Our marital bed: thoughts

I know the marital bed is a sensitive topic to all married couples, and it's almost a taboo subject for unmarried people. But I've had this idea running around in my mind for several weeks now, so I'm going to break the ice. I'm not going to break the sex taboo and reveal all our bedroom secrets. But, instead, I want to talk about the other functions of the marital bed because it has become for us a central location in our home.

When I was fourteen years old, I went through bereavement counseling with my mom and sister at our church. We had recently suffered the deaths of my mom's father and our next-door neighbor (my mom's best friend, and my "second" mom) within three weeks of each other. It was a lot to take in. The counselor introduced herself, turned off a row of lights so that the group was now sitting in dimmed lighting, and said, "Please take a moment to close your eyes, calm your thoughts, and picture yourself in your favorite place." I was 14. I didn't really have a favorite place. So, I made it up and pictured myself a smaller child sitting on my mom's lap.

I'm older now, and I have a favorite place.

My favorite place, the place I mentally go to when I'm overwhelmed at work, the place I physically seek when I need to recharge emotionally, is my marital bed.

I love our bed. The sheets aren't changed every single week, like they are at my mom's house. The bed isn't made every single morning. The blankets are covered in cat hair, until my husband's allergies bother him and we wash them. It was a hand-me-down from Robert's grandparents (in fact, our entire bedroom suit was). And I love our bed, with all its imperfections that would disqualify it from a Martha Stewart Living spread.

In my marital bed I sleep, dream, nap, and rest. I lie down after an exhausting day, throw my right arm over my eyes, and let my body heal. My husband inevitably comes in and lies down beside me, taking my hand.

In my marital bed I learn. It is in our bed that my husband and I have our more lively debates about our individual beliefs, or theoretical preferences. We sit beside each other, propped up by pillows, and trace each other's legs with a finger or hold hands or brush hair out of the other's face.

In my marital bed I grow. When my husband and I need to communicate hurt feelings or frustrations or anger, we almost always retire to our bedroom. Without children yet, we don't have much of a reason to do this, but it seems to be our habit. Robert might lie down, and I might sit at the edge of bed...until he playfully pulls me to lie down beside him. We hold hands when we argue, reminding each other that home exists when those two hands are united.

In my marital bed I find strength and comfort. Only rarely (and only out of necessity) do I lie down and fall asleep before my husband. At night, we roll toward each other, one resting a head on the other's shoulder, trace fingertips with fingertips, and whisper quietly about any concerns remaining from our day. My husband's body is strong and safe, and I feel strong and safe next to him. When, at the end of the day, I am feeling beaten down or discouraged or taken for granted by someone, I know I can lie down in my marital bed beside my husband and he will hold me until I am relaxed enough to fall asleep.

I love my marital bed. This has become for me my favorite place.

Photo Shoot: Abandoned house and gas station

Today, I went on a photo shoot with two of my friends; one of my friends is an amateur photographer, and she took two of us newbies out on a workshop shoot. The assignment: find something beautiful in the ugly. We went to an abandoned, fire-damage house and nearby run-down gas station. They were within fifty feet of each other.

I always imagine the story behind all of my shots, and I hope that the story comes through in some small way. Today, as I was walking around the site before taking the first photo, I imagined the human beings who lived in this house. Were they the same family who owned the nearby gas station? Was the gas station dilapidated because of the fire in the house? How did the fire start? What did they take with them? Did they escape with their lives at the very least? (This final question haunted me, and I hope beyond hope that this family is still alive and thriving.)

I took 175 photos during our hour-long shoot, a general average for me. My camera isn't set for exposure bracketing, which makes it more difficult to take multiple pictures at one time. 30 of the 175 made it to post-processing. During post-processing, most of the photos received an increase in their black points, a higher contrast, and a slightly improved vibrancy. Lighting was diffused this morning because of the cloud cover, and the colors genuinely popped on their own--I was merely interested in bringing them out by about a degree and a half or so. These are my favorite five of the entire batch.

I'll let the stories behind them speak for themselves.

Prospectus Rough Draft #1: The Results Show

I met with my dissertation director, Dr. R, on Wednesday morning this past week to discuss the first draft of my dissertation prospectus. I must admit to some frustration at still being in this stage of my dissertation so long after achieving ABD status (All But Dissertation--it means I'm done except for the 250-300 page book). I became ABD the first week of March...and it's October now. I feel concerned that I'm way behind schedule, but I have to keep reminding myself that there is no such thing as a schedule any more. There is a reality of running out of funded hours, but with Robert graduating next Spring, the likelihood of our moving on to bigger and better things (and my "dissertating" remotely) is fairly high. I'm not concerned about losing funding.

So, the brief recap of my meeting would go a little something like this.

Me and Dr. R: small talk, small talk, small talk....

Me: So...where should we start on this thing? (indicating the two copies of the prospectus before each of us)

Dr. R: Where do we begin...? Hm. Well, I'm still fairly concerned that you're not writing as specifically as you need to be. I'm not sure exactly what you're going to be looking at, specifically. (she reads me a line from my prospectus which uses the words "dangers and implications.") So, for instance, the dangers and implications for whom? I'm assuming for the early modern British audience member...? (I say "yes.") Okay, then the next question is: why should we care? They're dead!

Me: (laughing a little nervously) Well...I guess that's a good point. But here's my problem with it. We have to care necessarily because we can't watch a Shakespeare play today, for instance, without recalling at some basic level that all the female roles were played by men. (that's the topic of my dissertation--early modern British stage transvestism.) When we watch a play, we're always going to be aware of the ban of women from the stage. We can't not be aware of it.

Dr. R: (arching an eyebrow and leaning back in her chair) It sounds like to me that you're actually more interested in the modern audience.

Me: (grinning a little too broadly) I am, aren't I? Is that okay? (I tend to talk too fast when I meet with my advisor for whatever reason, and I could feel that tendency coming on now.)

Dr. R: I think it's a reasonable question, done correctly of course.

Me: (Talking too fast now) Oh my god, I am so happy to hear you say that! I think part of the reason that I took so long getting my prospectus to you is because I haven't really been feeling in love with my topic ever since my oral exam in March. I mean, I remember feeling passionate about my thesis (which she oversaw as well, actually, and could also remember my interest and passion for it), but I haven't felt that way about my dissertation. And I guess if I have to just press through and write it anyway, I will...but I'd really like the chance to love it.

Dr. R: No, you have to love this project. This is the longest work you've ever done at this point, and you have to love it. If you don't love it, it'll never get done.

Me: And I want to graduate. This dissertation is all that's left to finish before I can graduate and get a real, good job. And this dissertation is what's going to get me that job. And I want to love my job, too.

Our meeting continued much in the same way, but I won't recount it further. We have decided that for my new topic, I'm going to maintain my plan for Chapters 4-6, convert them into different chapters, and continue moving forward for the next three-ish chapters.

I joked with a peer that perhaps I should just keep them labeled Chapters 4-6. If it worked for George Lucas, it can work for me! ;)

My new topic is a little more focused and so much more interesting to me. I can actually spend a great deal more time than originally planned on current theatrical productions, which means interviews and going to see performances for research, hehe. I'm feeling much more refreshed and excited about this topic. The other one was actually a popular topic twenty years ago, and anyone who's researched before will know that a twenty-year-old topic of interest is not a good place to begin.

Tune in next time for Prospectus Rough Draft #2! (No telling when "next time" will be for this particular entry, though, haha.)

Photo update

Inspired by my friend Ash, I am going to make a photo post...because lately I've been so busy that this is pretty much the best way to recap the last month.

Over Labor Day weekend, Robert and I visited my aunt, uncle, and cousins in South Carolina. On the Saturday of that weekend, we went to a local baseball game, which was a lot of fun. I haven't been to a baseball game since I was in middle school. Before the game, my aunt and uncle took us walking around downtown Greenville, and we visited a new park. I was stunned by the beauty of this place.

The geese were in full form at the park this weekend, and what was even more astonishing was that they were not afraid of people. Children jumped around the rocks and water alongside the geese--at times it seemed the geese were also playing with the kids. Such a beautiful and relaxing day!

Then, later this month was my birthday. We celebrated by having a low-key breakfast at our home. I don't really like celebrating my birthday in an extravagant way. The attention makes me feel a little uncomfortable (although I love celebrating everyone else's birthday--making a big deal of their day is part of the fun). We had both sets of our parents, our siblings, and my sister's fiance come over for homemade pancakes (Robert made them!), eggs, biscuits, bacon, and sausage. It was so great!

When we opened the door, my mom greeted me with a great big grin and gigantic balloon...that sang. I loved this balloon! Mom would tap it at random and do a little dance while the animals looked on in frozen anxiety. Milton, our sweet neurotic Chowbrador, didn't really like the balloon but was okay with it as long as it wasn't singing. Beatrice, our fearless calico/tabby mix, watched it warily but didn't run away. Callie, our tortoiseshell RagaMuffin, hid the entire day.

The morning was made even more complete by my mom's cupcakes! She decorated each one with a delicious sugar flower that she found at this great little cake store near their home. They were so yummy! We started doing cupcakes for birthdays instead of cakes after an idea that my sister had for her birthday. :) It's so smart, too, because few people want to eat two cupcakes, so it keeps portions under control.

Last weekend, my friend and I went on a little photo shoot. We were having an away game that weekend, and I wanted to photograph the campus without crazy amounts of people crowding the school. I'll take pictures the next time we have a home game that's not under threat of being rained out.

While on our photo shoot, I captured a bird's nest outside of the pharmacy school. It looks to have been pretty sturdy for its inhabitants, but they had already flown off.

And finally...a photograph that I think really encapsulates football season. This was taken on the lawn in front of our student union. It's a JD miniature laying beside a streamer that has been dropped from a shaker. War Eagle, indeed.