Questions
Topic: Navel gazing
'Where is your accent from?'
'What are you doing in Australia?'
'What are you studying?'
'What's that, exactly?'
'So, are you going back to America when you're done studying?'

I can't tell you how many times I've had close variations on that conversation since February. It's all pretty easy until we hit Standard Questions #4 and 5. With practice, I've developed a shallow but comprehensible summary of what studying gender and development entails, which has been a great help with Standard Question #4, although dealing with the occasional unfunny attempts to make jokes about studying gender hasn't really gotten any more bearable. But Standard Question #5, that can lead to interesting and thorny places.

Most of the time I just say 'I don't know.' Because I don't. A lot is going to depend on what jobs are available in which locations a year from now. I've got student loans to pay off, so I'm not going to rule out any reasonable jobs. I think I could be happy to stay in Melbourne for a couple more years. I like living here. But if it's a comfortable job in Melbourne vs a challenging job in say, an African or Asian country, all other things being equal, I'm outta here.

That's the bit that people tend to get stuck on. Studying in another country is normal enough. Even working abroad for a few years doesn't raise many eyebrows here. But even though Aussies in general are more cosmopolitan than Americans in that respect, for the most part, the expectation seems to be that people will come home after they've had a few years abroad. So I get some strange looks when I say that ideally, I'd like to work somewhere in Africa or Asia, and don't see a long-term return to the States in my future.

Some people choose to pursue things beyond SQ#5. One of the more interesting follow-up questions I've been asked was 'So what's wrong with America that you don't want to go back?' And it's not that I couldn't provide a laundry list of reasons, but really, they boil down to 'I don't feel like I fit in.' Viewed from that perspective, the question becomes less 'what's wrong with America?' and more 'what's wrong with me?'

It's not that I expect to find some other country where I do 'fit'. It's more that, if I'm not going to fit in, why not have a very obvious reason for being the fish out of water? It makes my difference, my sense of dislocation, more comfortable in some ways. Because its a very awkward sensation. But it's absolutely no reflection on my friends and family in the States, because I know how fortunate I am in the relationships that I have, and I know that I'm missed as much as I miss them. But even being among people who know and love me and understand me as far as one person can understand another is at best a temporary buffer from that sense of nebulous 'not-rightness' I have in the States.

That's not the whole picture, of course. I like to experience life in other places. And that experience actually makes me appreciate things about the States that I never would have before. Living in Skopje made me appreciate the value of orderly lines and respect for pedestrians. Living in Melbourne, I'm seeing how the sheer size of the US means that even the fringiest people can find a community if they look hard enough. A large population makes lots of things possible. So I appreciate certain things more, but that appreciation still isn't enough to lure to me back.

But I'm being forced to think about what it is about development and the expatriate experience that appeals to me because a fair bit of my research this past semester was focused on the ways that development flat-out fails, reinforces unequal power relationships between countries, and generally tends to work every bit as much (if not more) to the advantage of 'Western' countries as it does to 'Third World' ones. And I've had to ask myself if this is something I want to be associated with - do I see benefits that outweigh these problems? I'm still working on that question, and probably will be for a long time to come.

It has unquestionably been valuable to me to begin to examine why I think I want to be involved in development, especially now that the idealism that started out with early in my career has been tempered. This is a field where people on the outside tend to see altruism and idealism at work. And I don't mean to imply that they're absent, but I think it's important to acknowledge that there are plenty of selfish factors in play as well. My sense is that if I ever stop acknowledging that, I'll be setting myself up to make a lot of mistakes out of serious self-delusion. I know I'm bound to make plenty of mistakes for any number of reasons, but I'd really like to limit those that could be caused from a lack of self-awareness.

Onward
Topic: Uni
I finally officially met my thesis supervisor today. She's pleasant, but a little bit intimidating, if only because she's so intelligent and accomplished. Intimidating can be good, though - past experience indicates that a little bit of fear, combined with a strong urge not to disappoint, goes a long way when it comes to getting me to plan ahead and meet deadlines. Hopefully, we'll work well together and I'll learn a lot from her. I've only read one article she has written, but I was very impressed with the quality of both her writing and her thought. It will be good to work with someone who can help me improve in both areas, and I've heard that she's an excellent supervisor. She had some helpful ideas about how I should get started on my thesis, and we're meeting again in three weeks, so I'm right in to it, basically. It's a bit 'yikes', but I kind of figure that I was going to be stressing about it anyway, so why not get started on the work? I'll also need to get started on finding a nom de blog for her. She reminds me of someone, but I can't quite figure out who.

Endings and beginnings
Topic: Events
I made the phone call. It wasn't easy. My grandfather doesn't talk about his feelings, but it was still pretty clear what he was feeling when I talked to him. It's hard to be away from my family at times like this. Even when I don't know what I would or could do, the urge to be there with them is strong. That urge has been lurking in the back of my head since my great-uncle first fell ill in August and it was clear that it was a severe illness. It has had me thinking about a lot about the sacrifices involved in living overseas, and whether I'm willing to continue to make them. On the one hand, I love living in other countries - it feels right for me. On the other, being able to support my family is important to me. It's a tension I'm far from finding resolution for at the moment.

I miss the chance to share in good things that happen in my family, too. My aunt got married at the beginning of the month, and I got pictures of the wedding from my mom recently. I really would have loved to have been there to celebrate with my family. Mom says my aunt was almost unbelievably happy, and I do wish I could've seen that happiness in person.

I also recently got pictures from another wedding that took place on the same day. My friend Pep married his boyfriend in Canada. Picture, if you will, a handsome and happy couple under a canopy (neither is Jewish, but the friends who hosted the wedding are, and the grooms appreciated the imagery of the welcoming home associated with the canopy). Both men are dressed in barongs (traditional Filipino formal wear, since Pep is Filipino), and they're exchanging their vows in front of Pep's sister-in-law, who is a minister in the Uniting Church. How beautiful is that? It makes me very happy to know that a wedding like that can happen, even if I do wish possible in more than just a few places.

Putting off the phone call
Topic: Events
I can't put off the phone call for too long. There are many things to do today, and its already nearly 10 o'clock. Many things to do, yet here I sit, writing, avoiding picking up the phone that sits waiting at my right hand, phone card beside it, grandfather's phone number open on my palm pilot. All the technology is there, everything I need, everything, suddenly, except the strength to go through with picking up the phone and acknowledging the reality of my great-uncle's death. I got the e-mail from my mom last night, and was saddened, but I know that the reality won't hit until I call home and hear the loss in the voices of my family. Its so hard to anticipate hearing that loss, and knowing that there's so little I can do to ease it. But I need to get on with what I can do, and I need to pick up that phone.

Warm and fuzzy
Topic: Raving
"Warm" being the weather this afternoon, which was sunny, with deep blue skies and a crisp breeze, and "fuzzy" being me, after spending this gorgeous afternoon in the beer garden at the Belgian Beer Cafe, sampling Belgian beers and eating mussels. So very perfect. It was splurgy sort of day because Dee wasn't working - she waitresses for two catering companies and her free weekends are few and far between - so we went down to St Kilda, a trendy neighborhood on the waterfront, to hang out for the afternoon. At least, that was the plan. We got a bit caught up in the goodness of the beer and ended up doing most of our hanging out in the beer garden. I can't remember the last time I had an entire afternoon that was just such a glorious haze of good food, even better beer, pleasant surroundings, and enjoyable company. It was just delightful.

Frustrations
Topic: Navel gazing
Having temp work, but having it involve spending all day on the phone. Some might consider this a reprieve from what I was meant to be doing, which is stuffing envelopes, but I'd rather stuff envelopes for a week than spend a day on the phone. And tomorrow? On the phone again.

Getting a book I've been wanting to read for weeks now out of the library, then leaving it at the tram stop on the way home. (However, I would like to thank whoever found it and returned it to the library for me. I appreciate the effort, anonymous random thoughtful stranger.)

Seeing a guy I had class with last semester and have been hoping to run into again all of this semester after work yesterday, when I looked and felt disgusting from wearing slightly-too-warm clothes because they were all I had that were even remotely appropriate for the office, and when the last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone after I had spent all day on the phone. Didn't say a word to him. Have no idea if I'll cross paths with him again, since he was in a one-year program. Should've just sucked it up, but was far too cranky.

Missing an H1 in one of my classes by 1 point. It's not so much not getting the higher mark as it is missing it by one lousy point. Feh.

Putting on the pants for which I paid more money than I had intended because they were exactly what I was looking for and they looked fine in the store, and realizing that some key perceptual center in my brain must've not been functioning the day that I bought them because they do not, in fact, look as good as I thought they did, but as they've been washed its too late to take them back.

Wanting to post something to my blog and not being able to think of anything to write except a litany of petty annoyances. Bleh.

A film to look out for
Topic: Raving
Hey, you non-Australians who have access to a movie theater or video rental shop that specializes in foreign films, you should keep an eye out for a lovely Australian movie called Look Both Ways. I was feeling so stressed and sorry for myself after the whole essay thing this afternoon that I decided a trip to the matinee was in order, and did I ever pick the right film to nudge me out of a pity party.

Look Both Ways is a rarity: a warm, funny, mature, poignant film about grief and loss and hope and relationships. The writer and director, Sarah Watt, says: “I set out to make a romantic comedy, but the stuff of most people’s lives includes what we think of as tragedy, so LOOK BOTH WAYS ended up a bit of both I guess." I can't remember the last time I saw a film where I laughed and cried in near-equal measure, yet also felt compelled to think about the ideas in the film, rather than just what I was feeling.

The story is about a group of people, some previously connected, some about to become connected, who interact over the course of a weekend as they all attempt to come to terms with substantial changes in their lives - a new baby, the death of a loved one, a serious illness. I found it very true to life in its depiction of the awkwardness that surrounds such events. There are moments of startling compassion and wisdom, but there's also a lot of muddling through and unintentional wounding, just as in real life. Watt has a keen but sympathetic eye for relationships, particularly the dynamics within families, and the ways in which people communicate by not saying things to each other.

I was impressed by the range of means that Watt uses to communicate the story. The dialogue is well-written, and Watt makes very effective use of animation (some of it based on her own artwork) to illustrate the thoughts and feelings of Meryl and Nick, the two main characters. There are also two small plots that take place with almost no verbalization at all, relying entirely on the actors' physical expressiveness. It could have been jarring to have all of that going on, but Watt keeps her characters at the forefront at all times, so these different techniques and approaches are kept in service to the story, rather than distracting from it.

The world that the film created was so real that it still feels like I'm in it, even now, hours later. I'm still turning over things that Meryl said and did, and I fell a little bit in love with Nick. I think the last movie I was so strongly touched by was The Pianist. Look Both Ways is less traumatic, yet I find it somehow more affecting, perhaps because it takes place in such a recognizable world. Maybe everyday tragedy sticks with me longer because its easier to comprehend than epic tragedy.

But there's not just tragedy in the movie - there's romance, there are genuinely funny moments, and there are some gorgeous visuals. And lovely music - I will probably be buying the soundtrack. Possibly tomorrow. In short, I really can't think of anything about this movie that I didn't like, and I strongly suggest that you see it if you have the chance.

The stress is so not over
Topic: Uni
Argh. I just got an e-mail from the head of the gender studies program, and saw the coordinator for the MA program and found out that I might not have either of them as my thesis advisor. This is -- unanticipated. I had thought it would be one of them, and was perfectly happy to have either, as I had classes with both of them this past semester and think I would work well with either of them as an advisor. I've heard lots of positive things about the advisor they've proposed, but have never met her. So I just forwarded her my draft thesis topic and have become embarassed all over again at how very very very sketchy the idea is.

The themes that I've been most interested in over the past year are nationalism, migration, human trafficking, militarism, and masculinities. I just started to investigate queering development, which I find fascinating. I'm trying to find a way to work them all in together, which (in my draft thesis proposal) is to look at how humanitarian/peacekeeping missions affect the growth of local sex industries, with an emphasis on the migration/trafficking of women into the industry. And perhaps I've bitten off more than I can chew. I don't know, as I haven't done much reading on this topic yet, and I'm suddenly very anxious about that, and about this proposed advisor who I've never met making a decision whether or not to take me on based on a very vague and sketchy proposal.

As if that wasn't enough, the MA advisor had my last essay, the one I'd written for her class, the one that I've been having fits about since I handed it in. She hasn't read it yet, and I don't want her to. I mean, I know she has to, but I have moments where I almost wish I could grab it back and just fail, rather than have her read it. Ridiculous and irrational, I know, but that paper so did not turn out well, and I'm so unhappy with it. And, I asked for an extension to write it, so I really feel like it should've turned out much better than it did, and maybe I can still sneak into her office and swipe it off her desk . . .

Freedom Is Slavery
Topic: Politics
Extraordinary rendition is not torture, because the CIA does not torture, and we don't understand why you Europeans don't trust us when we say that.

And don't miss the weasel alert at the end of Yahoo News article about Bush seeking "compromise" on the torture ban:

Hadley said Bush was troubled by revelations last week that the U.S. military secretly paid Iraqi newspapers to print pro-American articles.

He said the administration did not know all the facts, but would stop the practice if the reports turn out to be true.

"The Pentagon is looking into them. To the extent that kind of behavior is inconsistent with our policy, it will be stopped," Hadley said. (emphasis added)

Is there any extent to which that kind of behavior is consistent with policy? Because if there is, that's a damn creepy policy.

Renovations
Topic: Navel gazing
Ta-da! A brand-new summer color scheme, to go with the change of the seasons and the recent updates to my wardrobe. Yes, I finally had a bit of luck shopping, probably in no small part due to my decision to let blue back into my wardrobe.

It's been so long now, I can't remember why I banished blue. Being forced to wear navy blue sweaters and knee socks from fourth through eighth grades unquestionably ruined that particular shade for me, but I couldn't have let it sour me on the whole spectrum of blues, could I? Well, maybe I could have, since I'm stubborn and still a bit bitter about those middle school years, but I don't think that was it.

After all, I have tended to keep fashion at arms' length. Some people say they were always into clothes, even as children. I don't recall paying much attention to clothes at all as a child, which probably made life easier for my mother, since I wasn't inclined (as I recall) to be finicky about hand-me-downs or handmade clothes. The pleasures I remember taking in clothes were largely functional: twirly skirts were for spinning; pants were much preferable for climbing trees and fences; other outfits made pretending much more fun. I still have fond memories of the cowgirl outfit (complete with hat and white boots with a beaded fringe) that I had when I was about four. At about the same age, I had a pastel striped t-shirt shot through with silver thread that I loved because it made me feel like a dancer. I'm not sure why - I think it might've had something to do with all the lame the Solid Gold dancers wore. And then there was the nightgown/dress/thing-that-my -mother-hated that I wore around the house constantly when I was nine-ish because in my mind, it was a Little House on the Prairie dress, and I wanted so badly to be Laura Ingalls Wilder.

But as make-believe games lost some of their allure, I became even less interested in clothes. My wardrobe was determined by what fit and what was in the stores. I wore all kinds of stuff between the ages of ten and fourteen. I recall having what I would now consider an alarming affection for fluorescent colors, and there was a brief flirtation with tie-dye, as well. I became aware of trends, but I really had no personal sense of style. In a sense, I guess I didn't really 'need' one, since I was in Catholic schools for my middle and high school years, so my clothes were picked for me on most days. Which is just as well, really, given the tie-dye and fluorescent thing. Clearly, I was barely capable of dressing myself.

I got to college with the odds and ends of clothing that remained from high school, because my family's wardrobe ethic is, in a nutshell: if it fits, doesn't have holes, and there are no noticeable stains, you wear it until one of those conditions does not apply. Thank goodness I had grown out of those fluorescents, because my freshman year roommate had a highly developed sense of style, and effortlessly made me feel like an underdressed hick. Not intentionally, but just by virtue of having a personal aesthetic and expressing it through her clothing.

Thus I was awakened to the possibilities of fashion, but continued to be sadly lacking in the skills to express myself in the medium. Which is, I think, when red and black slowly began to claim dominion over my closet. That advice that women's magazines give about basing your wardrobe around a neutral color and one or two accents? I took that absolutely to heart, particularly once I started my internship in junior year and realized I had very little office-appropriate clothing. My taste in clothes is simple to the point of ridiculousness, anyway - natural fibers, solid colors, basic silhouettes. When I reduced my color options to black, gray, and red, the only thing that saved my wardrobe from complete and utter dullness is my love of texture, and fondness for red shoes.

So why mess with a formula that, if not exactly winning, at least allowed me to put together an outfit with fairly minimal thought? (So important, since I usually have to get dressed well before my brain has woken up.) The very practical consideration that, judging by the collections of the various second-hand stores I frequent, blue ages better than red. It's hard to find nice second-hand reds. So I've moved into blues, and have taken baby steps into greens and purples. Trying clothes on has become an adventure, because I feel like I've been wearing black and red for so long I've forgotten how to judge how other colors look on me.

I'm still a long way from being a clotheshorse, and don't know that I aspire to that status anyway. I don't tend think of clothing as a vehicle for self-expression, although I appreciate the efforts of people who do, and I enjoy reading about fashion when the writers are entertaining and opinionated. Despite the paragraphs I've just spent analyzing my evolving relationship with my wardrobe, I just don't usually think about clothes all that much. It's only been on my mind lately because I've been forced to rebuild my wardrobe from the ground up after dropping a size or two (a fringe benefit of a student budget - I promise it's just from not eating out, not from subsisting on ramen and coffee). I thought about using the opportunity to become more expressive in my approach to clothing, but ultimately decided that simplicity suits me. It's no longer just a practical choice, it has become my aesthetic, and I'm okay with that, as long as it doesn't affect my taste for truly fabulous shoes.