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When I'm not here, you may find me wandering the pages below. (If I'm a regular visitor to your site and I've left your link off or mislinked to you, please let me know! And likewise, if you've blogrolled me, please check that my link is updated: thisroamanticlife.blogspot.com. The extra (a) makes all the difference!)

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Body: in sickness and in health

I won't lie; this body and I have had our issues with each other for many years. Body image -- sure. Physical and mental overextension -- comes with being a Type A kind of girl. I still struggle with these things, so they show up from time to time in my writing.

More recently, illness, pure but not simple, has added itself to the mix in a multi-system sort of way. And the challenges in figuring out exactly what's gone wrong are many. As problems have revealed themselves in the last few years, beginning with reactive hypoglycemia in late 2008, I've documented them here, partly to gain a little clarity on managing complex conditions but mostly to give voice to vulnerabilities I feel but don't normally share with anyone face to face. Better out than in, they say, right? (Oh yes, humor is one way I deal.)

The links below cover the different angles I've examined (and from which I've been examined) within that experience.

Travel: neither here nor there

When the person you're married to lives two time zones away, you log a fair number of frequent flier miles. And if you blog about commuter relationships, you log quite a few posts en route too.

Since we're no longer in separate places, I blog less often from airports. But we do travel -- together now! -- which is much more fun to write about. So in addition to thoughts on our years of commuting, the links below cover the places we've been as a pair and, in some cases, the adventures that have happened on the way.

Writing: the long and short of it

Why do I do it? Good question. Maybe it's not so much that I like to write but that I have to write, even when the words refuse to stick to the page. Believe me, I've tried doing other things like majoring in biochemistry (freshman fall, many semesters ago). Within a year, I'd switched to English with a concentration in creative writing and wasn't looking back.

After graduating, I taught English for a few years and then worked as an editor, which I still do freelance. In 2007, I applied and got into an MFA program at a place I like to call Little U. on the Prairie. I finished my degree in 2011 and have been balancing tutoring and writing on my own ever since.

The following links cover the writing I've done about writing: process, content, obstacles, you name it. It's not always pretty. But some part of me loves it, even when it's hard. And this is the result.

Heart: family and friends

I'd have a hard time explaining who I am without being able to talk about the family I grew up in as well as the people I've met beyond its bounds. But even with such context, it's not easy! In the simplest terms, I'm a first-generation Asian-American who has spent most of this life caught between cultures. That, of course, doesn't even begin to describe what I mean to, but there's my first stab at the heart of it all.

That's what this group of posts is reserved for -- heart. The essential parts of my life whose influences I carry with me, for better or worse. The links below cover what I've written as I've learned how these forces work within me, for me, against me, in spite of me. They anchor me even as they change me, and they keep life interesting.

Recommended reading

What do I do when there's too much on my mind and my words won't stick to the page? I escape into someone else's thoughts. Below is a collection of books and articles that have been sources of information, inspiration, and occasional insight for my own work.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Say what?

I now know why I became a writer. Because I like composing words on paper, not assembling them on the fly in front of other people. Like, say, a room full of college sophomores, some of whom are definitely smirking at you as you charge through your own introduction so unceremoniously that it's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. Even things that I've scripted for myself turn to gobbledygook when I try to make myself say them out loud. Non sequiturs? Redundancies? Rambling sentences that trail off into awkward attempts at humor? A total absence of humor?

Yep.

I taught my first class today, which I thought I was prepared for. Last week, I printed off all the handouts I would need and set up my university website for posting supplementary materials and had my lesson plan all written out with timing and even segues to use so I wouldn't have to ad-lib any. I went so far as to put everything I would need into my car so that in case I got stranded on the way back from wedding #5 (this past weekend -- more on that in a separate post), I could go directly from the airport to campus. But I might as well have left everything at home because I didn't follow what I had written for myself. Well, okay, it wasn't quite as bad as that sounds -- I stuck to the agenda I'd put together, but for the parts where I had to open my mouth and say meaningful things about the goals of the course, expectations, and all that administrative stuff you use to set the tone for the semester, I kept straying from my crib sheet. Badly. I don't think I contradicted myself, but I definitely felt like I was making a mess of things. Oy.

Of course, where I almost never strayed was my tone -- I stuck close to the tough side of my teacher persona (borderline mean, I'm afraid to say) while enumerating what I expected of my students. Definitely stern and a little scowly. Shudder. I'm sure it will pay off in terms of preventing behavior issues -- I only had to use the teacher look once when a girl started talking to someone next to her while another student was talking, and she stopped chatting right away when I cocked an eyebrow at her rather pointedly. But man, did I dislike the persona I was projecting. I was more than stern about the workload, my being a tough grader, my standards in general. My little sis's reaction after my description of how I thought I sounded: "Dude, I'd drop your class."

Yeah, me too.

At least I used nearly all the time I was allotted (70 out of 75 minutes). Having to manage a room full of 13-year-olds for sometimes twice that amount of time when I last taught made planning my agenda for today way easier. Maybe Wednesday will be better on the speaking front. We'll be doing discussion-based activities that don't require me to lecture, which is the heart of what this course is about. I can't wait for this to feel more routine. Right now, I just feel rusty.
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Monday, August 25, 2008

Say what?

I now know why I became a writer. Because I like composing words on paper, not assembling them on the fly in front of other people. Like, say, a room full of college sophomores, some of whom are definitely smirking at you as you charge through your own introduction so unceremoniously that it's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. Even things that I've scripted for myself turn to gobbledygook when I try to make myself say them out loud. Non sequiturs? Redundancies? Rambling sentences that trail off into awkward attempts at humor? A total absence of humor?

Yep.

I taught my first class today, which I thought I was prepared for. Last week, I printed off all the handouts I would need and set up my university website for posting supplementary materials and had my lesson plan all written out with timing and even segues to use so I wouldn't have to ad-lib any. I went so far as to put everything I would need into my car so that in case I got stranded on the way back from wedding #5 (this past weekend -- more on that in a separate post), I could go directly from the airport to campus. But I might as well have left everything at home because I didn't follow what I had written for myself. Well, okay, it wasn't quite as bad as that sounds -- I stuck to the agenda I'd put together, but for the parts where I had to open my mouth and say meaningful things about the goals of the course, expectations, and all that administrative stuff you use to set the tone for the semester, I kept straying from my crib sheet. Badly. I don't think I contradicted myself, but I definitely felt like I was making a mess of things. Oy.

Of course, where I almost never strayed was my tone -- I stuck close to the tough side of my teacher persona (borderline mean, I'm afraid to say) while enumerating what I expected of my students. Definitely stern and a little scowly. Shudder. I'm sure it will pay off in terms of preventing behavior issues -- I only had to use the teacher look once when a girl started talking to someone next to her while another student was talking, and she stopped chatting right away when I cocked an eyebrow at her rather pointedly. But man, did I dislike the persona I was projecting. I was more than stern about the workload, my being a tough grader, my standards in general. My little sis's reaction after my description of how I thought I sounded: "Dude, I'd drop your class."

Yeah, me too.

At least I used nearly all the time I was allotted (70 out of 75 minutes). Having to manage a room full of 13-year-olds for sometimes twice that amount of time when I last taught made planning my agenda for today way easier. Maybe Wednesday will be better on the speaking front. We'll be doing discussion-based activities that don't require me to lecture, which is the heart of what this course is about. I can't wait for this to feel more routine. Right now, I just feel rusty.
Posted by This Ro(a)mantic Life at 10:52 PM
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