Self-Medicating

Today is just no good for anyone. Not only did I have that mealy apple experience, but

• I was in the office from 7:30-6:00.
• Two colleagues (who are married to each other) spent the morning at a funeral.
• I dropped in to chat with a different colleague, who burst into tears twice as the result of a campus-related subject that I brought up (note: I didn't make her burst into tears; I just inadvertently and unwittingly referred to a fresh wound).
• A couple that the Minister is friends with are going through a terrible time [details withheld]. I've met them and they're lovely people. It's awful.
• TM didn't get an interview for a job he sort of wanted, and hasn't heard anything from one that he really wants a lot. And the interviews will be held this weekend.
  
• I may have opened a can of worms with the football coach.
  
• I identified the semester's first case of clear-cut, unambiguous plagiarism. And I'm pretty sure that it won't be the last.

So I have a glass of whiskey and I'm downloading an episode of The Office. Yeah, I should be grading the 21 remaining midterms from last week, or reading the sonnets I got today (I made them write sonnets, yes I did!), or reading for tomorrow. But fuck it.

--Argh! While I was writing this post, I burned my dinner. Which is my very favorite, special pasta with onions, apples, blue cheese, and raspberry jam. Fuck it times two!

Bad Apples

A student brought me an apple today.

Seriously.

It was very sweet. Um, the gesture, that is--not the apple so much.

The thing is, I brought an apple in my lunch. And my apples are good apples: when the Minister's parents were in town, we went all apple-picking at a (mostly) organic orchard (they do spray a little early in the season, before there are any fruits) and got some amazing apples. Lots and lots of them.

So I went back to my office and ate my main lunch dish, then decided to eat the student's apple. It was a regular grocery store apple. In fact, it may have been the lesser cousin of the grocery store apple: the dining hall apple. It was mealy and dry and not very sweet. I got like 3 bites into it and thought, Screw this. Into the bin it went. I am now eating my own deliciously juicy fantabulous apple.

I feel a little bit guilty, though.

How, how, how

did the theme song from "Muppet Babies" get stuck in my head?

Here, if you'd like to share in my suffering:

I wrote a strongly-worded letter to my Secretary of State

I wrote this--yikes--more than a month ago. But my outrage is ever-present.

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Dear Secretary of State:

Today I received in the mail your pamphlet detailing the proposed referendum. Thank you for sending this information to the citizenry; I read it with interest, and I applaud your efforts to disseminate this material to the state’s population.

One thing concerned me about the mailing, however. The pamphlet that I received was addressed to “Residential Customer, [State].”

That word—“Customer”—has left me baffled and disturbed. In what sense am I a “customer,” either of the government or of the state? What services am I purchasing? What consumer decisions am I making by being a resident (and a voter, and, more importantly, a citizen) of [State]?

Semantics matter. The vocabulary of the marketplace is permeating our culture, and we need to ask ourselves whether this is a good thing. When the language of consumerism is applied to our political and educational systems, to social and civil services, what are the consequences? What are the costs? Although our government is elected, its actions are not “market-driven.” Citizens are not customers, consuming the product that the government supplies, their grievances dealt with by a department of customer service.

Not only does this language produce inapt metaphors, but we are not all equally empowered in the economic marketplace. Using the language of “customers” or “consumers” to describe the citizenry undermines a key tenet of our democracy: the notion that even individuals with little or no “purchasing power,” or who inhabit minority groups that do not “buy” the “product” approved by the majority, deserve recognition and a voice in our society. I therefore object strongly to your application of “customer” to the voting citizens of [State].

I truly hope that you will consider revising your mode of address in future mailings. We are not your customers. We are your citizens, and we deserve to be recognized as such.

Sincerely,
Heu Mihi, Ph.D.
Professor of English
Field College

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And I don't think that it's just my increasingly curmudgeonly nature that makes me take offense at this. (I also think that this is a perfectly appropriate dropping of the "Assistant" from my title, no?)

Fate: Tempted!

Well, now I seem to have a cold. It's still in its early stages. But you know? If I don't feel well tomorrow morning, I'm going to do something that I've never done before: Cancel my classes. Logical fallacies and Shakespearean sonnets can wait until Wednesday. And I'm pretty sure that my students won't mind an extra two days to work on their papers.

Besides, how nice would it be to spend another day lounging around and reading research-related materials? (Followed by two weeks of stuffed-up-ed-ness, of course, but I'm seeking the silver lining here, not the cloud. And really, it just might be worth it.)

Apologies for All of the Crankiness Lately

Actually, things are fine. Busy as--well, various expletives come to mind--but OK. I finished the weekend's grading this morning (clearing the slate for the 54 papers that will come in on Monday) and just finished reading for all of Monday's and Wednesday's classes. I plan to get through Tuesday's reading by tomorrow morning and spend the bulk of the weekend on Book Stuff.

--Insofar as I have time, that is. The Minister's parents are in town this weekend, and I spent the afternoon meeting them; we're having dinner out tonight; and I believe that I'm slated to eat all three meals with them tomorrow. And TM and I would actually like to have some time alone this weekend, which basically means tomorrow night (Sunday is always a dedicated work day*).

But being so ridiculously busy this semester has made my usually pretty well-organized self into some kind of hyper-organized, efficient being. I have lists all over the place and I'm constantly crossing things off. I get up at 5:30 and don't take naps. My office desk has virtually nothing on it because papers simply fly through my hands. I've been writing up handouts and paper prompts in advance. I prioritize, and I do my class prep last--often early in the morning. I read through meals (except dinner). My house is clean and orderly, my freezer well-stocked with homemade soups and bread. It's like I've moved to some whole new level of efficiency, and I firmly believe that if you took away, say, two of my tasks (e.g. one course and the impending book review), the whole carefully balanced system would fall apart.

Of course, it's also entirely possible that I've completely forgotten about some monumental task with an immediate deadline, and everything is about to come crashing down on my head.

*There's this administrative assistant across the hall who asks me every Monday whether I was "at least able to take the weekend off." I need to tell her that look, I never take a weekend off during the semester. Does anyone? I hear rumors of such things.... Of course, this is probably just her form of small talk, now that I have a car. Last year, every Monday morning's question was something about how I made it through the weekend without wheels. I should add that I really like this person. I think that I'm just not used to her Monday morning conversational habits.

I Only Have One Thing to Say

I was in the office before dawn this morning.



The moon looked very pretty outside my window.




At least I have a window this year?




Thank God tomorrow is our [one-day] fall break.

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Oh, and I watched the debate, for some reason. This election season can't end soon enough. "Women's 'health'"? Um, WTF, JMcC? Yeah, women don't actually have health problems, ever--certainly not any related to pregnancy; that's just a screen thrown up by all the wacko pro-abortionists. Which is a real position, you know. I am all about giving everyone as many abortions as possible. And all the smug, sputtery fuming--it was dreadful--argh--must fight off images of squishy pale men--think of happy things, think of midterms, think of lovely Beowulf essays and papers about how Middle English came about when the Anglo-Saxons defeated the Normans, bringing with them the culture and language of Old English! In 1380! You know what else? ------Okay, I won't say what else, in case anyone from Field ever finds this blog. But it's funny: during our midterm review days I feared that I was giving away all the answers to all the questions. Turns out that two thirds of the class wasn't listening, so hey!

[John McCain effectively wiped from my consciousness. Hurrah!]