Thaw before reheating.
{ Category Archives }
After numerous failed attempts to upload it in whole to Google video, Paul shrugged his shoulders, chopped it in half, and put it up on youtube. The second part overlaps a little with the first, I’m told.
Feedback is that it was a good interview. I’ve sort of tried to see it once, but I’ve learned something… the agony of listening to myself speak is nothing when compared to the gripping torture of having to WATCH myself WHILE I speak.
It is very difficult to buy into the apathetically correct wisdom of the meaningless of the dissertation exercise. Specifically, this becomes difficult when I am confronted several times a week by people who actually, really, and truly care about it. People who thank me for talking to them. Comment on how I’m the first to have asked and how much better it feels to talk. Who act at first surprised that I want to know, then hesitant that I should listen, and finally rest on the relief of sharing.
A few weeks ago, I dragged my Schweitzer cohort out of the comfortable confines of our usual space within the Louisiana Public Health Institute. From the bright steel and chrome finishes of the modern downtown offices down a hard-to-find narrow road lined with modest World War II-era slab homes, to a damp and crowded trailer turned community center. The Harahan meeting place for a small Hispanic Church. There, several parishioners made us fantastic baleadas and coconut bread while we held our monthly meeting. I gave a short talk based on my prospectus defense about race, racism, acculturation, and the health of immigrants from Latin America. Then, our chefs joined the meeting and spoke about their lives. Although I’d planned the logistics of the meeting, I had no idea who would come or what they would say.
By happy accident, Paul and the kids were there and ended up providing some companionship for another child (daughter of one of the church members). Will taught her to play games on the Ipod, she supplied markers and Jesus coloring sheets. Kate played the faithful sidekick, thundering up and down the small hallway past our meeting space.
Since that meeting, where some of my peers cried and all expressed deep thanks and appreciation for my risk-taking in how I’d conducted the session, several fellows have written to tell me about the impact of the night. One specifically described how it had changed her interactions with patients in her current med school clinic assignment. Another said that my talk was one of the best she’d had in graduate school and made her re-think how she looks at health research. Other fellows have asked if I could bring members of the community to future events so that we can give larger voice to their experiences. Maybe linking theory to practice isn’t as elusive as it seems. Maybe it’s just a point of asking and listening?
And then there is this dissertation. The one that matters to no one. The one that is a means to an end, a task to be finished so that I can move on, hopefully, to more important things.
What a mess of information I’ve got! Transcripts are en-route, surveys from last weekend’s health fair sit boxed on my desk, and somewhere on my computer is the prospectus… that document I defended as my research plan, my approved manual for what I was going to do to finish this degree. Did I do what I intended to do? Did I answer my question? Honestly, I’m not sure. I think I’ve strayed from my original purpose. Perhaps because I keep getting distracted by what matters to someone.
Does a dissertation that matters to someone count? How esoteric must I be to contribute to knowledge? And whose knowledge, exactly, must be furthered for a dissertation to qualify as a quality document? I used to understand the situation and was comfortable with it. Now it makes me feel unsettled and unsure. Whom do I disappoint? My informants, the community I’ve worked so hard to be a part of, to show my support within? Or my committee, who doesn’t care?
The “Greater New Orleans” interview airs tomorrow on WLAE channel 12 at 7 and 9:30 (and I think again at 2:30am?)Â I feel certain that Paul will pull it from TiVo and put it online to ensure maximum embarrassment on my part; my parents pay him well to keep me tortured in this regard.
1. The only person who cares about my dissertation is me.
2. The only person who will read all of my dissertation is me.
3. The only person who the dissertation will have any impact on is me.
4. The only good dissertation is a FINISHED dissertation.
5. I would do well to keep all of the above in mind and just find something to wrap this thing up.
— We’re moving (the website, not us) although it may take a little bit of time to get set up and functional. I figure since I’m working out a whole new way of operating in terms of photography, word processing (no more MS Word!), spreadsheets (no more Excel!), and all the other random things that connected me to my past work, photography and otherwise (stuff like the bibliography of my prospectus/first part of my dissertation, which was done in Endnote)… I may as well just go for it and do the jump. The website has been there for a year, hosted and ready, so hey… one more thing to use to procrastinate.
— The Dean’s Office Communications Department looked over the photos from the trip and are selecting which they will use. So soon I will be free to get everything else viewable. Of course they want some of the best work and I am not really sure what kind of rights I’ll retain for future use (still working this out). I’m waiting to talk about the trip when I have photos to tell the story… and also in the hopes that my travel notebook will show up. I’m trying not to think about it’s current ‘lost’ status, as it is just one more thing to contribute to that nausea that won’t go away.
— The guy who laid the tile, the one we trusted so implicitly in ways we have never, ever trusted anyone before, never called us back. Despite our several messages and despite his own sister calling him on our behalf. What else can we assume, except that he ripped us off? Going down this road is worrisome, considering we gave him our key and unfettered access to our empty home. Being trusting was a very expensive mistake.
— We have some ideas for how we might salvage part of the poor tile… but need some professional input to really feel good about it. We’re just not sure. We were so hopeful that this guy would come around and want to make it right that we have tried to let it go a little in our minds just to recover enough to keep working.
— In the meantime, we ordered some wooden closet pieces. They arrived, we installed. Last night, we HUNG CLOTHES IN A CLOSET. We haven’t done this since before Thanksgiving! Granted, the closet has no doors and only has room for a small amount of shoes (we’ll do seasonal rotation like we do with clothes), but! still! A closet!
— Countertops for the laundry area/utility sink and master bath vanity will be installed either tomorrow afternoon or Wednesday morning. Paul finished the plumbing prep yesterday and just painted the primer around the install area. This means that we may have a BATHROOM SINK and a UTILITY SINK by as early as tomorrow night!
— Will is miserable at his new school. He misses his friends (several of whom, surprisingly, won’t be moving on to other schools this fall) and I think is struggling with a strict activity schedule. It doesn’t help that we pick up Kate after Will. When Will walks into Abeona each afternoon to get his sister, it is like Norm walking into Cheers. The kids line up to greet and embrace him, some of the hugs lasting several minutes and including kisses and whispers. I’m not sure that he’s totally miserable all day in school (he’s told us that he talks silly with ‘the boy in the soccer shirt’) and certainly his teacher seems to think he’s fine… but when he is out of school, he is clear that he is not interesting in going back.
— Paul went to infectious disease last week for the 3-weeks of (ahem) that we’ve been dealing with since he swam in the Amazon. Not that I am drawing any conclusions by pointing that out; in all likelihood I had as much exposure to the very same river water in the shower as he did swimming and showering. Still, the garlic treatment held it aside while we were on the road and the 2 cycles of z-packs didn’t make a dent in curing it so he went in for tougher stuff. Ironically, the vote was giardia… the same stuff we were concerned that Will had… and they started him on treatment. It started working quickly, so maybe it’s a match? No confirmation yet on the exact bacteria he had/has, but I’m really happy he is finally feeling better.
— Between insurance phone calls, house stuff, reduced school hours, and getting everything set up from the Peru work, I have not been able to follow-up with anything for my dissertation. I’m feeling defeated, dumb, and un-engaged. I feel like writing some stupid survey, going door-to-door, and analyzing it with statistics that I can make say whatever I want. Isn’t that what public health is, anyway? (Okay, so maybe I’m feeling sort of grumpy, too.)
— Paul’s job… and all our health, life, and whatever other insurance one carries for wellness and security… ends on FRIDAY. Currently, we have no plan for any of the above.
— Will is out of school for three weeks in August. Kate has the first week of school off for Abeona, which is NOT one of the three weeks in August that Will has off. There is a distinct possibility that we may have kids at home for an entire month. We have no idea what we are going to do.
— Paul is sporting a painful crick in his neck, I have stress ezema popping out on my left hand and have bit off all of my nails. Not that the stress is getting to us or anything.
UPDATE: The International Health Newsletter for the Summer just came out, with a really nice blurb about me being recognized as a Schweitzer Fellow (this project is actually going better than planned at the moment) and has bouyed my spirits a bit… thanks INHL! (sniff, sniff)
Extended time with graduate students who aren’t interested in PhDs and are still idealistic, upbeat, and full of romance over the belief that public health can make a difference. Sometimes I feel that being cleared to graduate with a PhD happens once all the love and enthusiasm for the field has been beaten out of you… slowly… until you can barely articulate what it is you are doing, why it matters, and why you matter.
Since returning, my contact at the church (where I’m suppose to be holding interviews, starting tomorrow) has disappeared and the pastor is not responding to email or phone calls. I’m feeling awkward, uncertain, and frustrated, and in general… just feeling like this darn thing is never going to happen. It’s not that I can’t figure out a next step, it’s just that the steps themselves are grating on me.
Which is why this resonated with me today:
We’ve been back in the States a week and I’m still figuring out how to write about our three weeks in Peru. Part of the issue is that my trusty notebook, with all my travel notes and thoughts, went AWOL about a day after we arrived home. Another issue is the nature of the work… I’m unsure of some of the ownership details of the photographs I took and feel that if I put them online before the Magazine has chosen which they are using that I could get in a sticky situation. The third issue is workflow, which does not exist. This issue relates to how we store photographs, how I process them, and the tools I use to do all of the above. Paul has a great storage system arranged for us… it just takes me hours to use it because my little ‘puter can’t handle much, doesn’t have much in terms of software, and has display problems. The new baby has been ordered, so that last issue should be somewhat fixed in another week or so. Until then, all I’m really doing is cropping photos and trying to organize them.
Some lessons learned about photography gigs:
— They get harder when the gig is everyday for 3 weeks. It’s hard to keep up with the volume, keep equipment ready and waiting, and stay fresh. (That said, I totally loved every minute.)
— Make sure your cameras have the same time/date set. I didn’t do this and because we used two cameras, putting the photos in a chronological order is an ongoing nightmare. Combined with how S.L.O.W. it is to do anything with the photos from my computer, it is a real time-sink… but completely necessary.
— I was up late every night emptying memory cards, checking back-ups to make sure everything was safe, trying to upload backup copies to our home network, and checking that equipment was charged and ready for the next day. These things all sound easy, but were actually very difficult when you’ve been up since 3:30am (we had many days that started before 5am)… the bottom line is that Paul was my saving grace for everything. As always. The perfect partner for all of the work of the trip.
— Anytime you find yourself asking whether you should take something, the answer is YES. Every Darn Time we asked, ‘should we take the tripod?’ or ‘should we take the flash?’ or said ‘maybe we should only take one camera’… every single time we went with the pesky thought, we regretted it. Bottom line: haul it all.
— I am ready for a battery pack. Bring on the weight.
— Although we were in many situations where pick-pockets are plentiful, crime goes unchecked, and poverty and desperation are high… I never, ever felt myself to be more at risk because of my camera(s). Yes, we watched ourselves. Yes, we were smart. Yes, we traveled in groups and always had guides who knew the community. But in the end, I actually think that having the GEAR made me/us more conspicuous. The cameras stood out so much that theft would have been obvious. Better to slink away with a pocket camera than a several pound beast with a wide angle lens attached. Plus, I typically had conversations with those I photographed and explained who I was, what I was doing, and what it was for — this opened a ton of doors for us. While there were some who requested I not photograph, more often than not, people not only were happy to be photographed but offered suggestions and help.
— If I ever do this again, I will approach it completely differently. I didn’t fully grasp how to handle both roles (teaching assistant AND photographer/photojournalist) until the end of the class. It took a few days of doing both to see what worked and what didn’t.
If I could leverage this type of photography within public heath work on a regular basis… wow. Even thinking about it is overwhelming.
Fish market pictures are up. There is a short description there, too…
Latinola has a link to an editorial in the T-P regarding pending legislation in Louisiana regarding immigrants. (Have I mentioned how much I love the colors of Latinola´s website?)
I´ve taken the time to write local officials and hope others will, too. Here is some information…
Listed below are all the immigration bills, plus one resolution that have been filed:
Ø HB 1357 by Rep. Geymann (District 35, Lake Charles) creates the crime of harboring, concealing, or sheltering an alien. (passed House floor waiting to be heard by Senate Committee)
Ø HB 1358 by Rep. Geymann (District 35, Lake Charles) creates crime of unlawful transportation of an illegal alien. (passed House floor waiting to be heard by Senate Committee)
Ø HB 25 by Rep. Geymann (District 35, Lake Charles) requires police officers to verify citizenship of every person they arrest. (passed House floor waiting to be heard by Senate Committee)
Ø HB 1365 by Rep. Burns (District 89, Mandeville) requires that landlords verify legal status of aliens (passed Committee waiting to be heard on House Floor)
Three flights, no delays, Green taxi, no hitches.
Some notes: Spirit does not give anything on flights… no drinks, snacks, or meals. Drinks and snacks are available only for credit card purchase… when their credit card machine is working. Pack a dinner.
Even with lack of meal on 6 hour flight, Spirit was worth it because we booked early and paid an extra $20 for one of 8 “big front seat” seats. Awesome.
Paul and I are sharing a ‘habitacion matrimonal’ with a shared bathroom in One Hostel in Barranco, which has it’s own facebook page. It’s very clean.
So far, the constant soundtrack has been 80s pop… Tears for Fears, Eurthymics, Men Without Hats. Resting and settling tomorrow… Monday morning we start with the course orientation.
When Judy Seward died and Gwen and I talked about what I should say at her memorial ceremony, we came up with a very clear and direct reason we were so close to her: we trusted Mrs. Seward with our lives because she trusted us with hers. She was open and honest, tried for anything and everything, and never held back. She taught me to live this same way. And although I’ve been burned by my openness, my trust, and my tendency to over-give, over-care, and over-commit, I am happy that my problem is putting in too much rather than not putting in enough.
I’m a hard worker, a dreamer, a goal-getter, and someone who always works through problems… I don’t give up, walk away, or stop believing. I’d rather jump in and be part of the solution than stand back and complain. Complaint is easy. Not trying is easy. You can’t get hurt when you don’t put yourself out there; it doesn’t feel bad when you lose something you didn’t put your whole self into.
I found out that I did not get the writing year dissertation award I applied for in November (announcements were posted yesterday; I checked it this afternoon). Granted, I haven’t gotten the mailed letter yet so maybe there is a chance I’m an alternate or something but I’m not holding my breath. I can’t. It’s all been knocked out of me.
Sometimes I feel that people expect me to always get everything I try for, as if I am blessed with some perfect formula or go through the world with a chosen glow that just sets me apart. Neither of these are true. I just try. Hard. Again and again. And I get rejected — a lot. At some point, I need to talk here of my research… my 2+ years of experience with newly arrived Spanish-speaking families, the abuse, the children, the teenagers trafficked in an underground sex trade… these things that I have seen, heard, and felt. These things that no one believes are happening. But this isn’t the time. Right now, this is about my want of recognition and support. I really really really wanted this. It was personal more than professional. I was looking for this to boost me into the next phase of what I have to do.
Instead, I have to find a way to jump up in the next five minutes and just go-go-go into the rest of this week and weekend. No time to stop and lick my wounds, or find a place of strength to draw from. No time to plan what we are going to do without the extra money we were hoping for this next school year. I gave out everything I had, but there is no time to look for something to fill that empty place back up. It’s not something I’m unaccustomed to doing, it’s just that I need to say that it is hard, it sucks, and sometimes I wish I could wallow in my disappointment and slowly recover on my own time… if only I had my own time.
