After I cross-posted my entry on the photos to myhappyhome , I got some useful tips on dating my dresser, and, perhaps, dating the photos more accurately. soylentpurple gave me a link that uses furniture handles as a guide for determining a piece of furniture's age. So I looked at my dresser handles.
( tons of pictures behind the cut... )

From this, I'm fairly convinced we have an original Sheraton dresser. This dresser is significantly older than the images we found in it, so I'm guessing it may have been a family heirloom. Given that it's over 150 years older than our house, I'm going to keep it as OUR heirloom.

James Baldwin collection: 1950s
our house: 1920
the photos: 1880(?)
the dresser: 1780(?)

I love these historical layers. After traveling to Germany this summer, I bemoaned the absence of anything truly old in the United States. I wanted to find something that represented permanence here. That's why I love my old house. That's why I love the South, even with its problems. I value that which has withstood time AND changing values and mores. I hope my house (and the things within it) withstand too. I hope to preserve them for my future generations so that they will understand the important of making things that last.

Submitted my PhD Exam Intent Form today! YAY!

Hopefully in another semester, I'll be ABD! w00t!

Jason and I are married. We are happy. People keep telling me how happy we look together, and they are sure that we are going to last. While suffering through my grandfather’s funeral, I can’t help but look to my husband, not only for strength, but for tenderness. Honestly, looking at him makes me feel less hateful in that place, less lonely, and less frustrated. I wrote my grandfather’s eulogy and I worked at it. I worked to honor my grandfather because my grandfather’s memory was not the priority of the people attending his ceremonies. My distant family came to me, at least a few times, to tell me how they enjoyed what I wrote and that my speech was much improved from my grandmother’s funeral.
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It started with the weirdest dream though. J and I are living in a new big city in the dream. While I'm out for a jog, I saw a 13 year old girl and her little sister being harassed by their pimp, who's pressing a gun against the girl's ribs.I rolled up on him instinctively, talking my gun out my pocket, and then stop. "J'll be mad," I think. The pimp sees me, smiles, throws his gun in the trash, and falls back into the shadows. I try to walk the girls home, but instead they make light jokes and then run for it. I wake up thinking, "I should've shot the bastard."

Why, in my dreams, is J always at work? That's something that honestly plagues me. I'm always in these life-or-death situations, and, sure as sure, I don't want to bother him because he's at work. That must reveal something about me.

It had many ups and downs that I wanted to recount here, but too much time has passed for me to capture it with any intensity. Instead, I'll give a numbered list of interesting facts of my trip:

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So many other things I noticed while there, but I'll stop here. I suppose if people wanted me to go into specifics, I would, but if not, here you go. Mainz in 15 bullet points.

German brothas are fine as fuck.

I'm still thinking about the one I saw at the train station today. Can we say cappuccino delight? And any prolonged eye contact in Germany means you want it. We were staring at each other for like 15 seconds--steamy!

Tomorrow I leave for Mainz, Germany for a two week summer intensive program and conference. I confess myself to be scared shitless: I've never been to Europe, I've never done a "study abroad"-ish program, and I definitely have never been away from the hubby this long.

I'll be writing/discussing the American South and the Global South, specifically ancestral return migration, although I'm considering discussing only traditional return migration--the return of a migrant back to the South from the North--for ease and time constraints. -shrug-

Once I return, it'll be time to go back to studying for comps, working on the novel's second draft, and prepping for the new school year. I'll be posting photos as can, but...I hope to be struggling with my German with cute German citizens and explaining my work over wine, not trolling the internets!

working on my novel. it's going so well. this round of edits feels right.

emotionally i'm toast. no wonder i can't shake this cold. time to do a healing ritual on myself.

having a breakdown, having a breakdown.

fuck this job. fuck it. my dream has become a slice of hell. if this is how it's gonna be, i'll just take my phd and sit on it. go back to the beginning. the writing. i can't deal with this ass-kissing, in-my-image, bullshit. that's why i left corporate america. it was eating away at me. now the same mentality is coming ot academia. it's like a brush fire turning into a wildfire. and i'm fleeing...