Press On

Now that school is starting again (today) I should update more because there will be more work to put off for just a few more minutes.

I’m posting now because I just had a weird reflective moment and even though I don’t want to share what the moment was about I do want to share other things.

I wonder what we have wrought? Now when we have “moments” whether full or devoid of emotion we (maybe I just mean I) feel that it isn’t complete until it is completed with something. Int his case a blog post. Or twitter. Or a text to a friend that understand you want to talk about it but you don’t want to talk about it.

Whoever would have thought that our devices that are made of nothing organic can be extensions of our “selves”. The part of us that wishes to communicate. That part of me that just wishes to get it out and in front of me so I could look it in the eye.

I wish I could remember somthing I read last semester when we discussed written and verbal communication. How so many scholars (Noam Chompsky comes to mind) have argued that the two have been enemies. That one destroys another. Written language bought about changes in our own minds on how we relate, tell stories to, and reach other people.

I wonder who is doing the research on how our new media is changing things all over again. Does it still work on a continuum now that I can go to a diner by myself and text people on the other side of the country to keep myself company?

In my life

I went to Baltimore for a conference that ended uo being much more fulfilling than I had imagined it woulf be. It was the Colloquy on Minority Males in Science Technology Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) sponsored by the National Science Foundation (NSF). It apparently was a big deal. Only 40ish people were invited to go, 6 of which were grad students. Instead of having sessions where people presented their research we literally just had small meeting where we all sat in a room, were given a prompt, and talked about it. It was simple and beautiful.They fed us well all day and night and I got to rub elbows with amazing scholars one of which was a mentee of W.E.B. Dubois another was the 3rd black woman in the united states to receive a PhD in Physics. I thought it was a little disgusting that it was possible to know the 3rd black woman in the US to get a PhD in Physics. Dems the brakes I guess.

When I left for the conference I didn’t realize (or remember) that everything in the north east is pretty close together and one night one of the other attendees mentioned we were only a few hours from Philidelphia. At which point I realized that my Dad lives only a few hours away and I should probably give him a call.

I called him that night and told him I was close by. He seemed almost giddy that I had thought of him and wanted to see him. As giddy as the man can get I assume. He said he would drive up with my grandmother the next day and we could have dinner. I remember that night I went to bed nervous. It was stupid. They were my family. But now I had to think of the clothes I had brought with me and which ones of them would make me look grown up, sophisticated, like someone you couldn’t make feel small or insignificant. And most of all you couldn’t tell that person they were fat.

The next day they came. My dad got out of the car to greet me and grandma stayed in. Dad wasn’t giddy in person but acted as if this was normal. Like he hadn’t seen me since graduation and how there were no current plans for a visit. Well, no plans I had told him about. I felt good and then I got in the car. I said hi to Grandma and she said hi back but didn’t say anything else on the way to the restaurant. I started feeling nervous because she was so quiet.

We drove to the restaurant where all of the other attendees were eating that night. When we got out of the car I started walking up to my grandmother to hug her with a big smile on my face. She gave me a look that said “pause” so I did. So did my Dad. She stood there looking me over and it got harder and harder to keep the smile on my face. And then she broke the silence. “I’m going to put you on a diet.” The tension subsided. I could smile again because it was not like I hadn’t heard it before. I went in and hugged her still. While my ear was to her mouth in embrace, “A starvation diet.” I was offended but only for a second. I may have said “Oh really?” In a playful tone just so we could move on to the next portion of the evening. My Dad walked ahead. I couldn’t see his face but I would like to imagine that he was going over all the things I yell at him about in his head. One of which is that he never protects me from her. He just lets her say anything to me. But what do I really expect him to do? I act as if he is allowed to talk back to her. As we walked I found myself thinking “well at least we got it over with early.”

Afterthat Grandma was normal. At dinner even though we were at a table with the other attendees they didn’t really engage anyone with conversation. Every once in a while someone will come over and say “You know your daughter is really smart and it was a big deal that she was invited here!” My Dad’s first reaction is “Yeah, we try not to tell her that often….it goes to her head!” After an awkward silence he caves and says “yes we are really proud of her…” Grandma does the same thing when a mentor of mine from Illinois comes over and gushes for quite a few minutes about me. He was obviously trying to illicit a response but my grandmothers first reaction always is to poke fun before she says she’s proud. It doesn’t really matter to me. I know how they feel even though they mask it.

At one point in the evening my gradmother shows me a copy of my senior picture that she keeps in her wallet. I smile. My Dad looks and goes “Now that was a good picture. I always liked that picture.” I could have cried. I complaIn a lot (A LOT) but I could tell that my Dad was trying to say that I looked good in the picture. I looked good. And he noticed. That memory will be tucked away as one (of three) times in my entire life where he tried to tell me I was pretty in so many words. It was almost like he was trying to apologize for his mother telling me to starve myself earlier. He’s growing up.

On that note

When they went to drop me off at my hotel again my Dad got out to give me a hug and I went to my grandmother (still in the car) to say my goodbyes. Iwas almost home free. I went in to give her a hug and she held on really tight. While she had my ear to her mouth again she said “I know I said to starve but….you know I don’t want you to go overboard right? It’s just, the weight. It’s hard on your heart and… well after what happened to your Aunt Pat. I just don’t want you to go overboard, Okay?”

“Okay Grandma I understand”

My Dad was standing there. I gave him another hug and went back to my room.

That was weird. Grandma has never issued an addendum to her criticisms… She has even told me to go on a “starvation diet” before and never went back and told me not to kill myself or anything. Maybe she is growing up too? But really, she should know that in the 13 years she has been telling me to lose weight I’ve never taken her too seriously.

After they left I called my mom but she was out. I just sat in my room and watched TV for a bit. Then I went to bed and only cried a little before falling asleep.

I had originally planned on spending Thanksgiving with them this year. I hadn’t told Dad about it yet but it was on my mental calendar. I’m not sure if I will now. Not because I’m mad. I’m not mad. How could you be mad when people act even better than they usually do? I don’t want to visit now because….I guess I just don’t want to test the odds.

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