All the conferences

Today my brother Patrick sent a picture of himself presenting at a conference in Dresden (I'm pretty sure). His paper title is hilarious: Non-invasive Dating: A New Methodology.

It's about how to date paper not people, but it always takes people a minute to get there.

While he was doing that, Hadis was also presenting his research at a conference in Vienna. 

Interestingly enough, my mom was attending an online conference today and...

I was attending the Georgia Conference on Children's Literature (and it's possible, but not certain that one of my poems was being read at AAAL by a professor at a conference there).

It was a good day for conferencing! And a long day of conferencing. I left the house at 6:30 am and didn't get home until 10:00 pm or so. But it was such a good day. And a busy day. 

I was busy doing all sorts of things for the book awards the first and second sessions, including hauling around about 40 books. And then I also presented my own research during the last session of the day, which included hauling around even more books. 

Oddly enough, when I finally sat down to dinner at the end of the day I didn't feel as worn out as I have at conferences in years past. 

When Genise asked me which job was harder—being the Graduate Assistant for the conference or for the book awards—I told her that I guess being the assistant for the conference was harder (at least on conference day) because I remember just feeling so absolutely exhausted by the end of that first day of the conference in years past.

(This year the conference was only one day; in years past it has been two days long, but I still felt just...absolutely bone weary...)

I figured that had to be it—as the conference assistant I was running around making sure all the authors knew where to be and fetching things and troubleshooting. This time I was only...running around bags of books and setting up three presentations...and dashing on stage to troubleshoot powerpoint presentations and...hmmmm...

So then Petros (the conference chair, my old boss) comes up and he goes, "We missed having Phoebe around this year!"

And a light went off in my head—oh!

Obviously the conference was easier for me this year because I wasn't dashing off to feed my baby every hour or two (and change her diaper or whatever, whatever, whatever). It wasn't that my job was any easier...it was simply that I was only doing my job. 

Sometimes I'm a little slow.

Case in point: At the dinner, Lesléa Newman asked me what the one thing was that set my religion apart from others.

Our end of the table talked about a lot of things—how GCBA works, different people Ms. Newman has tutored (Kwame Alexander, for one), menstruation rituals in various cultures, school shootings, Jorõ spiders, what foods were typical for different regions in the United States. We had a particularly long conversation about chicken-fried steak (which a lot of people from outside of the US had a hard time wrapping their head around: for the record we had Italians, Greeks, Indians, Chinese people, Haitians and Canadians around the table, in addition to Americans).

Anyway, Lesléa is Jewish and had such an easy time asking for the roasted Brussel sprouts to be prepared without bacon, following her dietary customs. 

I wasn't really sure how to ask for them to be plopped on my plate not soaked in brandy, so I just had green beans instead. I'm not sure the kitchen was prepared to make a non-brandy sauce. I have had their Brussel sprouts before—they're really good! But they used to be made with a balsamic vinegar sauce. 

Anyway, I just didn't have the Brussel sprouts and said "no thanks" to the sweet tea and...

And then Lesléa asked me what was the one thing that set my religion apart from others. 

"But don't say polygamy!" she said. "We all know about that. Do you still practice that?"

So then I had to explain that...yes...and no...

Mostly no. Like, the main branch of the umbrella term Mormonism, the sect that I belong to? We do not practice polygamy (at least, we aren't supposed to). But there are more fundamental sects that do still practice polygamy (but we really don't consider ourselves to be...associated...with them at all).

"But you're not Christian?"

"We are," I said. "At least, we consider ourselves to be Christian."

"So you believe that Jesus was a saviour."

"Yes, we do."

"But no one thinks you're Christians."

"True. A lot of people don't consider us Christians."

"Why is that the case?" Genise asked. "Like, why wouldn't other Christians believe you're Christian?"

"One big reason is that we don't follow The Nicene Creed, so we believe that God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings."

"That makes sense," said Genise.

"So what's your One Big Thing?" Lesléa asked again.

Wow. Why would my brain not work? I was begging my brain cells to come up with something. I had literally just spent an entire hour talking about religion in my session. 

Not polygamy. 

Not polytheism (her own One Big Thing was that Judaism believes in one god (Christianity is often considered loosely polytheistic in some Judaic epistemology)).

What? What about us?

"Oh!" I said, with the same quick thinking that brought me to the conclusion that Phoebe was making the conference more difficult, not my job. "The Book of Mormon. We believe in living prophets who can received the revealed word of God today. That would be my One Big Thing."

Obviously.

Let's just say that I do not do well "on the spot," as it were. 

Blanking on "The Book of Mormon" made me feel so much better about blanking on theoretical frameworks not too long ago. 

Randomly in the middle of a class discussion our teacher was like, "Oh! Frameworks! Everyone should know their frameworks. Let's go around the room and everyone name a framework!"

I. Do. Not. Do. Well. With. These. Activities.

But people started rattling off frameworks and I kept trying to keep one in my brain, like, "Okay, okay...they took feminist theory...but I've got gender theory...okay...they took gender theory but I've got humanism...okay...that one's gone, too...so..."

By the time it was my turn my brain was complete mush. 

"I...literally cannot think of a single other theory..." I said. 

Mindy (who took the picture of me above today) whispered, "Marxism..."

"Oh, duh! Thanks, Mindy...Marxism!" I said. "Post-structuralism. Post-anything...ummm..."

Man alive, I've been reading all about Derrida's hauntology all semester long. But can I think of any of that when asked? Absolutely not. Ask me a question and my brain empties out faster than...anything.

"We should all be able to list off key theories and their associated theorists quite easily by now," our teacher said off-handedly, which made me feel pretty crummy (even though I don't think she meant it the way it came out). 

My brain simply...doesn't work...like that? 

Like, I know stuff (probably). But I...am so often taken aback by questions that I wasn't expecting. Like, I have to really think about how to answer things before I answer them. Why? I don't know. I just like to have a chance to think about things before I give my answer, that's all. 

Probably some sort of manifestation of anxiety.

I have to say the right framework (not any framework). 

I have to say the right One Big Thing (not any One Big Thing). 

And, how happy was I to learn that one of our keynote speakers (J. Kasper Kramer) is unable to drive on the interstate due to anxiety. Her and me, both! And doing things anyway (with much thanks to husband who will drive us to Athens, Georgia, from PTC (for me) or Tennessee (for her) to attend this conference). 

Oh, and the last funny thing that I remember happening at the dinner was that our Bound-to-Stay-Bound representative was also like, "Where's your baby? I guess she's probably not much of a baby anymore..."

And I said. "No, she stayed home this year. She's three years old."

"About time for another one," he joked. 

"No, thanks!" I said.

"Oh, no more for you?" he said, dusting off his hands emphatically. "That's how my wife and I were—one and done."

"Well, I have six kids," I said.

"Neeeeeever mind," he said.

Oh, and I made a girl (who is probably in her twenties) nearly spit out her drink when she asked how old my oldest was and I said, "Seventeen." Because she thought I was in my twenties. 

Oh, and Petros told me this funny story about this one time he and his wife lived in an apartment building and their little neighbour from downstairs came knocking on their door at 5:00 in the morning. 

"Can I watch my shows?" he asked.

Petros didn't know what to do, so he just let this little boy—in his Spiderman pyjamas—into the apartment and turned on cartoons for him. 

"You didn't!" I gasped. 

"I did!" he said. "I didn't know what else to do! But the problem was..."

"I'll bet he made a habit of coming over to watch cartoons!" I said.

"He did! Every morning he was coming over at 5:00 asking us to put on his show for him. Eventually I said to my wife, 'Do you think his parents know he comes up here to watch TV at 5:00 in the morning?'"

Because they'd been returning him to his own apartment, you see, when they were getting ready to send their kids off to school. 

Turns out the parents had no idea. They weren't aware he'd been leaving the apartment at all, let alone that he'd been watching cartoons (and apparently also begging for candy from the stash this boy knew they had). The parents were fast asleep. And then would get up...you know...around the time the little boy was taken back to his house...and had no one else to turn on cartoons for him.

Not that Petros wanted to be up at 5:00—he was always woken up by the knocking at the door. 

Too funny! But the little guy had to shoot his shot, didn't he.

So I told Petros about having Kate (age 8) over one Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago. I was making the kids lunch and I just...was going to do something very easy (because that's the kind of lunch I make when we have extra kids over after spending all my energy on singing time)...something very (Americanly) universal: a good ol' PB and something.

"Would you like peanut butter and honey?" I asked. "Or peanut butter and jam?"

This is good childhood psychology—give them options to make them feel empowered, but limited options to let them know there are boundaries. Isn't that a thing? I'm pretty sure it's a thing, but...boundaries were meant to be pushed, right?

"I'd like a Nutella sandwich," Kate said confidently.

"Well, we don't make Nutella sandwiches at our house," I said. 

"Darn!" Kate said. "We don't make Nutella sandwiches at our house, either!"

You can't blame a girl for trying!