outside of academia ever wanting to hear about this. So I never spoke about it. I most certainly didn’t blog about it. I just buried it, using it as something to fill my time in the middle of the night when I could not sleep.
Then I went back to school. But Chaucer isn’t exactly the most popular topic there either. So I focused on other things. Until a project came up for which I could not think of any other topic. It was perfect! I could finally put all of my research to good use! Yet in doing so it came back to what it originally was. I had a legitimate reason to conduct my research in the light of day, and actually feel as if I was doing something worthwhile with it. So of course I got excited again. I went to my parents’s house and unearthed the many boxes of books I had kept in my old closet. I looked over all of my old papers, and revisited the original sources. I remembered all of the things I had learned which I enfolded in the crevices of my memory, believing it was all too antiquated (600 year old manuscripts are hardly ever a hot topic in any situation).
But now that it has all come back, I have no intention of putting it away again.

Today I was going to….

Today I was going to write an awesome post about potty training your child. Except I don’t know how to do that properly. If I did, my daughter would be potty trained already. We are still working on it.
So, I sat down, and decided that instead, I am going to write about ways to sleep train your baby.  I would create a very aesthetically pleasing bullet point how-to sheet every mother could use. Then I realized I clearly have no clue there either. If I did, my son would be sleeping through the night, and I would not be so sleep deprived.
Which is probably why I am coming up with fictitious topics in the first place.
I racked my brain trying to find topics I actually know something about. Oh I know! I would write about putting on make-up! I am exceptionally good at it. Except, what does that have to do with parenting? My daughter is WAY too young to be putting on make-up…. Unless I turned into one of the crazy pageant moms. In which case, she would be the perfect age. But if she was a pageant mini beauty, then I would not necessarily want to share my make-up tricks with the world because then other babies would be putting on their make-up the same way, and then my daughter would no longer have an edge in the pageant world. And she would be a has-been of beauty before she even turns four. She would grow up with all sorts of complexes and confidence issues, all thanks to my thoughtless post almost two decades earlier. Clearly I cannot write about putting on make-up. Too much is at stake.
Zombies. I know absolutely nothing about zombies. But I heard they are a thing now. People are talking about them. ButI know some stuff about parenting. So I could totally write about baby zombies. Except they don’t exist. Not the zombies, they totally exist according to rumours, but the baby zombies, they don’t exist. If we were to ever have an apocalypse, and a zombie take-over would occur, babies would be the ones to survive. So we can cross that off the list.
Arts and crafts are a wonderful topic. Safe. Matronly/motherly, whatever. Perfect for a mommy blog. Perfect for my target audience. Which is not to say I actually have a target audience. Because I don’t. I am not organized or focused enough to come up with one of those. But, nevertheless, arts and crafts are a great subject. They can apply to anyone. I tried to remember the last artsy thing I made. I wanted to surprise my mother-in-law with a stocking stuffer of a one of those cute clay discs that has your kid’s hand/footprint on it. Munchie came home from daycare with one of those last year and my MIL loved it. So I thought Ducky should make one for her too. The clay hardened as I was mixing it. It crumbled everywhere and invaded our kitchen counter before making its way into the trash. My son’s hands/feet never got anywhere near it. Ok, minor setback. What else did I make? I am in the process of making Ducky a baby blanket. At this rate, it will be done before his tenth birthday, by which point it will be way too small for him. Maybe if we stop feeding him he won’t grow much between now and then. Or I could just make a bigger blanket. But then it will take even longer to make, and it won’t be ready until his twentieth birthday. And by then he will be even bigger, so it still won’t fit him. Um…I will get back to this one.
So I was going to write about something. It would have been witty, informative, entertaining, maybe insightful. Maybe tomorrow. Or in a few months when I get this potty training business under control. Then I will have a brilliant post outlining just what I did to get there. As of right now, not a whole lot. But I will keep you posted.

I Remember

It has always been about Chaucer. But somehow I forgot. He was the reason I majored in English. I knew I would since I had first read him in ninth grade. He was the reason I went to grad school. But I forgot that too.
My personal statement for grad school was a revised version of my undergrad one that basically read “I want to go to your school because I want to take your amazing Chaucer courses. And I am totally willing to do all that math and science stuff beforehand if that is what it takes.” It worked.
And as soon as I was able to take my upper division English classes, Chaucer was the first one I signed up for. And then I took another. And another. Along with a few seminars for good measure.
I remember I had one Chaucer final on my birthday. Best present ever!
And then somehow I forgot. I went back to school, but apparently Chaucer isn’t important anymore, and no one teaches him in grad school. So I put him away. But I couldn’t stay away. I had to finagle him into something. Because I am resourceful. And a little obsessed. But mainly resourceful.
I started looking through all of my Chaucer papers, and notes, and I realized how much I enjoy this. How much time I wish I could spend on this. How much I want to dedicate to this.
A few weeks ago as I was talking to someone about the doctorate program he asked me what I want to specialize in. I didn’t really know. I knew it would be early literature. But there was nothing in particular standing out. I guess “all of it” isn’t an answer to that question. The two authors that immediately came to mind were Donne and Marvell because I wouldn’t mind. And they have always been my default. But really? I wouldn’t mind? That sounds like a terrible reason to dedicate your life to something. Because I wouldn’t mind. That is how bad marriages start. I mean, I guess it is not as bad as specializing in Gibson or… dare I say Meyer. (Is this is a thing now? If so, it really needs to stop). And I am sure I would have done it. And enjoyed it. But I wanted something more than “I wouldn’t mind.”
I know I forgot. But now I remember. And it feels so good to be this excited again. For the past year my love of literature has nearly been beaten out of me, and replaced by motions. But as I sit here playing around with ridiculous amounts of obscure research I feel a happiness I haven’t felt in a long time. Oh… so this is what it has all been leading up to. That moment, in the middle of the night, when you realize what you are going to do with the rest of your life.