My notebook (a short memoir)

My notebook.

It started out as a practical thing. I had always had a notebook in the field with me—whether that was the field of work when I ran a tourism development project in Nicaragua or the field of research…which was sometimes the same field. But journaling, that was another issue, a more difficult one, my entire life. I have never been able to journal, to really write down what I was feeling or doing or not feeling or doing. People always gave me journals, pretty blank notebooks with lines or without, and I would write something mundane on the first page, and then it would sit blank on my bookshelf. I think I have a box full of these blank books in the closet of the spare room in my mother’s house.

So before leaving for Brazil in late August of last year, I purchased my three-pack of large Moleskin notebooks (the big, thin, floppy ones—squared pages, not lined) as my research notebooks for my fieldwork. I had not written anything in quite a while, and was feeling the urge to, especially after I started my blog and began to get positive comments after my first couple of entries. I was also feeling…lonely and frustrated by my communication problems as I went through the process of culture shock and becoming fluent enough to express finer ideas and feelings. At the same time I was had fallen for a guy and became a bit emotional when he decided to return to the longterm girlfriend he had recently broken with. As a result of this, I also began listening to lots of melancholy music on my IPod and got even more into the type of mood that is conducive to reflecting on the meanings of life, love and, well, you know. The point is that all of these circumstances converged to put a pen in my hand at various moments during my three-month stay in Campinas, Brazil, to write lots of sad, frustrated love poetry in my supposed research journal.

And it all went downhill from there. My research journal became a book of poems, lists of songs to put into song lists dedicated to certain people, notes on interviews, notes on reflections on interviews, to-do lists, ideas for future research, phone numbers, pasted-in business cards and small paper memoirs. And lo and behold, my research journal became the journal of my life. All-in-one. I periodically flip through its pages and remember, which I think is the point of this exercise. I read (or try to read) its notes and entries, the combination of the written practical and personal, and I can piece together entire days, what I was thinking and doing, and sometimes it conjures up images of where I was, what the light was like, what the air smelled like. All because I called the thing a ‘research’ notebook, instead of a ‘journal’. Somehow it, combined with the other happenings in my life, created a space for, and gave validity to my musings. Now I have a notebook full of them. I must say, the notebook itself has transformed along the journey: it is now raggedy-edged, covered with various stickers and decals from Kansas, Brazil, and the UK, and is full of personality. As I reach the last five pages of this notebook, and look to the Moleskin I have already purchased to replace the old one, sitting on my desk and ready, I feel a bit of sadness. But excitement as well. Hopefully it will have as interesting a life as the first one.

Body language blundering and more

Hiya!
That's Devonshire speak for "hello". So here I am still in Exeter, trying to find my feet, so to speak, but I think I still feel like I am constantly falling over, tripping, bumping into things, all in an effort to just have some normal-feeling, comfortable interactions with people. A big part of it, I am learning, is learning how to read gestures, body language, and facial expressions, not so much the spoken words themselves, as I stated last time. Right, the major cultural differences in respect to communication, between USers (aka Americans, but I hate calling us Americans when there are two entire continents called America, and thus two entire continents full of people who are Americans!) and the English is in nonverbal communication. So I have stopped reacting to people who, when I am speaking to them, are looking at me with an expression that I would normally interpret as "My God this girl is crazy and I do not understand a word she is saying", because I am beginning to understand that the English ALWAYS have that expression on their faces. It is a natural national defense mechanism which is really indicative of thoughts like "Oh My God I hope she doesn't ask me anything personal. Please go away please go away please go away!". Basically, as my friend Keith says, the English are shy. Which doesn't make it very easy to get to know them. But then I wonder how they are interpreting my own body language...

Otherwise, lots of new experiences...that field course on Cuba that I am helping Ian and Keith to teach had its first meeting, and it was a blast. I was so nervous beforehand that I think Keith was going to kill me, but it went really well. The class will basically be constructed by the students themselves with us facilitating the experience, so they have to research Cuba, get contacts, and develop methodologies in collectives, and then develop small research projects together that they will then present when the class goes there in complete and present in Cuba in April. I wish I had had a field course experience like this as an undergraduate!

I continue to be incredibly impressed by the Geography Department here at Exeter--it and everyone in it is so dynamic--there is always something going on, a reading group, a seminar, or some other activity where people are debating, learning, and interacting with each other. The result is that I am being exposed to so much that I am already integrating into my own PhD project. That was why I came, no? It's great.

Tomorrow is Super Tuesday, and I do hope the candidates can stop badmouthing each other for at least a day, and say something that matters. I am following the elections from here, and it is so tiresome and uninspiring watching how some of them are constantly looking for some other weak point to attack in the others. I wish they would realize that really, we would be so much more inspired to vote for them if they would speak sincerely on real problems with some ideas that might work. That is what I want to hear and consider. But it is hard to sort it all out with this bullshit they are throwing at each other. And the media doesn't help.

Okay, I am done ranting. Hope all is well.
H.