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

(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.

Kalamazoooooo?

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.

Leeds vs. Kalamzoo: The Death Match

(That title really is too cheesy, I know. Apologies.)

Apologies, too, for the long gap--but seriously, France? Get some frakikn wifi already. What the hell? The like THREE places in all of France that claim to have wifi actually don't. In two of them, the owners (of the cafe or in one case a wine shop--why a wine shop advertizes free wifi is a cultural difference that I will not dare to explore) actually lent me their laptops. This was very nice of them, but certainly made me email in haste rather than blog at leisure.

So I'm at Leeds, and, as I don't have the proper outlet adaptor, will not be able to spend extensive time online for the next couple of days. Rather than regale you with hilarious pictures from the first week and a half of my trip (I promise the following: Me and TM on a tandem bicycle, wearing preposterous hats; a re-enactment of Marie de France's "Les Deuz Amans"; and Hildegard of Bingen's line of homeopathic remedies--they're organic!), I shall instead provide an itemized comparison of the most essential elements of the two major medieval congresses.

(Bear in mind that I have attended one Leeds panel so far--I arrived this afternoon.)

Dorms: Despite the shared bathrooms, Leeds wins. Vastly more comfortable beds (and it was made when I arrived! No monastic brown coverlet!); only one bed per room; non-cinder block walls; and a quaint little sink in the corner. I am also conveniently located near the hilariously titled "Female Toilet," so things are good.

Wine hours: Again, this goes to Leeds. Red and white wine! In glasses! Not swill! Generously poured! Hurrah!

Dining halls: Can't make an educated guess. I've only eaten in the Kalamazoo dining hall once or twice, and that was in 2003, so it wouldn't be fair to say. Leeds' food isn't bad so far, though.

Book exhibit: Here's where Kalamazoo scores some points--it's much bigger--although the more European orientation of the Leeds exhibit at least ensures that there's not too much overlap between the two. But as I'm saving suitcase space for wine and calvados, I won't be buying many books, anyway. (Still, it's fun to look.)

Conveniently, the two people whom I know at this conference also know each other. I had no idea. How nice! Just had a lovely dining hall dinner and a drink at the dorm bar (score another point for Leeds!) with both of them.

Paper is in the morning. I've convinced myself that it's better than I thought it was. We'll see--no one reads my main subject, so I anticipate roundabout questions.

Well okay then.

All my grades are entered (but two, which are both waiting on late paper-things that will come in this weekend). My K'zoo paper is mostly done. I have met with weepy plagiarists--whom I actually believe to have been unintentional in their plagiarism, if frighteningly ignorant--and cleaned out some of my folders. I have done other things, such as getting my oil changed and trying unsuccessfully to figure out why we need to pay for the church's organist if he can't actually play at our wedding (although we'd like him to). Tonight is an end-of-the-year potluck and tomorrow I drive off for Kalamazoo. So let me organize myself with a to-do list, as thusly:

• clean the filth out of my house
• make yogurt to use up big jar of milk
• make granola so that I have something to eat for breakfast
• water garden and potted plants
• finish revising K'zoo paper
• gather things together for K'zoo
  
• perform some kind of exercise--yoga or jog
• go to office to do something or other (what is it? Oh yeah--I need to mail back some papers, turn in a form or two, etc. etc.)
• walk through the Lilac Arboretum
  
• go to the store and then make lentil salad for potluck
• think very seriously about what to wear at Kalamazoo. Do I dare to try out my new Fluevogs?

I apologize for the tediousness of this post, but actually I do enjoy reading other people's to-do lists, so I trust that you will enjoy the same. And now, I will conclude with a picture of said Fluevogs.


See some of you very soon!

Bad blogger

My cold is gone, but I am inexplicably weary--yet I do feel that I should post something, if only so as not to grade/prep/think about conference papers. So I'll ramble about here for a minute and then go take out my contacts, or something.

Today launches us into Week 5. Spring break is in less than a month. And, although my conference papers have yet to manifest (where the hell are they?), it's been a productive 4+ weeks. I shall regale you with a list of my accomplishments:

• assisted (albeit somewhat minimally) in the revamping of our comp sequence, which, as I mentioned, passed at the last faculty meeting;
• entirely rewrote Field's academic dishonesty statement. My version has passed my peeps in the Humanities, but won't come up before faculty until next month, and I anticipate contention. Why this should be a controversial issue is beyond me. All I'm trying to do (with the endorsement of the dean) is to articulate the guidelines that we're supposed to follow when we catch plagiarism and suggest--not require!--that strong measures (i.e. failing) be taken. I'm already anticipating the opposition. Sigh;
• finished the Incomprehensible Chart of Alien Timesuckage;
• met with all (7) juniors in the Honors program to discuss theses and substantially helped a thesis advisee with her latest chapter;
• taught a bunch of stuff--some new, some old, mostly new;
• practiced yoga nearly every day (accursed cold!); and
  
• written not a damn thing that wasn't a) in my diary b) online c) work-related.

Other than the last point, I'd say I'm doing all right.

That last point, though--oy. I am feeling radically unmotivated when it comes to my work, and I keep putting it off. The current plan is to read ahead all week so that I can take the weekend to outline the Kalamazoo paper and revisit the texts it's on. I am stupid, though, in that I proposed a paper on two really fucking long books [medievalists: think of 2 of the longest canonical texts out there, other than the Divine Comedy--one's in French, one's in English--I'll leave you to sort it out and gloat over my stupidity], neither of which I've actually read in a long time. I can rip the framework for the paper out of my dissertation, but I won't feel intellectually honest unless I look back over said long books. Damn me and my intellectual honesty! Why can't I just slap some rambles together and get on with my life? I'm sure I wouldn't be the first.

Live from SF: Inarticulate musings at the mid-point

Yesterday on the plane I got to play the fun game: Who's going to MLA? Woman across the aisle from me reading Michel Houellebecq in French? Check. Guy in front of me in Ray-Bans with a word-find puzzle book? No. Tall guy from in skinny jeans and carrying a black bag? Could go either way...but when I saw him walk right past the ticket machines at the BART station, I concluded that he was a local.

It's Sunday, and I had my first two interviews this morning (the next two are tomorrow, also in the morning. I like this whole afternoons-free thing). The first one was The Big Scary; I was really glad to get it out of the way early, but given how much more together I felt in the second interview, I'm not sure that that was the most rational sequence. Essentially, though, I feel as if I've spent the morning re-defending my dissertation, only to much less sympathetic audiences than my actual committee. It's funny--the first year that I was on the market, every question was about teaching. Because, you know, I hadn't like taught anything. Now, when I have plenty to say about teaching, nobody wants to hear about it. Go figure.

I'm not going to say anything about how I think that the interviews went, because I know that that's futile. (Besides, in my pre-academia days, it seemed like every interview that went well went nowhere, while the ones I thought I'd bombed turned into jobs, so I'm not sure how valuable post-mortems are.) It was kind of nice to have people ask me tough questions about my work, however--even though I'm not sure how well I answered all of them. I miss feeling institutionally supported as a scholar, I think.

Another thing that's striking me about this round is how much better I am in the interviews than I was in my first year. I thought that I did well in my interviews my first time out, but looking back, I was vague and spoke in abstractions and didn't get very many follow-up questions. Last year, which is for some reason really hazy in my memory, was definitely better--but I hadn't taught a medieval lit course yet and my "future research" project was totally inchoate (and virtually indistinguishable from my diss). This year, I think that I'm being a lot more specific and concrete in my answers to questions, and I also feel relatively composed. None of this might mean a damn thing if I slip up and say something unreflected and stupid (which I think that I did in Big Scary--OK! No post-mortems!), but at least I have a better sense of what it means to be faculty than I did in the first year. Or the second, even.

Nonetheless, I am not loving the MLA, as I never have loved the MLA. I'm insecure about my lame-ass institution; I can't find anyone I know (nor did I do a remotely good job of setting up fun reunions, other than joining in on tomorrow's meet-up--my roommate, who was my social link to my grad school, bailed at the last minute); and, while I just had a nice lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in years, I'm likely to be eating most meals alone. Much as I love conferences--and I do!--they always make me feel kind of lonely and unsure of myself. And unpopular! Most of all unpopular. Maybe if I had some hipster glasses...?

Well, I Did It

I bought my airline tickets for winter break/MLA. I'm zigzagging across the country on a 3-city tour, flying in and out of obscure airports at my end and my mother's--and yet I somehow got all the tickets I need for only $750! Not chump change, but not as disastrous as I feared. (Yesterday, in fact, the lowest price I could find was $811. I wasn't able to buy it at that moment, and I had all kinds of panic--those "Only 1 ticket left!!!!" notices were everywhere--and yet?)

In fact, I just had a little panic attack and had to go verify that I hadn't accidentally bought a return ticket for December 30, 2009, or something.

So hey, I'll be at the big stressfest, and hope to see some of y'all there! (And if anyone needs a roommate, I'm available! Is that pathetic? I don't know. Whatever. There it is: my desperate plea to the internets.)

I still haven't reserved a hotel room, though. Or paid the registration fee. Or renewed my membership for next year. Feh. That'll all have to go on a later credit card bill.

The Whole Kalamazoo Thing

Hey, so, I commented on someone's blog about being up for a Kalamazoo meet-up with drinks since I won't be there in time for the bloggers' breakfast, but I can't remember whose blog it was. (Dr. Virago, perhaps? I'm too lazy to check--) So. Anyone remember? Is this a thing that has been organized? (I'm arriving on Friday afternoon/early evening--thank you very much, post-commencement faculty workshop!--and would dearly dearly love to see the people I know, even if I haven't actually met you IRL yet.)

Let me know via comment or email at heumihi AT yahoo etc.

Interview Iditarod

It's been quiet around here, I know. But I don't like to blog from my mother's house--it makes me nervous; also, the cat and dog hair infiltrates my keyboard in nasty ways, and the dog tries to put his nose on my screen, and I was doing a lot of drinking, and I have various other excuses. Okay, yeah, I've been lazy, all right?

Anyway, here I am, deep in the trenches: 60% through the MLA interview quintifecta. (I don't know if that would even be the right word, if it were a word. I'm tired.)

A blinding snowstorm hit Chicago today, making the trek back and forth between hotels all the more exciting. Everything is now rather soggy. But since I got my current job after an absurd late-night interview with many mitigating distractions, I like to think that I work well with logistical difficulty. The interviews were fine, anyway, I think. By the last one I was feeling a bit wound up and rambly, but I didn't say anything identifiably crazy. One thing that I really like about interviewing is how nice everyone is, though. The interviewers are all talking up their schools and asking interesting questions about my research and, as conversations, they're pretty fun. Fun conversations do not necessarily translate into jobs, however, so one must be circumspect. Cautious optimism remains the order of the day.

(I have the feeling that I'm malapropping and mixing metaphors all over the place. "Malapropping" probably isn't even a word. Feh. I've used up today's brain allotment, okay?)

Before I trundle off to a long nap, I will add that last night's blogger meet-up was lovely and fun; my only regrets are a) that I was incapable of imbibing much at all and had to go to bed early, and b) that there were a couple of bloggers that I didn't get to speak to at much length. However, I did get to speak to several others at length, and really it was the aforementioned bed-going-off-t0 that kept me from talking to the others. So I'm hoping to run into a couple of them during the rest of the conference.

In the meantime: Happy MLAing, everyone! Good luck with papers and interviews!

Interviews too easy? Here's a suggestion:

--conduct them at midight from a youth hostel pay phone!

Yep: as soon as I left for my conference, I got asked to interview for a one-year position in the Midwest, and the only times that the committee has available translate to midnight and later in this particular time zone. So here I am in the hostel lobby, going over my interview-related notes (which I printed out in conference city; luckily, I brought everything I could potentially need along on a flash drive--vive technology!), and waiting for the interviewers to email me the phone number that I'll need to call.

The situation is actually kind of funny, and, as long as I'm not interrupted by drunken twenty-year-olds staggering back to their rooms (at midnight they should still be at the bars, right?), I really don't mind it. I'm just glad that I got the earliest interview spot--I wouldn't want to be doing this at 3 am! And I'm certainly not going to complain about any interview, no matter how strangely conducted (bearing in mind, of course, that the strangness is all my own doing. This was hardly the best time of year for a vacation).

In other news (while I'm waiting for my email), the conference was great. Really a very good, great conference. It was just the right size and duration: two days, about 20+ papers, and a nice mix of super-celebrity-scholars and totally-junior-scholars like myself. (Actually, there were only 3 grad students, including me, presenting at the thing, which had me pretty intimidated for a few minutes....) The smallness lent the whole production an intimacy which meant that I could actually talk to, and even have a drink with, the plenary speakers and whomever else I found interesting. As someone who's not normally terribly outgoing, especially when intimidated, this intimacy made the conference in many ways more productive and socially enjoyable than such things usually are. Plus, the papers were by and large really good. I'm happy to have gone. I think that, even if I hadn't worked in my possibly-ill-advised vacation, it would have been worth the trip.

I kind of want to talk about where I actually am--it isn't conference city, but the second city on my trajectory--but I'm worried about sacrificing my anonymity. At what point is this mere paranoia? I mean, will my readers see what city I'm in, google medieval-type conferences at nearby cities, and actually be able to piece together who I am? It seems absurd. And yet, if I do end up saying anything particular about this trip, I'm going to wait until there's a little more distance between Me and Conference. I know it's silly but...you know.