Field Tripping

Field Tripping By Kate Drabinski
Field Tripping: Heading West

The sun is finally shining and I've had a couple of days in the last few weeks without meetings or teaching, and that means my very favorite kinds of field trips—the ones that start on my bike with no specific destination in mind. I hopped on my bike this past Monday with no plans other than to ride west instead of east, because usually I head east—it's easier to go that way by bike.

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Field Tripping: QVCing

I'm not a parent, but I hear tell from others that you're supposed to limit the "screen time" of kids. Back in our day we didn't have cell phones and iPads and TVs everywhere, so we had time to run and play outside, stretch our legs, embed ourselves in a real world before there was this virtual one. The good old days, you know.

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Field Tripping: Square Dancing

I love to dance. I have always loved dancing, never understood that thing where people have to be drunk to dance. I mean, I get it—we're taught pretty much from the get go to be embarrassed by our bodies and think everyone's looking and judging them all the time. We learn how to do it by watching TV and reading magazines and suffering through being judged ourselves.

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Field Tripping: Naval Academy Romancing

The ladyfriend and I have not gotten a good field trip in for a long time. My dad getting killed by a left-turning truck driver just before Christmas and then us buying a house and moving into it just after the holidays really put a dent in our ability to, you know, chill.

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Field Tripping: Sex Shopping

I teach gender and sexuality studies for a living, and that means I talk about sex all the time. Well, sort of. Like the rest of culture, I talk about it, but I also don't talk about it. Sex is everywhere, in all the pop songs and movies, at the end of every prom (or so I hear—I never went to prom), in every confessional and every storytelling.

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Field Tripping: Citizening

I haven't had time for a lot of field tripping lately. The ladyfriend and I are buying a house, and that means we are spending most of our free time finding cardboard, folding cardboard into boxes, and then filling those boxes with cats and record albums and clothes—pretty much all we seem to own—in anticipation of what I hope will be my last move for a very, very long time.

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