NPR yesterday: mumble mumble mumble [I had not yet had my tea] . . . David Bowie has died.

I felt like I’d been punched in the chest.

I won’t claim to be the biggest fan in the world; I’ve never even seen him live.

But he meant something to me.

Labyrinth premiered when I was 13. The combination of medieval scholar/screenwriter/Python Terry Jones, Henson sensibilities, and David Bowie rocked my young world. Is it a coincidence that I was coming into my sense of sexuality (aka puberty) just when David Bowie appeared as a sexy stalker/s&m king/rocker?

Of course not.

That man started everything.

I know the whole point of the movie is that Sarah learns about being strong and independent, but every single time Jareth/Bowie says, “I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave,” I say, “fuck, yeah!” (Coincidence that the Heathen album has a song called “I would be Your Slave”? I think not.)

My step-father took a strange pleasure in telling me that Bowie was gay when he learned of my crush (he was trying to crush my crush). I didn’t know then that Bowie was bi if anything. I just had my step-father’s word on things. Now, I was being raised in the South, being forced to attend Southern Baptist churches.

I know I was supposed to be disgusted. I don’t remember how long I ruminated, whether it was hours or days, but I do remember coming into the living room and announcing that my step-father’s news didn’t change anything. Bowie was famous; I had no chance with him; thus, who he loved didn’t matter in my life or to my crush at all.

I named my last little kitten Jareth.

I dressed as Jareth for Halloween a couple of years ago.

While wearing that Halloween costume, I first met my niece, Artemis. She was screaming at her parents, as one month olds are wont to do. I showed up in my costume and took her in my arms. She fell instantly asleep on my corseted-up breasts. The Goblin King is so good with babies.

My first piece of fan fiction (before I’d ever heard the term) was written when I was 13 or 14. I started writing a sequel to Labyrinth: Between the Stars.

After I discovered Bowie in film, I discovered his music, playing the albums my step-father had, and getting cassettes of my own when new stuff came out. Never Let Me Down (1987) was my first acquisition. “Beat of Your Drum” is one of my favorite love songs. “Time Will Crawl” is an apocalyptic masterpiece, and I sometimes listen to it when I fear my migraine will last “three long years.” “Glass Spider” is epic, despite its terrible intro. When Bowie was bad, he still managed to be awesome.

Like everything I love, Bowie intersects with my work. Years ago, I wrote a movie column: 13 Facts About Labyrinth. When I teach poetry, I always start with a couple of songs, to both demystify poetry and to encourage students to pay attention to words. “China Girl” is a staple of the lesson.

My work on Hanif Kureishi (I wrote the encyclopedia entry on him for World Writers In English) includes Bowie; Kureishi went to the same high school as Bowie and models a character on him in The Buddha of Suburbia. Bowie did the soundtrack for the film version.

When I teach Sandman, there’s Bowie–Gaiman had his artists model Lucifer on him. Gaiman also wrote a piece of fan fiction about Bowie.

In Y: The Last Man (another graphic novel series I teach and do work on), almost every man in the world dies in the same instant. One woman mourns when she realizes that all the male rockstars are dead. Grief is especially painful when Bowie’s death hits.

We’ll miss you so much. We are honored to have shared this time with you. Thank you for everything.

I used to have a note on OKC saying that I would answer messages other than “hi” etc. Faithful readers know that this causes problems.
Thus, I now have a note on my profile explaining that I used to answer all messages, but that I have to be more discriminating due to the rudeness some guys exhibit. I apologized to awesome guys for letting the un-awesome guys wear me down, but still invited awesome guys without dealbreakers to message.

This morning, this was in my inbox:
“After re-reading you message me if, I just want to say. You kinda get what you put out there in the universe. With that said I think you may be getting what you deserve. not to be rude but we reap what we sow.”

As I’ve thought about my year, the theme is inescapable. It’s been a year of loss.

I lost the best relationship I’ve had in my life to date, leading me to the disastrous adventures I’ve chronicled here. (It should be noted, of course, that I’ve only written about guys who would never get either a first date or a second. I haven’t yet written about the seven guys who have managed to have two or more dates and the misery that accompanied some of them.) Suffice it to say that I miss being in a relationship, I miss intimacy, I miss being held. It just doesn’t seem right that only cats and toddlers touch me.

I lost my Jareth over the summer, and it still hurts. I find it surprisingly sad that I can just hang the toilet paper up on the roll and that it remains unmolested, that no one is picking out an ornament about four or five feet high on the tree and deciding to go at it with a good flying leap so that it might be destroyed, that no one enforces a ban on tacks being on the walls by prying them out with tiny teeth. I shouldn’t have to sleep not only without a man but also without my little girl, who would come make a nest out of my hair to curl up in while she nibbled my head or neck until she fell asleep. It’s all these months later, and when one of the other cats comes into my room in the middle of the night, my sleepy mind thinks it’s her, and then I have to remember that it isn’t. It happened this morning again.

Jareth snuggling with Alexander

I lost one of the closest relationships in my life. As many of you know, a year and a half ago, I took in my aunt when she became disabled and could not obtain care in the Obamacare-refusing South. We all expected it to be challenging, especially since I couldn’t afford to move us to a bigger place. What none of us expected was the emotional stress it caused–I was suddenly living with emotional circumstances too much like my dysfunctional childhood. I had flashbacks and nightly nightmares. My blood pressure shot up, and my own health got worse. I tried counseling, but it takes two, and one of us resisted. I got diagnosed with PTSD, and the situation became untenable. My aunt now lives with a roommate here in Davis and is holding a lot of anger and pain, for which I don’t blame her. But she denied it when I try to talk about it; the idea of counseling has been unilaterally banned. Now, she’s decided I’m “evil”–that I do things intentionally to hurt her. It’s a defense mechanism, I know. But I’m in great mourning. For 40 years, she was my second mother, my closest ally, my best friend. Naturally, this schism has rippled through the family, and my relationships with other family members are suffering. Neither my aunt nor I have ever meant to hurt each other, but we have done so, greatly. But at least she has access to healthcare now.

My grandfather is losing the ability to hold conversations, and so it’s difficult–practically and emotionally–to talk to him. He’s also getting ready to shuffle off his mortal coil. Earlier this year, he wrapped up our conversation by telling me he loved me just as I am. He’s always told me he loved me, but addendum was new. I am, and have been for decades now, a great disappointment, since I’m liberal and I live in California and I teach at a University, etc. Daddy’s a man of few words, and those few made me sob.

These are the things I dwell on when I can’t sleep, that wake me up at night, and that greet my consciousness in the mornings.

However, there have also been some wonderful things this year.

Anubis tried to die (a few times), and while my savings are completely depleted from keeping him from doing so, he is running around like a kitten again.

In some ways, I’ve gotten my son back. When my aunt was living here, I basically never saw him–he stayed in his room all the time. Now, he’s back in our living room/office again.

I only went to the ER once; I haven’t thrown up since July. My team is still working on all the problems–not making much headway at the moment, but I can do what I need to do on most days.

I got to meet my new niece, Lucy, to spend time with my nephew, Jack, and to watch nephew Liam and niece Artemis grow when they come over every week. Plus, all of these children got me great Christmas presents. 🙂

A free Southwest flight got me a visit with Tiffany, Denise, and Vanessa. My work trips took me to Portland, Vancouver, New Orleans, London, Oxford, Fort Wayne, and Iceland! Next year, I’ll be in San Diego, Seattle, and London–probably more places too.

Iceland

(I still need to blog about Iceland.)

I got to go to the following shows: The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain; Sarah Vowell; Paula Poundstone; Julian Sands; Tim Meadows; Mnozil Brass; King Lear; A Doll’s House; Weird Al; Hamlet; Warp 11; Margaret Cho; Mr. Burns: A Post-Electric Play (by Anne Washburn); Ira Glass: Three Acts, Two Dancers, One Radio Host; Big Wow! ComicFest; Dan Savage; Sac Con (where I did a Simpsons Trivia Panel); Eddie Izzard; Sacramento French Film Festival; Man and Superman; Anna Devere Smith: Notes From the Field: Doing Time in Education; The Book of Mormon; Much Ado About Nothing; Kathleen Madigan; Coriolanous; Pink Martini; Vince Gilligan; The Reduced Shakespeare Christmas Pageant; Disgraced. I also got to spend some time with Temple Grandin.

I got to be on NPR and on The Huffington Post. I gave a sermon on The Simpsons at the UU Church, and I was part of two talks at CapStage. I gave quite a few special talks at UCD and did stand-up comedy with my students.

My classes (all sixteen of them) went well, and I got a few people into med school, law school, etc. Two of my students got into Prized Writing. The Upper Division Comp Exam has started running smoother, now that I know what I’m doing and now that I’ve revised the rubric for clarity.

I won the AF Excellence in Teaching Award and a Professional Development Grant (didn’t get my raise, but that’s under appeal). My collection on Atwood came out. My article on Sherlock came out. An autobiographical piece will be published soon, and I’ve just had a scholarly article accepted for the premiere issue of a Sci-Fi journal. I got an edition of the Atwood journal out and launched the online platform for it. Melissa Bender and I will submit our book collection to McFarland in a month, and I’ll turn in my essay on The X Files in two weeks. Denise and I are moving forward on a new Simpsons collection.

And then there are my friends. My house is full a couple of times a week. There have been good meals, good tv, good wine, good cocktails, good happy hours, good trips.

My friends, I am so thankful for you, and I look forward to our next year together.

Hi, all! I had a terrible backache on Thanksgiving night, so I opened one of my best bottles of wine and decided to update the look of the blog in lieu of doing real work (it was a holiday, after all).
I probably wouldn’t have bothered, except I was starting to get the idea that more people were reading this than I realized (I was just sort of assuming it was my friends and family (hi, Emily!) and some former students who have admitted to stalking following me. 😉
Having heard some rumors, I installed a visitor counter a week and half ago. I have to admit I was surprised to find a couple hundred of you were here every day. (Especially since you almost never leave comments!)
And then one of my blogs ended up on this dating site.
Here’s the skinny:
I’m gonna keep writing about the personal stuff that only those close to me should care about, the dating stuff that everyone can enjoy (especially those who have never had to resort to online dating–I think reading about it is probably good for your long term relationship, since you’ll be more thankful), etc.
And I’m going to forget that lots of people see it (which is surprising easy, since I don’t quite believe it yet); I would hate to actually censor myself in a terrified state of what I’m putting out there to the world.
Thanks for reading; comment more!
Love, me.

Usually, when my allergy shot nurse opens my folder, I see a picture she took of me years ago in the very front, before pages and pages of records. Today, I saw myself–but it was a different picture–the picture UCD used in celebrating my teaching award here.

This was both flattering and ironic. A few weeks ago, one of my colleagues mentioned that she wasn’t surprised by my teaching award because she heard so many good things about me. It seems she had been to the UCD medical center. When she mentioned where she worked, people asked if she knew me and apparently said nice things about me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it had nothing to do with my teaching–it’s just that I’m at the medical center an inordinate amount (I’ve had four visits for treatments/tests just this week) and that I’m a lovely patient.

Now, though, they may be able to mention my teaching. 🙂

***

This week started out rocky–I had a flare up of my stomach problems again. I threw up on Sunday and then found myself nauseated for several days after, including the day I got the teaching award. Luckily, I managed not to get sick all over the Chancellor and the Provost.

The ceremony was actually really nice. Several people were being honored, both in the Senate and the Federation. Margie Fergusen, who was my prof in grad school, and who is the current President of the MLA, won an award for teaching graduate students. She mentioned having so many gainfully employed students, which gave me the perfect opening to start my talk. I thanked those who taught me, my students, my friends and family, my union, the Federation, my department, etc. I did an ad for my department, got a couple of little giggles with asides, and told them about my current stand-up class.

Then I told them what I tell my students on our last day of class:

“You’re job, while you’re here, is to think. No matter how stressed out you are, remember how lucky you are. Most people in the world will never get the chance to be where we are.

“Most people would give anything to be where we are.

“I love this all so much that I just moved from where you are to the other side of the desk. Let’s think about what I do for a living.

“I think about stuff. I come into class and tell you what I think. I make you write papers about what you think. Then I tell you what I think about that.

“That’s amazing. I’m incredibly lucky. We all are.”

***

In other news this week, I got to have short Twitter exchanges with two of my heroes: Dan Savage and Harry Shearer. Dan Savage was interviewed by another one of my former profs, Beth Freeman, at the Mondavi Center. (I do have to say, though, that I’m disappointed that he got downgraded to an interview due to a protest.)

HuffPo contacted Denise and I about recording a question for Harry Shearer. Du didn’t have time to do it, but after about 40 minutes of technical difficulties, I got a question out and recorded for the ages. I assumed that lots of people had been invited–that I would be part of a big Q&A. Instead, Harry was interviewed and my question was the only “fan” one. His answer was insightful, and I’m shallow enough to have let out a little squeal when he called me “Dr. Karma.”

You can see me not knowing where to look and positioned awkwardly in my office at minute 24 in this video.

***

This weekend, I’m going to try to catch up on work, to have some wine, and to celebrate over two decades of motherhood with my special little guy.

It’s been a pretty good week.

There’s absolutely no reason to read this unless we’re close.

As I write this, I’m lying on my couch after another night of vomiting.

As many of you know, I’ve had many episodes like this over the last several months. We’re ruled out food poisoning, an infection, etc. We’ve ultrasounded where my gall-bladder used to be to see if a stone got left behind. We’ve done a test to see if I have a blockage in my system. No and no.

The vomiting is happening in a certain context, however. I have bile in my stomach now that the gall-bladder is gone. Due to a hernia at the top of my stomach that prevents the stomach from ever closing all the way, bile and acid frequently reflux. My esophagus spasms (it’s weird until I remember that all of my muscles are prone to spasming). Ever since my gall-bladder surgery two years ago, I’ve woken up with digestive issues. (This is normal for a little while, but not for two years.) I have to take at least half an immodium a day to go to work.

This is all gross, which is why most of you don’t know about it.

My gastro-interologist has narrowed things down a bit. So here are the current theories–something called abdominal migraine (of course I would get that). Vomiting due to the bile reflux (though it should be more frequent in that case) or from a worn system from the stress it’s under (again, it should be happening more).

The gastro-doc is leaning toward the first problem; however, that’s something for my neurologist to deal with, and she’s incommunicado cause she’s on maternity leave.

We’re also going to take a picture of my brain. Just cause.

I’m gonna build up a little more strength this morning and then demand some attention from neurology.

Full days in Vancouver: 1
Pots of good tea: 3
Salmon servings: 1
Nando’s visits: 1
Friends caught up with: 2
Books read: 2*
Eardrums totally messed up from the plane: 1
Books acquired at MLA exhibit: 11
Total dollars paid for the above books: 25

At the Convention Center

*The books were Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal (amazing) and the third in the All Soul’s Trilogy (good fantasy fun).

I haven’t blogged much this year. This is partly because it’s been a crazy (busy) year, but it’s also partly because it’s been a pretty awful year in many ways. Some lowlights: replacing two cars (one replacement is a lemon that is in the shop as I write this); several trips to the ER; most of the year in physical therapy; between 2-7 medical appointments each and every week (expensive + time consuming!); Grandma dying; Vanessa moving away; taking in Mindy (not because Mindy is awful, but just because having to deal with another person in our too small place and having her disabled & thus needing to move in is awful); several medical procedures.
All of this happened in a year in which I taught 18 courses, served on several committees, edited the Atwood journal, edited Prized Writing, ran the upper division comp exam, edited a collection on Atwood for Cambridge, and hit quite a few conferences.
In short, I’m tired and fairly cranky from being tired and being in pain.
I’m really hoping that 2015 is a lot better. As a symbol of starting that, let’s talk about the good things that happened this year:
My classes were generally good. Some were very good. An independent study I did with an honors student was awesome. Teaching was a wonderful break from everything else.
I have become one of the favorite people of Artemis, the cutest baby in Davis, who gets to come over to my house at least once a week.
My boyfriend is awesome and our time together is consistently enjoyable, as we provide each other a refuge from the rest of the world.
My friends are amazing. They are supportive, generous, and thoughtful. I’m especially grateful to have been able to travel with Melissa and with Vanessa, to see Vanessa and Tiffany this holiday. Plus, friendship usually involves good wine.
I’ve been able to see some great plays and other live events, most notably in Ashland and here at Mondavi, where I caught Willie Nelson and Mike Birbiglia.
I’ve read some great books. Some I’ve mentioned here earlier in the year. A few more favorites: The Goldfinch–beautifully written. We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves–my favorite book of the year–set in Davis, thoughtful, compelling, gorgeous. The Kingkiller Chronicles–picked this up on a lark–so good, so well paced–could not put them down. The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared–dry Scandinavian wit resulting in a very fun read. The Thinking Woman’s Guide to Real Magic–this is sort of a cross between Outlander and The All Soul’s Trilogy.

Here’s to more of the good stuff. And now, just because, comet Lovejoy: