It's Not Been Quiet

No updates doesn't really mean that nothing has been happening. Actually, that's generally the opposite. I have been spending a lot of time on the web camera talking to Paul (I can't say we're Skyping because for some reason, his Skype doesn't play the sound), I have been working pretty regularly, and I'm always on the lookout for new papers I can write. And, I'm doing all of the work in the vegetable garden this year, minus the rototilling that Kellan did to get the ground ready.

Wedding Updates

I've gotten quite a few texts, emails, Facebook messages, and questioning looks over the last couple of weeks. And it's always the same question - "Any idea on the date yet?" I honestly don't really mind the question, because it reminds me that after we go through the headache of paperwork that I get to marry the best man in the world. But right now, the answer is, "Still hoping for August or September". Paul actually arrives on Wednesday (EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!) for a visit, and we're going to be meeting with an immigration attorney. Though I think I have a slight grasp on US government English, I was still a bit confused. And considering we have to pay a hefty sum to apply for various visas and petitions, I'd rather be certain before I spend my hard-earned cash only to learn I've done something wrong. So, my amazing mother has set an appointment with an attorney so we can ask some questions and make sure we're going about the process correctly. And if we can save a couple of forms along the way (and their fees), then even better for us.

Saying that, since Paul is here next week (YAY!!!!!!), we get to do some of the mostly fun stuff with wedding planning. My beautiful friend is going to take some engagement pictures for us, we'll get a chance to look at some venues, and maybe get a few other details hashed out. Paul's a bit into the music aspect right now, so I'm sure we'll be going through a playlist and debating over song choices. I guess there are certain songs that are traditional at Scottish weddings, and I may or may not agree with a few of them because they are very untraditional here. It is always interesting to see the small cultural differences that we have. Another cool thing is my brother Dale is planning on making the sporran for the men's wedding kilt outfits (my dad and brothers are going to be wearing kilts, too). And since this part of the wedding definitely belongs to the guys, Paul and Dale will be going through different types of designs. I'm also going to make Paul help me a bit with invitations and flowers if I can, though we only have 10 days to pack a bunch of stuff in.

And Paul is going to read this and rethink making the trek here.

Gardening

Another big thing that has been consuming my time is the vegetable garden. I planted it in the third week of April, which normally would have been okay. Unfortunately, Kansas has a tendency towards interesting weather, and though it was warm and gorgeous when I planted, it turned to 50-60 for a couple of weeks after. I only lost one tomato plant and a few seeds, so that is pretty good.

Right now we have one row of potatoes (just planted on Thursday), 5 rows of corn, 4 pepper plants, 5 tomato plants (2 Roma, 2 Grape, and 1 California), several onions, a mini-row of peas, a mini-row of carrots, 1 thriving zucchini, 2 straight-necked squash, 1 cucumber, and 1 watermelon. As you can tell, corn in my family is very important, along with the tomatoes.

When you do corn, you do have to have at least three rows so the plants pollinate correctly. Initially, I had planted 3 rows, but some of the seeds didn't look like they took. So I seeded a few in little planters and got those growing well enough. By the time those were ready to transplant, my 3 rows of corn had come in and only one spot was bare. Pretty good. Since we wanted to expand the garden spot anyway at this point, it gave me the opportunity to just add another two rows of corn. I did have to reseed the squash and watermelon, but considering everything, not too shabby.

I am finding that weeds are popping up everywhere. And I do not really like kneeling down in the dirt. And it seems like every morning I'm able to get in the garden, it's rained the night before so I get covered in mud. But you know what? It's pretty cool to be doing this mostly on my own. I'm sure as the summer goes on Mom will be able to help some, even if it's just a bit of harvesting. We've had gardens in the past and I generally helped, but I have never planted everything and taken care of it every step of the way. I've been able to ask Mom for tips and advice, but I think it's great practice for when I have my own garden every year. Of course, if I end up living in Scotland, I'll need to build a green house and my plant choices will be pretty different.

The Engagement Story

I know that most of you are wondering a lot of things about the engagement. Not surprising. Something so amazing and a big step does invoke plenty of questions from the friends and family involved. I don't have many of the answers yet, however. Falling in love with someone from another country does not make it easy when you want to get married, especially if you're not already living in the same country as the other person. It's frustrating, the days seem ever long, and all you can think about is that eventual end.

The Engagement

I kind of knew that Paul planned on proposing Monday. Well, it was a knowing hope I guess. I knew that he'd been working up to it the whole two weeks I was there, and the recipe was perfect Monday. We drove into Stirling to visit Jenny, my landlady, then went to the shops (where Paul said we had to separate), and then planned to go on to the Wallace Monument. I think he wanted to propose at the top, but after a few delays, we got to the monument a bit too late. The woman at the desk told us we could basically run up the hill and see if they would let us in, but I made it about half way and felt like dying.

For those of you who haven't been to the monument, to get to the top you've got to climb 246 winding stairs. And climbing the pretty good sized hill up to it is a feat alone. Wallace Monument sits on top of Abbey Craig, a rock that just juts out in the middle of the landscape around it. Since I was too tired to climb both the hill and the stairs, I asked Paul if we could just walk around the hill instead. There are several pathways you can take, so Paul and I veered off to a path without anyone else on it.

We hadn't walked far before he turned and looked at me, grabbing my hands, and told me that he had a question for me. I pretty much started crying right there. He asked me if I would marry him. I of course said yes and just as we were kissing, a random jogger ran past us. Ah, the weirdness of the different moments in our lives. But even with the strange interruption, it was perfect. We walked around the craig, eventually making our way to the top where we sat in front of the fence (rebels!) and gazed out at the perfect view. From up there you can see almost everything in the Stirling area, and the castle across the way was clouded in a gorgeous mist. It was all very picturesque and beautiful.

Why the Monument

For those that don't know, the monument holds special meaning for Paul and I. We had only been going out for a week and it was our fourth date. We decided to have dinner and watch a film at my house, then walk to the top of the monument craig. You can't get inside the actual monument at night, but you are free to walk about the craig itself. Anyway, it was just dark, and we had meandered our way to the top. We had only been standing up there looking out for a few minutes when fireworks start going off in the distance. It wasn't a holiday, there was nothing going on at the university, but there they were. It was obviously a very memorable experience, and I'm really glad that Paul proposed there as well. Kind of brings the whole relationship full circle, because after that fireworks night, we decided to 'go steady' or be in a relationship, whichever term you prefer.

The Details

A lot of people are asking me when and where in terms of the wedding. Honestly, that's a very good question. We are both hoping for end of summer. With visa paperwork, deciding where exactly we want to live, and everything else (Paul getting enough time of work, picking a time that works for our families, etc), there's a lot to go through. I'm pretty sure we're going to get married in Kansas, but we do want to have receptions here and in Scotland. It's hard because we want all of our friends and family to be involved in everything, but distance becomes a very big factor in all of this. I will probably be constantly blogging for the next few months (obviously), so there will be plenty of updates.

No Fun Can Be Had Over the Atlantic.

I don't care what the movies and television tries to tell us: flying is not romantic nor is it fun. Waiting at a gate, pretending not to be bored out of your mind, followed by being shuttled like cattle into a metal tube that will be too cold and filled with crying children and men coughing cannot be considered interesting. At least not to anyone who has done it more than once. This being my 7th transatlantic flight alone (yes, I've been back and forth too much!), I was only looking forward to the end.

Leg 1

At first I thought that my flight from Wichita to Atlanta (where I would connect to my flight to Paris) would be rather boring. I seemed to be in a row by myself, the rest of the fliers seemed to be older and well-travelled, meaning that there would be fewer of the annoyances. And then a woman came down the aisle, and started to get on at the poor girl across the row from me. Apparently, this girl had taken the B seat when she was meant to be in D. D would've put the girl next to me, but after making everyone get out their boarding passes and show her, the woman then decided just to sit next to me anyway.

I got to hear about her broken foot and ankle brace, she proceeded to fit all of her carry-on bags into the seat with us, meaning she was going far over her line and into my own foot-space, and talked to me incessantly about her student loans being due. She asked me what I was studying (I guess I look like I should still be an undergraduate, and I suppose that's true). When I told her I had just finished my Masters, but was planning on continuing my education, I made a side joke about avoiding the poor economy by being in school. I meant that more as an excuse to not get turned down for job after job, and that it's recommended to give yourself more skills than less in today's world. She however took it as a great idea to dodge repaying student loans by going back to school. Keep in mind, that this woman is closer to my dad's age than my own. She then told me I needed to look at this paperwork she received about her student loans, and that I was a genius for telling her to go back to school.

This all happened before we even took off. Naturally, at the first chance I got, I pretended to fall asleep. Then of course, I actually did fall asleep.

I woke up in time for the drinks to be passed around. I think since flights have so few distractions, as soon as anyone starts moving, my body wakes itself up. Somehow this woman next to me woke up just long enough to ask for pretzels and juice, then promptly fell back asleep. I swear, in her sleep she bumped me a few times, her leg had completely crossed the line of her side and was touching mine if I didn't scoot over, and she eventually managed to spill her drink IN HER SLEEP! I guess the cold juice woke her up, so as she started to clean it and get it off of her coat, she tips her coat over me and my own stuff and wipes the juice onto me. So, when I told my mom yesterday that the lady next to me was crazy, I meant it. I moved as quickly as I could, using my close connection as an excuse.

Leg 2

My next flight was Atlanta to Paris. I had about 30 minutes before boarding began, which gave me just the right time to find an Arbys and scarf my food before my zone was boarding. In retrospect, I could have skipped the food because they served the meal fairly soon after the plane took off, but oh well.

I got on the plane with a row of three to myself. I then heard the flight attendant tell another passenger that the plane was not full and that there might be a few of us with rows to ourselves. And I was one of the lucky few who didn't even have to scheme for my row! I was grateful, because I got to sort of lie down, which is always a valued commodity on a 9 hour flight.

What was interesting about this flight was the gentleman who sat a few rows ahead and to the side of me. Before the flight got underway, he was talking at loud volume on his cell phone. I'm hoping that he was talking to his wife, because he kept saying that he was in love with them, that they'd be together for a long time, etc. etc. And this being an older guy (I'd say around mid-50s to 60s, but he looked like he'd lived a hard life), it became creepier and creepier. These were things you'd expect a young man in love to say - but coming out of this guy's mouth, it just seemed like some weird, twisted show.

Later on, I had woken up after a couple hours' sleep. My side hurt and I needed to switch positions, since plane seats are not comfortable in the slightest. As I sat up, I see he's waved a flight attendant over. I think he was complaining about not being able to hear the sound system, because next thing I know he's shouting at the top of his lungs and saying that the speakers are working. Obviously. The flight attendant shushes him, trying to get him to understand that most people are sleeping. I guess he didn't really get it though, because it took another minute for him to shut up, and then he was just dancing in his seat.

After another nap, I'm trying to find something to pass the time. The Social Network was playing on the monitors, but I had just watched that and it was near the end anyway. I look over at the guy who is now having an argument with another flight attendant. He has a cigarette in one hand and she's obviously confiscated a lighter at this point, because he's fairly angry. "Well, I've never flown internationally, so why can't I smoke?" That part I heard clearly, but her responses were a bit more muted. Mostly she was trying to let him know that since the plane had flown out of the US, it was still under US jurisdiction and therefore against federal law for him to light up. I think he tried to smoke right there in his seat, to be honest. He kept asking if he could smoke somewhere else, or why she couldn't at least give him back his lighter. It was kind of hilarious, except that I'm worried that he could get the lighter onto the plane to begin with. She finally ended by telling him that all that mattered was, "I'm in charge, so just shut up and listen to me," then walked away. Flight attendant FTW!

We got to Paris about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, everyone stands up to get off of the flight, and what happens? The jetway won't move. So instead of doing the obvious thing, they try to fix it, call a mechanic which takes 10 minutes, and after 30 minutes of making us wait stuck on a plane, and go back to the obvious thing of just hooking up the stairs. Really airport, was that so hard to figure out??? At this point, I had a little less than an hour before my flight left, and only 5 minutes before they started to board. I got off of the plane as soon as the slow people in front would allow, booked it up the stairs, and got into the terminal. I would have used the moving walkways, but they were clogged with people just standing on them. Um, that's not what they're for people! If you're going to casually walk down the hallway, just walk. The moving walkways are meant so people can move a bit more quickly.

To make my day better, I had to go through security. The queue was bad, but not as slow as it originally looked. It also helped that they opened up another lane, to help the congestion that had started. And since I've travelled a lot, I knew to take off my belt, metal things, get my passport and boarding card out, and had my shoes slipped off so I was right and ready to go as soon as I could get my things up on the x-ray belt. I think I ran to my gate with my converse half-falling off, my belt in my hand, and my dad's netbook sticking out of my bag. I literally ran up to the gate as she was calling for final boarding. Though it wasn't as bad as I thought. I had to wait for the next bus anyway, and by the time it got there, about 5 more people ran up behind me. Thank goodness I had enough time to fix my bag, belt, and shoes, because climbing up stairs in that much disarray would not have been any fun.

Leg 3

I got croissants. And a chocolate croissant that has a proper name but I can't remember it. Oh, and they were fresh. So that was by far an improvement on my day.

The flight itself was extremely uneventful compared to the previous two (other than having to wait a rather long time for the bathroom), and we even landed 30 minutes early. Which meant by the time I got through customs, I had beaten Paul to the pick up zone. But that's ok, because he got there just a few minutes later, I'm alive and am in Falkirk.

Of course, he's sticking me on another flight tomorrow to Fuerteventura (one of the Canary Islands). Not so sure I'm happy about that right now. Lol.

Home, Home on the Range

So on October 20th, less than 2 weeks away, I will be heading back to Kansas. For good. At least for now for good. If that makes any sense. I'm not as happy about this as I thought I would be a few months ago, but that has a lot to do with Paul, who's the most amazing man I could have ever met. Obviously, I'm not excited to be leaving him behind, but I'm sure a little separation won't kill us.

The good thing is I'll be home in time to celebrate my mom's birthday with her, I'll get to have Thanksgiving with my family, and I'll no longer be awoken every morning by the puppy alarm clocks. Although frankly, I'm really going to miss that.

I would post about all of the people I'm going to miss from here - I've made some really good friends - but that would take too long and I think they know that I'll miss them. Instead, I want to talk about all of the things I'm going to miss. The things that make Stirling different and unique from Kansas, and from the rest of the States.

1. The ocean is just a short drive away, in either direction. I'm really going to miss this one, since I grew up in a landlocked state and only first saw the ocean when I was 14. That's far too old to experience the beauty, and the North Sea especially is gorgeous and crystal blue.
2. The castle just up the hill. I honestly don't take advantage of that enough - or my own free admission since I live in its shadows. But whenever I take the puppies out for a walk, we always walk past, and there is no better view of Stirling save on top the Wallace Monument.
3. The Wallace Monument. I can see this from the train and I know I'm home. It's a constant reminder of my own family history (my great-grandmother was a Wallace), and it's gorgeous to boot. There are days when it's shrouded in the mist of the rain, and I wish that a camera could capture that beauty.
4. The brick work. This is a weird one, but I mean the really old brick walls, the ones with plants growing between the cracks, where life can spring from the weirdest of places.
5. Irn Bru. And the chocolate. And fresh chips from the chippy. And Indian food from a crummy looking takeaway. Even the McDonald's tends to be better here. Oh, and let's not forget the cheeses.
6. My physical location within the city is really good as well. Within ten minutes I'm at the shops, where all of Stirling seems to spend their days. I'm even going to miss the hill I have to hike up to get back to my house.
7. The National Library. As a researcher, it's close proximity to me (only an hour away) was much more useful that I could have ever imagined. And I just love the feel of it. A giant library with quiet rooms where no one talks, or runs around, or laughs over silly projects? Heaven.
8. Trains. I love the freedom of just hopping on the train, and not having to think about things. It's not like driving, where you're always concentrating on the roads. I think I'm probably most relaxed when I'm on the train, to be honest. Unless there's a rowdy group of teenagers, or an equally rowdy group of alcohol-soaked adults.
9. Oxfam books. Half of the novels I used for my dissertation came out of the charity shop's mystery shelves. It always seemed like they were stocking books just for me. I would have a specific novel in mind, and miraculously, Oxfam would have one on their shelves for me. At a price of £2. And the binding was already broken in for me. Magic.
10. The puppies. I complain because Mindy attacks me in the early mornings, and Poppy sometimes barks at nothing. But I'm going to miss these two scoundrels. I'm even going to miss not having to put the bin out of reach so Mindy won't dump it out and shred the contents. Of course, I'm mostly going to miss their silly fights, and their kisses, and their companionship. They're not really things, but they're not people either. Although they have very distinct personalities.
    

Author Dreams

I've met a few authors in my time in the field. Because I'm obsessed with literature, I often go to functions where I hear an author speak. I even can say that a friend of mine is a good YA author, and a well-received one at that. But I don't think it ever gets old to meet and actually talk to this person whose words you idealize.

My dissertation I just turned in largely dealt with a trilogy of novels by Denise Mina. She, along with Ian Rankin, formed the backbone of my argument and provided the most examples of my arguments. So when I found out that she would be speaking just up the road from me, it was too good to be true.

I was the youngest person there tonight by a good few years I think. And definitely the only one taking notes. I noticed that. My first impressions of Mina was what she was wearing - a rather cute dress, but she had jogging capris on underneath and slippers on her feet. I love writers. We often care so much about what other people think, and want people to like our words and connect with our stories. But there's an interesting thing I've noticed over my years of seeing writers read and talk - they're always casual. Carol, my YA writing friend, often wore these awesome band t-shirts to class, and even at one of the conferences we attended with her. I guess it's nice to feel like I fit in with this crowd - ask anyone, getting me into a dress is an amazing accomplishment. I do it on Sunday for a few hours, but if I could wear pants, I totally would. Paul's actually complained because I'm rarely dressed up and he'd like me to be less casual sometimes. I just think it's funny. But I love the whole notion I got with just my first impression of seeing Mina tonight.

Mina's not only written crime fiction, but she's also delved into graphic novels, comics, and other plays and short stories. But of course I was there to hear her ideas on crime fiction as a genre. And to hear her speak at all. You know, the normal author crush that you develop.

Anyway, she talked quite a bit about the high and low art distinctions, and how people view her genre. It's hard to write critically about crime fiction when the movement is still in the justification stages. Most critics are trying to defend it as a legitimate genre, and I just want to move past all of that and SHOW it's legitimate by writing about it in the first place. But what struck me was something Mina said - "I do love that people feel a little embarrassed for reading crime fiction." How funny. Mina pointed out that it's a cult thing, and with that embarrassment makes it a little bit more fun to write and to read. I think she meant that it's a guilty pleasure that she likes to enjoy, and likes her readers to enjoy it. And there's a negative aspect that comes with being seen as too literary - then sometimes you've lost that connection with your reader. Admit it, as a casual reader, you're less likely to go for the "literary" novel because just the definition makes it sound deep and frustrating to make it through. If it remains that guilty pleasure, people are allowed to read it and enjoy it on their own terms.

As an aspiring writer myself, I always listen for little tidbits about why people became a writer, and the advice they give as well. There's always someone in the audience who asks the questions, so I never feel like I have to. Mina discussed that at one time, she had been working towards her PhD, but didn't feel connected to academia. She liked it, but didn't push herself because the thought was always at the back of her head that she was really a novelist. It's an interesting parallel to my own life. Except that I actually like academia and want to be a part of both worlds. Which does happen. But there was something that she said that really resonated with me - "Be that (a writer) or shut up and do this better." It's an interesting way to motivate yourself. If you're going to follow your dream, do it. Don't keep putting it off and saying some day. Confront that dream head on and GO FOR IT. Considering some other events of the last few days, it resonated with me so much more I think.

After her talk, and a beautiful reading, I got my copy of Garnethill signed. She laughed when she noticed all of the flags and asked what they were for. I explained that I had used it in my dissertation and she asked me to give her a rundown of my thesis. She liked the idea and wrote "Thank you" in my book. How very cool is that?! I love writers.

Well, that's my rambling about my Mina experience. There's more to say, but I don't want to bore people. I might write more on it, but only bits that struck me or something.

The Downside of Being a Critic

Ok, so I'm not really a critic. Or an academic - sort of, but not yet. But the downside to spending your days analyzing literature, is the fact that it's hard to stop.

I started noticing this problem when I was in high school. It was hard, once you got into the habit of doing it, not to sit and examine the text. And think about all of the implications. And how I can connect it to a paper.

I did learn to turn this off, but I think I need to relearn it. Especially when it comes to crime fiction. After spending months on a dissertation on crime fiction, it's hard to read the books and not think about a paper I could write.

I've started reading Stieg Larsson's Millenium trilogy. You've probably heard of the books - Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Girl Who Played With Fire, and Girl Who Kicked a Hornet's Nest. I've read the first novel, and am now on the second. It only took a few days to get through the first one . . . haha. Anyway, now that I'm reading them, all I can think about is how they fit into my dissertation ideas or into other papers I could write.

Crime fiction used to be my respite. I've ruined that. Whoops.

Oh well, it makes it more fun to study.

Post-Dissertation

A little over a week ago I handed in my dissertation.

Yes, THE dissertation. The one I've been pondering on for a year, researching since February, and writing all summer. I should find out the results of my dissertation before too long, and then I'll officially be a graduate with a Master's. I feel so old.

Although finding something to fill my days has been a bit more difficult. After all, for three months my life revolved around one paper, and then all of a sudden, I turned it in. Now I'm looking for a full-time job and trying to make some hefty decisions. But it's been hard to figure out how to fill the days when I'm not working and I've already filled out about twenty applications that day. At least that's what it feels like. Some days I wonder if I've applied for every possible job in Scotland. And then I remember that there are a few sectors that I've left untapped, mostly because I would be a joke to apply for them (like anything to do with math).

I'm also doing some reading and writing. I just finished the first Stieg Larsson novel, Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which I thought was pretty good. Can't wait to start the second. I'm also reading Stephen King's On Writing which I'm finding fascinating and instructive. At least until I get a full-time job, no reason I can't set some time aside each day to write. Which is what I plan to do, and then I'll work writing in around whatever job I'm able to get.

I promise that now the brain-dead is slowly ebbing away, I will update more often. Instead of once every two months or so.