What happens to a dream deferred?

The culinary course has been canceled. In fact, the whole culinary arts program at the college has been shut down. I'm not really surprised- the powers that be did delay the opening of the course three times before officially nixing it- so I caught on pretty quickly. To be honest, I'm not really sure how I feel right now. I suppose I'm angry at the college for slamming the door on a dream of mine. (Yes, there are other culinary arts programs in the country, but none of them are practical for my life right now). But mostly I'm feeling a whole lot of....nothing. I've been eking out the latest rewrite of my thesis, going to work, making my way through a large editing project I've undertaken and just existing, which is harder than it sounds. At some point I know I'm going to have to get off my butt and figure out a plan of action. One day my thesis will be done, the project will be finished and my job will no longer be relevant and I'm going to have to figure out where I go from here. Today is not that day.
What happens to a dream deferred? Who knows. But today I made roast chicken.

Thesis Watch: I'm entrusting you guys (by you guys I mean, all one of my readers) with the responsibility of never, ever letting me rewrite again. That's it. I mean it. It's the final rewrite.

Movie Rec: The Messenger. Ben Foster. 'Nuff said

Cubbie Watch: Erm, Carlos Silva?

can you hear the horses coming?

In a conversation I was having with a friend recently I described my emotional sense of self as being "like a cell waiting through osmosis" and I thought that that line was a lovely bit of unexpected poetry, but I had no where to put it. That happens sometimes. I had a snatch of something-"and all your colored horses come crashing to the ground"- rolling around in my head for years until it found its place. Writing's funny that way.

Thesis watch: I'd like to say it's done, but it's not.

Book rec: Lowboy by John Wray

Cubbie Watch: Yeah, I'm watching.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree

This is my dream: One day I will own a little place called Innisfree. It will have a bright, open kitchen with a view of the sunlit garden. At the front, beyond the kitchen, it will be lined with rows and rows of bookshelves. There will be couches and chairs and low places for children to sit. In this little place I will feed people. I will feed their souls and their bodies. I will point them to books that I loved; that opened up new worlds for me. I will say, "Read this. Have an adventure. Fall in love with a fictional character. Understand the world just a bit differently." Then, I will hand them a sandwich, or a bowl of soup, or a plate of pasta and when they eat they won't think of Jane Eyre's Thornfield, or Hari's Damar, or Touqueville's America-they will think of no place but home.

In this past month I have taken the first step towards Innisfree. I signed up for a course in the fundementals of cooking at a local college. It's not culinary school and it's not a downpayment on a little bookstore-cafe, but it's a start and it's certainly a far-cry from everything I have been doing in my life up until this point. The reactions to my news from people in my life have been varied. I've gotten a "that's great. I'm so proud of you" (Surrogate mother, Carol.); a "I didn't know you were serious about culinary school" (real biological mother, Mommy); a "that's awesome, go for it" (sister, S. and friend, N.) and a "but you already know how to cook" (real biological father, Abba). For my part, I am excited and I'm terrified. Change is hard for me, especially when that change involves the actuallization of a fantasy. I'm afraid I don't have the financial wherewithall to pull this off. I'm afraid that I don't have the strength of character or stamina to survive in the kitchen. I'm afraid I will never learn a proper dice, overseason my stock, chop off a finger and burn the place down. I'm afraid I will fail. I'm afraid I'm not meant for this. I'm afraid of my own evolution.

So for the past few months as I have been contemplating this change in my life, I have been feeling alternately elated, and backed into a corner by my own fears. When that happens I often immerse myself in other peoples' worlds. I read a lot of blogs. I watch a lot of tv. I try to find places and stories that resonate with me so I can see some sort of reflection of myself. But sometimes the cacophany of other peoples' voices becomes too loud and it becomes difficult to hear my own. It becomes hard to express myself, to create my own narrative. So if I have neglected this blog, I'm sorry. I simply haven't felt the compulsion to write in a while. I have been too busy navigating the web of other peoples' words and trying to face down my own dreams.

Change is hard, man.

On to Innisfree

Thesis Watch: Evidently I was never taught how to properly write a paragraph.

Book Rec: Wolf Hall by Hillary Mantell

Cubbie Watch: Oh look, spring training! Oh look, we've lost Guzman for the season already. It's gonna be a good year. Sigh.

children get older, I'm getting older too

There's been a lot of change in the past month. I turned 29. My adviser returned my thesis to me. And my brother (plus sister-in-law and the four niecettes) moved to New Jersey. In the scheme of things it is probably my brother's move that is the most monumental, though it's difficult to feel from so far away and so far removed from myself. Birthdays happen and my thesis is inching closer to being done, just as it was a few months ago, but the change in my brother's life actually effects the makeup of our family. My parents are slightly hysterical about the fact that their grandaughters are now a two hour plane ride away as opposed to a two minute drive and I'm beginning to fear that Chicago as home won't be home without my brother, sister-in-law and those four little rascals there to greet me. I know I won't see them any less or be any less part of their lives, but I've always sort of taken it for granted that this story would play out in the place I know best and that home would somehow grow and age, but not change. The move necsitates a reimagining of the future and reevaluation of rootedness. As for my parents, this will probably change the way they relate to all their children. It is hard to know, now that we have all moved away from Chicago, whether we will be more adult in their eyes, or whether they will just hold on tighter. Who knows? I for one, am looking forward to now having to deal with my brother on his own terms. Until now family news has been, for the most part, filtered through my parents. Now, I'll have to get it from the horse's mouth. It will hopefully be a maturing of a relationship that should have grown up years ago.
As for my birthday, it was a birthday, low-key and friend-filled. There are more changes for me in the near-future. Once I hand my final draft of my thesis in, it's a whole new world- one that will hopefully include a job and culinary courses, but that's still over the horizon, west of the sun. One day at a time.

Book Rec: The Likeness, Tana French

Thesis Watch: There is nothing more tedious than editing footnotes

Thank you providence

I am pleased to report that this thanksgiving featured neither illness nor gas shortage; just good friends, good food and a turkey named Margaret (who, yes, was also good food, but since she was the main event I feel that she warrants a category all of her own).

As I said at the meal, I am thankful for thankfulness- that I have been instilled with a sense of gratitude that is not specified by its religiosity, but is rather secular and all-encompassing. Thankfulness is a great unifier. All of us, regardless of which deity or non-deity we believe in possess the ability to consider those things which we are grateful for in our lives. During my childhood thanksgivings in America, there was a sense (that is still with me today), that on this holiday as opposed to all the other holidays specific to us as Jews, we joined a larger mass of humanity in the celebration of thankfulness. And for this I am thankful.

Thesis Watch: It's in the hands of my adviser now

Book Rec: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz

Stand in the place where you are

Every time I visit Chicago I engage in a small, personal ritual- the last day of my trip, sometimes just a few hours before I get on a plane I drive out to the lake and stand for 10 minutes, or 5, or however long I have, saying goodbye. The lake is always itself- shaded blue and green and brown under a wide American sky. On my left, to the north, the water stretches and flattens the horizon, reaching out to unseen places. And to the right, looking southward, the city is a grey silhouette, standing watch. I do not know how to describe the meaning of this ritual. It is inextractalbe from myself and without words. I leave you with pictures.

I'll meet you somewhere down the road

Last night I emailed a pretty much finished draft (sans edited footnotes and bibliography) to my adviser. Thesis watch: 72 pages including Appendix A. I am: relieved, happy, sad and considering having an identity crisis. What does one do when they've handed off two years of their life? Wait for feedback, I guess.
Now I am off to Chicago to see family and friends and to sit by the lake and watch the leaves turn.

Cubbie Watch: The eternal cry-Next Year! (can we have Kerry back please?)

Book Rec: The Miss Hempel Chronicles, Sarah Shun-Lien Bynum