A few months ago, I devoured We Are Never Meeting in Real Life. Knowing that the title is true makes me sad. I want to know Irby. We could make cocktails and talk about dating with chronic pain. And then make more cocktails and talk about everything else.

This week, I read Irby’s first book, Meaty.

If you’re reading this, you’re the kind of person who should read it as well. Irby is both funny and touching, unique and relatable. She is also a great writer. Most of the essays are standard biography, but others play with form.

It was in one of those chapters, one that talked about characters in a tv show she’d like to make, that I saw myself:

Nell’s caught in the trap of being smart enough to be pissed about all the societal pressure to find happiness through a mate and money, and bighearted enough to yearn for real love and companionship in her life. She’s caught between believing she deserves a life mate and believing it’s a complete impossibility; between believing prosperity and fulfillment are attainable and her dim economic prospects. She’s been burned many times before but is too resilient and/or deluded to abandon hope entirely. (83)

(I’m pretty sure “resilient and/or deluded” is in my medical records somewhere.)

I love these books, and the recipes she includes for things like spicy flourless chocolate cake are not the only ideas that I’ll carry with me after reading them.

I can’t count how many times I’ve been dying.

I don’t remember all of them–I started being hospitalized for asthma when I was two.

I don’t remember my brother being told to say goodbye to me when I was 21 and suffering from pneumonia, but he did. (My illness also came up in a faculty meeting–my department apparently discussed who would represent it at my funeral.)

All the times I’ve struggled for air run together, in a haze of wheezing.

Every winter until I got insurance (in 2000) was awful; even when I wasn’t in ERs, I routinely woke to what I thought was an orchestra warming up. My sleeping brain thought that was what my lungs’ struggle was.

I am incredibly lucky to have access to care now–and treatment for a deadly condition.

And that’s what I think about when people tell me that I’m probably getting too much treatment.

This week, I performed my Chronic Pain: A Comedy show again. Since people routinely try to diagnose me after shows (as if my comedy is just a secret ruse for free medication consultation), I tried to forestall it this time. When I read out the list of things I’ve tried, I said I was doing it so the audience wouldn’t feel they needed to ask if I’d ever heard of pot, etc.

I didn’t get that response this time. Instead, two audience members (independently) approached me the day after the show to say that I was taking too much medication.

For example, a student asked if I’d heard of “medicalization”–an idea that gets brought up when people say we shouldn’t try to treat problems with Western medicine. He told me that he has had mild hypertension for 10 years, but he doesn’t need meds for it.

Ummm, ok.

Do I like taking (and choking on) a bazillion pills a day?

Nope.

But do I like not having to go the emergency room for asthma since I started taking those meds?

You better believe it.

Have I gone off pills that weren’t working or that were giving me bad side effects? Yup–sometimes even when my doctors didn’t initially want me to.

The ones I’m on all do something.

When I don’t take my magnesium and potassium supplements, my face literally spasms. On the left side.

When I accidentally didn’t put one of my GERD meds in my daily pill container and went without it for a few days, I thought I had cancer or that the acid and bile had just burned a hole through my esophagus. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t sleep. For days.

I know both of these gentlemen were trying to be helpful.

But I had to fight to get treatment. And even after I got insurance, I had to fight for treatment for some of my problems.

Your non-medical opinion, based on a comedy routine, is just another way of telling me it’s all in my head.

Want to see the routine? It’s here.

Many years ago, I burned my childhood journals.

I used to journal all the time.

But when I was 19 and 20, I was in a bad relationship.

I knew he was jealous, which was I was familiar with, since my mother had always been in violently jealous relationships.

I told myself that at least my relationship wasn’t physically violent.

It’s a long story, and there were incredible mistakes on both sides leading up to this, but I was incredibly unhappy. And this relationship had been legalized, which made it harder to get out of.

At this point, I thought I couldn’t get out of it. I sometimes prayed that I would die or that he would, mostly the former because I didn’t want to be the kind of person who would pray for the latter.

It’s hard to hide that kind of unhappiness.

I came home one day to find that he’d been reading my journals. And he was yelling at me about them.

Why didn’t I love him the way I loved that guy I had a crush on when I was 14?

(The guy I had never really had a conversation with.)

I tried to explain how fourteen year old brains work.

And I also tried to explain that he shouldn’t read my journals (trying to explain back then, by the way, was yelling and crying).

He said he had every right to–that since we were married, we were one flesh.

I didn’t have the right to privacy.

I knew he believed that–that he would always feel justified in reading them, whenever he wanted. Every thought I had written down, every thought I might write on the blank pages would be used against me in his struggle to make me into what he thought I should be.

So I burned them.

And I stopped journaling.

It’s been over twenty years–I haven’t gotten back into the habit of regular journaling.

But I want to.

A few of you know this already: Karlissa (Melissa Bender and Karma Waltonen) put a book proposal out in the world earlier this year to write a quirky little book about museums.

We will discuss, among other things, our obsession with gift shops, heists, controversies, carrying post-it notes to fix mistakes, and an elf penis we saw in Iceland.

Fingers crossed!

• 

Here’s what we know: Access to contraception and comprehensive sex ed are what lowers abortion rates.

Banning it usually has the opposite effect, because those doing the banning also oppose contraception and comprehensive sex ed.

In general, the banners also oppose universal healthcare, funding education, raising the minimum wage, and women’s equality in the workplace.

In other words, what they’re doing will cause more unplanned pregnancies.

We will also have more:

*Women forced to be pregnant in a job market that will often lay them off for it
*Women forced to give birth in a country with the highest maternal mortality rate in the Western world
*Women thrown into poverty
*Children born into poverty
*Women with pregnancy/birth-related problems that will make them ineligible for insurance if they try to get it later
*Women who might be able to get healthcare for their child in some states, the same states who tell them they can’t have it (even though most would agree a household can’t survive when a parent is fighting chronic or potentially life-threatening illnesses)
*Women struggling to support their families with low wages, which have not caught up with inflation
*Women struggling to go to college and to send their child to college, considering tuition is over 1100% higher than it was in the 1970s
*Children struggling to stay alive in a school system where they might be murdered on any given day
*Women struggling to feed their child, as there are actually politicians who say children should be made to feel shame if they need free lunch
*Children struggling to learn in chronically underfunded education systems
*Women who will forever struggle to find firm financial footing, along with their children often trapped in a cycle of poverty
*Women struggling to pay for their child’s daycare (they have to work; they aren’t allowed to be on public assistance to stay home with their child (they will be made to feel guilty for not staying home with their child)), since daycare is sometimes more than a women will get paid

These women will be told that all of their problems are their fault for having a child.

(These same people will say that if poor women don’t have a cellphone, which employers count on them having, all of their money problems will disappear.)

Most women who get abortions are married women who already have children, who are doing what they have to keep their marriage together, to keep their existing children fed. They know the cost of a child in a struggling household. And we can’t tell them to be abstinent.

There is a three-step process to lowering abortion rates:

1. Give access to contraception

2. Provide comprehensive sex ed

3. Work to fix societal problems, so that women can choose to have that child in a world that won’t leave them and their children to starve

Hmmm . . . what’s behind that door?

Ummm . . . is that a chain?

WTF, UC Davis, why is there a weird closet with a bed and a chain in the ladies room?!?

Once again, D’Lana Pearce weighs in on teaching.

My ideal class is as follows: PowerPoints uploaded before class so that I can follow along, podcasts of lectures, no mandatory attendance, no group projects, no class participation, a clear syllabus with all due dates listed in categories, a detailed breakdown of what will be covered in each class, and all assignments prompts posted on the first day of class. In short – I want some of my work done for me.

My favorite professors at UC Davis have all required attendance, group projects in some form, and class participation. None of them have uploaded PowerPoints before class and none of them have done podcasts.

In my opinion, the best professor in my major (Sociology) is the professor that taught me about social problems and is currently teaching me about political sociology. This professor does not teach easy classes. The readings are long, and they are complicated. Many of the topics are graduate level. You will not pass any class they teach if you slack on the readings. Participation is worth enough to change your grade by an entire letter. Most of the class is lecture based with some writing on the chalkboard and the occasional graph on a PowerPoint. You must work for your grade. In theory I should hate it, but I don’t. I first took this professor in Fall 2017 when I was readmitted to UC Davis. I liked them so much that I am currently taking three upper division Sociology classes, which are all writing based, along with a writing internship and a seminar that requires a term paper. I could have avoided this by taking one of my classes with a different professor, but I know that I will learn more with this professor.

The best writing professor I have ever had made me work for my grade (it was a B and I have never worked so hard for a B in my life). The required writings took me out of my comfort zone. Even after I edited them they still found mistakes. To be completely honest, I didn’t even realize how much I had learned until I looked at my first and last papers from that class. Their class made me want to minor in writing. Up until then I absolutely HATED writing. I’ve since then discovered I like the various ways I can express myself through writing.

These two professors are two different people. They teach different topics, they have different backgrounds, and they have different personalities. Their organization is one of their only similarities. Both put everything they expect from their students in the syllabus. There are clear deadlines and expectations. As a student, I have found, there is nothing I appreciate more. The readings they assigned are related to each lecture and the information gathered from those readings helps stimulate class conversation, and learning. The material for the midterm and final is from these readings. Additionally, they are applicable outside of the class.

Both professors have mixed reviews on ratemyprofessor. The negative reviews all say the same thing. They are too hard. They make you work for your grade and there is a lot of work required. College professors that make you work for your grade? Shocking.

I don’t think there is such thing as a perfect educator. I do think that some genuinely care about their students success and those are the ones who leave an impression.

(I asked a graduating UCD student I’m working with, D’Lana Pearce, to write about bad teachers for the blog.)

I love school and I love learning. When I came to college I was excited for all the new material I would learn. This is why I have found it particularly disappointing that *some* of the professors at UC Davis are absolutely awful.

Many of my professors have simply not cared. We, the students, understand this is a research-based university. We get that many of our professors have a bigger passion for research than teaching. Yet these professors are still conducting research at a college. Why bother teaching a class if it is not enjoyable? I have had professors state that they do not care about teaching and that all questions need to go to the TA. I have had professors that are grad students and are better at teaching than the tenured professors who are “experts” on the topic.

When I was a sophomore, I was struggling with anxiety (I still do to this day), and I did horrible on a midterm. My conversation with the math professor went like this:

Me: I did not perform well on the most recent exam and I was wondering if we could schedule a time to meet. I’d like to see what mistakes I’m making so that I can work to improve my grade in this class. I love math and I really want to do well in your class.

Professor: Sure, you can come to office hours.

Me: Unfortunately, I have a class during office hours and attendance is mandatory. Is there any other time that works for you before the next exam?

Professor: My office hours are for students. I’m too busy with my research to open more time. Skip your other class.

Situations like this are common and infuriating. Helping students succeed is not a burden. I know that there are not enough hours in the week for a professor to plan one-on-one meetings with every student, but I clearly needed help and I was trying to be responsible by reaching out and attempting to learn more. It makes me, and many of my peers, wonder why we even chose this school.

Good professors may outnumber poor professors but the discouragement from a professor who simply does not care is not something I can forget.

Papers given: 1

Excellent papers heard: 5

Panelists on my animation panel who seemed genuinely surprised that adult cartoons are not just stupid shows for children (and who thus didn’t seem to understand the rhetorical situation of their own presentation): 2

Friends from grad school seen: 5

Times I’ve gotten to see Vanessa this year: 3

Amazing blueberry steak at Acqua al 2: 1

Unnecessary and dangerous staircases in the airbnb: 2

Times I fell: 1

Places on my body I hit when I fell: 4

Giant dark bruises that are bigger and purple-r every day, so dark I’ve googled “when do I see a doctor about a bruise”: 1

Best crabcakes ever (The Old Ebbitt Grill): 1

Glasses of a dry rose while eating the best crabcake ever: 3

Glasses of dry rose I was charged for after eating the best crabcake ever: 1

Best fried yucca ever (at the same restaurant, on two different nights): 2

Times Melissa, Margaret, and I were called “gentlemen” while having the best fried yucca ever: 11

Adorable Peruvian waiters who took great pleasure in serving us gentlemen the best yucca ever and pisco sours he made himself: 1

Grouper servings: 3!

(for context, average grouper servings per year: sadly, 0)

Barry episodes watched with Melissa: 5

Lesbian bars that wouldn’t let Melissa’s bag in and thus that we didn’t go to: 1

Lesbian bars that didn’t have ridiculous bag rules: 1

Games of knock-off Jenga that I didn’t lose: 1

Monuments visited: 2

Museums visited: 3

Museums visited just for the sake of having a great lunch (bison!), though: 1

Grammar problems I saw in Smith-fucking-sonian museum placards: 4

“Stellar” Sea Cow skeletons observed: 1

By definition, unstellar sea cow skeletons observed: 1

Exhibits that accidentally look like threesomes: 1

Restaurants/bars where we were the only white people: 2

Books the McFarland table at the conference had by me: 1 (of 2)

References to Bill Cosby and Michael Jackson at the National Museum of African American History and Culture that made me uncomfortable: 3

Exhibits that downplayed Clarence Thomas’s assholery: 1

Exhibits of Emmett Till’s coffin, which made me cry: 1

Placards explaining that the turpentine camps of Florida were awful: 1

Discussions in which I had to explain to Margaret that Florbama has so much of the coastline that Alabama probably wants because the Spanish weren’t gonna give up those white sand beaches: 1

Maps at the museum proving my point: 1

Months until Melissa’s baby is born: 1.5

Conferences that Karlissa gets to attend this year: 1

Conferences in our future: many, many more