mla

Really, it's unfair to call this post mla: mla itself was totally fine. The Sheraton (of the foreign language departments) seemed pretty calm to me, in comparison to what I'd heard about the Hyatt (where the English/American studies people were stationed). I saw some interesting talks, my interview was totally pleasant, and in general, it seemed a fine time. After my one spotty experience, I'm wondering if even the purportedly intellectual business of it in the panels--which definitely takes second place to committee meetings, networking, and interviewing--isn't also like the more overtly "state of the academy" type speeches also establishing where we are, as a profession: that is, are the panels a way of signaling to all comers, "these are the intellectual directions that we're moving in and these are the hot topics, people, carry the message out to your folk as you scatter off to your home institutions"?

Anyway, any misery I might have experienced there wasn't really due to mla at all, but external factors. Factor 1) was that my gram, about whose proceeding illness and her way of approaching death I have blogged about sometimes in not the nicest of ways, did pass on Wednesday night, which corresponded to night before day 1 of mla. That was one of the hardest evenings I can remember: Michael and his family had dropped me off at my friend's place up in Lakeview, where I was to stay during mla. It is a new apartment and she hasn't really moved in yet, so the space felt cavernous and so lonely, particularly with the ambient light of the Chicago night streaming into the living room through large panel windows. Curled up on the pull-out couch, I coughed and cough and cried and cried. Now, I have the capacity to use work as a means of totally shutting off emotional distress. So, the next day, I woke up and got down to the business. But shuttling back and forth throughout the day between talking to my dad and doing the prep work I had to do was really exhausting and sad. Mostly, I knew I couldn't be there, and I wouldn't have been of much help even if I had been there, but I felt like I should have been anyway.

Factor 2) was that I was sick. I can't be sure how much of this was stress-driven and how much of it is more, the only word I can think of is legitimate but that's not what I mean, let's say, not stress-driven. However, the morning we left for Chicago, the 23rd, I was violently ill: puking until my abs hurt, dizzy and weak. Having just seen Transformers, once I felt slightly better, I started calling these upsets the "decepticons in my tummy," because it felt like there was a lot of rumbling and shape-shifting and blowing shit up in there--just like decepticons, obvs. Anyway, the tummy troubles continued throughout Christmas and mla: some bloating issues, some inability to eat, some puking = no fun. In addition, on the plane ride, despite having chugged Airborne before flying, I picked up a little head cold of some kind. I am still subject to some coughing fits. But here's how it played out while I was in Chicago:
Dec 23-26--some sniffling and sneezing.
Dec 27 (Day 1 of mla)--lots of coughing and throat getting a little hoarse.
Dec 28 (Day 2 of mla)--lost my voice entirely.
Dec 29 (Day 3 of mla)--regained voice, but sounded like I'd been chain-smoking for 20 years straight, like not even taking a break from smoking to nap.

Now, Day 2, the day I opened my mouth and no sound came out, was the day of my panel. That's right. All I could do was pass 'round copies of my paper and nod while the chair of the session read my paper for me. I was really sad about that as I genuinely enjoy delivering papers. But what can a whispery croakster do?

Day 3 was the day of the interview. I'm glad I had a voice. Lots of flurried texts between myself and my director of graduate studies were exchanged on Day 2 about what to do about the no-voice situation but that worked out fine. I felt good going in there, especially because I ran into an old undergrad professor of mine in the elevator on the way up to the interview and she told me, "remember, you're interviewing them too." Ha ha. Sweet, but ha ha. And as I said, the interview was pleasant: I do like a captive audience and a lot of what we were all saying about teaching techniques and ideas seemed to resonate back and forth. So, whether or not I go further or not in this process, it was a good experience.

Meanwhile, the entire time, I had this intense rash covering my back, chest and tummy, lower legs, down the insides of my forearms and up my neck: I have no idea what scarlet fever looks like and hope never to travel back in time to be in Little Women, but as soon as I saw the little red goose bump sized bumps covering large parts of my body, it was the first thing that came to mind. It turns out it's just dry skin. wtf.

All in all, I was an awfully sad and uncomfortable little bear during those three days. But, I still managed to get to where I needed to--commuting on the bus no less--and look decent doing so. So, although these last few days before coming home to LA have been absolutely shitty, it's of no fault of the mla's. Just luck and life events of the not so good variety.