"Real" "'American' 'Tacos'"

The other day at the grocery store I bought two items that I ordinarily would not buy: One was meat, and the other was lettuce. (Seriously...I'll never understand what prompted the gods to bring lettuce into this world.)

What happened was this: I was at the local grocery store, minding my own business, when I encountered a box of Old El Paso Taco Kit on the clearance shelf. I felt so bad! Poor little Taco Kit...no one wanted him, so they reduced his price and tried to cast him off...

And then I thought, wait a minute. I haven't had tacos in weeks! And since I haven't been able to find corn tortillas, maybe I can save this little guy AND satisfy my cravings at the same time!

Hence the lettuce (which, also, was on clearance (man, I love Japanese grocery stores)). And I bought chicken (ALSO on clearance...WTF) because I was craving fried chicken before I found the OEPTK. And then I went home to make myself some OEP Chicken Tacos. And you know what? The end product actually looked like real American tacos! Just like they sell at Taco Bell!!!

Which, mind you, was the first meal I had when I landed in the United States all those years ago.

Grad School Awesomeness #4: On Mentors and Committees

I remember my friends talking about how asking a professor to be on their committee was like making a marriage proposal. I guess that depends on what kind of marriage proposal you're into, but I agree that the makeup of the committee can be significant in the lives of grad students.

While "the committee" and its formation are unique to each, I've come to terms with a few things about them over the years (and am a little bit wiser for them):

1. Your advisor, chair, and mentor can all be different people. You're probably assigned a first-year mentor/advisor based on what you write in your application, but that person doesn't have to be your chair (or even co-chair) when you write your dissertation. Nor should you expect that person necessarily to be your mentor—the person who actually mentors you through your intellectual and professional development, with an eye to what's good for you as a young scholar. You don't have to expect all of these things from just one person. 
2. Your favorite prof doesn't have to be on your committee. Sometimes it's better not to have your most favorite awesomest mentor-est professor on your dissertation committee, especially given the drama and unpleasantness that can be involved in the Ph.D. process. That way you can still have that mentor to go and talk with about all the things going on in your grad school life, without having that person be involved in the messiness of revising, applying to jobs/fellowships, etc. It's very comforting to have that neutral space. 
3. Your favorite prof may not be other people's favorite prof. This is obvious, but a professor who is good to you—reads your drafts, gives you advice on jobs, helps you get funding—may not be the same way to your friends. So don't go off being a jerk about it, talking about how awesome this prof is with people who don't share your sentiments. Just like you can't be nice to everyone, profs can't be nice to all grad students equally, either. On the flip side, if you know a prof who is being a jerk to you, understand that maybe that prof is spending time and energy supporting and mentoring someone else. And that's OK too.

The wonderful thing about writing a dissertation is that so much of it is influenced by...everything. And that the work you produce is possible because of the committee you have—whether for better or for worse—is kind of cool. Having a different committee would influence you to write a different dissertation, of course—but no matter what, it's your dissertation, something that you can be proud of regardless of what committee members' names are on the first page.

習うより慣れろ

昨日は東京（と言っても八王子）の方に、三味線の合同稽古で行ってきました。楽しかった〜。（日帰りだったけど。）

南大沢／橋本辺りを電車が通った時は、「お〜、懐かしい！」とか思いました。ホント、なんか帰ってきた感じ。

三味線の会の人達とも、時間を過ごすのが嬉しい。気さくな人達が沢山。共通点の三味線意外でも、結構気が合う。

でも、名古屋での生活ももう一ヶ月以上経ちます。やっぱり、最初は戸惑っていても、慣れちゃえばこっちのモン。

クヨクヨしてる暇はありません。とにかく行動する！分からなくても、毎日やってれば大体の事はできる様になっちゃいます。

ちなみにイメージは撥入れです。いつけ運命的にこの生地の帯に巡り会えたらな〜、とか思ってます。その日が楽しみ。

Favorite Things

It's Friday here and I am having one of those "appreciate all my favorite things" kind of a day. (It's primarily because I am reading Hayashi Mariko's Wedding Diaries (林真理子、『ウェディング日記』) and I am reminded of just how much I like her writing...in a different way from liking Ueno Chizuko's chip-on-the-shoulder style.)

These are a few of my favorite things: good books, good music, good people. Wine—white, rosé, sparkling (sometimes red). All wrapped up in good conversation.

Food, good food: chocolate, ice cream, flan, panna cotta, crème brûlée. Mango, watermelon, Asian pear, pineapple. Fried rice, ochazuke, and lots and lots of chicken karaage.

If I have nothing else, I can be happy being alone with a candle and some flowers. And then I won't feel so bad.

お金をかけずにステキになる方法 其ノ二：自信を持とう！

やっと読みました！サンディエゴの本屋さんでは見つからなかった斎藤芳乃さんの本を、先日購入。やっぱり読んでよかったです。

This is the "self-help" book that I'd been reading. A lesson on how to have self-confidence...

「不適切な人から自分を守る」・・・これを読んで、自分の中でモヤモヤしていた雲が少しずつ消えて行った様な気がします。相手がどんなに「大切」、「必要」だと思っても、私の事を尊重してくれない人とは、一緒にはいられません。勿論、妥協するべき時もあります。でも、相手の考え方に支配されたくはありません。

以前、「君が嫉妬するのは僕の所為じゃなくて、君に自信が無いからだろ」と言われた事があります。確かにそうかもしれない。もっと私が、「自分は素敵な人間だから、彼が他の人に目を向ける筈は無い」と思える位自信があればよかったのかもしれません。でも今考えて見ると、少し違う様な気がします。私が「しないで」と言う事を、私の自信の無さと言い切ってし続ける人は、私には「不適切」だったんだと思います。

あ〜、この本読んでよかった。なんか色々スッキリした〜・・・

Grad School Awesomeness #3: Affording Life as a Ph.D. Student

Look at me, trying to make smart purchases...

I was lucky when it came to affording life as a Ph.D. student.

After finishing my undergrad and M.A. (at a pricey but reputable school), I worked for three years at a decent job and paid off my undergrad loans before starting my Ph.D. I also worked nights and weekends during that time at what will always be my favorite job, a gift shop in The Mission that paid minimum wage but came with wine on the weekends.

During the Ph.D. program I worked my 50% TAship and occasional extra gigs—readerships, writing tutoring, etc. I had some money saved up from previous years so that I didn't have to take out a loan. My "rent" was a mortgage that my parents and I were paying off together, even though my share was less than half the going rate for the condo in which I lived.

In short, I got lucky. I was lucky enough to have TAships and other financial support while at UCSD. I had a background that empowered me to get into a college that enabled me to get a job (even if it took a few months after graduation). Of course, I worked (in multiple senses of the term) both before and during grad school. But in general, I got lucky.

But how does one afford life as a Ph.D. student, especially in the humanities, a degree that takes five to seven (?) years to earn, when one is paid $2,000 a month (if that much) for nine months out of 12 (and when even that isn't guaranteed)? How does one pay for rent, groceries, utilities, Internet, going out to eat, and picking up occasional treats? How does one support a family and cover medical expenses? How does one budget for conferences that require registration, airfare, and lodging? (And what is one expected to do during the "drought months" of August, September, and October?)

I think about this in terms of the overall scheme of "financial education" for growing up in the States (or anywhere else). Maybe some people are taught at a young age how to manage their money. Maybe some people get one of those kiddie accounts when they're young, and by the time they hit 18 they already have a few grand to their name. Maybe some people are trust fund babies.

But for a 1.5-generation immigrant kid whose family members got Green Cards just as her older sister was starting college, there was no "financial education". My family was ostensibly "middle class", even if we didn't know what that meant, with enough money to be comfortable but not enough to do anything with it.

The things I'm learning "to do with it" is a topic for a different post, but in talking with my friends in grad school and people who've yet to start their programs, I've decided what I would tell my own kids about affording life as a Ph.D. student:

"Work a real job first, then start a Ph.D. program."

I don't say this to be discouraging, or to suggest that this is the right and only way. (Oh, my poor children.) I've a good feeling that my kids would work through college and pay off their own debt. But I'd tell them also to go work a "real job" before pursuing grad school. (And, no, an M.A. program is not the kind of "real job" I'm talking about here.) It doesn't have to be one that gives them benefits (though that'd be nice) or gives them business cards (since that's an unforgivable waste of natural resources). I'd tell them to work at least one year, possibly two, maybe even three. I'd tell them to save up enough money to be able to live for three to six months with no other income (a.k.a. an "emergency fund"). I'd tell them to learn what it means to work with other people, where not pulling their weight means others have to pick up their slack. So that they'd understand that, in some industries, there are consequences to missing a deadline, not replying to emails, not keeping appointments. (They'd be fired.) I'd tell them to experience an alternative to grad school, so that they'd know what they were working toward in the first place. Then once they had that work experience and money saved up, I'd say to them, "OK kid, now you're ready to go be a starving grad student."

They might say, "But mum, it's really difficult to save up three to six months worth of living expenses." And they'd be right—but I'd tell them that it's not going to get any easier with a Ph.D., either. That looking for, finding, and keeping a job is difficult, whether you go to grad school or not.

But most of all, I'd tell them to work a real job before starting a Ph.D. program because I want them to arm themselves. I want them to have the work experience, the financial resources, and the sense to be able to get through a Ph.D. program and the accompanying experience of being on the job market. I want them to arm themselves because there's a chance that no one else will be there to help them or to stand up for them. If they encounter a great mentor, I couldn't be happier; but even if advisors want them to get hired, even if departments want them to get fellowships, that doesn't always happen. And it's up to my kids to arm and defend themselves. (I also want them to see the professors around them doing all the things that would get them fired in any other job, and be able to say to themselves, "I'm not going to be that kind of a professor." Because they'd owe it to their colleagues and, more importantly, to their students.)

I don't believe that education, especially undergraduate education, is something that we should have to take out loans in order to get. A grad program may be a bit more iffy, but it sure isn't the kind of thing that should weigh people down with a 5-figure debt (or higher) upon completion. Without a doubt, there's a whole lot that the university (as well as the government) should be responsible for in making grad school affordable. But I also think that, if we're serious about doing a Ph.D., we have to be serious about being able to afford it as well—and we have to be professional and prepared enough so that we don't suffer our way through it.

Grad School Awesomeness #2: Some Things to Do Before Applying

This is a second in my "Grad School Awesomeness" (GSA) series, and it too is a modified excerpt from the same email conversation as the first post on whether to Ph.D. or not. Today's post talks about things one can do to prepare to apply for Ph.D. programs in (comparative) literature. (I sound like a total jerk in these emails, but such is life...)

--

I think past experiences and interests, however related they are (or not) to the Ph.D. field, are integral to who you are, as well as to your thought process on applying to Ph.D. programs. To be honest, I encourage the Ph.D. path with anyone who is interested, even given the caveat that I mentioned in my previous email...but that's because I believe that anyone who is interested in higher education should have access to it and the opportunity to succeed in that environment, regardless of what happens after graduation.

You know, having a foreign language or not isn't a big deal—of course, I imagine most Ph.D. programs want you to have English plus at least one foreign language, but it's also good to know one foreign language well rather than two only so-so. You can also apply to English lit Ph.D. programs and not really have to worry about foreign language skills as much; it's with Comp Lit programs that foreign language skills become crucial for the admission process...

I'm gonna take the liberty to suggest a few things to put on your to-do list this summer (if you aren't teaching and have time).

1. Read some good books, both for "academic" reasons and for fun
2. Read some "theoretical" texts
3. Read some books from academic presses (Duke University Press, University of California Press, University of Minnesota Press, etc.)
4. Write a "seminar paper" as a writing sample

I should explain a bit:

1. Read some good books—I imagine you already like to read, so this shouldn't be too painful. But think of all the books, classics and pop fiction, that you've been wanting to read—and read them! Considering those you've read in the past and have liked, start a list of the texts and writers that appeal to you. These can be texts that become your objects of analysis later on.

2. Read some "theoretical" texts—Grad programs will vary on how much they emphasize "theory"; my department REALLY emphasized theory (as do many other programs in the UC system), and programs develop reputations on their theoretical/intellectual approach in this way. (This becomes crucial in your professional development, because it determines your (perceived) intellectual "fit" at different departments when you're applying to jobs.) At UCSD, all first-year Ph.D. students take a three-quarter theory sequence: first quarter is about Marx and other "big name" theorists; second quarter is about gender and sexuality; third quarter is about postcolonial theory. (That's a gross oversimplification of the sequence, but so be it.) You can probably find reading lists for "theory" courses that give you an idea of what you might want to read. Something like this list from UPenn is a place to start, though it's somewhat skewed...

3. Read some books from academic presses—In any Ph.D. program, you'll be "reading" both primary texts (novels, short stories, film, etc.) and secondary texts. How well you know your secondary texts (the stuff from "academic" presses and others (Routledge, Verso, etc.)) will define how rigorous you are as a scholar. Given your research interests, you can visit the Websites of some of the presses (those three are pretty top-notch) and see if you can find books that interest you. Check them out from the library and flip through them. Take notes as you read, note the primary and secondary texts they analyze and cite, and see if you notice any texts that get mentioned repeatedly (and try to read those if you have time). Your initial questions and musings provide a great place to start reading. (Also, as you start narrowing down your choices for programs to apply to, try to read the books by professors that you'd be interested in working with.)

4. Write a "seminar paper"—As you read these books, if you decide that you need a writing sample as part of your application package, check out the guidelines for the applications and figure out the number of pages you might need for such a writing sample...then write a "seminar paper"! (You can google "how to write a seminar paper" to get some suggestions.) As a grad student, you'll be writing a number of things—seminar papers, project proposals, fellowship applications, dissertation chapters, journal articles. But at least during your coursework years, for each seminar you take, you'll most likely be expected to write a seminar paper. In my department, since we're on the quarter system, they tend to be pretty short—10–15 pages. (My friends in other departments write 20+ page seminar papers, though, so I'm not sure what's up with that.) But pick the number of pages you want to aim for (with standard formatting: 1" margins, 12 pt. font, double-spaced) and write! You can always cut the paper to make it work for schools that require fewer pages. But take all the good books, theoretical texts, and academic books you read over the summer, and try to come up with your original thesis/argument. It doesn't have to be a ground-breaking thesis, just something to show your application reviewers that you know how to read texts, synthesize information, and output an intelligent paper. Whether or not you enjoy this process of writing the "seminar paper" is crucial—because that's essentially what you'll be doing your whole time in grad school (in addition to teaching) . . . :)

No Sex Please, At Least Not in the Way You Think

It’s been over two months since I filed my dissertation, and it’s about time I started getting some work done. It’s not like I don’t have things to do; I’ve plenty (preparing for my class, writing my conference paper, working on a journal article, etc.)—it’s just that I’m in that zone of…I don’t know. Laziness.

To add fuel to the fire of my laziness (is that...even possible?), my recent reading materials have come from the local city library rather than the university library. And you know just how much I love books I can rustle up at the city library...

My first batch of books included those on the practice of jijitsukon (事実婚), the assertion that Japan ought to "single-ize", and the background to the increasing number of men not marrying. (I justify the selection of these books by saying they're related to Japan, gender, and marriage (=research-related).) 

Coupled with the YouTube video my friend forwarded me about "no sex in Japan", these texts made me think more seriously about the complicated nature of marriage, family, sex, and all sorts of other things that become tangled up in those practices. The rumor that Japanese people don't have sex is a total lie—of course they have sex, for crying out loud, just maybe not in the heteronormative, monogamous way that people normalize. The aging and dwindling population is tied up with changes in the marriage institution and costs/benefits of childbearing, of course, but they also have much to do with racist immigration policies and labor practices that economically disadvantage workers regardless of gender. And the social and psychological factors that make it difficult for people to establish longterm relationships while simultaneously making them feel like they have have do so—embedded in changing shapes of the family institution, these factors only complicate matters.

As my four-year-old niece would say, what a mess. While several solutions have been proposed and implemented already—make it more viable for women to stay in the workforce, make marriage less patriarchal and conservative (both politically and culturally), enable "foreigners" to make a decent living in Japan—I get this vague feeling that things aren't really...working. Gee whiz, maybe if I get my act together I can make this a future research project, to justify all the energy I'm spending thinking about it.