Whew!
Two conferences, two papers, two flights, two different time zones/regions of the country... all in the space of a week.
And I survived! I actually got some really good response from this paper, and while I think there were several people in the audience who hadn't read any of the novels I was talking about, there were a few who had, and we had great synchronicity between each of the papers presented.
AND I'M DONE!
Now I can sit back, have dinner & drinks with my friend who I haven't seen in two years, and then alternate between sleeping, going down to the pool, oh, and attending some other panels I suppose...
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
I am SO not used to this!
I feel a bit like a kid, getting all excited about nothing, but I still think it's super cool that I am writing this in my hotel room in Indianapolis.
Okay, so if you do this all the time, you're thinking, what's the fuss? but I don't do this all the time. Hell, I only got a laptop a couple of years ago (and probably wouldn't have gotten one even then if we weren't forced by the school to buy one), and only got a wireless card a couple of months ago. But I still think it's cool I can sit in my hotel room and surf, blog, answer email... all kinds of cool-not-getting-work-done kind of stuff!
I've gotta get excited about something... Indianapolis itself isn't wowing me - it reminds me of Regina.
Okay, so if you do this all the time, you're thinking, what's the fuss? but I don't do this all the time. Hell, I only got a laptop a couple of years ago (and probably wouldn't have gotten one even then if we weren't forced by the school to buy one), and only got a wireless card a couple of months ago. But I still think it's cool I can sit in my hotel room and surf, blog, answer email... all kinds of cool-not-getting-work-done kind of stuff!
I've gotta get excited about something... Indianapolis itself isn't wowing me - it reminds me of Regina.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
PCA Conference 3
My travelling caught up to me on Friday. I went to the first session, but then skipped two to go for a run and some necessary shopping. I still met up with the group from the night before for breakfast though, but declined their offer to go to the zoo. We agreed to meet at poolside later, then go to dinner, but the zoo group didn’t make it back in time, and a smaller group of us went for margaritas at happy hour at TGIF. I don’t quite remember what I actually ate there… Overall, it was an uneventful day.
The first two sessions on Saturday morning were interesting, and I spent some time in the book vendor room (had to keep reminding myself to only look – I didn’t have any extra luggage space!), then caught a noon ferry to Coronado Island. I love ferries. Actually, I love travelling on the water, period. Growing up in the prairies, then living in the foothills of the mountains, water and water travel still holds a fascination for me. And at $2, the price was right. Half of Coronado Island is taken up by the military base, with the other half divided between homes of the ultra-rich, and a tourist trap of restaurants, gift shops, and bicycle rental shops. But just because you’re in a tourist trap, doesn’t mean you need to spend money, and I enjoyed a wander around the perimeter to the ocean side.
The houses on the island are decadently beautiful, and I immensely enjoyed the experience of wandering though immaculate neighbourhoods, smelling hibiscus and lemon trees, and ignoring the fact that this unreal vision of a city street was a far cry from any place I had ever lived (or even where the vast majority of the human population live).
I did find myself wishing I hadn’t listened to the weather forecast that said it was going to rain all week and had brought shorts instead, since the weather was fine and sunny, but by the time I got back to downtown, the wind had come up and made the ferry ride over the water chilly enough to be glad of the sweater and pants I had with me.
Disorganization struck again at dinner time. We (the Stephen King people) were supposed to meet in the lobby and go for dinner together, and I found one other King person, but neither of us saw anyone else who we recognized (and I’d been to enough of the panels to know most everyone by sight at least). So there we were a half hour later, hungry, and ready to give up on everyone else. Which we did.
We wandered the Gaslamp district, trying to find someplace that looked reasonably priced, not too loud, and not too spicy… an Irish pub seemed like just the place. Well, the not too spicy was borne out, as was the reasonably priced, but the place rapidly became so loud that we couldn’t hear each other from across the table. We decided desert would have to be somewhere else, and continued wandering, coming across a place that was part bar/part restaurant. We specifically chose it because it was almost whisper quiet and it was possible to have a good conversation. Within a half hour however, the restaurant tables were cleared away, a dance floor set up, a sound system jacked in, and bouncers with red velvet ropes deployed onto the sidewalk. Within another fifteen minutes, the collective length of women’s skirts was reduced by half, the music doubled, then trebled in volume, and then they turned it up even louder. It was time to go. The blood on the sidewalk in front of the same place as I passed it the next morning said that leaving had probably been a good call.
So I came home.
The first two sessions on Saturday morning were interesting, and I spent some time in the book vendor room (had to keep reminding myself to only look – I didn’t have any extra luggage space!), then caught a noon ferry to Coronado Island. I love ferries. Actually, I love travelling on the water, period. Growing up in the prairies, then living in the foothills of the mountains, water and water travel still holds a fascination for me. And at $2, the price was right. Half of Coronado Island is taken up by the military base, with the other half divided between homes of the ultra-rich, and a tourist trap of restaurants, gift shops, and bicycle rental shops. But just because you’re in a tourist trap, doesn’t mean you need to spend money, and I enjoyed a wander around the perimeter to the ocean side.
The houses on the island are decadently beautiful, and I immensely enjoyed the experience of wandering though immaculate neighbourhoods, smelling hibiscus and lemon trees, and ignoring the fact that this unreal vision of a city street was a far cry from any place I had ever lived (or even where the vast majority of the human population live).
I did find myself wishing I hadn’t listened to the weather forecast that said it was going to rain all week and had brought shorts instead, since the weather was fine and sunny, but by the time I got back to downtown, the wind had come up and made the ferry ride over the water chilly enough to be glad of the sweater and pants I had with me.
Disorganization struck again at dinner time. We (the Stephen King people) were supposed to meet in the lobby and go for dinner together, and I found one other King person, but neither of us saw anyone else who we recognized (and I’d been to enough of the panels to know most everyone by sight at least). So there we were a half hour later, hungry, and ready to give up on everyone else. Which we did.
We wandered the Gaslamp district, trying to find someplace that looked reasonably priced, not too loud, and not too spicy… an Irish pub seemed like just the place. Well, the not too spicy was borne out, as was the reasonably priced, but the place rapidly became so loud that we couldn’t hear each other from across the table. We decided desert would have to be somewhere else, and continued wandering, coming across a place that was part bar/part restaurant. We specifically chose it because it was almost whisper quiet and it was possible to have a good conversation. Within a half hour however, the restaurant tables were cleared away, a dance floor set up, a sound system jacked in, and bouncers with red velvet ropes deployed onto the sidewalk. Within another fifteen minutes, the collective length of women’s skirts was reduced by half, the music doubled, then trebled in volume, and then they turned it up even louder. It was time to go. The blood on the sidewalk in front of the same place as I passed it the next morning said that leaving had probably been a good call.
So I came home.
Monday, March 28, 2005
PCA Conference 2
The next morning (Thursday), I was nervous, but not too much, and reassured myself that nothing disastrous would happen during my presentation, by watching three other people present in the time slot before mine. They didn’t implode from the stress, and frankly, one guy who tried to talk off the cuff ended up sounding so disorganized, I knew I wouldn’t have any problems reading my prepared paper.
And I didn’t. We had a pretty good question period afterwards, and although the only question/comment was directed at the place where my paper and another panelist’s overlapped, I think the session worked well. Best line during the discussion period? “Harold Bloom is an ass!” The Stephen King organizer was on my panel, and told me of a great grocery store with a deli nearby, so a bunch of us headed over there. Even though there was an interesting talk on Tolkein scheduled for the next time slot, I stayed and talked, getting to know a couple of the other students. They even continued to talk to me after I interjected into the conversation at one point to say “I like Dick”, meaning of course, Philip K., but when you say it in the middle of a crowded hotel lobby, I think most people’s first thoughts do not turn to a literary reference!
One of the other grad students who I was talking to was going to the book launch of a volume that he had contributed a chapter towards, and invited me to come along, so I went. We gathered more and more people as the day progressed, and suddenly there were eight of us – six Canadians and two Americans – not sure how it worked out that way.... We were all grad students, so none of us were actually staying at the Marriott, but we still asked the doorman if he could get us a cab. Turns out, he got the hotel van, and we drove across town for the cost of a tip to the driver!
The book launch was interesting, though by the end of it, I was very hungry, so the food at the Thai food restaurant we found tasted fabulous! I’m sure it would’ve been good food either way, but being bitch-hungry helped a lot in our estimation of its quality. We all agreed to walk off some of the dinner and found a Karaoke bar, named “The Caliph” of all places, but shortly after getting there, I realized I didn’t have the night code for the front door of the hostel, and if I didn’t leave shortly, I’d find myself turning into a pumpkin, so a quick cab ride was necessary to get me to the doors on time. Happily, I didn’t turn into a pumpkin, and even slept well that night.
And I didn’t. We had a pretty good question period afterwards, and although the only question/comment was directed at the place where my paper and another panelist’s overlapped, I think the session worked well. Best line during the discussion period? “Harold Bloom is an ass!” The Stephen King organizer was on my panel, and told me of a great grocery store with a deli nearby, so a bunch of us headed over there. Even though there was an interesting talk on Tolkein scheduled for the next time slot, I stayed and talked, getting to know a couple of the other students. They even continued to talk to me after I interjected into the conversation at one point to say “I like Dick”, meaning of course, Philip K., but when you say it in the middle of a crowded hotel lobby, I think most people’s first thoughts do not turn to a literary reference!
One of the other grad students who I was talking to was going to the book launch of a volume that he had contributed a chapter towards, and invited me to come along, so I went. We gathered more and more people as the day progressed, and suddenly there were eight of us – six Canadians and two Americans – not sure how it worked out that way.... We were all grad students, so none of us were actually staying at the Marriott, but we still asked the doorman if he could get us a cab. Turns out, he got the hotel van, and we drove across town for the cost of a tip to the driver!
The book launch was interesting, though by the end of it, I was very hungry, so the food at the Thai food restaurant we found tasted fabulous! I’m sure it would’ve been good food either way, but being bitch-hungry helped a lot in our estimation of its quality. We all agreed to walk off some of the dinner and found a Karaoke bar, named “The Caliph” of all places, but shortly after getting there, I realized I didn’t have the night code for the front door of the hostel, and if I didn’t leave shortly, I’d find myself turning into a pumpkin, so a quick cab ride was necessary to get me to the doors on time. Happily, I didn’t turn into a pumpkin, and even slept well that night.
PCA conference
I landed in San Diego at about 7 pm local time (though to me it felt much later) and at first, all I could think about was getting my luggage and finding a bed. But as a walked through the terminal to the baggage claim area, my path took me past a wall of windows several stories high. Since it was dark, it took me a while to even notice that the wall was glass, but when someone walked through an automatic door next to me, the warm sweet-smelling air (yes, sweet, even at an airport!) caught my attention and with a shock, I realized I was looking out at a row of palm trees. Palm trees!
The only time I've seen palm trees (at least this variety - they had them in Sao Paulo, but they were a different species of tree and looked very different) is on vacation - I've never lived somewhere where palm trees grow, and at that moment, all the worry about whether my paper was going to be well received, whether I'd learn anything, whether I'd hear some interesting papers, or whether I'd be bored with the whole conference, just fell away and I felt a surge of excitement, as if I was on vacation. I remembered where this conference was going to be held, and looked forward to seeing the city itself in addition to the scholars I'd be spending the next three days with.
After calling home and reassuring my daughter that I was still in California even if there was a message on the phone from the airline saying that my (original) flight had been cancelled because in this country, there's always another flight, I grabbed my bag and looked forward to getting my first glimpse of the city. The bus ride into downtown was over too fast (and I missed some of it trying to show the girl from Australia on my map where she wanted to get off the bus), but from what I did see, the city seemed to sparkle.
Now, I wasn't that enraptured by the city that I forgot that cities look much nicer in the dark, with their lights shining and the garbage obscured by low lighting, but even by the light of day the next morning, the place shone. In fact, the longer I wandered around, the more I wondered why the locals even bothered putting shoes on in the morning, the streets were so neatly swept at all times. (When I left Sunday morning at 5:30, crews were already out sweeping up cigarette butts and other debris – 5:30 in the morning!)
I found the hostel without a problem, and got my room, which was nice and spacious. Worth the money, I thought. Now came the problem that I had realized even before I left Boston – I had forgotten the web print out of the conference, which included the address of the hotel the conference was actually being held at (with room rates of $150/night, it was too rich for my blood, hence the hostel). The best my mind could come up with was the Omni.
I’d seen the Omni from the bus ride, so I headed over there, but the lobby was strangely empty and the conference area had no signage. I realized I was thinking about the wrong weekend – I was going to be at the Omni in Indianapolis, not San Diego. Rooting around in my memory, I came up with the Marriott, and I’d seen one on the walk to the Omni. So I headed over there. But it’s lobby was eerily empty as well.
I was puzzled, and feeling just a bit embarrassed. But I tried to ignore my rising embarrassment and asked the desk clerk if the PCA group was meeting in this hotel. She checked. No PCA. I turned to leave, thinking it was awfully late, but I could wake someone up at home and ask them to look it up. She stopped me, “Wait, it could be at the Marriott Marina”. Oh! Two hotels! Well. Okay. Sure enough, that’s where they’re meeting, and it’s only five blocks away.
The sign that said “PCA” in the lobby of the Marriott Marina was like a beacon from on high, illuminating the prize at the end of a long quest at that point. My feet started to ache as I clutched my bag of goodies on the way back to food and bed.
Despite a mind-befuddling tiredness, I found it difficult to sleep since the restaurant across the alley seemed to need to get rid of every bottle in the kitchen, one at a time, over five minute intervals until about 3 am, but I did sleep. That is, until the bottle pickers came to gather them before the dump trucks at 5 am.
Oh well, I figure sleep’s overrated anyway.
The only time I've seen palm trees (at least this variety - they had them in Sao Paulo, but they were a different species of tree and looked very different) is on vacation - I've never lived somewhere where palm trees grow, and at that moment, all the worry about whether my paper was going to be well received, whether I'd learn anything, whether I'd hear some interesting papers, or whether I'd be bored with the whole conference, just fell away and I felt a surge of excitement, as if I was on vacation. I remembered where this conference was going to be held, and looked forward to seeing the city itself in addition to the scholars I'd be spending the next three days with.
After calling home and reassuring my daughter that I was still in California even if there was a message on the phone from the airline saying that my (original) flight had been cancelled because in this country, there's always another flight, I grabbed my bag and looked forward to getting my first glimpse of the city. The bus ride into downtown was over too fast (and I missed some of it trying to show the girl from Australia on my map where she wanted to get off the bus), but from what I did see, the city seemed to sparkle.
Now, I wasn't that enraptured by the city that I forgot that cities look much nicer in the dark, with their lights shining and the garbage obscured by low lighting, but even by the light of day the next morning, the place shone. In fact, the longer I wandered around, the more I wondered why the locals even bothered putting shoes on in the morning, the streets were so neatly swept at all times. (When I left Sunday morning at 5:30, crews were already out sweeping up cigarette butts and other debris – 5:30 in the morning!)
I found the hostel without a problem, and got my room, which was nice and spacious. Worth the money, I thought. Now came the problem that I had realized even before I left Boston – I had forgotten the web print out of the conference, which included the address of the hotel the conference was actually being held at (with room rates of $150/night, it was too rich for my blood, hence the hostel). The best my mind could come up with was the Omni.
I’d seen the Omni from the bus ride, so I headed over there, but the lobby was strangely empty and the conference area had no signage. I realized I was thinking about the wrong weekend – I was going to be at the Omni in Indianapolis, not San Diego. Rooting around in my memory, I came up with the Marriott, and I’d seen one on the walk to the Omni. So I headed over there. But it’s lobby was eerily empty as well.
I was puzzled, and feeling just a bit embarrassed. But I tried to ignore my rising embarrassment and asked the desk clerk if the PCA group was meeting in this hotel. She checked. No PCA. I turned to leave, thinking it was awfully late, but I could wake someone up at home and ask them to look it up. She stopped me, “Wait, it could be at the Marriott Marina”. Oh! Two hotels! Well. Okay. Sure enough, that’s where they’re meeting, and it’s only five blocks away.
The sign that said “PCA” in the lobby of the Marriott Marina was like a beacon from on high, illuminating the prize at the end of a long quest at that point. My feet started to ache as I clutched my bag of goodies on the way back to food and bed.
Despite a mind-befuddling tiredness, I found it difficult to sleep since the restaurant across the alley seemed to need to get rid of every bottle in the kitchen, one at a time, over five minute intervals until about 3 am, but I did sleep. That is, until the bottle pickers came to gather them before the dump trucks at 5 am.
Oh well, I figure sleep’s overrated anyway.
Well, I'm back
WOW!
What a weekend! It turned out that there was not rain the entire time (in fact, very little of it) and I didn't need that umbrella. What I needed was sunscreen - which I didn't bring - so as I type this, my nose is shining a beautiful Rudolph-esque red (which I really hope fades by tomorrow when I have to go out in public again!)
But even aside from the sunny weather, the conference itself was fabulous! It was great to be with so many people who are doing that "weird" pop culture stuff like I do. And the level of discourse in some of those papers was amazing! There were some really cogent and intelligent arguments about the most mundane phenomena - the stuff that we enjoy and take in almost without thinking much of the time. It was stimulating to hear those papers and engage in the discussions that follow!
I feel energized and excited about not only the projects that people were presenting on, but on my own work. One paper in particular was doing much the same kind of thing (very different texts) as I am in the paper this week (man, I'm gonna be tired by the time that one's over!) and I had a long discussion with its author and he gave me a copy of his paper about it, which gave me some great ideas for revising my paper and fixing some of the places where I was having a problem making things relate to each other easily.
My body is exhausted (the hostel was right in the middle of the club district of downtown San Diego - noise, not activity), but my mind in energized, and I've got a boost of energy and feel inspired to keep going - just what I needed about now.
(I need to figure out a way to get to next year's conference!)
What a weekend! It turned out that there was not rain the entire time (in fact, very little of it) and I didn't need that umbrella. What I needed was sunscreen - which I didn't bring - so as I type this, my nose is shining a beautiful Rudolph-esque red (which I really hope fades by tomorrow when I have to go out in public again!)
But even aside from the sunny weather, the conference itself was fabulous! It was great to be with so many people who are doing that "weird" pop culture stuff like I do. And the level of discourse in some of those papers was amazing! There were some really cogent and intelligent arguments about the most mundane phenomena - the stuff that we enjoy and take in almost without thinking much of the time. It was stimulating to hear those papers and engage in the discussions that follow!
I feel energized and excited about not only the projects that people were presenting on, but on my own work. One paper in particular was doing much the same kind of thing (very different texts) as I am in the paper this week (man, I'm gonna be tired by the time that one's over!) and I had a long discussion with its author and he gave me a copy of his paper about it, which gave me some great ideas for revising my paper and fixing some of the places where I was having a problem making things relate to each other easily.
My body is exhausted (the hostel was right in the middle of the club district of downtown San Diego - noise, not activity), but my mind in energized, and I've got a boost of energy and feel inspired to keep going - just what I needed about now.
(I need to figure out a way to get to next year's conference!)
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Well, I'm off
I was hoping to catch some rays between sessions in San Diego, but the forecast is for rain all week, so I'm packing my umbrella instead. Don't know what electronic connections will be like (it is pop culture, so you'd think there'd be access, then again, I'm staying at the hostel & you usually have to pay at hostels), so I may not post for a while.
Thanks to everyone who wished me luck on my trip and the paper. You guys rock!
Thanks to everyone who wished me luck on my trip and the paper. You guys rock!
Monday, March 21, 2005
Simple, really
Sometimes a cappuccino with chocolate sauce drizzled on top is the very best thing in the world.
More useless stuff
Seems I'm on a bit of a quiz kick lately... not conscious, but I just keep running across these strange quizzes. And then I take them. And the results really aren't quite what I expect.
Frankly this one's pretty much bullshit, since you can tell which questions will get you more "male" characteristics and which ones more "female" characteristics because the questions all point to socialized behaviours that are coded are male or female in our culture. So when I answered, I tried to be honest about how I've been socialized... and voilá! I'm not a social misfit... right down the middle... good ole mediocre michele... no surprises there!
*sigh* I really have to find more interesting ways to waste time - maybe it's time to buy a Nintendo
| Your Brain is 53.33% Female, 46.67% Male |
Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve |
Frankly this one's pretty much bullshit, since you can tell which questions will get you more "male" characteristics and which ones more "female" characteristics because the questions all point to socialized behaviours that are coded are male or female in our culture. So when I answered, I tried to be honest about how I've been socialized... and voilá! I'm not a social misfit... right down the middle... good ole mediocre michele... no surprises there!
*sigh* I really have to find more interesting ways to waste time - maybe it's time to buy a Nintendo
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Slightly less lame
Last post I wrote in this space was extremely lame and thus has gotten the axe. Question is whether this one can move on up the lame-scale!
I am getting a bit excited/nervous about going to San Diego next week. I fly out Wednesday afternoon and come back Sunday morning (non-stop; 7 hours - I haven't been on a flight that long since we flew back from South America. Funny that - we ended up in Southern California that time too)
I'm fairly happy with the paper, and I'll get some feedback from a fellow fan/scholar next week so at least I'll have someone else's perspective on what the paper reads like. I'm of course a bit nervous about presenting, particularly since the other people on my panel are more seasoned than I am at this kind of thing.
I've never been to San Diego, and when I was last in L.A., I was eleven years old, so my perspective of southern California is from a child's perspective. It will be interesting to visit a new place, and should only cost me a couple hundred dollars out of my own pocket - overall, a good value I figure. Since we only made it as far south as San Fransisco when we did our road trip year before we left, this trip will fill in another piece of California for me.
Not to mention the fact that the Pop Culture conference has a lot of really fabulous panels (and some pretty interesting people to go with them). I'm looking forward to hearing some really neat papers and meeting some neat people.
The week after PCA, I head off to Indianapolis (probably not quite so charmingly picaresque) for another conference, so today I put the finishing touches on that paper. I still have to time it, but it's in the right range.
I'm sure I'll be happy to stay home in April!
I am getting a bit excited/nervous about going to San Diego next week. I fly out Wednesday afternoon and come back Sunday morning (non-stop; 7 hours - I haven't been on a flight that long since we flew back from South America. Funny that - we ended up in Southern California that time too)
I'm fairly happy with the paper, and I'll get some feedback from a fellow fan/scholar next week so at least I'll have someone else's perspective on what the paper reads like. I'm of course a bit nervous about presenting, particularly since the other people on my panel are more seasoned than I am at this kind of thing.
I've never been to San Diego, and when I was last in L.A., I was eleven years old, so my perspective of southern California is from a child's perspective. It will be interesting to visit a new place, and should only cost me a couple hundred dollars out of my own pocket - overall, a good value I figure. Since we only made it as far south as San Fransisco when we did our road trip year before we left, this trip will fill in another piece of California for me.
Not to mention the fact that the Pop Culture conference has a lot of really fabulous panels (and some pretty interesting people to go with them). I'm looking forward to hearing some really neat papers and meeting some neat people.
The week after PCA, I head off to Indianapolis (probably not quite so charmingly picaresque) for another conference, so today I put the finishing touches on that paper. I still have to time it, but it's in the right range.
I'm sure I'll be happy to stay home in April!
Friday, March 18, 2005
Damn! I'm just confirming a stereotype!
So, I met some new people last night... okay, well, I'd met them before, but this time I actually drank with them... and I figure you don't really know people until you've drank/slept/lived with them.
Anyway, one of them said "You're Canadian, right? I knew you were Canadian because you're so nice" *minor cringe* - "nice" is an awfully not-nice word sometimes, isn't it?
So I figured when this evil test showed up in my inbox today, I could take it and I'd probably score pretty high... at least I thought so. Apparently I actually am a nice person. Damn!
I am 32% evil.
I could go either way. I have sinned quite a bit but I still have a bit of room for error. My life is a tug of war between good and evil.
Are you evil? find out at Hilowitz.com
Anyway, one of them said "You're Canadian, right? I knew you were Canadian because you're so nice" *minor cringe* - "nice" is an awfully not-nice word sometimes, isn't it?
So I figured when this evil test showed up in my inbox today, I could take it and I'd probably score pretty high... at least I thought so. Apparently I actually am a nice person. Damn!
Are you evil? find out at Hilowitz.com
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Oops!
I have several computer engineering students in my class writing reports about computer security (viruses, spyware etc.) and it just occurred to me that even though Dwayne and I both have multiple programs, the girls have minimal coverage on their computer. And they'll be more likely to fall for spyware pop-ups etc.
Guess I know what I should do tonight!
Guess I know what I should do tonight!
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Indecision bites
I've reached one of those stages again where I have so much to do, I don't know what to do first. It's a case of frozen indecision, the worst kind of fate for an overworked student because it seems so utterly ridiculous ... frozen indecision to a grad student is like writer's block to a writer... awfully easy to fall in to, hard to pinpoint why it happens, and hard to get back out of.
Typical scenario:
I've just finished reading this interesting article by Todorov...should I read the next article by Coles in the book, or read Todorov's book? Both are on my list. Which one should I do first?
Stand up, stretch, walk around the living room once, then twice.
Or maybe I should read some in one of the other areas. I haven't read a novel in a long time. Maybe I should start London Fields. Or maybe I should read the Todorov. Or maybe I should read the Coles.
Walk into the bedroom/study and see a sheaf of papers on my desk.
Maybe I should read this stack of papers instead of the Coles or the Todorov book. It would help me decide how to focus this other reading list.
Go downstairs again, fill up coffee cup, muttering to myself as I walk back up the stairs.
No, I'm not going to let myself get distracted, I'm going to read the next article in this book, the Coles, and then maybe I'll read the Todorov.
Walk into the bedroom/study, glance at another pile of books (different place from the sheaf of papers). See a book with a paper band around the front cover.
Oh! I have an interlibrary loan! I wonder when it's due? I hope it's not overdue! Or please don't let it be due tommorrow!
Walk over to the book, look at the date on the cover.
Whew! It's due in four days. Well, I guess that decides it for me. I'd better read this book before I have to return it!
Sit down and open book to table of contents.
Oh yeah, right... gotta mark papers for tomorrow too.
The disaster of frozen indecision is averted... at least for the next four days.
Typical scenario:
I've just finished reading this interesting article by Todorov...should I read the next article by Coles in the book, or read Todorov's book? Both are on my list. Which one should I do first?
Stand up, stretch, walk around the living room once, then twice.
Or maybe I should read some in one of the other areas. I haven't read a novel in a long time. Maybe I should start London Fields. Or maybe I should read the Todorov. Or maybe I should read the Coles.
Walk into the bedroom/study and see a sheaf of papers on my desk.
Maybe I should read this stack of papers instead of the Coles or the Todorov book. It would help me decide how to focus this other reading list.
Go downstairs again, fill up coffee cup, muttering to myself as I walk back up the stairs.
No, I'm not going to let myself get distracted, I'm going to read the next article in this book, the Coles, and then maybe I'll read the Todorov.
Walk into the bedroom/study, glance at another pile of books (different place from the sheaf of papers). See a book with a paper band around the front cover.
Oh! I have an interlibrary loan! I wonder when it's due? I hope it's not overdue! Or please don't let it be due tommorrow!
Walk over to the book, look at the date on the cover.
Whew! It's due in four days. Well, I guess that decides it for me. I'd better read this book before I have to return it!
Sit down and open book to table of contents.
Oh yeah, right... gotta mark papers for tomorrow too.
The disaster of frozen indecision is averted... at least for the next four days.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Soliloquy - by Hamlet's Cat
To go outside, and there perchance to stay
Or to remain within: that is the question:
Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains upon those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And so by dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time
And stall the dinner bell.
To sit, to stare Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal's opened up, to stand
As if transfixed by doubt.
To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;
For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
As simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household's petty plagues,
The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom,
The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten?
Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbor's yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans' faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause upon the threshold of decision.
~Shakespaw~
I can understand Hamlet's Cat's difficulty in deciding whether to go or not to go. I, for one, would like to stay home given that we've been hit by yet another spring storm of wet, slushy, cold and heavy snow. My neighbor tells me she hasn't seen a winter this long, cold and wet since '95. While I'm used to long and cold, I definitely don't like the wet! (I suspect Hamlet's cat wouldn't care for it either)
Or to remain within: that is the question:
Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains upon those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And so by dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time
And stall the dinner bell.
To sit, to stare Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal's opened up, to stand
As if transfixed by doubt.
To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;
For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
As simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household's petty plagues,
The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom,
The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten?
Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbor's yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans' faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause upon the threshold of decision.
~Shakespaw~
I can understand Hamlet's Cat's difficulty in deciding whether to go or not to go. I, for one, would like to stay home given that we've been hit by yet another spring storm of wet, slushy, cold and heavy snow. My neighbor tells me she hasn't seen a winter this long, cold and wet since '95. While I'm used to long and cold, I definitely don't like the wet! (I suspect Hamlet's cat wouldn't care for it either)
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Maybe not on the same page, but at least reading the same book
Met with my supervisor today. She was happy with my reading list though she wants me to trim it (a few suggestions on what to trim, but pretty much up to me). Overall, I feel happy about the meeting - there have been a few times in the past when we met and I thought we were actually having two different conversations, but today, we were on the same page (mostly).
So, now I have several things to do:
- I have to go through the list of texts that I have and rearrange them under the new categories we discussed (this is where trimming should happen)
- Then I have to split those lists into primary and secondary novels
- Next I need to read them (okay, well, at least the ones I haven't yet read)
- After that, I need to find books on: contemporary British history/culture; criticism about representations of historical material in fiction; postmodernism; and postcolonialism *whew!*
- Then I have to give her another list.
That's all.
The other good news/bad news element (depending on whether I can pull it off) is that she is satisfied with my projected timetable for writing the exams, though I couldn't pin her down on a deadline date for submission of that second list in order to write the exam when I want to. Oh well, I suppose I can chalk it up as a successful meeting even if I didn't get that.
Oh, yeah, and she indicated I should audit a class that our new professor of Twentieth Century literature will teach when he arrives this fall. And that he will likely lead the dissertation committee. Those were two questions that I had about how his hire will impact my studies. His specialization in Irish lit, so we don't have much overlap, but his degree is officially listed as cultural studies, so he'll be a good resource for methodology more than primary textual analysis.
Perhaps I should celebrate...
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Howling shivering nighttime
Wow! Is that wind outside every howling and rattling the windows. I've had to turn the thermostat up an extra degree just to keep up with the drafts coming in from what feels like every chink of the masonry.
Ugh! I sure hope it's nicer outside tomorrow - the bus will be even more unpleasant than its usual smelly, unreliable, overcrowded condition.
Ugh! I sure hope it's nicer outside tomorrow - the bus will be even more unpleasant than its usual smelly, unreliable, overcrowded condition.
Monday, March 07, 2005
It's really just about the picture
 | You scored as Adult. The Adult ego state is the part of the personality that is most in tune with reality as it gathers information and makes decisions based on the reality of facts. People who score high in this category spend a lot of time thinking, computing and analyzing.
Interaction with Others Survey created with QuizFarm.com |
I suppose it's good that I scored as adult (since I've been one chronologically-speaking for years) but I really just like the picture that accompanies the description.
It reminds me of this one from our trip to London (outside British Museum):
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Shock of recognition
I log onto the weather page to check out the weather and what is the featured picture at the top of the screen - only beautiful Calgary!
The images are entirely random, and if I were to refresh the page, I'd get a new one, so you can imagine how shocked I was to glance at the photo and realize it was Calgary! Looks fabulous! (though if you're one of the people living there who reads this, you know how fabulous it is...)
The images are entirely random, and if I were to refresh the page, I'd get a new one, so you can imagine how shocked I was to glance at the photo and realize it was Calgary! Looks fabulous! (though if you're one of the people living there who reads this, you know how fabulous it is...)
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Some things never change
I am making this statement as an act of willful defiance of military authority, because I believe that the War is being deliberately prolonged by those how have the power to end it. I am a soldier, convinced that I am acting on behalf of soldiers. I believe this War, upon which I entered as a war of defence and liberation, has now become a war of aggression and conquest. I believe that the purposes for which I and my fellow-soldiers entered upon this War should have been so clearly stated as to have made it impossible for them to be changed without our knowledge, and that, has this been done, the objects which actuated us would now be attainable by negotiation.
I have seen and endured the sufferings of the troops, and I can no longer be a party to prolonging those sufferings for ends which I believe to be evil and unjust.
I am not protesting against the military conduct of the War, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being sacrificed.
On behalf of those who are suffering now, I make this protest against the deception which is being practiced on them. Also I believe that it may help to destroy the callous complacence with which the majority of those as home regard the continuance of agonies which they do not share, and which they have not sufficient imagination to realise.
Written by Sigfried Sassoon and read to the House of Commons, July 30, 1917
By putting my weapon down, I chose to reassert myself as a human being. I have not deserted the military nor been disloyal to the men and women of the military. I have not been disloyal to a country. I have only been loyal to my principles.
When I turned myself in, with all my fears and doubts, it did it not only for myself. I did it for the people of Iraq, even for those who fired upon me – they were just on the other side of a battleground where war itself was the only enemy. I did it for the Iraqi children, who are victims of mines and depleted uranium. I did it for the thousands of unknown civilians killed in war. My time in prison is a small price compared to the price Iraqis and Americans have paid with their lives. Mine is a small price compared to the price humanity has paid for war.
To those who have called me a coward I say that they are wrong, and that without knowing it, they are also right. They are wrong when they think that I left the war for fear of being killed. I admit that fear was there, but there was also the fear of killing innocent people, the fear of putting myself in a position where to survive means to kill, there was the fear of losing my soul in the process of saving my body, the fear of losing myself to my daughter, to the people who love me, to the man I used to be, the man I wanted to be. I was afraid of waking up one morning to realize my humanity had abandoned me.
I say without any pride that I did my job as a soldier. I commanded an infantry squad in combat and we never failed to accomplish our mission. But those who called me a coward, without knowing it, are also right. I was a coward not for leaving the war, but for having been a part of it in the first place. Refusing and resisting this war was my moral duty, a moral duty that called me to take a principled action. I failed to fulfill my moral duty as a human being and instead I chose to fulfill my duty as a soldier. All because I was afraid. I was terrified; I did not want to stand up to the government and the army – I was afraid of punishment and humiliation. I went to war because at the moment I was a coward, and for that I apologize to my soldiers for not being the type of leader I should have been.
Written by Camilo Mejia, February 28, 2005 at Full article at Alternet
It's amazing how these two statements resonate with each other. Although they don't sound the same, and they aren't directed at military engagements that remotely resemble each other, they express a similar sentiment. Sometimes I think it's very easy to forget that human beings are the ones who fight wars AND are the ones who decide to start wars. Regardless of how it starts, the damage to those human beings remains the same.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
I have seen and endured the sufferings of the troops, and I can no longer be a party to prolonging those sufferings for ends which I believe to be evil and unjust.
I am not protesting against the military conduct of the War, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being sacrificed.
On behalf of those who are suffering now, I make this protest against the deception which is being practiced on them. Also I believe that it may help to destroy the callous complacence with which the majority of those as home regard the continuance of agonies which they do not share, and which they have not sufficient imagination to realise.
Written by Sigfried Sassoon and read to the House of Commons, July 30, 1917
By putting my weapon down, I chose to reassert myself as a human being. I have not deserted the military nor been disloyal to the men and women of the military. I have not been disloyal to a country. I have only been loyal to my principles.
When I turned myself in, with all my fears and doubts, it did it not only for myself. I did it for the people of Iraq, even for those who fired upon me – they were just on the other side of a battleground where war itself was the only enemy. I did it for the Iraqi children, who are victims of mines and depleted uranium. I did it for the thousands of unknown civilians killed in war. My time in prison is a small price compared to the price Iraqis and Americans have paid with their lives. Mine is a small price compared to the price humanity has paid for war.
To those who have called me a coward I say that they are wrong, and that without knowing it, they are also right. They are wrong when they think that I left the war for fear of being killed. I admit that fear was there, but there was also the fear of killing innocent people, the fear of putting myself in a position where to survive means to kill, there was the fear of losing my soul in the process of saving my body, the fear of losing myself to my daughter, to the people who love me, to the man I used to be, the man I wanted to be. I was afraid of waking up one morning to realize my humanity had abandoned me.
I say without any pride that I did my job as a soldier. I commanded an infantry squad in combat and we never failed to accomplish our mission. But those who called me a coward, without knowing it, are also right. I was a coward not for leaving the war, but for having been a part of it in the first place. Refusing and resisting this war was my moral duty, a moral duty that called me to take a principled action. I failed to fulfill my moral duty as a human being and instead I chose to fulfill my duty as a soldier. All because I was afraid. I was terrified; I did not want to stand up to the government and the army – I was afraid of punishment and humiliation. I went to war because at the moment I was a coward, and for that I apologize to my soldiers for not being the type of leader I should have been.
Written by Camilo Mejia, February 28, 2005 at Full article at Alternet
It's amazing how these two statements resonate with each other. Although they don't sound the same, and they aren't directed at military engagements that remotely resemble each other, they express a similar sentiment. Sometimes I think it's very easy to forget that human beings are the ones who fight wars AND are the ones who decide to start wars. Regardless of how it starts, the damage to those human beings remains the same.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
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