Author Archives: Christene

Explaining School

There is nothing more abstract than education, and today I found out just how much. I was getting my nails done and the lady started talking to me. She usually asks about my kids and my work-out regiment. I usually bring a book with me in case there is a wait, so today she asked me about my book. She assumed it is a novel, but I told her it was theory. Our conversation went something like this (this is an approximation of the conversation to the best of my recollection) (also, I took the liberty of fixing her English):

Her: You study that for school?
Me: Yes.
Her: What class are you taking?
Me: This is actually for a class I am teaching.
Her: Oh, so you are done with school.
Me: No, I am about to start more school next year. I guess I am kind of on break.
Her: How far have you gone?
Me: I just finished my MA, and going to start my doctorate next fall.
Her: So you are going to be a doctor?
Me: In a few years, yes.
Her: So you are going to make new medicines?
Me: No, no, not that kind of doctor. A Ph.D.
Her: What is that?
Me: A doctor of philosophy.
Her: What is that?
Me: Well, it is like… um… a fancy degree… um…. well… um… it is the next step after the MA.
Her: What is philosophy?
Me: I guess it is the study of different ways of thinking? Probably. Let’s go with that.
Her: So you are going to become a doctor for thinking?
Me: Sort of.
Her: Like a head doctor?
Me: No, not like that. I will be focusing on literature. So basically different ways of thinking about literature.
Her: Not like a psychiatrist?
Me: No, nothing like that.
Her: So what kind of doctor are you going to be? Who are you treating?
Me: No, no, I won’t be treating anyone. I will be teaching. I am not going to be a science kind of doctor.
Her: So you teach, but you can’t make medicine?
Me: Right. I won’t be a healing doctor. A doctorate isn’t really a doctor, it is kind of… um.. like… a pretend doctor.
This conversation went on for a while, but in conclusion, I think I convinced her that I am about to spend several more years in school to get a make-believe degree, and will write about things that don’t exist. Self promotion is not my forte.

Becoming Blanche

When I was younger I used to watch The Golden Girls with my mom. I am not sure if any of you remember the show, or have ever watched it, but it was one of our favorite shows to watch together.

Even at that age I knew one day I would grow older, and I was hoping I would turn into Blanche Devereaux. In fact, I was certain I would for many years. The funny thing is, I don’t know why. Nothing about Blanche’s lifestyle, as glamorous as it was on TV, resounded with what I wanted out of life.

I was one of those girls who had my wedding planned out, down to the centerpieces, before my tenth birthday. By the time I was fifteen I thought I was going to have four children. I thought I would be a successful professional of some kind (I left wiggle room here, and eschewed the specifics).

I had it all figured out.

Yes, I had my perfect wedding. I love the fact that I took time to do that. I think every woman should. Even if you don’t get married, you should just throw yourself a wedding. Marry yourself, marry your cat, just do it. That was the only day in my life where everything, and I mean everything, was about me, and I didn’t feel guilty or selfish making it that way. During my first wedding I was so consumed with taking care of everyone else I practically made myself sick. Actually, I did make myself sick, and spent the following week in bed with a fever. I always feel like I should be focusing on others. But my wedding day the second time around was all about me. And I was beautiful, and it was perfect. Maybe just in my head, but that is all that matters, because thirty years from now I am the only one who is going to remember it.

Four children? I got half way there before I decided I am done. And I love the ones I have, so it all worked out in the end.

As for the last thing, according to everyone else I am indeed a successful professional of some kind, so I guess that came true.

Now, will I be Blanche Devereaux twenty or thirty years from now? I don’t know. Maybe I will be Dorothy, or Rose, or a bit of all of them, or maybe I will be someone else entirely.

But for now I think I need to set up a new list of goals.