the age of perfection

AP Credit

2012-01-25T18:51:00.003-05:00

I just read Dr. Crazy's thought-provoking post about women "forgetting" to have children (go read it, if you haven't yet; it's good). I haven't articulated much of a response, but a good bit of it resonated with me--I've often thought that, yes, I'd like to have a baby, but I like the way my life is without a baby, and there are other things that I want to do, so.... In fact, it seems a little startling that we did decide to have a baby. It was sort of like, Well, we want one, so why not now? And once we started thinking in terms of "trying," it became a priority. So it wasn't actually a priority before we committed to the attempt (if that makes sense), but the attempt itself made it one. Or something.

But that's not at all what I was going to write about (as evinced by my inchoate thoughts). Instead, I'm thinking about the phrase "Advanced Maternal Age," which Crazy uses and which is all over my paperwork (as I'll complain to anyone who listens).

Dude, I'm 35. I'm no spring chicken, but I'm not geriatric, for Pete's sake. Seeing that "Advanced Maternal Age" label was one of the first things that's actually made me feel old. And also a little...I dunno, behind? In need of remediation? I started feeling like, How did I make it this long, to this outrageously old age, without having a baby?? Obviously that's freakish and strange; I should have at least been pregnant before now. What, therefore, is the matter with me? People must be staring at this ancient, wizened crone who doesn't even know how to change a diaper. Good Lord. Freak!

It was a weird feeling.

So I decided that I ought to reclaim the term, to make it a badge of honor somehow. And as soon as I entertained the wish to do so, it was so easy! The label invites reclamation. For lo--I am Advanced! Yes! Without ever having even tried to be Maternal before, I've skipped the Beginner and the Intermediate stages. Advanced Pregnancy Credit, man. That's what I've got. It makes sense, really. I've always been a quick study.

The fact that my blood type is A+ just makes it all the more compelling.

A New Year's convention that I'm adopting for the first time

2012-01-01T16:57:00.003-05:00

Eh, what the heck. I'll do this rather than work on my MLA paper. But be prepared for lots of N/As.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Hosted three different sets of parent-visitors (my dad and stepmom, TM's parents, my mom and her friend) in a house that I actually own (or am at least paying a mortgage on)
Paid a mortgage
Had an article come out in a fancy journal
Went to Ireland
Paid for my mom to come with me on a trip (to Ireland, in this case. It was a very grown-up feeling kind of thing to pay for her! In fairness, she covered meals on the trip--but I bought the plane tickets and hotel rooms and all. This actually worked out really well for me psychologically, because I'd paid for everything up front and didn't have to fret about my bank account during the vacation proper)
Rented a car all by myself
Drove on the left
Met a currently very prominent and (to my mind) rather loathsome political personage
Got pregnant

The theme here seems to be: Grown-up stuff. Maybe I'm finally a proper adult?

Oh, and there were lots of knitting and gardening adventures, and probably a bunch of other stuff, too. I can't actually remember spring break at all, for example, so who knows what happened in the first half of the year.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I don't remember if I had any. I think that I wanted to be kinder and/or more generous? I'm not sure that I kept them, if so. Those don't seem like quite the sorts of things that you can self-evaluate very easily.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

A couple of co-workers--actually, quite a few co-workers. Probably some other people, too, but I can't think of them right now. (I'm not putting that much effort into this exercise, evidently.)

4. Did anyone close to you die?

A cousin on my dad's side--a few generations older than me. Well, she was 91 or thereabouts, so quite a bit older. I hadn't seen her in a long time, but she was someone we always visited over the holidays until my family left the state I grew up in (when I was in my mid-twenties), so she was one of the relatives I actually knew best. (We're a pretty scattered--and smallish--family.)

I think that that's it.

5. What countries did you visit?

Ireland! (And Belgium and Finland in 2010--just need to toss those in here, even though they're past their expiration dates.)

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

A healthy baby? Maternity leave?

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Sept. 4--the date at which my pregnancy officially starts. (This is a bit of a theme, no?) Not sure about any others.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Good question. Um...making it through the Fall semester, which was inexplicably difficult? Getting a short story published (in a weird little on-line venue)? Making a journal out of paper I made myself? Those aren't very momentous. It's not that I haven't been doing things, but nothing feels like a Big Climactic Achievement. And that's fine. I don't think that life is normally measured in that way, and--as we all know better and better as we age--the thrill of The Achievement invariably wears off.

Oh! Just remembered! Paid off my student loans! That counts.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Again, not sure. I think that I was less available to some of my students this past semester than I normally am, or would like to be--but I also think that, ultimately, that was a good thing. Setting some stronger boundaries in my professional life is something that I'd like to work on this year. So no--this wasn't a failure.

Getting an article rejected, I guess, but "failure" seems like a pretty strong word for one of the inevitable set-backs of an academic career.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

A couple of colds and headaches, but that's all.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

No major purchases this year. I did pay for a year's subscription to a streaming yoga video service, which I liked a lot and will continue to use. And I bought some pretty sock yarn. Also a few really wonderful meals out with TM.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

TM, who is fantastic at all times.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Oh, feh, I don't know. Pass.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Mortgage. Trip to Ireland.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Being pregnant (although it took a while to sink in. It's still sinking in, in fact, and the excitement is still mixed with anxiety, so "really, really, really" is pretty much relative). And TM had a couple of articles accepted, which was great.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

N/A (I've listened to amazingly little music this year, in fact.)

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?

I was pretty happy this time last year, I believe, so I'm probably about the same on that score. Weight-wise, well, I'm up a few pounds, but to say that I'm "fatter" would be unfair, given the circumstances. Financially, close to the same, but we're in slightly less debt, so that counts as "richer," right?

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Yoga. Meditate. I gave up both in the fall due to first-trimester fatigue, which I believe was a legitimate excuse, but I intend to get back into them now that I'm feeling better. I have started doing yoga again, in fact.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Worry, probably. That's always the case.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

I spent it back East with my family. The littlest nephew was incredibly cute.

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Already was.

22. How many one-night stands?

23. What was your favorite TV program?

Doc Martin.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

No.

25. What was the best book you read?

Scott Russell Sanders, A Private History of Awe.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?

N/A

27. What did you want and get?

A positive pregnancy test.

28. What did you want and not get?

Can't think of anything at the moment.

29. What was your favorite film of this year?

I saw exactly one movie in a theater--The Cave of Forgotten Dreams. It was pretty good. This brings the total number of movies that I've seen in theaters since I started dating TM (in April 2008) up to 2: Our first was Metropolis. (I'm probably a poser, but I sort of love having absolutely no idea what's going on in the entertainment industry.)

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 35. We bought a new oven because ours broke the night before. My dad and stepmom took me and TM out for a nice dinner.

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Immeasurably more satisfying? I have no idea.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Eh?

33. What kept you sane?

I wasn't aware that insanity was such a proximate risk.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

N/A, for reals.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?

Oh, whatever particularly outrageous thing TM read me out of the Times on any given morning.

36. Who did you miss?

A couple of friends. Family, sometimes. But I got to see a lot of them in the last few months!

37. Who was the best new person you met?

I don't know. I'm sure that there were some good ones, though.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

No, thank you!

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I repeat: No, thank you!

I Want a Syllabus:

2011-12-30T11:44:00.005-05:00

--a common want,
When each semester seems to need two new ones,
And after slogs through books and sites I flaunt
My stacks of photo-copied true ones.
But this one differs: The course I must invaunt
Is opaque, obscure, like a few tons
Worn round my neck all winter. So I moan
And hope a draft arrives by fax or phone.

(OK, that's a pretty dreadful bit of doggerel, I admit, and I even had to make up a word. But I've had that first line running through my head for days and I had to do something with it.)

Actually, I want two syllabi: The first is for a writing course that is still a blank page, but I'm not going to talk about that one. The other is for my own benefit--to make sense of this:

I've been given or otherwise collected this entire stack in the last few weeks, and am more than a little overwhelmed. On the surface, it seems like there are pretty obvious ways of organizing all of this material: The pregnancy/nutrition/exercise stuff, the childbirth stuff, the breastfeeding stuff, the child-care stuff. But the breastfeeding books tell you what to do before birth in order to get ready to breastfeed, and there are childcare things to take care of before the baby is actually here, and at some point I need to look at birthing centers and talk to doulas and all that, right? So it's actually all quite interrelated and intermixed and I need someone to give me a syllabus so that I read the right bits at the right times and turn in all of my assignments by their proper due dates.

*******************************

Admittedly, I'm making this out to be worse than it is, and worse than I actually feel. It'll be all right. Right? People manage these things.

The more pressing problem is what I can wear to MLA. My nicest pants are now out of the question, and I'm pretty well lacking in the spiffy-professional range of my wardrobe at the best of times. How can I pull together something to wear for my paper--something that fits over my now-somewhat-visible baby belly--without actually going shopping? That's the question....

(And so intellectual concerns give way to the sartorial. It is break, after all.)

(And hey--MLA meet-up? When/where? If there was a conversation, I missed it!)

It's true what they say about the second trimester

2011-11-29T19:44:00.004-05:00

I've decided to come clean. Here it is, folks: I'm pregnant, and due in June.

To be precise, I'm just over 12 weeks pregnant--which means that I'm at the end of the first/beginning of the second trimester. Judging from how I feel, I'd say that it's the latter. For, on Sunday, lo and behold, I got a few things done.

If, for some reason, you've read my comments on the Another Damned Notorious Writing Group check-ins, you may have noticed that I was...hm, not...happily productive? Maybe a little pissed-off and bitter sounding? Struggling to do even 1 hour a week of work on my writing? Well, now you know why. No--I was not pissed off and bitter about the pregnancy; on the contrary. But I was exhausted. All the time. And in the last 2-3 days, by virtue of the sudden contrast in energy level, I'm starting to appreciate just how exhausted I was. (Perhaps this also accounts for the total near-lapse in blogging this semester, but given what a lame blogger I am at the best of times, I'm not convinced.)

So it was a rough semester: 4 classes/4 preps, plus taking Greek, chairing a major governance committee, and running the Honors program--which grew enormously this year and last (it now has twice as many students as it did two or three years ago), and struggling through the crushing fatigue of starting to grow a person. Basically, for the last seven weeks, I had almost enough energy to do the absolute minimum that I needed to do every day to get by--which means that this week, I'm trying to catch up on lots and lots of loose ends.

All this by way of explanation, not complaint. TM and I are delighted, apprehensive, and hopeful (it's still early yet; miscarriage is always a possibility). I've been lucky to have only a little nausea and a weird aversion to cooked greens and tomatoes, which is totally unlike me, and 10 days ago we had our first ultrasound. It was amazing--way cooler than I expected--to see the little thingum in there, all person-shaped, kicking its feet and waving its fin-hands around. The heart was beating, and it even has a head!

(Yes, I know how that sounds, but I don't think that I was really convinced that I was growing a baby until I actually saw it. I spent the first 8 weeks or so half-convinced that I had psychosomatically given myself pregnancy symptoms and somehow stopped menstruating through sheer force of will. Oh, and the positive pregnancy tests? Clearly I was manufacturing pregnancy hormones through, um, the power of suggestion? I don't know. I didn't say it was rational.)

Anyway, that's all. The semester is almost over. I'm a little nervous about telling everyone about this whole thing, since of course it's not a sure thing until the baby's born. But I figured you all ought to know.

Grand and glorious plans

2011-11-05T10:11:00.003-05:00

So, in my strangely refreshed state, I have lots of Schemes for the Day. Things I want to Do. For I actually don't have too much homework (of the prep/grading variety), and so maybe I could get some of the other stuff accomplished?

Id est:

Read thoroughly enjoyable chapter for first-year seminar.
Read less interesting chapters for comp.
Figure out an activity for Monday's comp to replace the fun-but-useless activity that I usually do on that day. (I already have an idea, I just have to get a few things together for it.)
Finish writing my colloquium talk (so, so close).
Yoga.
Work on promotion binder (requires going to office, alas, but mostly just involves photocopying and printing).
Vacuum.
Greek homework.
Read article for upper-level seminar.
Grade first-year seminar journals.
Finish laundry.

Hm. Well, now I'm depressed. That's a lot of...stuff, and more on the prep end than I expected. Realistically, though, most of these items shouldn't take me very long, so the depression is fleeting.

You know what's really depressing? Picking up three different batches of papers on Monday. Why did I do that to myself? This isn't the first time this semester, either. Normally I'm pretty good at staggering grading, but this semester I clearly did nothing to synchronize my syllabi. We also have Big On-Campus Events Monday and Tuesday nights (the Monday night event having been organized by Me), so the week promises to be pretty hectic.

Well. Fine. Most of the stuff on that list isn't so bad, and some of it will even be fun. Time to think cheerful thoughts! It's a beautiful day (for sitting inside working)! I am still in my bathrobe! Consider the pleasure of checking things off! Yay! Go go go!

10 hours

2011-11-05T10:05:00.002-05:00

That's how long I slept last night. I feel better today than I've felt all week.

And have I really not blogged in almost a month? Sorry about that. But what can I say, aside from work work work work work?

A Day

2011-10-13T20:11:00.002-05:00

So today:

In the office at 8:15 to start composition conferences. I only have two or three in the morning, but am also busy putting together the invitations for the big banquet I organize every fall, prepping for class (i.e. reading students' posts on the course website), and grading papers for upcoming conferences.

Class 11-12:15.

Home at 12:15 for a quick lunch with TM.

1:15-2:30: Ancient Greek class. We're moving sloooowly in there, which is a good thing, frankly. (And I have an A!)

2:30: Swing by the mailroom. Discover envelope from journal. Force myself to read it on the walk to my office. My article is rejected. It's a nice letter, but the criticisms are pretty strong, and I'm disappointed. Push disappointment aside as much as I can because I have appointments.

2:45-3:45: Four more conferences, one of which involves busting a plagiarist--one of my absolute least favorite things to do.

4:00-6:00: Run a board meeting for the charitable organization on whose board I serve as VP. The meetings usually go about an hour, but for unexpected reasons this one went two. It was a good meeting, but we have some issues to address, so sunshine and roses it was not.

6:15: Come home, finally, and check my email to find what should have been good news: A story I submitted this summer got accepted somewhere. However, it had recently been accepted somewhere else, first, and I had completely forgotten to notify the other journals to which I'd sent it (simultaneous submissions being perfectly okay in the fiction-writing world). So instead of rejoicing, I felt rotten for being discourteous and unprofessional, and wrote a deeply ashamed and apologetic email back to the journal.

In brief:
One rejection, one plagiarist, one embarrassment. These are small problems--not even problems, really, because I don't need to solve them; but they're blows, however small. I'm feeling, I confess, disheartened and uninspired.

Now it's 8:27 pm, and because of all the conferencing/administrating I haven't read for my 8:00 class or graded all the papers for the students coming to see me tomorrow. And tonight was the night I was supposed to get some work done for Another Damned Notorious Writing Group. (I suppose I could've skipped writing this post, but I sort of felt I had to.)

I want to crawl under the covers and either cry or sleep. Probably sleep. Alas.

This must be my fault

2011-10-10T16:33:00.003-05:00

How many times this semester have I had this conversation?

Any student: "Can I come see you about [fillintheblank]?"

Me: "Of course. Why don't you stop by during my office hours?"

Student: "When are your office hours again?"

Me: "Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 9 to 10."

Student pauses, thinks, finally says: "Okay! I'll come by on Wednesday." Scribbles a note in his/her calendar.

Me: "Uh, actually--oh, all right. I'll see you then." (I'm in my office anyway, after all, and who needs the confusion....)

One of the ways in which I suck

2011-09-18T20:43:00.003-05:00

I'm pretty bad at answering emails. I get better during the school year, but only with my Field College account; my regular gmail languishes pretty badly year-round. It's not that I don't enjoy hearing from people--I just always put off writing back, and then (alas) I'm afraid that I lose interest in talking about myself. And then I feel guilty, and Too Much Time Has Passed, etc. etc. same old story.

And then there's the email account associated with this blog.

Hoo, I'm sorry, anyone who tried to contact me via that address since, oh, mid-July! Because apparently that was the last time I checked it. And as it happens, in addition to the MoveOn.org exhortations and messages from Al Gore & Co, I had some actual, real-life messages in there! Including some actual, real-life work-related stuff!

I'm sorry. Apparently, what I really need is Another Damned Notorious Answer Your Goddamn Email Group.

****

In other news, here's a picture of the travel diary that I made for my trip to Ireland this summer. Isn't it nice?

(On location at a pub in Limerick.)

Fully Dawsed

2011-09-11T14:33:00.002-05:00

I have a cold. And this afternoon I took non-drowsy cold medicine.

Guess what, non-drowsy cold medicine! Your non-drowsy wiles don't work on me! Hell no! My body will foil your every effort to keep me awake!

In brief, I find myself fully zombified this afternoon. Trying to read the General Prologue to the CT. I was out midway through the Prioress.

Got up a while later to get something from the bathroom. Knocked over everything on the shelf. Replaced item on the shelf a moment later, knocking everything over again.

The main benefit of cold medicine? Not, as far as I can tell, clearing my sinuses (though my throat feels slightly better). Essentially it forces me to rest. I predict that I'll be retiring the guest room (my preferred sickbed) for video-watching and napping soon, perhaps with some very, very simple knitting (which I'll probably have to redo next week).

Fie!

(The semester has evened itself out a bit, though, and I'm no longer overwhelmed in the way that I was that first week. My classes are fine. Everything is fine except my NOSE!)

Oh God!

2011-08-31T21:16:00.003-05:00

I'm drowning in work, I tell you. Drowning! Yes, drowning.

Four distinct preps (I usually have 3) and a staggeringly record number of honors students--both first-years and seniors, the two groups that require the most attention--have me in the office from 7-4ish daily without a break. Lunch at the desk and shit like that. (And then the reading and prep in the evenings, of course.) Oh, and did I mention this? I don't think I did. I'm taking a class! Ancient Greek! It's fun--but we have actual homework.

And now, because I'm an idiot, I'm prepping a Derrida essay for my seminar tomorrow. The students will be baffled (understandably; this is a tough one, and I'm pretty well baffled myself). Once I'm done, I expect that my prep will have sucked about 4 hours out of the evening. I am tired, people. And I have three thesis meetings tomorrow (two of which I just remembered).... And I haven't memorized the declension of the definite article yet....

OK. Next week will be better. Next week will be better. Three-day weekend coming up.

"Low-Hanging Fruit": The Low-Hanging Fruit of Metaphors?

2011-08-19T21:28:00.003-05:00

So TM and I were having a conversation the other night, and he used the phrase"low-hanging fruit." I smirked, as I ALWAYS do when I hear that phrase, and we got into a discussion of why I can't hear (let alone say) it with a straight face. I think that it has something to do with how the first time I heard it, it was in reference to someone who used the phrase a lot (are you following me?), and my friend, who was talking about him, said, "I'd like to kick him in his low-hanging fruit."

You get where I'm going with this.

Also, I have a tendency to "hear" it punctuated as "low, hanging fruit" and to imagine it said in a voice like that of the narrator in Rocky Horror Picture Show when he describes the clouds as "heavy, black, and pendulous." (And if you've ever seen or experienced the interactive version of RHPS, you know that the shout-out line only adds to the immodest association hinted at above.)

So yes, I do have a juvenile streak, much as I try to hide it. (See this post for additional evidence.)

SO ANYWAY, we then started talking about alternative metaphors/cliches, and we couldn't think of any good ones. I suggested "easy target," but that doesn't mean quite the same thing. As TM pointed out, "low-hanging fruit" clearly suggests the easily reachable targets that you accomplish first, with the expectation that you will then get into the higher branches with their less-reachable fruit; "easy target" doesn't imply any more difficult targets to come.

And then we were pretty much stumped.

Thus I give it to you, dear readers. What alternative metaphor(s) would you suggest? Are there other figures of speech that serve the same purpose? Or is there a new metaphor, possibly less testicular, just waiting to be coined?

My happiness does not depend on ----

2011-08-15T22:46:00.002-05:00

Everything starts tomorrow (we have 3 days containing meetings, including one all-day retreat, then classes begin on the 24th, except for that one Extra Special Class that starts on Sunday).

My wish tonight:

May I please not begin the year with resentment.

I had a flash of it tonight, you see. Resentment. Feeling unappreciated (how childish that sounds!). Recalling a promise that may not be delivered.

I ended the year--an otherwise pretty great year--on a not-great note, feeling taken for granted and put-upon. That feeling vanished over the summer. Tonight it resurfaced.

It's bad news, people. My happiness does not depend on the promise that may or may not be fulfilled. It does not depend on a raise, or a course release, or a small token of favor. These things are nothing.

Remember that.

Gratuitous Picture Post

2011-08-01T21:39:00.005-05:00

A week or two ago, I was suddenly hit with an intense desire to relax. You know--enjoy the summer without working. Not that I've been working all that much, but.... Well, what prompted it was an email in which my mother asked me if I'd started a novel that she'd lent me, and I realized in writing back to her that I hadn't been reading fiction. Forgive my italics, but it shocked me.

So--rather than reading Cloud Atlas, the erudite and clearly fabulous novel from my mom (I started it and was liking it, but I lost my train of thought)--I've been reading Alexander McCall Smith's Isabel Dalhousie series. They start off as "mysteries," but lose that moniker pretty quickly; mostly Isabel reflects on moral philosophy, cooks risotto, and drinks wine with her youthful paramour. They're delightful, cozy, and easy on the brain (which sounds insulting, but I don't mean it that way. Look, I didn't want to work! This is a good thing). And they usually end up with some really sweet reflection on love or kindness or something. I like them.

The novels are set in Edinburgh, which brings me to my gratuitous pictures. I spent almost a week in Edinburgh back in '07, and I loved it. Today I browsed through the pictures that I took on my trip there; some of them are quite nice, so I'm sharing. Enjoy!

(And yes, all of them were taking in Edinburgh, even the ones that look like they couldn't possibly be urban--that was Holyrood Park, where I spent one of the nicest mornings I can remember.)

[Sigh] revision.

2011-08-01T07:40:00.005-05:00

Long gap in blogging here due to a semi-chaotic family visit and a very sick kitty. Family left on Saturday. Kitty is still sick, but somewhat better (down from a very high fever into sneezing and snuffles). There really is nothing more pathetic than a sick cat.

So anyway, with all that settling down, I got back into my article this weekend. A few weeks ago, I read it over in hard copy (my preferred late-stage revision mode), made a few edits, and thought that it was just about ready to go. This weekend, I reread it, and did this:

Might I just say, Augh!!

Now pardon me, please, while I go type those notes up before I lose the ability to read them.

Paper-making is easy!

2011-07-15T19:05:00.005-05:00

What Now? asked about paper-making in her comment on my last post, and I thought I'd answer her here. (Why not?)

Paper-making, as my title suggests, is easy! Especially if you shell out a bit for a kit. I went fancy and bought Arnold Grummer's Papermaker Pro, which is a hand-pour mold, though I would eventually consider getting a dip mold for faster, more consistent production. (Don't I sound professional? I am, after all, a Papermaker Pro! I have made 25 sheets of paper!) Truth be told, I didn't look into the difference between hand-pour and dip molds, and thought that I was getting the latter, since that's what I used in high school. But hand-pouring is super easy and, as the websites will tell you, the clean-up is easy.

Basically, here's how it works:

You get all your supplies lined up, and fill the kitchen sink about 2/3 full of water (depends on the depth of your sink, of course. Mine is fairly shallow).
In a blender, combine about 1 1/3 sheets of torn-up, post-consumer paper with 2 cups of water. Blend for 30 seconds.
Insert the mold into the sink, getting the water to within about 1/2" of the top.
Pour the blended slurry into the mold.
Agitate it with your fingers.
Carefully, but without delay, lift the mold straight up in the air.
Use various techniques to squeeze water out of the sheet, using a sponge and some screens (it's not that complicated, but you don't want to read about it, and I don't want to write it).
Dry the sheet! I leave it stuck to the window for a while and then, when it starts to fall off, press it under some books (with dry "couch sheets," as they're called, to absorb the moisture).

Really, it took me all of 5 minutes and one or two awkward attempts to get the hang of it. And within about 4 sheets I, being me, was tired of straightforward pages and started adding leaves (without reading directions on how to do so--that resulted in some weirdness) and blending for different lengths of time, etc. One technique I made up is to blend one sheet for 15 seconds, add 1/3 of a sheet in a slightly different color or with writing on it, and blend for the second 15 seconds. This produces interesting textures, and sometimes letters or fragments of words show up in the paper. I love it!

Below is a scanned image of one of the sheets I made yesterday using this newly invented technique (which is, I'm sure, not unique to me, but hey! I didn't read about it or ANYTHING).

It's not like a money-saving hobby (although I do intend to use it as the basis for many Christmas presents), but it is a form of recycling, and it's fun! Plus, I haven't found anywhere around here to buy handmade paper for bookbinding, so it'll be useful there.

Hot Dry Summer

2011-07-13T14:04:00.005-05:00

In honor of July, I bring you a photographic essay documenting the behavior of cats on a 92-degree day:

The series concludes with Constant M.* telling me to knock it off with the picture-taking and rub her belly already.

Actually, it's cooler today, but we should be back up into the 90s this weekend. And just in time for the heat, I've finished my shawl:

Like the patrician tilt of my chin?

I'm also working on the paper-making, as this picture demonstrates:

Letting the sheets dry against glass gives them a smoother finish for writing, or so I have read. (I haven't actually written on them yet.)

In other news, I suppose I ought to go to the gym. At what point in my life does that requirement go away?

*A sudden, irrational fear that the eminent C.M.--whose work I respect--would find this page and be bothered by my pun has prompted me to abbreviate the cat's moniker.

Two Firsts

2011-07-12T09:47:00.003-05:00

1) Got my first agent query rejection yesterday morning. The first of many, many such, I'm sure.

2) Also in my inbox yesterday morning was an invitation to contribute an essay to an edited collection. The book isn't under contract yet--they need the article abstracts for that, obviously--but there is an "interested press," as they say. Anyway, what's cool is that this essay collection is exactly in line with my current research interests! How did that happen? I mean, since no one officially knows what my current research interests are, given that I haven't published anything on them yet? (One article is coming out in the Fall, but it's not out yet, so....)

Anyway, it's all very exciting. It makes me feel like a Real Scholar of some kind. (And maybe I should, like, get over feeling like an Unreal Scholar, since I do have a book out and all that. But, you know, eh. I still feel like I'm about 23 years old when it comes to this profession.)

Favorite Writing Resources?

2011-07-08T13:21:00.002-05:00

I was just glancing over the comments on Notorious Ph.D.'s/ADM's writing group (which I totally plan to join this fall, by the way--I just missed the first couple of weeks this summer and got out of sync), and something completely obvious occurred to me:

Writing an extensive, independent research paper without strong external direction/guidelines does not come naturally to (almost) anyone. (I expect that there are exceptions. Incredibly enviable exceptions. But we aren't going to talk about them.)

Now, I knew this from my own experience, of course. But I also serve as second reader on all those pesky Honors thesis committees (by which I mean, ALL of the pesky--and even the rare non-pesky--Honors thesis committees at Field College), and undergraduate students, quite understandably, haven't really figured this out. They've never had to write such a paper. They're used to deadlines and people making them do things, and then doing said things often in haste, at the last minute, and under tremendous stress.

As we all know, that system doesn't work well for...well, almost anything, but you can probably pull it off on a 5-page paper. Not, however, on a thesis.

So what I'd like to do is to compile a list of resources, websites, and tips for students who are struggling with motivation, scheduling, organizing, drafting, etc. etc. And what better place to go than to the blogosphere? Since so many of you have blogged so beautifully and brilliantly about such things in the past?

I ask, therefore, that you comment with your favorite resources, motivators, organizers, what-have-you. Feel free to just remind me of a post that you've already written on the subject, too. I do plan to look around and do some of the work myself, but I'm very likely to miss some things--so I would love love LOVE your suggestions! And my students would love them even more!

(And let's not forget the thesis advisors and readers out there, who are surely as frustrated as I am when students don't even start writing until December.... Think of this as service! Tenure file, here we come!!)

Ambition Sucks

2011-07-05T08:32:00.002-05:00

Um, so, that to-do list in my last post is too long.

Feh.

I hate it.

Why do I feel that I must do everything, every single thing, that I possibly can, every single summer? I don't ever do it all, and I spend a lot of time being stressed out about having so much to do. Why do I insist upon putting fun things--like making paper, or knitting, or reading a book for pleasure--on my Task List? On the one hand, it gives them some priority. On the other, I find myself thinking things like, "OK, if I just knit two rows of this afghan every day, I'll have it done by September!", and then it becomes a Required Homework Item and I drain all of the fun out of it.

When I was a kid--like, twelve--I'd get so excited about summer that I'd start planning it in early May. I'd make up detailed schedules of what I was going to do every day: play horses from 9-10, work on a puppet show with my brother from 10-11, read from 11-12, go to the pool from 2-3, and so forth. Then I'd look at those schedules, feel like the summer was already over (and hadn't been all that interesting), and get depressed.

I was twelve twenty-three years ago. Have I learned anything? Not really.

So here's the deal. I might not do all the stuff on my to-do list. (In fact, I definitely won't, but don't let me overhear myself saying it.) And that is simply going to have to be all right. If I can finish this one article (which I can), outline my colloquium presentation, and decide on a topic for Article/Chapter/Whatever the Next (and I have an idea for that), then I'll be all right research-wise. And the book reviewing stuff will just happen. Right? Right.

Okay! First up: Course packs are due this week! So I've got to go make some copies.

What will I do today?

2011-06-28T08:54:00.003-05:00

In addition to yardwork, I have a very long list of things to do this summer. One of the blessings of academia is the summertime. The curse, however, is that we (I?) plan to do everything that occurs to me all year long during the summer, which can make for its own breed of stress.

Research and writing:

I want to finish and send out this article on G. I've drafted it, but it needs some contextual underpinnings. I'd like to send it out by August 1.
Review this 800-page book I volunteered to review. 800 pages!!!
Get about 90% of the annual bibliographic essay done. I think that I'm at about 60% right now.
Draft a presentation for a colloquium in the fall; this should be pretty easy.
Think in some kind of serious way about that sort of book-like project that I'm kind of sort of planning. What's the first step, though?

School stuff:

Get my syllabi in order. I only have one new class this fall! I don't think that I've ever had fewer than two new preps before--unless you count that anomalous semester when I only taught two classes.
Read the one book that I'm teaching and haven't read before (I read the others earlier this summer).
Get course packs together.
Revise and reprint the Honors program handbook.
Clean up some files.

Crafty things:

Finish knitting my shawl--I'm almost done!
Knit an afghan.
Finish a pair of socks (and probably start another one).
Make paper and bind it into journals for Christmas presents.
Sew three new curtains for the kitchen (I did one over spring break, and it looks so lonely in there!).

Housy things:

Organize some files and whatnot.
Um...the house is in pretty good shape, actually.

Fantasy career things:

I have a novel that I would like to try to get published, for real.
I have a few short stories for which I'd like to do the same.

I don't actually want to be a creative writer; it's too weird and exhausting. The truth is that I really like working with people (who knew?); I also find that being absorbed into a story of my own creation, while exhilarating, is also really draining and disorienting. So I don't include this category of projects because I want to move out of academia--I don't. What I would like to do is to try to move some of my better stuff out into the world, so I don't have it hanging distantly in the background of my mind forever. I love me some closure, I do. And if it doesn't get published, at least I'll have tried.

All righty! What'll it be today?

Home ownership = Watching your husband garden

2011-06-27T18:29:00.006-05:00

Three posts in one day! What am I, some kind of blogger or something?

Anyway, as I promised about 8 minutes ago, here are some updated pictures of the garden. (As for the subject heading, I guess it's appropriate if, as I indicated about two years ago, marriage = owning a lawnmower.)

First, here's the front of the house. The dandelions have given way to clover. But don't you like my flowers? Assuming that you can make them out at all?

The sidewalk has come along a little bit. It's proving to be a ton of work. But look! The trees have leaves! And you can see the no-mow-zone over on the right. Don't be confused by all the tall weeds that surround it--it is in fact a distinct area.

Here's the smaller garden--asparagus in the back, artichokes and eggplant in the front. Those are also various peppers and some melons mixed in there.

And the bigger garden: tomatoes, lettuces, chard, cilantro (gone to seed), more eggplants and peppers, beans, zucchini.... That structure in the background is the garage.

Just for kicks, here's the back of the house (which faces our neighbors) and the garage. We put in the flower boxes on the deck. In the foreground is a chestnut tree, with a container of soapy water in which to capture Japanese beetles.

I forgot to mention our compost bins and bramble patch! We have blackberry and raspberry bushes (no fruit yet, though).

And here you can see the strawberry patch against the garage; the retractable clothesline is just visible up there, too. Against the house are the herb garden, our new rain barrel, and some landscaping that came with the house.

TM did the vast majority of this, by the way. Am I grateful? Why yes, yes I am. (He's in the kitchen fixing us a salad right now, too--with the very lettuce that he's picking four pictures up.)

Home ownership = Weeding

2011-06-27T17:49:00.012-05:00

Sisyphus has asked for house pictures. Well, Sis, sorry to say that the house hasn't changed much since you saw it last--here and here--but what has changed is the yard! So perhaps you'd like some yard pictures? Since dealing with the yard is one of our major occupations this summer?

First, I shall whet your appetite with a picture of our glorious magnolia in full bloom, as it was in mid-April, seen through the living room windows.

Second, I shall bore you with our yard issues. Here are the realities that we daily confront:

Our yard is freaking BIG.
Our property is on a corner, so we don't have much of a back yard--most of it is bordered by the street, which means that it's not very private.
It's on a hill, too, so that adds to its non-private nature.
All of this is to say that our weedy, dandelion-filled yard is highly, highly visible to everyone.
We hate lawn.
We hate mowing.
We are obstinately committed to not spraying with poisons, because of all the toxic run-off and poisoned groundwater and all.
None of our neighbors seem to share the views expressed in 5-7. We are surrounded by chemically enhanced, oft-mowed, immaculate lawns. Note the contrast in the picture below, which was taken from our front porch:

Welcome to Dandelion Town!

Thus: We are determined to get rid of as much of the lawn as possible. We'll keep the southern patch around the magnolia, where the retractable clothesline goes, and which would make a perfectly reasonably-sized yard in its own right; it's less weedy, and the dandelions haven't fully taken over in there yet. Even in the picture above, you can see the dandelion-density difference between the north (right) and south (left).

So what are we doing? Well!

We have TWO large vegetable gardens! An asparagus row! Two new (small, but expandable) flower beds! Six fruit trees! A tiny little redbud tree! Two chestnut trees! A no-mow zone which we will convert to wildflowers next summer! A large area where we're killing the grass to replace it with blue-rug juniper! Plans for a blueberry hedge, a second (and larger) strawberry patch, two big beds for native plants and flowers, another lilac bush, and more! (Everything preceding the last exclamation point will have to wait for next year or the year after, however. Petit a petit le oiseau fait son nid, etc.)

We've even introduced ajuga into the lawn in the hopes that it will take over! Desperate times, man.

I don't have any pictures of the current state of affairs, so you'll have to see what it looked like in mid-April.

TM checking the asparagus. (Isn't his hat darling?)

The first garden (before anything had grown there--it's coming along nicely now).

Here's where I dug the sod out and arranged old bricks to make the two new flowerbeds.

One more thing: There's a buried brick sidewalk running through the front yard, which we're slowly uncovering. Here it is at an early stage. You can see the newly-planted fruit trees in the background; they're bigger, now, and have actual leaves.

Clearly, I need some more recent pictures! Stay tuned (assuming that you haven't totally lost interest yet).

What Makes Me Blog

2011-06-27T10:08:00.002-05:00

I've been aware that I needed to post for a long time. I think that I've had ONE post in the last month? (Traveling with family, visiting family, having family visit = not posting. I don't blog when there's a chance that my parents will catch me. And then I just got lazy, and then overwhelmed by the non-blogging, and the cycle continues.)

But I'm posting now, because...I'm grading!

Yes! I have a paper from the FALL that I'm about to start reading. I know. It was a very legitimate and not-begrudged Incomplete (family health emergency, all kinds of awfulness), so I harbor no ill will towards this paper. Or the student, for that matter, whom I like very much. But I have had the paper for three weeks and have not been able to bring myself to open it. Now, it is open. Now, it WILL BE GRADED.

The awful truism of grading: One paper is harder to grade than twenty. Why is that?

And now that the ice is broken, perhaps you'll hear more from me this summer!

WHY

2011-06-17T17:24:00.001-05:00

is there a DEAD FISH under the pine tree in the neighbor's yard? --the tree, I might add, that is right up next to our property?

Why, exactly?

And for how long will the smell pervade the Eastern end of our yard?

(I realize that this is a peculiar return to blogging after nearly a month's hiatus. But it needed to be said more urgently, apparently, than anything else that I could impart.)

(More soon.)

As if blogging hasn't been light enough

2011-05-22T21:10:00.000-05:00

I'm off tomorrow for 8 days in Ireland with my mother. Given my mother, we will have many stops in cute little restaurants for appetizers and a glass of wine. Should be fun.

Following that, I'll be visiting the family (with TM, this time) for five or so days. In other words: I'll be off-blog for a grand total of two weeks.

Enjoy the start of summer!

Yes, I said rollerskates.

2011-05-10T18:27:00.003-05:00

Over the weekend, TM and I catered to one of his whims and watched Xanadu on Watch Instantly. Neither of us had ever seen it before. I was skeptical.

Holy cow, that's some crazy business. The '70s and '80s collide in a horrifying rollerskating pile-up. Why was everyone on rollerskates? Why did Gene Kelly stoop so low?

Sometimes the movie seemed like little more than a flimsy showcase for bad fashion. I mean, you've got legwarmers, short shorts, orange jumpsuits (my favorite line: when Sonny Malone has a vision of a club with a "great rock band" which he describes as, "Six guys in electric orange suits!"), extraneous straps and zippers, off-the-shoulder peasant blouses--a panoply of ugly clothing, none of which seemed to have anything to do with any of the other ugly clothing. And, oh yes, rollerskates.

The plot, which lacked all narrative tension, goes something like this:

Sonny Malone is a whiny would-be artist. He's a commercial artist who believes that he is meant for Higher Things, but the Man (= his boss) tries to dissuade him by saying, literally: "I used to be into Art. But I gave up Art for Money. You should do the same thing." It's subtle!

Anyway, Sonny mopes, and somehow his moping causes a really bad painting of eight or so women to become animated, and the muses descend upon LA. Apparently, see, Zeus really wants a roller rink called Xanadu to be built, so he sends the muse Kira (the muse of disco?) to inspire him. He sees her and becomes obsessed, but his pursuit only lasts about three minutes, because then she turns up and they start hanging out. Meanwhile he meets Gene Kelly, who used to play the clarinet but doesn't any more. For some reason, they decide to open a disco/nightclub/roller rink (because, the movie tells us, They Need A Dream To Care About. Why be more specific than that?). Everything goes exactly according to plan!

However, Sonny then tells Kira that he loves her. For some reason. I mean, he knows seriously nothing about her--like, she won't even tell him her last name. But whatever. She says that she loves him, then immediately reveals that she's a muse and disappears. Sonny mopes some more--he almost refuses to go to Xanadu's opening!--but then, for some reason, he jumps headlong into the aforementioned bad painting and finds himself in a crazy electric Tron-like space. There, he rails ineffectually against Zeus and is then dumped back on earth. Kira sings an incredibly boring song, and Zeus and Hera decide that she can go back to earth.

The club opens. There is a bizarre and spectacular club-opening dance sequence. Kira serves Sonny a drink. All is well.

So the movie would, in fact, be pretty dull, but for all the fashion hilarity (which is totally worth it). It does, however, have this fucking insane sequence.

Watch it! Gene Kelly dancing with punk rock oompah loompahs, and Spiderman! Take a break from grading and watch it!

(In other news, I'm almost done with EVERYTHING. More bad movies in store, perhaps?)

Why do they do this to me?????

2011-04-25T09:40:00.002-05:00

Here's what I hate more than anything in grading--more even than "since the dawn of time" intro-sentences:

When a student who has been doing really good work--like, earning an A despite being a non-major, participating in discussion every day, and coming to see me about papers and all that other solid stuff--plagiarizes some stupid sentence in practically the last assignment of the semester--an assignment for which, I might add, there were plenty of options, so zie didn't even need to pick this particular (and difficult) poem to write on.

Don't you haaaaate that?

According to my policy, I need to fail this student. For the course. A student I really like, a lot. I hate that!

Well, I mean, first I'll hear hir out, and perhaps there's some perverse misunderstanding of "ethical research" here, but...argh! WHY???? Dude, if you didn't understand the poem, you could've come to my office hours, and I swear I would've just explained it to you. ARGHHHHH.

Drunken Rampage

2011-04-15T20:15:00.002-05:00

Internet be warned:

I have had some wine, and I am commenting on your posts. Ha ha!

(It's been a verrrry long couple-two-three weeks.)

Sans Snark

2011-04-08T19:45:00.003-05:00

My last post was, I know, rather embittered. I'm not entirely embittered, however (although I do kind of hate teaching statements, much as I recognize their utility and would ask for them were I to chair a search). But the first half of the week was long. And we're approaching the end of the semester. So sarcasm is easier to pull off than sincerity (isn't it always?).

So: Here are some better thoughts. I'm not going to put together a philosophy statement because, well, that's too much work. Instead, I'll aim for bullets of teaching goodness:

This first-year bio student in Brit Lit II. He's taking the class for a gen ed requirement, and first-years don't normally do very well in the class, but, despite not being a brilliant writer, he works really hard and it shows. It delights me to consider this biology student who will go out into the world able to say intelligent things about Jane Eyre, Virginia Woolf, and Wordsworth. That's what a liberal arts school is for.
The student who remarked, on leaving class on Monday: "Dr. Mihi, you're awesome. Just FYI."
A student challenged her grade on the first paper that she wrote for one of my courses--I'm one of a team of instructors for the course, so challenges have a particular procedure that brings in a third party. The third party upheld my grade decision. The student then approached me to ask if it would be all right if she met with me about future papers (why in the world wouldn't it be okay?); she started participating much more actively and doing better on quizzes; she showed me a draft of her next paper--and she just got an A- on said paper. It's clear that she fundamentally didn't get the expectations for the first one, and now she does--and her work is actually good! So pleasing.
Those moments in class--especially in the surveys, which is funny because they're the courses I've taught the most--when I suddenly realize something completely new about the text that we're discussing. It makes me realize how much easier it can be to generate new thoughts through a conversation than stuck on one's own.
The fact that I am now able to go completely off script in class on a regular basis. In fact, there are days when I don't use my prep outline at all. And teaching is so much more fun.
And honestly, sometimes, I just really love my students. All of them, more or less. Not for anything that they've done, but because they're there, and they're trying (or not), and going through all their stuff, and I get to play a part in that.

See? I can be lovey, too.

Sisyphus's Teaching Philosophy Meme

2011-04-06T19:37:00.006-05:00

OK, so there's this.

In the spirit of P, however, I've got to go for snark. It is April, after all, and I've got absolutely no patience left. At the moment, my real life teaching philosophy is DO YOUR GODDAMN HOMEWORK AND GET TO CLASS ON TIME, I AM TIRED OF YOUR BULLSHIT.

So here's my world-weary, when-will-this-semester-end version, born of actually serving on search committees that require teaching philosophy statements.

My teaching philosophy centers on students. I believe in a dynamic classroom where students learn actively. I eschew all forms of sage-on-the-stage, chalk-and-talk, rhymey-blimey-whatever teaching. Eschew it! My pedagogy requires students to talk, to discuss things, to actually participate in the learning process. In this, I am refreshingly newfangled.

In my student-centric classroom, we occasionally sit in circles. This radically disrupts the power structure of the classroom, enabling students to take an active role in their own educations. Sometimes we also do group work.

Further, I am committed to developing critical thinking in my students by getting beyond the notion that learning is all about memorizing facts and regurgitating them at the professor's will. I know that this is a new idea, but bear with me here--as it turns out, literary study is not just about plot summary! I ask challenging and innovative questions to connect the material to students' own lives. I also use PowerPoint sometimes, because today's students are digital natives who learn best through visual stimulus and are excellent multitaskers. These are all very exciting new ideas that I came up with myself while I was TA'ing that course that one time.

Hm. That might actually be too snarky even for me. And truthfully, I can't say that my real-life teaching philosophy was that much better (content-wise, anyway; I had very little teaching experience when I first went on the market). I've tried my hand at writing more original teaching statements, and they all sounded just a little crazy. But "student-centered" has GOT to be the tiredest classroom-descriptor in the book.

At one point in the last committee I served on, I started fantasizing about receiving a statement of teaching philosophy that embraced straight lecture; at least it would have been different.

If I'm in a better mood later this week, maybe I'll take Sis up on her challenge for real and write about what does bring me joy in teaching. Up until about a week ago, I had plenty to say. And, okay, honestly, my seminar students are rocking right now, so I'll leave you with that bit of positivity.

My Biggus Dickus moment

2011-03-30T20:45:00.003-05:00

Last week was a looong week, which, because of an overnight field trip, didn't really end until Saturday night.

And Monday was a loong day.

We had two candidates on campus on Monday, for two different positions: one in my department, and another which is not in my department but on whose search committee I'm serving. So, long story short, on Monday I got to campus at 7:45 and went home at 4:15. During the eight and a half hours that I was on campus, I taught for one hour, went to one meeting, and spent five solid hours with the two different candidates.

Then I had my Chaucer seminar from 6-8:45.

So I was tired when I got to class. I had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and taken out my contacts, declaring a one-woman casual day (not that anyone, in class or on faculty, would care), and taken a little nap, but I was far from refreshed. We were reading MT and RT,* though, so at least the subject matter promised to be interesting.

And it was interesting. I was engaged in class, becoming more energized as the discussion went on; of course, given what we were discussing, there was also a lot of humor and some degree of silliness accompanying our Very Serious Exploration of the Literature. The class, I should mention, has fifteen students in it, nearly all of them very bright, talkative, and fun. (I'm lucky.)

But I do think that the fatigue, the lingering stress of driving a vanful of students around all weekend, the exhausting small talk with job candidates, etc., was still there, underlying my enjoyment of the class. And that it was these factors that contributed to my completely losing it about halfway through.

We were talking about female sexuality. One student had posited the possibility that these fabliaux are in some way affirmative of female sexual pleasure. But it's hard to say that this is what's going on in RT, which contains what we could call rape. So I asked them, What image of female sexuality does this tale present us with?

One student raised his hand. Slowly, thoughtfully, he began to speak. It seems like...women have sexual desires, but they don't show them. [I'm paraphrasing, badly, but it'll do.] And then these opportunities--arise, and they seize them.

A flicker of a smile, a smirk even, passed over my face. I quelled it. Immature! Get a grip! I quashed the giggle that I could feel brewing. But I also caught a smothered smile on the face of a student to my right...and across from me...and to the left.... So I did what was probably the worst thing that I could do, then, and forcibly arranged my face into a very solemn expression. If he doesn't say "arise" again, I'll be fine.

He went on, becoming more impassioned as he spoke. It's like the text is saying that they don't normally express these desires, but then these unexpected circumstances just...arise!

The laugh was there. I could feel it actually in my mouth. For a moment, I contemplated running from the room--but I wouldn't have made it. I looked at him, tragically, and managed to say, "I'm sorry," before bursting into laughter, laughter wild and uncontrolled, tears running down my cheeks. I covered my mouth, I looked down at the table, it didn't matter.

The class erupted, as you'd imagine.

Oh, my God, it felt so good.

*I'm acronyming these titles in the EXTREMELY unlikely event of a student's googling them + some other key words and finding this. Sorry for the obscurity, non-medievalists.

Annnnd not so much (the writing, that is).

2011-03-21T21:49:00.003-05:00

School's back in session this week. Am I the only one who finds the post-spring-break re-entry hard?

Also we're hosting job candidates this week and next, so things are more hectic than usual. Mondays are my long days: I teach at 10 and then from 6-8:45, usually with a handful of meetings at odd hours in between. Today also included a teaching demo, a meet & greet with the candidate, and a candidate lunch. Whew.

There've been a lot of searches here lately, and one thing that I've become increasingly aware of is the following: When you're interviewing for a job at a small college like this one, where the faculty need to work together a lot, much of what the interview is for is to find out whether we like you. Like, as a person. Do we want to hang out? How will you be on a committee? Could I see having this person over for dinner, and enjoying myself?

This is not a profound point or anything--obviously "fit" has a lot to do with whether or not one gets along with the department on a personal level--but it's much more important than I would've thought coming in. I suspect that it's especially important at colleges like Field, where being a cutting-edge scholar is less important than being able to engage students successfully and contribute towards the College's ongoing development.

Again, not profound. But at the end of my 13-hour day (on campus by 8am; off campus by 9pm), it's all I've got. (And yes, I know that I say "important" three times in the last paragraph, but I'm not going to revise it or anything.)

Dare I say it? : I'm writing!

2011-03-18T09:34:00.002-05:00

For the last two years, it seems like, I've had this research idea bobbling around in my head. I've written an article that's tangentially related to it--actually, the research idea came out of the early stages of the article--and, in September, I gave a conference paper that was intended to push me towards articulating SOMEthing of what I've been thinking about. (Basically, it's the use of a type of image in a type of medieval text; one of the problems has been that I've defined this image so broadly that, at times, I wondered whether I wasn't just making the whole thing up.)

I've also been reading, for the last two years, all sorts of books and articles that might be relevant. Some have been extremely helpful; some have just sent me back into doubt about the existence, relevance, and/or interest of these images.

I've tried, on several occasions, to write up a sort of prospectus or abstract of the "book project" that I claim will come out of this interest. I've even submitted an application for a course release that borrows from these various prospecti.

But the trouble is that I've been spinning. This happens when I just think and don't write: the idea doesn't go anywhere, maybe because I feel like I need to make sure that I don't forget it. Thus: more doubt, more torpor, more pointless thinking and, eventually, exhaustion. Before I'd even got started.

This week is Spring Break, however, and I had decided to start Writing An Article this week. It wasn't looking good over the weekend; in fact, I've spent much of the week getting ridiculously ahead in my courses (I've prepped through next week and read through the week after that, and I also sewed a curtain--which has nothing to do with my courses, but was an accomplishment, nonetheless). But I did sit down on Monday and start sketching in a bit.

I think that I've worked between 30-60 minutes every day this week (meaning Monday-Thursday). Some of that was patching in bits of a conference paper and two different abstracts; I've also copied and pasted notes on articles, revised sections of all of this material, written notes to myself, and pointed out half a dozen places in which I need to elaborate.

And I've got something like 6000 words (22 pages). What the hell? I've hardly even said anything yet. Yet if I were to actually elaborate on all of the "elaborate" notes, I'd have something like 60 pages of an unholy mess of stuff. Could it be that there's something there? As I write (mostly in a stream of consciousness, pre-writing sort of way; and I should perhaps note that I'm a very fast drafter), I'm having new ideas; things are coming together. I think that I've even managed to figure out why this one text counts as a text that uses the image I'm interested in, even though it actually doesn't. Hey! I think that I have a point.

Granted this draft--as you could doubtless gather from the preceding paragraph--sucks mightily, and is truly a disaster of composition. But it's a start, and I really, really needed a start. I like revising--I'm good at it--it's the drafting that's hard. Once the draft is there, I'll have something to work with, and I'll know, more or less, what I need to do.

Hooray!

(Of course, the odds of my getting anything of substance done on this project between March 21 and May whenever-graduation-is-this-year are very, very slim. But at least the summer will start off with a little less random flailing than usual, I hope!)

More News from My Transparent Psyche

2011-03-17T08:56:00.003-05:00

I dreamt last night that my grad advisor had read the recent review of my book. She came to me, looking sorrowful.

"It was pretty good, right?" I said. "I mean, I know that she has some criticisms, but it was good on the whole."

"It was very...polite," she replied. "But if we had caught the errors that it points out in time, you never would have passed your defense."

I was devastated. I tried to rally myself to point out that the reviewer had really liked my chapter on ---, but the skepticism on Advisor's face checked me. And I woke up, wondering whether those little criticisms outweighed all the praise, and why in the world the reviewer would have contacted me if she didn't like the book.

Polite!

Could I have a more literal dream-life??

Fan Mail

2011-03-13T21:07:00.003-05:00

In the last few months, I've received some (slight) correspondence about my book. So far, this correspondence has come from the following places:

a prison
a Bulgarian monastery.

I am pleased to have appealed to such a diversity of audiences.

***********************************

In other news, Spring Break is here, and I am trying to get all my homework done early in the week. The week after break promises to be absolute madness, what with: my regular evening seminar; campus interviews for a new departmental hire; a meeting to decide on candidates for a different search committee; a board meeting of the homeless shelter on whose board I serve as Vice President, our first with our new director; a big-deal public lecture delivered by TM; a faculty meeting that is destined to be of epic length--such things will take up Monday-Thursday. On Friday, the English faculty depart for a conference in City to the North with about 15 students, returning Saturday night. And the week afterward, the search committee that I'm actually on will be holding campus interviews. Thus, I am trying to prep all of my classes for next week, and read ahead for the week following, so that I will not simply DIE.

My plan, originally, was to start drafting an article this week. That would be nice. But...um. I might just need to not die of work. That might be the best of plans.

Aerial View

2011-02-26T21:02:00.003-05:00

It would appear that I still have little to say.

(Actually, I could talk your ear off, but it doesn't mean that any of it's worth saying. Also I'm pretty tired. In blogospheric news, however, I did get to catch up a bit with both Dame Eleanor Hull and The Rebel L this weekend! RL and I even got to celebrate her first night out in living memory. Good times were had.)

A Cat Picture

2011-02-24T21:29:00.001-05:00

Because I've got like nothing to say, evidently.

So there you are.

Friendliness

2011-02-18T18:34:00.005-05:00

Apparently the Field College yearbook does these "superlative" awards for faculty and staff--who knew? They're mostly on things about sports team fan-hood and other stuff for which I wouldn't particularly want to be competitive, but they seem like a nice enough idea.

I know about this because I'm apparently a finalist for one of them--there's been a tie, so they're having a vote-off. I'm in the running for "Most likely to be a friend after graduation."

I surely do think that's sweet (though it must be said that my money is on the other contender.)

And you know, I don't think that my students' thinking of me as having friend potential undermines my authority. I am pretty much positive that my students respect me--and, if they don't, I don't know about it. My classes are difficult and my evaluations very good; many of my students work hard in my courses. I seldom get the sense that anyone is trying to pull one over on me; this is not to say that they never do, but I'm okay with letting the occasional con artist get away with something* if it means that, on the whole, there is trust between me and my students (as well as the peace of mind that comes with not looking for cons).

This is, by the way, a marked change from my first year or so here. I knew that a lot of my students liked me back then, but I knew that a lot didn't--and, more to the point, I felt highly embattled. I did have disrespectful students. They freaked me the hell out. And even when I didn't run into open hostility, I was highly alert to the possibility of disrespect. I think that a lot of this--and a great deal of my stress and unhappiness--came from being afraid of my students. That's a perfectly normal new-teacher feeling, I think, but it doesn't make for a sustainable career.

And now, you know, it's just a pleasure to walk around campus, especially because we're such a small school, and to have to pause every few seconds for a "Hi, Chelsea, how's it going?" or "Lou! Congratulations on the law school admission!" or "Hey, Veronica, you feeling better this week?"

It's nice. It's a community. And, in a weird way, it is precisely my position of relative power and authority (as a professor) that enables me to make all of these fond and dispassionate connections--to be friendly without judgment, as it were. I don't need to assess these people as peers; I merely need to be compassionate, and fair, and courteous, and somehow, that makes me love them.

*We're NOT talking plagiarism here--that's a different issue--and one that I do catch on occasion.

PTSD

2011-02-13T21:50:00.002-05:00

I'm not even on the market and looking at the job search wiki (for like a second--to see whether a job that a friend interviewed for has been filled [it hasn't]) made me feel terrible.

Bleah.

An Impossibility

2011-02-04T09:55:00.002-05:00

Reading a review of one's own work.

I think I'll just let it sit on my desk for a couple of days.

First Review

2011-02-01T13:32:00.002-05:00

I'm filled with JOY this afternoon. And it's only partly because we're having at least 1.5 snow days (starting this afternoon and possibly lasting through Thursday--Wednesday is definitely off). This is the third actual blizzard I'll have witnessed this year--bringing my Grand Lifetime Total up to 4. Ironically, the blizzard is requiring the cancellation of a climate change denier's speech. Heh. Earth doesn't like him.

Anyway. The main reason for my JOY is an email that I've received from one of my Medievalist Heroes. Actually, she is probably my One True Medievalist Hero. Truly a fabulous and awesome scholar. I love her work--it's erudite, compelling, and an actual pleasure to read.

She emailed me because she's reviewing my book...and she likes it! In fact, she's sending me a couple of her own off-prints in the hopes that I'll find them interesting! (By the way, isn't that just a nice thing to do? I'll have to remember it for when I'm big & fancy.)

First of all, it's honestly thrilling for me to have anyone who's a medievalist (i.e. not my mom--whose first words about the book, by the way, were, "I don't mean to be critical, but there were a lot of typos," so maybe she's not the best counterpoint here) actually think that my work is legitimately good. But to have such a medievalist say so--well! I might just need to dance around the living room to "Come on Eileen." Too ra loo ra loo indeed!

A Valentine's Convergence

2011-01-27T22:27:00.002-05:00

I'm teaching a seminar on Monday nights this semester. The other day, I realized that this meant that I'll be teaching on the night of Valentine's Day. "Well, that's kind of too bad," I thought idly. I don't care deeply about Valentine's Day, but some students might care, a bit, and anyway, it could be an excuse for some candy. So I reflected further: "I should do something fun in class that day to commemorate it. But what?

"It should have something to do with what I'm teaching. Perhaps I'm teaching a love vision, or something. Hey, what am I teaching that night, anyway?" I asked myself.

I checked. And...lo! The Parliament of Fowls!

How weird is that, eh?

If you're not a medievalist, I'll tell you: The Parliament of Fowls contains the first known English reference to Valentine's Day. HOW WEIRD IS THAT????

Also, I consider that in itself to be sufficiently celebratory, which means that I'm off the hook for bringing candy. Sweet!

Tired of being COLD

2011-01-25T09:30:00.003-05:00

We're five days into the semester and it's going swimmingly. Quite swimmingly, in fact. Classes are good. I'm enjoying myself. There are interesting things going on at the college (we're hiring! three people!!). So that's all very nice.

But the heat in our office suite has been out for TWO WEEKS--the furnace is busted--and we're all using space heaters that blow fuses on a regular basis, which means that the chair and I need to take turns heating our offices. And unless I actually set my heater on my desk, the surface of my desk, the mouse, and the keyboard remain very chilly. This little feature of my workday, combined with the fact that TM and I never, ever heat our house above 64 degrees, means that my fingers and the tip of my nose (and sometimes my legs, shoulders, neck, arms, etc.) are NEVER WARM.

DUDE. I am TIRED of being COLD.

(Our furnace should be functional by the end of the day tomorrow. Here's hoping.)

Shop in Haste?

2011-01-20T12:11:00.007-05:00

I just ordered a bunch of stuff from here. I didn't mean to order as much as I did. But every time I checked my shopping bag, something else was out of stock, so I finally hit "check-out" in a panic, and now I'm hoping that I don't live to regret the almost-$250 I just dropped (in my book, that's a lot to spend on clothes).

On the other hand, we bought our house in haste, and it is a delightful treasure! --And with that ever-so-natural segue, I shall finally (FINALLY) put up the rest of my house pictures, since I'm sure you've been dying to see them.

The kitchen:

(With skylights!)

The bedroom:

The basement (not terribly exciting, but it is mostly finished):

The wine cellar:

And...the bathroom. Admire! Admire! This sucker took me like a WEEK to paint.

Note the Gothic cathedral theme: gold stars on a dark blue ceiling, corners that are suggestive of a dome, a gargoyle, the candle-holder. Here's the power switch (I cut out God to make room for the switches):

And here are some little pictures I put up (I paid $0.60 for all four frames, and the images came from medieval conference CFPs and catalogues). What puzzles me is that people always tell us how cute our bathroom is; apparently they haven't noticed the bleeding Christ or the suicidal woman.

Funnily enough, we are daily tormented by a cardinal who is determined to fly through the window of the bathroom. As TM remarked, "It stands to reason that the cardinal would seek entry into the Gothic cathedral, no?"

New Year, New Feeling

2011-01-18T13:33:00.002-05:00

Well, this is different.

My first year of teaching, I started every semester--nay, every day--quaking with dread. Okay, that's an exaggeration--but a really slight one, honestly. I feared teaching. I looked forward to its end. Sometimes, during class itself, I liked it all right...but I inwardly rejoiced at the end of every hour, every week, every semester.

That's no way to live a life, right? Just waiting for it to end?

As it happened--and as typically happens, and as I expected to happen--the dread and the fear diminished with time. In my second year, I noticed that I did not actively dread each class; I even seemed less sweaty. By last year (my third), there was little or no anxiety most of the time; I no longer feverishly reread my notes right up until class time, and I had figured out that just being, you know, a mostly-normal person in class, one who talks to students and pauses and makes jokes and whatnot, made teaching feel almost natural. This year, I'm feeling even more at my ease, and I like getting to know my students and interacting with them in class (for the most part).

Today was our first day back; I just had one class, at 9:30. I wasn't nervous (not consciously; my body does persist in having some first-day-nervous-symptoms, but I don't actually feel it in my brain, which is where it counts) (if that makes any sense) (okay, to give you an example, at one point I just kept dropping the caps of dry-erase markers on the floor, and I noticed that my hands had a little shake to them, which surprised me, because I didn't feel nervous. That's what I mean) (I also like completely lost my voice about 10 minutes in to class--which is something that I think happens in the first class of every semester, now that I think about it! I'm going to need to start carrying water on Day 1) (and I'm going to end this sentence now because it's way too long).

(Let's start again.)

I wasn't consciously nervous (how's that?), but neither was I, like, thrilled to be back in the swing of things. When people say that they're eager to get back intp the classroom, I don't really know what they're talking about--as much as I like my job, I would always rather be able to stay home and read some interesting books than to have to go someplace, and be prepared, and talk, you know? But today, about 20 minutes into the class, I realized that I was having fun.

And even when I first walked in, I said "Good morning!" with more real enthusiasm than I think I usually do. And I was happy to see the students whom I've had before.

And, as I was leaving class and a new class was filing in, several of the students in the new class waved and greeted me cheerily. One did pretty miserably in my class last year--but it was good to see her. I felt...happy.

So, um. This probably makes it sound like I'm normally a miserable wretch who hates teaching; such is not the case. Teaching is pretty fun. But, again, I'd always rather be on vacation. But today? For a little while? I was happy to be back in the classroom.

How freaking weird is that?

THERE. That wasn't so hard, was it?

2011-01-16T20:45:00.001-05:00

You know how, when you have one paper to grade, it's like the most difficult thing in the world?

Well. I've had a paper (fulfilling a well-deserved Incomplete) sitting on my desk since I got back from my holiday travels--that is, for 16 days--and I just couldn't bring myself to deal with it.

The worst [or best?] of it is, I knew that it was going to be an excellent paper. It was from my upper-division seminar, by an excellent student, and I'd seen a draft (which was quite good). There was no question; it was going to get an A.

But I dawdled.

And dawdled.

And, since classes don't begin until Tuesday, had very little incentive to grade it (other than to finally cross it off my list of things to do).

So, tonight, finally, I made myself do it--in part because I spent the early part of the evening clearing miscellaneous papers off of my desk (this is my home desk, mind) and it felt good, so I wanted to get this thing off, too.

And yes, it was an excellent paper. It got an A. And it took me all of 15 minutes. And it was an interesting paper that I actually enjoyed reading.

So what in the world is my problem, anyway?

I think that we need to resurrect this old picture:

--lest I forget who and what I am.

Happy new year!

2011-01-01T10:06:00.005-05:00

We are home, home, home! It is exquisite.

We got back at around noon yesterday--after an all-day drive on Thursday, a little dinner party and an overnight in City to the North, and then a mere 2.5 hours of driving yesterday. It's good to be here--everything is exactly where it ought to be. Both TM's parents and my mother are not...um, like us (or, especially, me) when it comes to housekeeping and home arrangement. TM's folks just have loads of stuff--stacks of magazines and books and papers, boxes and boxes of crackers or whatever--stashed around the house (not like hoarders, but like people who don't get rid of stuff--there's a difference, really), and my mom is an artist whose dense, dark, creepy little collages sort of expand out to fill the entire house. Her house is very interesting, but it's also a complete mess and drives me a bit crazy. We, on the other hand, are all about the open space and the findability of objects and light coming in through the windows and whatnot. I love our house.

New Year's Eve was a very quiet affair. We're both still recovering from the Most Enduring Colds Ever, and were also rather tired; thus, we spent the early afternoon having a Family Nap with the cats in the guest room (they're not allowed in the bedroom). In the evening, after dinner, we watched a couple of episodes of "The Office," ate chocolate cake, and were in bed before 11. Hurrah! I despise watching the ball drop (which we, being sans TV, couldn't really do anyway) and find New Year's generally overrated; since not a one of the parties that I've been to in Field Town has lasted past 10:15, I couldn't imagine that even a party would make it to midnight. Besides, there weren't any parties. So it was quite lovely to go to sleep and wake up at a reasonable hour, very rested, on New Year's day.

So today, I shall do the following, in an effort to a) get back on track with some stuff after the long trip and b) start the year off in a constructive fashion: 1) practice yoga at some point, and 2) work on an article proposal. Perhaps I shall also knit. And I need to walk down to the office to pick up an article. Oh, and I need to make granola.

Resolutions? I have two. One is to get my yoga practice in order. I subscribe to this online thing where I get streaming yoga videos for a very reasonable price, and I need to just do one of them every couple of days. That's all. The second resolution actually comes out of that reverb10 thing where people had to come up with a word that they wanted to define 2011. It made me think about how quick we are to think about resolutions in terms of improving our own lives--but maybe it'd be good (at least for me) to think outside of my own comfort? So the word/resolution that I thought of was "Kindness." I'm going to try to be kinder, just in general. Not that I'm horrible as-is, but I can be selfish, and impatient, and surely my comments on students' papers could be less sarcastic now and again. Thus, resolution no. 2.

I shall conclude this post with pictures of the guest room, which is where we napped yesterday. Enjoy!

Bad blogger with good excuses

2010-12-24T09:22:00.002-05:00

Yeah, I know, house pictures, etc. Whatever. After my last post I was hit with some kind of ghastly stomach bug that knocked me out for a couple of days (I spent two days in bed--I don't think that I've ever done that before), and then that was followed up with a cold that primarily attacked my throat and voice. Now I'm in Momtown, after a couple of Internet-less days in TMville, and my voice might be starting to come back--it hasn't been normal since Sunday.

Despite all that, things are good! The cold has been more annoying than debilitating, as I've actually felt fine since about Tuesday. My energy level is even getting back up to normal; I lost eight pounds over the weekend (vomiting and loss of appetite'll do that to you!), and my body is taking a little while to fully recover. But that just means that I get to eat extra seven-layer bars at Christmas.

Happy holidays, everyone!

House, Part II

2010-12-16T18:59:00.006-05:00

For some reason I had a really hard time photographing these rooms successfully. Well, you get the idea. Here's the dining room:

Like the living room, it has three south-facing windows. Since these pictures were taken, TM resurrected the French doors from our attic and put them back up in the doorway between the living and the dining rooms; they're quite lovely!

And we put our Icon in the phone alcove next to the kitchen door:

For reasons I won't get into (= not very interesting, but complicated), I am really tired and need a shower. Thus, that's it for today.

House, Part I

2010-12-13T20:46:00.014-05:00

So the house pictures are going to have to come in phases, I'm afraid--a) because I have so very many of them (lucky you!) and b) because it's the only way to get me to post more than once a month, apparently.

All the pictures have been imported AND reduced to a manageable size, though, so I have no further excuses! Here goes.

Up for today: The Outside of the House and the Living Room.

1) Outside. Here is what my house looks like.

Isn't it darling? Isn't it sweet? Doesn't it have a striking front porch? (Ignore the aluminum siding, please.) Our little bungalow was built in 1900 and, in the '30s and '40s, was a grocery store/coffee shop. This means that it's almost certain that Field's Most Famous Alumnus drank coffee in our house at some point. This seems impressive, but for the fact that our offices are also in the building where he used to have swim practice or something. Anyway. I don't like FMFA anyway, so we can all just get over this bit of trivia.

2) The Living Room. The living room comes in many parts. First, the light:

The room faces South and West, so that's the sunset through our almost-brand-new windows.

Cats enjoy the view.

I love the light in this house. The living room, dining room, and kitchen all face South, so the light just glows across the hardwood floors all day. The windows all seem to come in twos and threes, too, so there's a wonderful feeling of openness in every room.

The living room is so big that we decided to have it house our desks as well as our "social furniture," and there's still plenty of space:

We just got the couch--which dates from the '20s--off of Craig's List at quite a good bargain. Despite appearances, the velvet is all the same color (there's some weird reflection thing going on in this picture).

Of course, there are also fabulous built-in bookcases, and yes, the fireplace works. (We're waiting on a framer to finish with the piece of art that will go behind the mantel clock.)

And while we're in the living room, take a look at the Morris Chair we just found and had reupholstered:

What really sold us on it were these guys:

We've named them after (very obscure) Arthurian knights from Malory. Ten points to anyone who can guess what they are! Also, check out those vents--the cats love them (hence the cat bed in front of this one). Next time, when we're in the dining room, I'll show you the cats' favored sleeping-place.

And I'll leave you with the view from the living room into the dining room. We painted both of these rooms (as well as both bedrooms and the bathroom); the walls in both of these two rooms were originally white with brown-beige sponge painting. Not particularly attractive.

Pardon me while I bask in the beauty of my home....

Snow festival!

2010-12-12T13:37:00.002-05:00

It is a Snow Festival around here, folks. A veritable Carnival of Wintry Precipitation! On top of the 6 inches we got last week (which melted a bit in yesterday's torrential [rain] downpour), we now have lots more snow with 25 mph winds, which may or may not qualify as "blizzard conditions." It's very cozy to be in our new house (pictures are finally taken; soon they'll even be downloaded!) with the very big, new, airtight windows and watch the snow fall. HOWEVER, we need to spend the afternoon cleaning the old house. Alas.

The real reason for this post is to signal my re-entry into the blogging world (I've been away for almost a month! It feels like quite a bit longer, actually). So: Hello there!

No Pictures of the House Yet

2010-11-18T09:31:00.002-05:00

But between the Wife of Bath and "Batter my heart, three-personed God," my Brit Lit survey has become an apologia for domestic violence.

(I actually prefaced my concluding comments last week with, "Ignore the justification for domestic abuse that is about to come out of my mouth." And, when a student said, "But I just don't like the idea of it; I wouldn't want to be raped by God," I at least had the wherewithal to add, "Good! I don't want you to want that.")

OMG paint. PAINT!

2010-11-15T22:14:00.002-05:00

I've been painting walls.

Five rooms down. One to go.

We move in less than two weeks.

!!!!!!!!!!!

In related news, I now have the coolest bathroom EVER. Gothic cathedral theme, anyone?

(Apologies for incoherence. Once we've actually moved in--LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!!!--there will be pictures. And someday I might have a thought in my head again; right now, all I yearn for is an end to classes and an end to painting.)

(I do miss blogging, I think. There will be more of it in the future.)

On Money--or, rather, not

2010-10-29T18:37:00.003-05:00

I can't write about money and higher ed.

I've been trying to post--here, and in a comment to squadratomagico's post--and I'm too afraid of incurring displeasure, I guess. I keep deleting.

But I'm going to bite the bullet and tell you why I appreciated squadratomagico's post, in which she states that she is not going to fight for a higher salary because a) she's happy with what she has and b) it would be pointless and dull (and some other, better stated reasons; you should read her post; I have not represented it very well).

Anyway. Here's what I started to write in the comments:

I make less than 40% of the salary that started the conversation ($43k, if you're interested-and I'm a fourth-year tenure-track assistant professor with a book, loads of service experience, and excellent teaching evaluations). Reading the discussion at TR's made me feel...well, to be frank, much worse about my income and generally resentful of pretty much everybody who makes more than I do. In fact, I couldn't get through the post/comments, it produced such negative feelings. Some of that's definitely my baggage; I feel deeply embarrassed about my salary when I hear what other people make, and angry that it's so little, although I know that Field couldn't pay me more right now (in fact, I just got a raise). But I do feel humiliated, and resentful, and--even though I know that this isn't the point (I know it! Don't remind me! I'm a petty bitch!)--a little pissed off that people who make so much more than I do trivialize their salaries.

That's not exactly a productive feeling, especially because I, like squadrato, enjoy a perfectly comfortable and pleasant life that is not visibly lacking in anything that money could buy. I work my ass off, it's true, but I genuinely like my job, and I'd still be working my ass off if I were making twice as much. Of course there are inequities, and combating inequity is laudable--but dude, *my* middle-class life is not exactly heart-wrenching--and yet, again, I make much less than that initial salary, and nearly all of the salaries mentioned in the comments.

I don't mean to suggest that everyone should just shut up and deal...but, well, I don't know. I don't think that faculty making over, say, $80,000 (unless they live in certain very expensive areas of the country) are necessarily hurting? --I'm kind of terrified of posting this, though, for fear of pissing everybody off. But...gah. Okay. Let's change direction. I can't change my salary (short of getting a new job). I can't. So do I compare upwards (and forget doctors and lawyers--that's waaay out of my league, and by the way, they have LOADS more debt than I do and are on call 12 months out of the year), or do I enjoy my actual situation as it actually is, rather than thinking about what it could be?

Hell, when it comes down to it, I would gladly take a course release over a raise--time is quite a bit more valuable, in the end. I'd much prefer hiring more faculty (instead of adjuncts), keeping our salaries the same, and moving to a 3/3!

(I am not at all talking about adjuncts or postdocs with $22k salaries, by the way. Just the privileged tenure-trackers. To be clear. In fact, maybe I'm only talking about myself.)

All righty--before I delete this or edit it into oblivion, here I go. Don't hate me.

Worst blogger ever?

2010-10-19T22:17:00.001-05:00

Just a quick Hello, I'm Still Breathing post. Sorry about the blog silence. I've been pretty busy (who hasn't?) and avoiding the Internet, to some extent, when I'm home. It's nice. On the other hand, it means that I never blog.

Well, to be honest, there are no great and grand updates in my life; mainly I've just been deciding not to long on here and whine about how I'm sooooo busy etc. etc. I do that out loud, to everyone who listens, so I am filling my whine quota, even if you don't see it--never fear. Classes are fine but overly abundant; the house stuff progresses apace (we're just waiting to close in 2.5 weeks--oh, and we need to get homeowner's insurance); I have done no research whatsoever this semester, despite attending a fantastic conference (see "overly abundant," above); the weather's finally getting colder; the cats are exactly who and what they are. And now, it's time for bed.

How are you?

Feminism in the Fields

2010-10-03T21:54:00.004-05:00

Dulles terminal (1)

I've not been online much lately, other than for work-related emails. I do occasionally read y'all's blogs, but haven't even been doing much of that, to be honest. Here's the thing: I had bloglines bookmarked on my work computer. I have now switched to Google Reader (which I like less, but eh, who cares), and have not bookmarked it on my work computer. Lo! I spend a lot less time reading blog posts, and correspondingly less time writing them.

Although I would dearly love to muck around on blogs while I'm in the office, I think I'm going to maintain the current system for as long as I can stand to do so.

What I need to post about, really, is the whole committing-to-Field-for-real-at-least-for-now thing that buying a house seems to entail, but right now I'd like to just say a few words about teaching a course in feminist theory at a small college in the middle of the most conservative county in midwestern Field State.

It's weird.

First, a bit of context: My feminism seminar is required for senior English literature majors. OK, feminism per se isn't required for them, but we have a senior capstone course with a changing topic, and I have taught it for the last three years (and will continue to teach it until we either get a new hire or I decide that I don't want to teach it again and find someone else with the room to pick it up--hooray! I love this course). In the past, I've done gender in medieval literature and literature and technology (from manuscript to the digital age, essentially--I'm trying not to use my real course titles), and this year it's feminism. So the thing is, most students don't get a choice: They take what I offer in the year that they're up.

For the most part, feminism isn't a problem for this year's batch. We have five senior English (literature) majors this year who are required to take the class, and then two English (writing) majors and a literature minor who are taking it either because they need another literature seminar or because they just wanted to take it. All of them are seniors. And, of the eight, seven are apparently digging it (even though one is a little hung up on the whole thing of not saying she's a feminist because of all the mean feminists, despite the fact that she is SO A FEMINIST oh my god, she just needs to own it, seriously). Oh, and all of them are women, which was pure coincidence but probably does affect the course content (I had to talk about clitoral pleasure the other day, for example; I would have done so with men in the room, of course, but I can't pretend that the audience doesn't make a difference).

But there's one student about whom I worry. She's lovely--wicked smart and sweet, and about the hippest dresser on campus (I love her style). She writes beautifully, is kind and conscientious, and is a generally delightful person. And she is very religious, and quite conservative. And, oh yeah, shy--I think that, in the 2.5 semesters that I've had her, she has voluntarily spoken in class once.

I know from her response papers that the material in this course is problematic for her. She writes thoughtfully and well, but poses questions like, "Is the patriarchy really such a bad thing?" This, of course, from a bright, strong young woman (and she is strong, even if she's quiet). And she never says a word in class unless I call on her directly.

The other day I had her in my office for a different reason and took the opportunity to talk to her a bit about the course. I figure that this is the most I can do right now: I told her that I appreciated her comments, that she's not obligated to agree with everything (or anything) that we read in class, that she is welcome to push against them and measure them against her own views, and that she should know that she's not the only one who finds some of the readings troubling. In class, I try to present her point of view whenever I can (since she doesn't speak and I don't feel that it would be right, in this case, to single her out to voice her view--particularly because some of her objections are on putatively religious grounds).

It's hard. I worry about her when I prep.

And it makes me hyper aware of how much I do embrace feminist theory, even though some of it is, in fact, a little divorced from reality (ecriture feminine, I'm looking at you), and how hard it is to feign neutral objectivity when presenting material with which I am on board to a group of students who are--all but one--vocally in agreement with me on at least a majority of points.

Still, it could have been worse. English majors, at least, tend to skew progressive, whatever their professed political beliefs.

Briefly, I am not behind

2010-09-26T19:56:00.003-05:00

Dulles airport shuttle

It's funny how a week's worth of canceled classes can give you just a little edge. But only a little edge. I'm prepping for Tuesday morning's class right now, and that's as far ahead as I expect to get.

Of course, I'm punishing myself (and my students) for my conference by having assignments due in every one of my classes. Yep, I'll be collecting upwards of 100 papers and other miscellaneous thingamabobs over the next two days. This now seems like an appallingly terrible idea. What was I thinking?

But the conference was good. Coming home was good. The house inspector's report was good. Life, in general, is good. Mmmm.

--I am in fact terrifically excited about moving to our new house, even though that won't happen for at least two months. It is so cute! A little 1300-square-foot bungalow built around 1900, with a front porch and a back deck and a separate garage. Hardwood floors in every room (except for the finished basement room, but I can live with that). A working fireplace. Built-ins in the living room and the hall. A breakfast nook (tentatively renamed the Annex) with skylights. A retractable clothesline! Oh wonders. And it's a--yes, I timed it--2.5-minute walk to the office. Hurrah! And it'll be quiet, unlike our current Main Street address!

What's nice is that every time we tell a Field Townian which house it is that we bought, he or she says, "Oh, that one? The one on the corner, with the porch? That's such a cute house!" A few of them even remarked that, when they saw that it was for sale, they were tempted to take a look. It's all very affirming.

What's funny about Field Town is that it's--well, it's a small town. I guess this isn't funny if you're used to it. But to us East Coastal urbanites, it's quite strange how every single person volunteers some history of the house. "The college librarian lived there in the 90s." "That house held a grocery store when I was a little girl" (this from one of the oldest people we know here). "Didn't so-and-so do some work on that place a while back?" "You mean the old Whosits' place, right?"

It's all very charming. And exciting. And kind of scary, for this means that, lo, we're committing--to some extent--to Field Town and Field College. Yikes.

Where's Heu?

2010-09-20T14:31:00.002-05:00

Tucked away in a remote corner of Europe, in an austere but comfortable hotel room. Knitting.

Conference is going well. Paper went well. I actually got questions and discussion, which doesn't usually seem to happen for me; people even came up to me afterwards with further questions and comments. But the mark of true success? When a fancy person had a question, and I answered it, but sensed that he wasn't convinced--so, at the coffee hour, I went up to him (a first for me--success 1) and started talking. I think he's still not convinced, but I am perfectly fine with that (confidence, of a sort--success 2), and we had a perfectly lovely conversation about this and that (comfortable collegiality with a person who just might intimidate me--success 3). I'm pleased.

And tired. I've convinced myself that I'm not jetlagged, but that's probably false. Off I go to bed.

Whiny whiny whine whine

2010-09-14T22:07:00.004-05:00

Denver airport.

I know that I can't complain too much of fatigue, not having twin babies or anything, but dude, I am tired, for reals.

This semester is unusually...involved. That fifth class, despite being only one credit-hour, is awfully time-consuming. Plus I've made all my courses really complicated (response papers! daily quizzes! words/concepts of the day! collecting homework! blah blah blah!), so there's a lot of paper shifting in and out of my hands on a regular basis. Plus we have a record number of Honors students, which means a record number of individual appointments and advisee management and whatnot.

And there's, you know, this unexpected house thing, which it turns out will take some time. We don't close until November, but early Thursday morning we need to meet with the banker to get our loan approved, and then there's the inspection, etc. So, you know. Tired.

And I'm leaving for Scandinavia on Friday, so there's that.

Anyway, I don't really have much to write about here--well, I do, about a minor course-related puzzle, but I'm too tired to do it and it's hardly urgent. So this post is primarily intended to provide an excuse for the carpet picture above. Enjoy the little rectangles of colorful wonderment!

Nothing in my life is realistic

2010-09-13T20:17:00.002-05:00

Country club in Doylestown, PA.

Last Friday, my book came out.

On Saturday, we square danced all over our colleague's deck. (It was a blast.) Then we drank Tennessee moonshine and swam in her lap pool till late.

This Friday, I fly to a remote Scandinavian country for a conference. I'll be gone for a week.

And today? Today we apparently bought a house. Or at least had an offer for a house accepted.

It was a bit of a lark, in fact, to look at the house on Saturday morning. The realtor told us that an offer had already been made. We liked the house--a lot--and it was priced really well (details in a later post; we've got time, here). So we made an offer on Sunday night. And today, it was accepted.

This is all quite strange. What's going on?

On the other hand, all of this stuff is really really good.

Announcement

2010-09-13T10:22:00.001-05:00

Readers of Maude:

Her new blog can be found here.

Enjoy!

(Posted by request of Dr. Maude.)

Today

2010-09-10T16:53:00.002-05:00

Las Vegas airport (5).

I held my very own, first published book in my hands.

I smelled it.

And it was good.

(And I think that I'm now done with the Vegas pictures, which is also good.)

(OH! And as we speak, TM is being addressed by two young missionaries out in the driveway. Hee hee! I shall hide indoors, watch through the window with the cat, and anticipate his account of it. A good day all around.)

How Times Change

2010-09-09T20:31:00.002-05:00

Las Vegas airport (4).

Tomorrow night my husband and I will be dining at our minister's home.

No part of that sentence would have made sense three years ago.

I do sometimes enjoy imagining what my fourteen-year-old self would make of my current life--and have imagined this since I was eighteen or so, so that younger me has had a lot of shocks over the years. Now, of course, I have dozens of younger selves onto which I could project an impression of my present life, but for some reason fourteen remains the magic number. It probably has something to do with puberty, no? That terribly awkward switch between childhood and existing as some new kind of creature, a "woman"?

Oh, them were tricky years, them were.

When you don't really see your students

2010-09-08T19:23:00.002-05:00

Las Vegas airport (3)

You know how, sometimes, you're looking at a student in class and listening to what she's saying, and then you realize that you're not really listening at all? And yet you're doing all the nodding and eye-widening and everything else that goes into managing a class discussion?

And you know how, sometimes, your eyes cease to focus at all? Sometimes you can't even make your eyes focus, which is a little troubling--with the result that you start thinking more about how there should really only be one Cody instead of three than about what Cody is actually saying.

(No offense to Cody. I find that this is more typically the result of fatigue than it is the result of anything that Cody may be saying.)

Well, I can do you one better.

Last year, I had a student in Comp named (for the sake of argument) Susan. Susan was a hard-working but fundamentally unprepared young woman who struggled quite a bit with the basics of writing--her papers had a lot of grammatical errors and tended to be rather ponderous, heaving along without ever saying very much. But Susan was conscientious about meeting with me to talk about her work.

One day, I was headed over to my office for a meeting with Susan. It was very bright and sunny out, and--a propos of nothing, of course--I had just started taking a new heart regulator (this was prior to my surgery--I'm no longer on any meds). I stopped in at the mailroom first; the building that it was in was dark compared to the brightness of the day outside, so I wasn't too surprised when, as I looked at an envelope from my mailbox, I saw one of those little squiggly sunspots that you sometimes get when you've been looking at a bright light.

I went back outside and entered my building. The sunspots were still there, but whatever--they happen.

Susan is waiting for me, and we enter my office. She sits down opposite me. I'm having trouble seeing her clearly, what with the sunspots and all, but they'll pass, right? She gives me her paper and I start to look at it.

[I just noticed that I've just switched to the present tense, but fixing it would be such a bother. Please bear with me--it's been a long day!]

Something is wrong. The sunspots are growing and seem sort of...striped? In a vibrating, zig-zag way? It's hard to describe. I'm having a tough time reading her paper. I look at Susan, and I can't see her face.

Now, despite the fact that this is something I've never experienced before, I don't actually panic, because my mother gets ocular migraines pretty frequently and has described them well enough that I can immediately identify what's happening. I know that it should pass in about twenty minutes, and there's no discomfort--but it's so weird; it's like my brain isn't registering anything where her face is. It's a gap, a hole, a shimmery...deflection. Susan is talking about her paper; I listen to her, sort of, but I'm also pretty preoccupied with marvelling over the nothing that is where her face should be. I can see her hair; I can see everything else--at least, in my peripheral vision; wherever my eyes focus, there is nothing. Just a...lack, a lack that is also somehow full of vibrating light.

I look back at the paper. Obviously I can't read it. Well, I mean, I can read the words at the edges of the pages, but only where my eyes aren't focusing. I can't read the middle of any lines. I can't read where I'm looking.

Clearly, what I should have done at this point was to tell Susan that I was experiencing a bizarre neurological phenomenon and could she please come back in fifteen minutes. I should have said, "Although I appear to be completely normal and am, in fact, entirely calm, I can no longer see your face nor can I read. But I'll be fine in a quarter of an hour, so can you hang on until then?" But it seemed so preposterous and above all alarming that of course I said nothing and somehow managed to piece together enough of a sense of the paper out of the corners of my eyes (which is really hard, if you've never tried it) to give her some kind of advice (God knows what I said) and send her on her way.

The ocular migraine passed in a predicatable fashion, and I was fine.

I then promptly called the doctor and he changed my prescription.

(It really is a coincidence that the carpet looks like some kind of crazy eye.)

Yikes! I am really bad at this daily-posting thing.

2010-09-07T22:02:00.002-05:00

Las Vegas airport (2).

I almost forgot. Egads! And here I am, with about a hundred things that I could write about (e.g. the horrible, unpleasant, necessary task of discussing pressing social issues with first-year students. Why is it that, of 18 papers, 15 of which are totally right-on, I'm-learning-so-much and this-is-really-making-me-think, the ONLY ones that stick with me are the hysterical screeds? and that these make me feel ill and want to run away from teaching altogether? Feh. Clearly some of this is my own issues. And no, this is not in Comp, where we do not talk about anything topical. Ever. No, we discuss summarizing. A lot. Forever), and yet I am exhausted. Dude, this semester is killing me, and it's only day 9. Siiiiigh.

In the meantime, the second in the Las Vegas series. Talk about Yikes.

Brush your damn teeth

2010-09-06T20:41:00.003-05:00

Las Vegas airport (1)

I tried a few new things this summer. New-old things. The first was meditating; as I said, I'm keeping this up into the school year, as far as I can.

The second was to take my diary more seriously. I chose this goal rather than the grander one of writing, say, a page a day; basically I wanted (and want) to have a diary that says more than "Long day I'm tired" and that actually describes or discusses at least one small thing every day (or so).

I've kept a diary regularly since I was fourteen, so--wow, about exactly twenty years now. In my youth, I wrote nearly every day, and often at length; once I started having relationships in which I didn't sleep alone in my bed every night, that regularity weakened. I still wrote often, but not daily, and occasionally a week would pass (and still passes) in which I wrote/write nothing. I don't usually reread my diaries, although I do consult them now and again, so detail and a thrilling narrative aren't exactly important. But I decided early this summer that "taking my diary seriously" meant giving serious space--if not daily, at least often--to reflection and absorption. So that's a thing that I'm doing.

A week or so ago, I came up with a new one: When I brush my teeth, I am to brush my teeth. That's it.

That sounds silly, I know. The thing is, I started noticing how the instant I had the toothbrush in my mouth I would start rushing around and doing something--turning on (or off) my computer, checking my email, straightening up the cushions on the couch, whatever. This was not only weird, but it was hard on my toothbrush: if I got absorbed in an email, say, I would find myself absently gnawing on the bristles whilst contemplating a response. And then the toothpaste might start to...manifest itself--it was gross, and weird, and honestly, I am not losing productivity by taking a freaking minute to brush my damn teeth. Besides, can I not relax and just do a thing now and again? Why must I let myself be so constantly distracted?

So that's the latest resolution. When I brush my teeth, I stare at myself in the mirror and brush my teeth. If a cat is in the room, I am allowed to pet the cat (and even to sit on the edge of the tub and place her on my knee, if I like)--but that's it.

Just brush your damn teeth. The world moves fast enough on its own.

Sorry I missed yesterday. And now, I am sick.

2010-09-05T19:07:00.004-05:00

National Airport (in DC), which I refuse to call Reagan.

Or, if not sick, then beset by wicked allergies. Either way, I am a sniffly, fatigued mess.

I have, however, managed to get a lot of course reading done, and tomorrow I intend to grade and prep, so as to have a reasonably okay week, despite the whirlwind of student conferences I have scheduled.

OK. I'm going to go sniffle myself away now.

This is about all I have in me at the moment

2010-09-03T20:58:00.002-05:00

Logan International (Boston).

I am very, very tired this evening. The three-day weekend will be a positive balm.

Posting of light substance to resume tomorrow.

Little Brothers

2010-09-02T19:59:00.005-05:00

Image: Carpet at Atlanta airport. I've never visited Atlanta, but I've been laid over there on more than one occasion.

I have come to identify a particular type of male student, whom I call the Little Brothers. Does anyone else have Little Brothers? I don't really see any of my female students as Little Sisters, but perhaps that's because I have a little brother and not a sister, and the Little Brothers certainly remind me of my brother, who will always be little to me.

I love Little Brothers. I really do.

Here's what a Little Brother is, for me:

He is plainly young. Not the fresh-faced, can-you-possibly-be-older-than-sixteen? kind of young that occasionally passes through my composition door, but young in a gawky adolescent way.
He is awkward. Smooth-talkers and the super-confident are never Little Brothers. I also don't think that I've ever had a serious athlete as a Little Brother; those guys are a little too comfortable in their bodies to fit. Sometimes they also have bad skin. They might dress a little strangely, and I imagine that their rooms smell a bit like socks.
He has certain distinct physical characteristics: a bony face, usually with pronounced cheekbones, and hair that's either distinctly long or just in need of a trim. This is definitely a legacy of my own little brother, who still has a very pronounced bone structure (and really long hair).
He is not the best student in the class, but he tries. The examples I'm thinking of also come (or came) to my office hours more than average.
We don't actually have a particularly strong rapport, but it seems clear (sometimes just by the more frequent office-hour visits) that he trusts me and perhaps likes me, in a totally non-creepy, perfectly appropriate sort of way.

The Little Brothers aren't big-time fans; they typically aren't majors, and sometimes I don't see them much after Comp (which is where I seem to meet most of them). But when they're sitting in my office, talking over a question about one of their papers, I feel such a tenderness towards them and a desire for them to have a nice life--well, it's almost like pity, my compassion for these guys. I don't think that they deserve these feelings any more than my other students--in fact, put that way, they certainly don't; all of my students are entitled to my well-wishing (until I have a real reason to withdraw it), right?

But that's no reason to diminish my compassion for the Little Brothers, especially because there are other types of student--mostly first-years, who are so much more on the surface and young than upperclassmen--who tug at my heartstrings for different reasons. I think that perhaps I shall attempt to articulate a highly subjective typology.

(And yes, I'm aware that this makes me sound like a Universal Mother sort of professor. I'm not that, I don't think--but I do inhabit a rather nurturing role with my students, and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't because I'm a good feminist and that's playing to stereotype. But fuck it--I'm comfortable encouraging and nurturing and getting along with my students, and it makes my days so much better than being all exacting and harsh, especially given how much time I spend with students. Plus, the latter is very much not the culture at Field, for men or women.)

What about you? Do you perceive your students within your own set of arbitrarily defined categories that make you love them even without knowing much about them? (And let's focus on the positive, here--no fair trouncing whole groups, which is also a lot less interesting, I think.)

Here's a funny hobby

2010-09-01T21:45:00.006-05:00

I take photographs of ugly carpets.

Particularly airport carpets.

Because I've been such a lame blogger, I'm going to post my collection of ugly carpet pictures here, perhaps (if I'm very good) doing one a day (but don't count on it; I promise nothing). And maybe this will get me to actually write about something interesting? If it doesn't, then at least I'll know that I've cluttered up your feeder a little bit.

So, first, here is the carpet of Paris' Charles de Gaulle. It's actually one of the cooler ones in my collection--perhaps not even ugly at all? You decide! It's a Choose-Your-Own Aesthetic!

Now, for something possibly less boring.

Perhaps you're wondering why I get up at 5:30 for an 8 am class, when I live about a 7-minute walk from my office?

Well, as I may have mentioned previously, I started meditating in the mornings this summer. While my half-hour of sitting every day is largely taken up with daydreaming and planning things, I do occasionally manage to observe my thoughts as thoughts, to recognize their unreality, to witness the discursive action of my mind and to briefly break out of an identification of that action as myself. Briefly, for a moment here and there.

And I think that I've been happier. Calmer. Able to see more clearly.

Now, of course, this was summer, so there might have been other explanations for the calm and happy. But I don't want to stop this practice, not now when I've finally--finally! After years of intentions!--managed to establish it. So I'm waking up early enough to get my sit in before heading off to class. And, on MWF, this means getting up at 5:30: I shower first, then sit while TM showers or reads, then we eat breakfast and make the bed and whatnot from 6:30-7:00, and I'm in the office by 7:10--plenty of time to put together last-minute handouts, check email, review my notes, etc. It's working well, except that I come home absolutely annihilated and have to fall asleep immediately after lunch.

On TTh, with an 11:00 class, I'm getting up at around 6:30--not because I want to, particularly, but because somehow this is the habit that I've gotten into. TM is a really early riser, too, and let's not pretend that that has nothing to do with it.

I think that it's important to keep sitting. I want to complain less--that's my goal for the year; not to not complain, but to complain less, because so much of the bonding that we do around campus is based on complaints and that doesn't always make me feel good--and this first week has gone pretty well on that front. I think that it helps. I really think so.

...I have thoughts about why, but maybe I'll save those for another time.

Still alive, really

2010-08-31T20:03:00.002-05:00

Classes started last Wednesday, which means that we're through an entire week now (if Wed-Tues = a week). Actually, one of my classes--this one-credit course that I'm teaching as an overload--started last Sunday, which is pretty lame if you ask me, but at least I'm teaching the Honors section and truly the students are delightful, thus far. But a Sunday afternoon meeting, especially at the end of two solid days of moving into dorms and orientation activities, is no one's idea of a good time. (I am earning this $600, which is the pay for a one-credit overload around here. And yes, that's dreadful pay. I am not doing this for the money. [Nor am I doing it for love, exactly.] I'm doing it for the Honors Program, to which I have pledged my soul.)

One thing I forget is how tiring it is to get back into the teaching routine. All of my classes are fine--even great--so far, but I find that I'm exhausted after each one. My schedule is a little dicey, too: MWF I'm on deck at 8, 9, and 11, so the early afternoon has been (so far) pretty much a loss--I can hardly stay awake after lunch. TTh is much lighter--only one class on Thursdays, and two on Tuesdays (the overload being one)--but I still had to nap on the couch between my two classes today. Sheesh! And I'm barely on top of things for this week. The long weekend will be good for just reading ahead a bit and getting things under control. Complicating matters, our offices are being recarpeted this week, so we've all been kicked out for a few days. I'm very excited about the new carpeting and the general cleaning out/redecorating that it's inspired us all to do, but I'm also feeling rather off-kilter and keep realizing that I put things into boxes that I would really like to have at hand. Oh well--it's only until Thursday, if all goes well.

So this is not a particularly interesting post, but I felt the need to break the silence around here. I've been writing posts in my head for the last two weeks but never actually sitting down to compose them (obviously), and my hope is that at least re-entering Blogger will give me a bit of a boost back into blogging. (Can you tell that we've been talking about alliterative poetry in Brit Lit? Heh.)

OK, anyway, must read for comp before passing out. I wake up earrrrly tomorrow--5:30, in fact, for reasons which I'll disclose at a later time. (And with that--which makes my reasons sound far more interesting than they are--I bid you all Good Night!)

Goody-Two-Shoes, That's Me

2010-08-18T19:39:00.005-05:00

Having just read Dr. Crazy's recent post on higher ed reform, and having also just come from the first day of our faculty retreat (via a colleague's house--sorry; I'm a little drunk; I'll try to make this coherent or at least typed well) has me feeling...dare I say, good about my dinky little college.

Here's what's what.

First, yesterday we got raises. Or rather, we had a meeting with the president and AND (Awesome New Dean, for those just joining us) in which the current financial priorities were explained and we got our new salary envelopes. Now, okay, our salaries really suck pretty deeply, and the board was recently made aware of just how badly off we all were compared to other institutions in our state. So it's not like we started off strong and this is just icing. No; even with my (quite modest) raise, I'm way below equity. But it's a start, at a time when most colleges and universities are doing no such thing. Moreover--and more importantly--full professors were given priority in the new salary scheme. Many of the fulls have been here for ages, working away for like $50k--more than I make (let me be clear: my salary still kind of sucks, like a lot)--but quite a terrible salary. And they got the big bumps. And this was explained to us, by rank, quite fully, such that I'm okay with my modest raise and really pleased that the college is looking out for its more senior folk, too--folk who, in this profession, could not get other jobs at this point and who could, therefore, safely be screwed over if the administration so chose.

Now, there's a more cynical reading or two of all of the above, but I don't think that there's any reason to pursue it.

Second: for like the fifth year in a row, our enrollment is at a record high. And, because we are tuition-driven and have NO endowment or state funding, this means that we're doing okay (by our piddly standards). Benefits are secure. All retirees were replaced last year and we have one new tenure line. Our new hires have stellar records and great degrees. And with the large number of new faculty that we've hired over the last few years, there's a lot of energy--a lot of positive change. (Our senior faculty ROCK, by the way. But many of them are tired. It's good to have new people to push us forward, too.)

Our priorities this year involve, essentially, assessing how well our curriculum integrates and advances our liberal arts mission. We have a lot of pre-professional ideology to push against, but I like the direction of our agenda--and that pushback is not from the administration, and that's a good thing.

And we discovered this summer that somewhere in the range of 60% of our first-year students are first-generation; it seems to me that this is relatively high for a SLAC, but I'm not sure. Anyway, it's good to know. It will surely affect some pedagogy, but it also has helped me, at least, think differently about our mission and what exactly we're doing here.

I hate to be a Pollyanna. And so I'll admit that, yes, this job is rotten on a number of days: we do too much, we are too small, and have I mentioned that our salaries are lame? But at least I feel like we're pointed in the right direction (and doing better financially than we have in a long time, apparently), and that everyone is pretty much on board. I hope that there are other colleges out there in the same boat, and that the outlook on Higher Ed need not be as bleak as it so often seems.

You know what is NOT a useful document title?

2010-08-09T13:58:00.002-05:00

"Maybe useful for a footnote."

Especially when that document is in a file called "Research" and dated October 2007. What on earth was I even working on then, anyway?

(I'm in end-of-summer organizing mode: this morning I handwashed all my wool sweaters. The wrists are aching, so on to the virtual cleaning!)

Universe! Enough with the paleography already!

2010-07-28T13:25:00.004-05:00

Today I sort of hit a wall. I know, it's only been three days--and when I hit said wall, it had only been two and a half. But sitting quietly in the manuscript room fussing over fourteenth-century Latin abbreviations for two and a half days is not exactly relaxing, trace or no trance.

Essentially, I was tired: I slept badly last night, having been kept awake until almost 2 am by the irrelevant ranting I was doing in my head. Really--I was having long mental arguments over trivial things with people I'm unlikely to even speak to in the next three months, anticipating all kinds of disasters in the upcoming semester, worrying about money when I have no business doing so (chiefly regretting committing to an overseas conference of which the College will only be able to pay half, which means that my savings account will be depleted by about 8%--horrors! Really. Just tell me to shut up), etc. Evidently I have some kind of stress or something. Or perhaps my body is overcompensating for the jetlag? The point is, I was tired.

I also kind of lost direction by mid-day. I'd answered my immediate questions and was casting about for another one; in practice, this meant staring off into space a lot and then idly flipping through a few pages.

At 3:00 or so, I decided to take off. This isn't helpful, I thought. I vowed that I would regroup tomorrow and do something productive.

So, having dropped off my laptop etc., I went to the used bookstore to pick up a novel, since I'm almost done with my fun reading. I settled on Zola's Le Reve, because I had enjoyed Germinal (which I read in English) and it was relatively short.

Off I went, to wander, drink a beer, etc. I was doing quite well with the French and enjoying the story, which--so far--is about a young girl named Angelique who is taken in by a couple, Hubert and Hubertine Hubert (or so I enjoy calling them, to myself, because the characters are individually called Hubert and Hubertine and collectively called les Hubert).

One day, twelve-year-old Angelique stumbles upon--seriously--a 1549 edition of a French translation of Jacobus de Voragine's Legenda Aurea. Seriously.

She likes the pictures, at first. And then she confronts the text. I translate, loosely:

The two dense columns of text, whose ink had remained very black upon the yellowed paper, frightened her, because of the barbaric appearance of the Gothic characters. But she got used to it, decoded its characters, understood the abbreviations and the contractions, figured out how to decipher the ancient words; and in the end she read fluently, enchanted as though she had penetrated into a mystery, triumphing over the conquest of each new difficulty.

And then, I kid you not, Zola blathers on for twenty pages about the lives of the saints.

The revisiting of Juliana and Vincent and Stephen and Christina etc etc I can take. But a twelve-year-old reading a sixteenth-century Gothic hand? Please. And, universe, I know that I'm not very good at this--stop rubbing it in.

Q&A

2010-07-27T14:47:00.002-05:00

Questions

Why do none of my TV-watching programs work in Europe? And why is the woman who lives across the alley from my room (actually like 6 feet away) on a Tom Jones (the musician, not the fictional character) binge? And why is she not bingeing on the character instead, since that would certainly amuse me more? Or perhaps at least be quieter? And why, for that matter, does she spend all of every day sitting either in the window or at the desk right in front of the window talking?

Seriously--every time I'm in this room, she's over there, talking. Until about 11:00 at night. Starting at about 8:00 in the morning. It's weird. But this is her home, not mine, so I suppose I can't complain. Much. A little, maybe.

***********************

Answer*

I've been reading for my Particular Subset of Theory seminar (Fall '10) this week, usually while I'm drinking beer in sidewalk cafes. You know what? Difficult Theorist is better with beer. All theory is better with beer. Yay beer!

*Unrelated, of course, to the question.

Apparently I am capable of intense focus

2010-07-26T10:26:00.004-05:00

First day at the library. I'm here to look at one manuscript, and I wasn't even sure whether there would be anything of interest therein--I knew that it contained the oldest version of a vita that I've been working on, but knew nothing about this variant or what else was in the codex. Kind of a gamble, eh, for Field to spend upwards of $3000 for me to look at this thing? Sometimes this profession seems beyond absurd.

Anyway, so I get to the library right when it opens, figure out how to get a card (easy), and gain access to my codex. It shows up at about 9:30, after only a 10-minute wait; I use the time to review my edition of the vita and psych myself up. The codex is small and fat, elegantly rebound at some point--not recently, I'd guess, but certainly not in the fourteenth century. I start in.

First: I copy out the table (or rather paragraph) of contents on the first page, trying my best to decode the Gothic rotunda Latin. It's been...a long while since I engaged in anything approximating paleography. I am Rusty. However, it's not too hard to recognize actual Latin words as opposed to the monstrous mistranscriptions I sometimes concoct, so at least I know which words I'm most likely to have misunderstood.

The excitement begins when I spot my vita listed in the ToC. Then: another medieval woman's life! And a bunch of other random vitae and orae, as well as a totally indecipherable name.

Step two: Start looking through the book, page by page, writing down where each text appears. Blah blah blah. No pictures, occasional decorated initial (nothing fancy), plenty of red ink. Finally I reach my Vita. It's not terribly interesting, visually, but does have one intriguing bit of marginalia--intriguing because it suggests an interest in similar vitae, vitae like the unexpected woman's life. Hm. Okay.

Something I can't identify follows my vita. Ho hum.

A few pages later: WHAT IS IT??? I think. Something crazy! A drawing with a big red mandorla-shaped item in the middle, surrounded by words. Later, I come back to this, and figure out that the red splotch is a wound, and that it is made of blood flowing off of the cross above and into a little spindly, flower-decorated cross below. Coolness. And it contains a prayer of some kind that keeps referring to wounds (I need to translate it--can't be more specific yet. My Latin sure does suck, although I'm doing better than I would have expected ). Alas, the writing to the right of the wound is cramped and hard to make out, and the writing surrounding it is virtually illegible. I do my best.

A few pages later: More visual craziness! One page in a totally different hand lists what appear to be numbers of days associated with individual people (Pope So-and-so three years and twelve days, pope such-and-such sixty days, etc.). In the right-hand column are labeled drawings of, for example, a torch, a bleeding heart, and ten footprints in little boxes. I haven't entirely figured this one out yet. Actually, I haven't figured it out at all, but I'm looking forward to doing so.

Oh, and [indecipherable] turns out to be another contemporary female saint. Some kind of pattern might be emerging. Not sure what yet. Something else to follow up on....

"Madame." The librarian is standing in front of me, whispering. "On ferme."

What? No way. They must be closing early, I think. I emerge: It is ten minutes to five. I've been at it since 9:30 (minus the enforced one-hour break for lunch: the library is closed from 1 until 2). How did this happen? My hand, back, and shoulder ache. Good lord. Why can't I work like this all the time? Or at least one day a week?

I am here

2010-07-24T13:17:00.005-05:00

I have arrived!! --in Brussels. (Since there is virtually no chance that revealing my mysterious researching whereabouts will expose my identity, given that I haven't actually published on anything in this region, I might as well tell you where I am, right?)

I got here this morning. I thought that I was doing pretty well with the jetlag--I checked into my hotel at around 11, unpacked, walked around a bit, had lunch at the lovely vegetarian restaurant Den Teepot, then wandered through the City Museum in its entirety--but when I got back to my room it was only 2, and my legs ached so badly that I decided to nap. Then, magically, it was 4. I had some chocolate (I had wisely, but without actually thinking about it, bought a chocolate bar) and overcame my desire to just stay in bed until morning. I emerged into the beautiful (like 70-degree!) afternoon, wandered, checked out the cathedral and a park, called TM, and found an outdoor restaurant where I ate quiche and drank two high-alcohol beers.

It's about time for bed (8:30). But, because I am marvelling at it, I will share with you some pictures of my hotel. If you need a Brussels hotel recommendation (it's cheap and centrally located! And will blind you with its bling!), please do let me know.

Love the Obama poster in this one, especially since it looks like it dates from about 1967. -- Below is my room. Yes, the painting is STRANGE.

Oh! And I must mention Thursday's visit with The Rebel Lettriste & Babies. It was lovely to see Rebel L, who is funny and smart and awesome as always. And the babies, my friends, are, first of all, real (I was charged by The RL with verifying their authenticity, though I wasn't aware that there were any doubts). Second, they are little sweetikins, and I love them. If you're ever in the Lettriste's territory, I highly recommend taking one out for a walk; while they're heavy as hell, they're also utter sweethearts, and everyone who sees you will smile. It was a lovely afternoon.

(I must add that I thoroughly enjoyed watching TM, who joined us a little later, cuddle and charm the contemplative Bede. Meanwhile, active Caedmon attempted to paint my face with spit. But lord, the dazzling smiles on those guys! Even the spit--copious as it was, and goodness was it copious--couldn't detract from their charm.)

So we looked at the house.

2010-07-18T18:02:00.003-05:00

It's gorgeous, actually. But too small; the kitchen is cramped and would be hard to expand, and the upstairs bedrooms are all tiny and put together in such a way that it would be difficult to make any of them bigger. But that's okay. We're still kind of toying with this whole property-buying idea, anyway.

And then today we went to an open house at a good-sized place quite close to campus. The pictures online suggested that it was not exactly decorated in our style, but you know, we like the idea of painting and whatnot...so we swung by.

And GOOD LORD. This house is officially The Ugliest House in the World. Each room worse than the last! Heavy, awful curtains over every window; thick pink carpeting and pink walls; drop ceilings in places where they have no reason existing; shiny white linoleum; heavy awful curtains AROUND THE BATHTUBS; wall-length slat-doored closets; insane "Western"-themed fake-stenciled wallpaper bordering the kitchen ceiling; shiny silvery patterned wall covers (what is that stuff?); CARPETED WALLS in the stairwell--I could go on. The mind boggled. And it wasn't just the ugliness; additions had been tacked on willy-nilly so that, for example, the master bedroom was only accessible through the kitchen and the dining room was nowhere near the kitchen. To make it worse, the realtor was a relative of the owner's, so we had to hold in all of our incredulity until we were back in the car.

Oddly enough, it turned out that the owner also recently married the (elderly) father of a co-worker and friend with whom we were getting together immediately after our viewing. She confirmed the unbelievable ugliness.

So we're still thinking about what exactly we're doing here, and until we figure it out, we have a nice place with a month-to-month lease.

Fretting, Uselessly

2010-07-14T17:03:00.003-05:00

(Is there any other way to fret?)

There's a house for sale. A nice-looking house, right next to campus (which would be great--not a problem at all; it's not too close to the dorms, but it is across the street from our office and close to the gym!). Three bedrooms, two baths, new roof kitchen heating AC etc. It costs...$129,000.

We haven't looked at it yet. I picked up the flier with the specs this afternoon. Seems good, in general. The rooms are quite small (I'm guessing that's why the price is so low?), and it has one weirdly enormous bathroom (twice the size of the bedrooms!!), but it has a big enclosed front porch, a screened-in back porch, and a patio. The porches would be perfect for prepping seedlings, and the yard is the right size for a garden, reasonable lawn, and minimal mowing.

The bedrooms are really small, though--8.5 x 11 (plus walk-in closets). The dining room and kitchen seem smallish, too.

OK, but here's the source of the fret (because, again, we have not looked at this house, and whatever, there will be other houses). At what point should one buy a house? I don't mean in terms of affording it (because at that price, I expect we could easily be paying less in a mortgage than our current rent, if we wanted to, and I have some savings that could make a small down payment), but rather in terms of life-planning. Especially in academia, because, let's face it, if we (both) got some kind of nice deal elsewhere, we'd take it. (The "both" makes that more difficult, of course.) But I don't want to keep wafting around noncommittally because I might one day get a job somewhere else. On the other hand, what's with this sudden urgency? We've been talking about looking for a house next spring, but neither one of us wants to move RIGHT NOW. And obviously we shouldn't just look at one house; so, if we look at this house (which we've agreed we ought to do, if only for kicks), shouldn't we look at others, too? And what if it's too small? In principle I'm okay with small rooms, but I don't want to buy a place that we'll "outgrow" in a few years (although I guess that's not the end of the world.... I just like the idea of stepping outside of the whole buy-buy-buy thing that seems to be our national home-owning culture). So, ugh, maybe I just need talking-down?

I'm sure that this enthusiasm, or whatever it is, will blow over in a day or two. In the meantime, I need to go measure my bed.

Little and Much

2010-07-13T21:25:00.007-05:00

Not very much has been going on over here, in the grand scheme of things. I'm busy, naturlich, but not with anything worth noting--going to the gym, eating, sleeping, reading, writing this or that little thing that (I hope) will one day join up with other little things and produce something bigger. On the other hand, there is The Garden.

The Garden is truly three gardens (East, South, and West), and it is truly the province of The Minister, though I contribute here and there. (I made a triple batch of pesto today, for example. We now have more than 50 tablespoons of pesto in the freezer.) It is a lovely and densely packed garden, or gardens, chiefly because of some vines (melons and a mystery squash) that have filled in every empty inch and would willingly tear down the other vegetables if allowed. Tonight, inspired by the beauty of our lettuce going to seed, I took some pictures. For your pleasure:

First, the lettuce. It's almost in flower! We're hoping it'll reseed the patch.

Our chard is frankly out of control. This is one of like five rows (albeit the healthiest one). Chard, chard, chard. It'll produce until November, too.

Plenty o' poblanos.

You get two pictures of the eggplants viewed through the jalapeno leaves, because I think they're pretty.

And now for the jalapenos.

The ever-bearing strawberries are trucking along; we've got about three gallon-bags worth in our freezer already, and they'll keep rolling in into the fall.

Raspberries! The bushes are still pretty tiny, though.

A single blackberry flower.

The mystery squash! It grew out of our compost. It's huge. It wants to conquer the world.

Oh--and of course, there will be tomatoes.

I love summer.

Hey Fatty Boom-Boom

2010-07-12T08:59:00.003-05:00

I only wish that I were so happy to be at my computer.

A Literary Dream, Loosely Speaking

2010-06-25T17:46:00.003-05:00

The other night I dreamt that I had come up with an idea for a brilliant, best-selling-novel. Here it is--aspiring writers, take note!

It was to be called Various Ways of Describing a Prince's Title.

(The title was an awkward nod to Wallace Stevens' "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," which was in fact the inspiration for the title within the dream.)

It would be a collection of monologues. I was really inspired. I started writing one right away (still in the dream), then had to stop at one point to make some notes about the second one.

In the dream (just to be clear), I wrote the better part of one monologue. It was supposed to come from a churlish perspective, possibly that of a laborer ("churlish" and "laborer" were the words used within the dream). And it was in Middle English.

So yes, I was composing in Middle English in my sleep (likely much better than I could when awake!).

But on the other hand, so what?

2010-06-24T09:58:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking on and off this summer about goals and ambition. I'm a pretty ambitious person, and I'm good at setting and reaching goals. So, for example, I have this big pompous pre-tenure goal--and now that achieving it is actually a real possibility, I'll share it here: I aim to have published an R1's tenure-worth of stuff before getting tenure. I've decided, somewhat arbitrarily, that this means a book and six peer-reviewed articles--of which I currently have four accepted (not all at equally fancy places, but some lack of fanciness is all right. After all, I teach 4/4; this is one concession I can make). So that gives me three years to get two more PR articles out. Doable. And it makes me feel all fabulous and important.

The downside to all of this ambition and achievement, though--well, there are several downsides. The most obvious one is that it's painfully ego-centric. Everything is about MY achievement, MY accomplishments, etc. Focusing so much on the self and the self's own importance is, first of all, selfish and not particularly conducive to a more compassionate, charitable, humble, or service-oriented state of mind. The second (and more selfish) problem with ego-centric ambition is that it's very fragile. What if my book gets a bad review? My ego, my sense of self, suffers. Identifying heavily with one's accomplishments only works when one's accomplishments are clicking along very well, and that can't happen for ever. It's ultimately a stressful and unsustainable way to live.

I've been thinking about these things because it's summer--and despite what various people are saying, it's STILL JUNE and summer IS NOT almost over--and I have a long list of Things To Do Before School Starts. These include:

writing a conference paper for September
planning my classes (two new preps each semester next year, plus comp needs its annual retooling)
drafting up a research plan for the Next Big Thing
reading a mess o' books
brushing up on my Latin in preparation for my July research trip
reading a pack of Chaucer, whom I know remarkably ill for someone in my field.

I'm making pretty good headway on all of these, and I've finished up my index and page proofs--the other big To Do item for early summer. But, at the start of the summer especially, this list was stressing me out. Contemplating it, I was haunted by the feeling that summer was over already, and I had had no time to actually rest.

So what I decided to do about a month ago was to recalibrate my goals. Of course I'll work on the above--for one thing, I have to, and for another, I'd be really bored if I didn't have some work to do; I do actually enjoy most of the above, as long as the pressure's off. But the actual goals for the summer--the priorities--changed. They are now the following:

meditate daily (except while traveling)
exercise regularly, because it makes me feel good in my body and makes me more attentive to the physical world
enjoy myself, and not fret when doing so means that I haven't completed a daily To Do list.

What's remarkable is that, once I made that switch, I started enjoying my summer a whole lot more. And I'm still getting my work done (even if it's not always at a lightning pace).

A few weeks ago I read an article in a Buddhist magazine that I used to subscribe to (the subscription ran out in May, but I have a stack of back issues that I'm reading through whenever I'm on the elliptical). In it, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche talks about accessing the goodness in ourselves and in the world--and how our ego-centrism can get in the way of that. He describes a scenario in which someone has achieved something and wants praise. Of course, he says, such praise would be nice; you want recognition and congratulation, and it hurts not to have it. "But on the other hand," he goes on, "so what?"

That stopped me right there. What a beautiful way to put it--yes, of course, you want these things, but you don't have them, and so what? So what if I don't achieve my arbitrary and self-important publication goals? So what if I'm not The Very Best Professor Ever (or whatever my small-minded ego tries to convince me that I have to become)? So what if I don't finish my checklist? Maybe, in the time that I'm not completing all my personal little goals, I might do something nice for TM, or make the cats purr, or call my brother. The work goals are nice, but they don't matter.* So what?

So here's to a happy and equanimous summer!

*Of course, I have the questionable luxury of teaching at an institution where extensive publication is not required or expected (or really supported). Ultimately, I guess, the "so what?" would also apply to not getting tenure--so what?--but I admit that that would be a hard pill to swallow. I acknowledge here, therefore, that the choices I'm making are less about external requirements and more about my own pride and ego--along with love of the field etc., they're what drive a lot of my desire to accomplish--and are not identically applicable to everyone. But if we were all truly enlightened, then we would be able to greet every situation with the same equanimity: So what, after all?

OK DONE.

2010-06-19T17:43:00.003-05:00

I've spent the last three days checking each one of my index entries. Yes. Each one. Looking it up and making sure that it's correct. This was simple enough for the names and big obvious words, but things like "epistemology" are not exactly easy to spot on a quick look-over.

Talk about double-plus un-fun.

Was it necessary? Good question. On the one hand, I did find some errors, inconsistencies, and weird items, and some pagination changes from the first to the second proofs had to be dealt with. On the other, the vast majority of the listings were correct and it was not particularly likely that anyone would ever find the mistakes.

Whatever. It's done. I am not rereading the second proofs, though. I've checked to make sure that everything I marked in the first proofs was fixed (not all of it was), and I am calling it a motherfucking day.

So I'm...done with the book? Well, I do need to make some corrections in the index document, but that'll take like an hour.

...Oddly, the hell of indexing has made me almost not particularly care. Whither excitement? Oh, I know: I now have an Amazon listing and a gorgeous cover--which is, unfortunately, not yet viewable on Amazon. Oh well! I know that it's gorgeous (and it'll turn up soon enough). Whee!

Things I Do Not Want to See Right Now

2010-06-08T22:22:00.002-05:00

1. Emails from students with the one-word subject line, "Help."

...

That's about it.

In other news, I'm off to visit family for a week. I know--I promised some kind of substantive post a while back, and have yet to deliver. It's possible that I'll blog from the vacation, but not necessarily likely, so it may be that you hear from me again in a week or so.

Have fun! (And I just can't bring myself to open the email right now. I'm off contract, people!)

ZOMG (and I never say that).

2010-06-02T20:23:00.001-05:00

I have just found my summer procrastination.

All seven seasons of Buffy are on Netflix Watch Instantly.

I have been waiting for this day.

It's a good thing, actually, that TM doesn't like the show.

Yay!

2010-06-01T15:05:00.003-05:00

You've got to love that article-acceptance-from-fancy-journal feeling.

*this is me, basking*

Anyway. I have an actual substantive post brewing about more or less the exact opposite of this feeling--well, okay, maybe not the exact opposite. I guess that there are various opposites here. The brewing post is not on the opposite of the yay-acceptance feeling (which would be the sad-rejected feeling, obviously); rather, it's on the opposite of goal-oriented-hyper-productive-grandly-planned-doomed-to-be-disappointing summer agenda. And I can't really build that into a "Yay! Accepted!" post, which really is all about the accomplishments. So I'll just leave this one as it is and be back later with some musings, if that's all right with y'all.

Well, That Was Disgusting

2010-05-20T17:12:00.003-05:00

In the gym today, I was treated to a little show called "Young, Beautiful, and Vanished: 15 Unthinkable Crimes." As the title suggests, it was a parade of stories about pre-adolescent blond girls who were kidnapped, raped, and eventually found. But not recovered--oh no. As the show's TV psychologist (whatever that is) smugly remarked of one of the girls, "Elizabeth will never get over this."

Get over being raped by your father and confined to a cell for however many years? No, I should say not!

And of course we only want to watch re-enactments of young, beautiful girls being kidnapped and raped! Nothing titillating about an older woman, or one of only middling attractiveness. Or, God forbid, a boy. That would be, like, gay or something.*

The worst, though, was that this bit of hideous misogynistic trash was on the Entertainment network.

And that's why I like to pretend that 21st-century pop culture simply does not exist.

*I don't mean to imply by this that the viewership was necessarily straight men. In fact, I expect that it was largely female. But the sexual objectification of women means that women, faced with sexual imagery, frequently inhabit a masculine perspective: Sexualized women typically signify (hetero)sex, to men and women alike; sexualized men typically don't, or at least not as readily. In other words, I think that straight women could be as titillated as straight men by the stories in the show, and that both sexes would find a re-enactment of the abduction and rape of a young boy more jarring than the same story about a young girl.

The Path of Destruction

2010-05-19T18:50:00.002-05:00

is what I'm on.

So we're about a week into summer. A week? Two. I don't know. Kalamazoo makes things complicated.

And I have Agendas.

For lo, I cannot possibly actually spend a few minutes relaxing. No, I need to work! For I have ambitions incommensurate with a 4/4 SLAC!

Thus, I am: reviewing three chapters of Wheelock's Latin per day (actually dropped that down to two/day today, because as the chapters get higher they take longer); reading two work books per week (until that ceases to make sense--which might be immediately); writing for half an hour every morning; engaging in some form of exercise every day (mowing counts); meditating daily; making headway through the list of fun reading I've backlogged; and--eventually, not yet--reading ahead for the fall and spring (because I have two new preps each semester, huzzah). Oh, and there's the bibliographic essay I'm writing; that'll be a lot more reading, but it'll help me to prep a course for the spring, too.

All of this is actually not a good idea. I know myself. I'll embark on this for a few days, then get angry and tired and reject ALL work, and wind up equally dissatisfied with myself.

The Middle Way that I am attempting to walk is one in which I make a sort of schedule just for the week (M-F), then come up with a new, different one for the next week, etc. So far, I'm three days into this system, and it's going pretty well--but I know that I a) need weekends to be completely flexible and b) will want to redo my schedule for next week. Boy howdy. Because I'm getting a little bit sick of being So Damn Productive All The Time.

Seriously, people. Somebody teach me how to relax.

In Place of a Substantial Narrative about Kalamazoo, A Brief Anecdote Highlighting My Awkwardness

2010-05-18T11:54:00.003-05:00

(I've been reading about the brevity topos in hagiographic narrative. Thus, while I could certainly regale you with endless tales of fascinating meetings and panels both good and worse, of absentee speakers and an actual hour and a half at the Dance, I shall instead bring you the following.)

One of the features of Kalamazoo dorm-life is the Shared Bathroom. Not a communal bathroom shared by an entire hall, a la Leeds (where, however, you get your own sink and real toiletries and nicer bedding), but a bathroom shared with one other person in the room next to yours. Congress-goers bemoan the weirdness of these bathrooms: the doors to the rooms cannot be locked from the bathroom, and there is no stall door in front of the toilet, meaning that your suite-mate could conceivably open the door and find you Fully Exposed. (I've never heard of that happening, but it's all too imaginable.) Also, the sound of the flushing toilet is deafening, so one hopes that one's suite-mate does not need to use it in the middle of the night.

My suite-mate, however, didn't show up until Saturday afternoon. I returned from dinner that evening to find a note addressed "To the person with whom I share a bathroom"; it explained, quite apologetically, that her airline had lost her luggage and asked if I would mind if she used my hair dryer the next morning.

As any rational person would do, I wrote back, "Please feel free! I'm happy to share." And then I appended, "Help yourself to shampoo, hair gel, toothpaste, etc. as needed."

Returning the note to the bathroom, I saw that she had a tube of toothpaste next to her sink.

So I, unthinking, crossed out "toothpaste" on my note.

I looked at it.

Will she wonder why I suddenly don't want her using my toothpaste? But she can still use my shampoo? Even though--as I now notice--she has a bottle of shampoo beside her sink, too?

So I wrote underneath the crossing-out, with a little arrow, "I see that you already have some!"

OK. So now she's going to think that I'm looking through her stuff, right? Even though the toothpaste is plainly visible.... Why would I comment on it? Why edit my note, for Pete's sake? And why am I still letting her use my shampoo, which she patently doesn't need? But I'm not crossing that one out, too, and making this whole situation even worse.

So I crossed out the note about seeing her toothpaste, and crossed out "toothpaste" more heavily, and set the note back on the sink, and fled in great shame and horror to the wilderness.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

2010-05-13T19:45:00.001-05:00

Despite WMU's much-reiterated claims to the contrary, I do have wifi in my Kalamazoo dorm room.

I say again: Ha ha ha ha ha!

(It's a little slow--hulu is halting--but I get to wear my pajamas. So lovely.)

Give me strength

2010-05-06T17:34:00.002-05:00

The hearing (see a couple of posts back) is tomorrow.

I get deeply anxious--and angry--shaky, even--every time I think about it.

Ultimately, I can let go of the results. If we're wrong, so be it (but honestly I don't think that that will be the outcome. But if it is, okay; I can be okay with being wrong). Only--we would then have to schedule an event related to this document, and I will be deeply unhappy about doing so. (Sorry to be so cryptic.)

Just--wish me luck. I hope that the rest of the relevant decision-makers will be able to be there, so I don't feel that so much pressure is on me.

Hey People With Books, I Have a Question

2010-05-04T07:34:00.002-05:00

Is it possible that my book will not need any permissions? I have no illustrations or photographs, no epigraphs or any other gratuitous quoting, and all of my quotes and references are for the purpose of commentary and analysis. That's fair use, right? Is there anything I'm possibly overlooking?

(My editor referred me to several sites to figure this out, and the conclusion I came to is that it's all fair use--but I want some good old-fashioned anecdotal internet evidence to back up my reasoning. Help me, people!)

An engima wrapped in a blog post

2010-04-30T20:14:00.003-05:00

So there was a thing I blogged about a few days ago, and then I removed the post because, while it is unbelievably unlikely that the person involved would find it, if ze DID find it, as innocuous as it was, that might be a problem.

Anyway--to continue in this cryptic light--we--the people in charge--did the right thing.

And, predictably, the appeals process is beginning.

Lord, give me strength.

Lull

2010-04-29T18:05:00.002-05:00

At Field, we have a one-day study period between the end of classes and finals. It's awfully short; I would be fully in favor of having what we had at both my undergrad and grad institutions--a full week of study period--provided, of course, that a couple of days were lopped off at the instructional end and not the vacation end (which was, I assume, how things worked at UGI and GI; our semesters at both schools were shorter than they are here). Of course, every time I think this through, I realize that I can just redirect the last few teaching days in my classes towards paper-writing--which is what I often do, in fact. So anyway.

The POINT is, we have this one day. My papers come in tomorrow and Tuesday.

And all I want to say right now is that I love study day. It's my own little holiday of cleaning. We're supposed to spend most of it in our offices, and I do: I clean out my folders, enter participation grades, recycle a LOT of stuff, and move files from the Courses In Progress drawer to the Courses Taught drawer. (And, now that I have a workable Brit Lit I, move that file from Courses Taught to Courses In Progress--I'm all set for 1/4 of my fall teaching! Sorta.)

This year, the day wrapped up with a beer-and-wine-and-cheese (quite literally: there were no crackers. ???) reception in the Fancy Room at the library. There's something very pleasant about drinking with the rest of the faculty in the library while students are (supposed to be) studying for finals.

(Perhaps we're no better than they are?)

I'm braced for grading and my office is clean. Summer, here you come.

Status Update

2010-04-27T18:47:00.002-05:00

First of all: Kalamazooers, it looks like the 8:00(ish) Friday morning MugShots meet-up is happening again. I hope to see you there!

More substantially: It's the end of the semester, or almost, and I feel inclined to do a little summarizing. So here's where I am, in the form of a numbered list.

Classes end tomorow. I only taught two this semester (and people, if you only teach two courses per semester, you do not ever get to complain about teaching load, especially if your classes are, as mine were, small [21 and 10]. It is a sweet, sweet deal, even when you're stupid and spread that teaching out to five days a week). One release was for Honors, which has been eating my life this month (as it's supposed to), and the other was for research/editing the manuscript. Updates on the latter below.
Honors: The situation that I mentioned a few days ago is en route to resolution. And otherwise everyone and everything is on track. Whew.
The book: is being indexed. Slowly. In full terror that I'm doin it rong. But it does look pretty! And I must say that I did a killer job of editing it in the last go-round, because I'm finding almost nothing to change (other than a handful of editorial errors for which I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE. So there).
Other research: My grand plans for drafting a proposal for The Next Big Thing did not materialize, but I was able to read some real live scholarship in the field, and I currently have two articles out for review (one a big-shot R&R, the other a small-shot solicited submission). So that's cool.
In my personal life...erm...things are fine? Not sure how to update this one. We have stuff in the gardens (yes, plural), due almost entirely to The Minister's machinations. Today we hunted for morels. It was a failure, but the forest was beautiful, and we got to ride his Vespa.
Next year: I'll be teaching a mess of stuff, including a one-hour overload in the fall (5 classes! 4 preps! I die) and mentoring 12 Honors juniors through the prospectus process, which might kill me, while serving on 4 thesis committees. As for my service load: I will be chairing curriculum and also serving on what I affectionately call the Gossip Committee (actually a task force, but that doesn't have much of a ring to it) and the Cash Cow Working Group. Protection of junior faculty from service? Not so much. And I'll be attending an overseas conference in the middle of the semester, which'll make scheduling all kinds of fun. However, I shall endeavor not to think about the fall when the summer is so tantalizingly close.
Classes end TOMORROW. In my head, they're already over. (But I still need to read for tomorrow's class....)

The semester in seven bullets. There ya go.

Kalamazoooooo?

2010-04-26T21:05:00.000-05:00

Anyone?

I will be there, and NOT presenting. Hurrah!

I know that a few of you will be there, too. Meals? Coffees? Free wine? Dancing, perhaps?

Let me know if you'd like to meet up! Because I would love to see y'all.

Indexing: Unbelievably Tedious

2010-04-25T15:28:00.001-05:00

Shocker, right?

(Twenty pages in 90 minutes.... So I should be able to finish up in the two weeks allotted to me, barring, well, you know, GRADING or anything like that!)

A Thing that I Noticed Today

2010-04-21T19:28:00.001-05:00

I say "fait accompli" a lot.

At least, a lot for those words.

Like a couple of times a week, lately.