emails with spouses

Greetings from the other side of finals! As always, it was a rough few weeks (maybe someday I'll figure out how to keep finals from being a tortuous and miserable ordeal?), but it all ended well, with a 4.0, some really kind and helpful comments on my papers from my professors, and a trip to New York (pictures forthcoming). And even the misery of actually writing and slogging through was eased somewhat by my fabulously funny and supportive spouse. As an example, here's an actual email exchange, reproduced here for your reading pleasure. Enjoy.

Monday, April 29 at 1:01pm  

Haylie Swenson to Ross Dewey

Subject: Hey you

Email me, okay? It would do me good to hear your (digital) voice. 

Love lots, 

me 

Monday, April 29 at 1:43pm

Ross Dewey to Haylie Swenson

Subject: RE: Hey you

Uh…you’re really putting me on the spot. You know how that shuts me down. I never know what to say when I’m asked to say something, but I’ll give it my best shot. I’m reminded of one of my childhood memories. It was last summer, and we were celebrating the joyous day commemorating the birth of my spouse. As you may recall, in fact, you were my adoring spouse at the time. There was good food and good company to be had in plenty at the ever-busy Good Stuff. Having already given up the cow for some time, you may not recall just how good Good Stuff can be when augmented by the succulent flavor of bacon, beef, barbecue sauce, cheese, and onion rings combined in the Coletti style. I digress. As I was saying, a very special birthday occasioned the event, and indeed there was nothing to disappoint. Following the main course, of course, we enjoyed the immensely enjoyable artistic stylings of the Brothers Cohen in the form of the classic Homer’s Odyssey, accompanied by very well-intentioned yet lackluster brownies. Lest, however, by my own selfish elocution I entirely miss the window of opportunity for spousal communication and support given me by the distant plea of my favorite little voice, I must now draw on the powers granted by the underrated god of brevity as I come to my point. Which is thusly: such good times as were had then, must surely increase tenfold in less than the time it takes the moon to cycle from shy to bold. In more universally known terms, your time of bondage will be interrupted by a brilliant burst of freedom in less than 388,800 seconds. With this in mind, and with the remote yet powerful support of your beloved, you must now persevere. And so onward. Huzzah!

Thanks, Ross. I couldn't have done it without you. Onward to summer! Huzzah!

little thank yous

Dear iPhoto,
Thanks for allowing me to come across old photos I'd forgotten I'd taken, like this picture of a Scrabble game I played with Ross. Looks like we were really rocking the w's: Tweed. Trawl. Wink. Cowl.

Dear Mom and Dad,
Thanks for spelling my name so weird. Even though people misspell it all the time, it comes in handy when I want a simple email (haylie@gwetc., for instance).

Dear Deweys,
I know it was a while ago now, but I had a really good time with all of you at Christmas. Thanks for allowing me to be a part of the family.

Dear Illuminated Manuscripts class,
Thanks for making The Secret of Kells even more interesting and awesome than it was before (among other things). For instance, I totally know what the Chi-Rho page is now.

Dear gossip,
If indulging in you is wrong, I don't want to be right. Thanks.

Dear Lorin and Asenath,
Thanks for the angry birds catnip pig you brought Creature the other night. She cuddled up with it today and it was killer adorable.

Dear Teecino,
Thank you for existing (and intertextual thanks to Charlotte for introducing me to you). I don't know what I'd do without my daily dose of fake coffee.

Dear self, 
Thanks for forgetting the iPod today. It really made me realize how addicted to it I am, and how much better... 

Dear iPod,
Thanks for always being there for me, loaded up with "This American Life" and "Fresh Air." I'm sorry I left you behind. I miss you.

Love,

Haylie

acknowledgements

Today I spent some time fantasizing about the acknowledgements page for my future first book. Here are some possibilities.

To my husband, Ross: Thanks for making sure that neither the cat nor I starved to death. On an unrelated note, thanks also for making sure the bridges of Maryland don’t fall down.

To the English Departments of Cornell, Brandeis, UMass, NYU, U of Virginia, U of Chicago, Penn State, UConn, Urbana-Champaign: Thank you for your rejection. The English Department at GWU is awesome. You, clearly, are less so. Thanks for helping me dodge a bullet there.  

To my friends on Facebook: Thanks for responding to even my most narcissistic, whiny, and/or needy status updates. Put another way, thank you for responding to my status updates.

To Portland: I think I’m speaking for everyone when I say thanks for allowing me to be the girl who talks about how her hometown “is, like, waaaaay better than this place.” Because everybody loves that girl.

To Don, the man I sit next to on the MARC train almost every morning: Thanks for making room for me. I hope the USC basketball team does well.

To my cat, Creature: Thank you for whining, freaking out, attacking my leg, and generally carrying on while I was trying to write this, and all other, books/papers/articles/emails/shopping lists. Although you make me crazy, unbroken stints of focused writing make me more so.

To Scott, another frequenter of the MARC system: Most flamboyant men are delightful. You’re mostly loud and obnoxious. Thanks for crushing stereotypes.  

To my third grade rival, Christopher C: Thanks for nothing. I still despise you for building a better model of a California mission than I did. I also despise your sister for narrowly beating me in the school spelling bee. A plague o’er both your houses.  

To Kelly Sirles and Chris McDonald: Thanks for being my Portland fellows in this crazy world of English. Chances are extremely poor that more than one of us will be successful and here I am already publishing a book, so, you know. Good luck with that.

Dear Ira Glass: Thanks for everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.

midnight missive

Hi, friends. I hope you're well, wherever you are... I can't sleep. I apologize for the lack of posts since Christmas. The truth is, I've been feeling somewhat less festive than usual. Most years, the New Year's Eve/Day duo is my favorite holiday. I'm a sucker for the promise of new beginnings that the new years holds, and I'm a passionate resolution writer. This year has been different, though. Christmas was fine... we missed our families quite a lot, but since Ross and I are also our own small family it was all right. But New Year's--the holiday that is perhaps most dedicated to friends--was extremely lonely.

In the beginning of 2010, Ross and I were surrounded by an embarrassment of truly wonderful friends and family. Never in my life have I felt so blessed by the people around me. What's more, we had the world at our feet: we were waiting to hear back from grad school, Ross was satisfied with his job (and I, of course, can't ever fully describe how much I loved mine), and we lived in Shangrila (if Shangrila has no parking, which I suspect it doesn't). 2010 stretched out before us, full of mystery and opportunity and the promise of a good time had by all. 2011 seems a little less sparkly in comparison. A little predetermined. A little lonely. It's not that I'm not looking forward to my classes, to Ross' continued increase in job satisfaction, or to the as-yet-unforeseen surprises of the New Year. I am. It's just... it's just (this was all much more eloquent in my head, before I sat down to write)... it's just that I miss you, I guess. We miss you. Zeta Chi and Annette and Christian and Donilee and Jessi and the aunts and the vast Dewey clan and Tanna and Ben and everyone else in Portland whom we love. My Dad and family in Northern California, Mom and Mark in Silverton, the Southern California contingent, and everyone in Utah. Washougal. Chicago.

I'm not good at saying good-byes. So many people have come and gone (and often painfully) in my life that I tend to steel myself against farewells, not truly feeling them sometimes for days or weeks or months. But eventually, inevitably, the brutal realization of how much I miss you (all of you) penetrates my defenses. And it hurts like hell. So (to try to put a positive spin on this Debbie Downer of a post), my New Year's message to you is this: know that you are missed, know that you are loved, and that my wish for the New Year is that is has you in it.

super double bonus

Miss Jessica (and Mr. Chris)

Miss Amanda

Today I got not one, but TWO missives in the mail from two of my favorite people, Miss Amanda and Miss Jessica. Whoa. It was a loving friend mail palooza. Miss Amanda sent a postcard from the Chicago Zoo and Miss Jessica sent a Portland mug and some other goodies from my much-missed PDX. Each was sweet and wonderful on its own; the combined effect was AWESOME. Dear friends, I love you So. Much. (Also, thanks to Donilee for the card she sent me weeks ago that I kept meaning to mention here and never did). Anyway...I just got home after a long day and need to eat, but wanted to mentioned the best mail day ever. Thanks, ladies. I sure like you.

guuu-uuuuys

Dear Friends,

Please imagine the above post title spoken in an extreme whine.

But seriously... Guys (and, in the vernacular, gals)? Can we talk frankly for a minute? Here's the thing - I'm worried I'm not up for this. Graduate school, I mean. It's not that I don't want to do it; I simply wonder if I'm up for it. Every class I feel blown out of the water by the sheer depressing intellect of my fellow students. The level of conversation is - not beyond me, quite, but much faster than me. I keep up, but not immediately. Does that make sense? By the time I've processed something someone has said and formulated a response the discussion has already veered off in a different direction. When I do speak I usually feel shot down - never unkindly, but shot down nonetheless. I spend a long time crafting written responses to readings only to feel after I've posted them that they're childish.

I have never felt this way before in my entire academic career and it's scaring me.

Anyway, I'm sorry. I promise not to make this blog into a LiveJournal (why is it that LiveJournal is synonymous with awkward emotional sharing, anyway? Is it because that's what we all did in college? Or was that just me?). I just needed to express some anxiety before going to bed. I hope you're well, wherever you are.* I miss you, friends.

Love,

Haylie

*Maybe especially Mr. Chris who is just starting grad school in Corvallis. Let this be a cautionary tale, young man.**

**Just kidding. You'll be great, of course. Just like Miss Amanda.

whoa

Dear Television,

Hello. As you may know, I usually regard you with mixed feelings. While I am, of course, a huge fan of some of your work (Shark Week, Life, Planet Earth, The Office, 30 Rock, and sometimes Glee), I take significant umbrage with your plethora of useless and intellectually degrading offerings (too numerous and depressing to list). Far worse than this, however, is the fact that you have offered me some of the best television shows EVER only to ruthlessly rip them away after a paltry few seasons. You took away Firefly, and that was bad enough. But you will never recover from the shame of losing Arrested Development.

However. I digress. I am actually writing to you today to thank you, for on Monday you somehow contrived to bring together two of the most delightful minds currently alive together for one (regrettably short, but still fulfilling) interview. The day that Mary Roach, author of Stiff, Spook, Bonk, and the upcoming Packing For Mars, appeared opposite Jon Stewart will forever be a memorable day in television for at least one skeptical viewer. So thanks, Television.

Love,

Haylie

P.S. But you're still not forgiven for AD and Firefly. Just sayn'.

ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh

Dear Jane Austen,

Thank you for always being there, in one form or another, when I need you.

Love always,

Haylie

P.S. Somehow, I can't get this video to conform to my blog's measly little size. Right click on it and hit "show all" to, well, show all. Love.

men, you know who you are

go team

Dear Ross,

You may remember this picture from the hike we took several weeks ago to the Audubon Society. I include it here because it reminds me of the multitude of reasons why I love you. Thanks for always making me laugh, and happy sixth-month anniversary (and yes, peanut gallery, I know that I'm six days late). I think we're getting pretty good at this marriage business. Want to shoot for a year? Just a thought from your loving wife,

Haylie

fracked

Dear Writing Resource Center Gods,

Every Monday I drive all the way out to Forest Grove to tutor at the Writing Resource Center. Monday, 12-3. That's my shift. And every week the distinct lack of visitors to the WRC has allowed me to get an awful lot of stuff done. Every. Week.

So why, writing center gods, did you choose today of all days to send me six (bad) essays? Why? I drove out here for weeks to help no one. But now that my deadline for my December graduate school applications is next Tuesday, of course, you would send me six of your needy. This is the week! The week of productivity, of go-getter-ness. Of research and writing and the oh-so-diligent application of the self! Why, oh why, must you choose today of all days to foil my best laid plans?

This is my angry WRC face.

Love,

Haylie

love letters

Dear Portland,
If you weren't so beautiful and the thought of leaving you in nine months didn't hurt so badly I bet I'd work harder on my graduate school applications. It's your fault.

Dear Creature,
You make me insane. I adore you.

Dear Ross' Work,
Thank you for sending us a giant Honeybaked Ham for Thanksgiving. Too bad there are only two of us.

Dear Tea,
Thank you for getting me through graduate school applications.

Dear Personal Statement,
I'm glad you finally allowed yourself to be written (remember your first draft?). Please be more amenable to editing than you were to writing.

Dear Jon Stewart,
Thank you for introducing me to Truckasaurus.

Dear Sunshine,
I approve.

Dear Administration,
For the first time ever, I do NOT approve.

Dear Husband,
I don't know what I'd do without you. You're the Rocky to my Adrian.

Love,
Haylie


P.S. Concept shamefully (shamelessly) stolen from this blog.

letter to the president

Dear President Obama,

I think it's really awesome that, to quote the New York Times, "you will announce a campaign [today] to enlist companies and nonprofit groups to spend money, time and volunteer effort to encourage students, especially in middle and high school, to pursue science, technology, engineering and math." I also think it's really awesome that that campaign includes a two-year science focus on "Sesame Street." Nothing beats Elmo in a lab coat. And I agree completely that science and math are going to be integral to our continued success as a nation. But Mr. Obama, I am currently applying to get my Ph.D. in English Literature. En-glish Lit-er-a-ture. The least science-y program in academia since medieval studies. And by the time I graduate into what is already a deeply depressed job market, looking to grab my own little piece of tenure, all these middle school students you are targeting will be entering college. At which time it would be really awesome if some of them wanted to study ENGLISH! Must the sciences and the liberal arts be endlessly locked in this holy war for funding? Can we possibly strive for a new and lasting peace?

Just some thoughts.

Sincerely,

Haylie Swenson Dewey

P.S. Also, it would be great if you could endorse Elmo's 2012 bid for Congress. Thank you. HSD

married face

Photo by the excessively talented Rachel Thurston

Dear Husband,

Today being November 10th, we have been married for one whole calendar month, and I thought I would let you know that so far your job performance has been exemplary. I look forward to future evaluations.

Sincerely,

Wife

P.S. Love you.

dear sweet sister

Dear Cassidy,

You are 20 today. As you like to say: "Oh, my" (you know that today is your birthday, of course, but not everyone does so I included it at the beginning of this letter as a helpful bit of exposition).

Happy birthday, dear sweet sister. I am so exceedingly proud of you. On your blog you wrote about all the lessons you've learned this year. I just wanted to tell you that it shows. I am so proud of you for going back to school and for loving it so much, and I urge you to STICK WITH IT! You're going places, baby (I feel like that's something Aunt Bevan might say. Whenever I give advice I try to sound like Aunt Bevan).

I also wanted to thank you for all that you did for Ross and me--especially for me--in the weeks leading up to our wedding. Our wedding absolutely, positively, indisputably could NOT have happened without you. Also, I might have died. Seriously, sister, you worked tirelessly in helping us plan, in running errands for me when I was sick, and in decorating our apartment (which looks fabulous, thanks to you). You remember this picture?

You look beautiful and I look like I'm dying. But I love it because it reminds me of all that you did for us that week.

I just love you to pieces, little sister. Through all that we've been through you've always been there. Thanks for always calling. Thanks for asking me for advice sometimes (I'll still write the introductions to your papers if you want). Thanks for getting along so well with Ross. And mostly thanks for being your irrepressible, spunky, hilarious, loving, surprising self.

Last thing: I know you don't like this picture,

but it's my favorite one ever of us. Thanks for everything, chica. Love you so much.

Happy Birthday Cassidy!

the (not) short (enough) list

Dear Graduate Schools,

Please understand that I realize that you are some of the better schools in the country, and that the odds of getting accepted into just one of you are stacked well against me. Trust me, I feel keenly your ivory tower superiority over us mere mortals! In fact, I was just thinking about it today, feeling overwhelmed, when a thought occurred to me: what if I asked really, really nicely? So, graduate schools, I aim to do just that.

Please accept me into your program. I promise I'll work very hard. I will be careful not to assume authorial intent and to cultivate negative culpability. I will strive to publish and read papers in all the good journals and at all the good conferences, and once my dissertation is through I will try my very hardest to achieve a tenure-track position at one of the best schools, a school you will be proud to list on your "Graduate Achievements" web page. But first you need to let me in.

Pretty please?

Sincerely,

Haylie Swenson Dewey

P.S. Catalog card generator here.

i want this

Dear Elna Baker,

This is just a note to express my appreciation and gratitude for your non-conformist fabulousness. As you probably know, George Dawes Green had this to say about you:

"Elna Baker's memoirs of Mormon chastity and self-denial are presented with such passion and wit and unbridled effervescence that somehow her life comes out as pure erotic adventure, a romance of wild sunshine hedonism. As she juggles it all before us-her doubt and her deep faith and her lust and longing and fierce discipline-she's a dazzlement, a living breathing paradox and an absolute original and a joy to behold."

If I buy your book for all my friends, will you please teach me how to be you?

Sincerely,

Haylie Swenson