The RCMP always get their man...

... or in this case, their woman.

I picked up the mail the other day to find an envelope from the RCMP. My first thought was that I'd managed to pick up a multanova ticket. But then I realized I hadn't taken my car out of the city for weeks, so it couldn't be that.

I was intensely curious when I opened the envelope.

Turns out the RCMP were helping the Canadian Blood Services track people down. It seems that I'm a potential match for the Unrelated Bone Marrow Donor Program. I was surprised since I'd first signed up for the program probably a decade ago - in fact they have me in the system under my old name.

So there's a questionnaire, and then if everything matches up on it, some additional testing. Right now they say I'm a 60% match, which doesn't sound like it would actually be much good, but apparently it's close enough that they're doing the followup.

It's one of those kinds of things that you don't really expect to happen - a bit like jury duty perhaps (which I've actually managed to avoid till this point in my life) - so it was a real surprise to get the call. I don't know how I feel about it. If I am a match, I could really help someone. But if I'm not a match, I avoid what I understand is a very painful procedure.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Doing what you're supposed to

Confessions of a Community College Dean - a very good blog if you haven't come across it before - recently had a post about not doing what you're "supposed" to do with your degree.

I think it's possible before your degree to not do what you're supposed to do either. (Of course I think this because I do not yet have my degree.)

Not doing what you're "supposed" to in your academic career seems to be what I've been doing myself.

In my second year of course work, I attended a faculty-sponsored seminar in which we were explicitly told that it was not worth going to conferences or publishing unless we did it at the very best conferences and with the very best names. I found the talk disheartening, wondering how someone like me could ever get the very best names and places to pay attention to me.

But then I went on my merry way. I attended my second PCA/ACA conference later that year and had a great time. I met all kinds of neat people - established scholars, professors, and graduate students - who liked to study popular culture and I knew I'd found my niche. The warnings of that seminar lurked in the back of my brain, but I was enjoying the study of pop culture so much that I tended to push the warning back to the nether regions of my brain. (Not to mention the advice was doled out by the same individual who told me studying film was a waste of time... even though I already knew several people who were building promising careers around the study of film)

At my first PCA, my advisor recommended me and I presented part of a chapter from my MA thesis. For the second PCA, I returned even further into the past to resurrect my honors thesis from undergrad. See, at the time I'd written the thesis, the novel series I was writing on had only reached volume #4, but by the time second PCA rolled around, the full 7 volume set had been produced, and in paperback. I'd always wanted to revisit the work I'd done once the series was complete, and this seemed the perfect opportunity.

The paper went really well; the panel was even better; and getting to know the scholars working in the area was an even better experience. For third PCA, I presented on a different topic with a different group, but I hung out with the gang from the previous year for dinner and again enjoyed myself. PCA number four had me working with some of the same people in a different area.

So as the deadline for abstract submissions for my fifth PCA approaches, I'm again thinking of the networks I've connected with. I'm working hard on trying to figure out a paper that emerges from the dissertation to submit instead of working up something entirely new.

But the point of the story is that the panel chair for that second PCA convention just emailed me. She's signed a book collection deal, and remembering my presentation, has indicated she would like to include that paper in the book.

How cool is that?!

Okay, if you're not in academia, you might not think that's cool. But belive me, it's way cool!

By embracing this pop cultural connection, I may be eliminating myself from the upper echelons of academia; the Shakespeareans and the Classicists and other similar scholars may no longer want me in their clubs. I realize I'm painting myself into a niche which - like the careers of some movie stars - might be hard to break out of. But, you know, I'm enjoying the work I'm doing. And if you don't enjoy your chosen career, then what's the point? I'm beginning to suspect that I just might be comfortable building a career on the academic B-list.

A concert and a dodge

The Blue man Group is a very cool concert. The irony that I see them this weekend, in a place very far from their any of their home bases is not lost on me. Partially because I had to drive several hours to see them. But most especially because I lived in a regular show city and never ever saw them when I lived there. Mostly because there was always something more pressing that I needed to spend the ticket money on.

We began the long drive home, fairly late at night, down a four lane highway that we've both driven many times before. This highway is fairly busy, even late at night, so there were plenty of on coming headlights from the other side of the meridian to keep us awake and such.

Suddenly, about half way home, we came around a corner and the headlights coming at us seemed unusually bright. My first thought was that they were those new halogen type headlights - the ones that are so bright I wonder how they can be legal since they essentially blind all the other drivers on the road, something I think would be a hazardous condition that shouldn't be encouraged. But then the angle wasn't quite right, so I thought it was maybe a car on a crossroad, or a side road, whose headlights were coming at us at such a strange angle.

By the time we both realized that the headlights looked so bright and at such a strange angle, we were side by side with the vehicle, who was travelling the opposite direction in our left lane.

Shocked would be an understatement.

My first thought was for the car we had just passed, who was still behind us and who the driver travelling the wrong way up the highway would soon encounter. But when we turned to watch, it was apparent we were the clue that sunk in because the minivan was braking and pulling off the road. So at least there wasn't going to be an accident as a result of this person's wrong way driving.

That was a relief.

Realizing that we were lucky we weren't in the left passing lane was another relief.

I've always wondered when hearing about head on collisions in good weather why they happen. Living in a part of the world where most highways are straight and wide, and you can see oncoming traffic, often for miles, I wonder how people are unable to avoid such collisions.

But now I know.

We met this wrong-travelling vehicle coming out of a turn at the top of a hill. So we didn't see his headlights for long before our respective 110kph speeds rapidly ate up the distance between us. Because we were on a curve, it was also a little harder to determine the angles between us, the oncoming vehicle, and the position of our side of the road at the point where we saw his headlights.

But one of the biggest things that I suspect leads to head on accidents, even in clear weather is plain old disbelief. My brain generated a number of other explanations for the odd looking headlights when I first saw them. It was only when the other possibilities had been eliminated and it became evident that it had to be the unthinkable - that a car was driving the wrong way on the highway toward us - that my brain accepted that possibility and acted upon it.

Because let's face it, we've all had that experience of seeing lights on a crossroad, or a flash of light off a side window, or a shadow that has made us think there's a vehicle there that isn't, or that it's travelling differently than it actually is. (On a road trip one time, all three of us driving kept thinking there was a car in our blind spot when we'd shoulder check because the stupid rental car company had plastered a sticker on the rear side window and we kept thinking it was an object outside the car) It's just a momentary flash, but it happens often enough, that we doubt our own senses.

Seeing headlights coming toward you as your round a curve, the first thought is that it must be a trick of the light, as has happened at other times before. It's only when the visual evidence continues to mount that you realize this is indeed a situation that is out of the ordinary and the unthinkable could happen in the next moment. I can imagine that for some people, the realization that the unthinkable is indeed going to happen comes too late and they cannot avoid the collision.

Complacency and the belief that everything is progressing normally saves us from braking for things that aren't there (which would make us look like doofuses), but it also slows down our acceptance of the things that are there, especially when they shouldn't be.

Kids taking charge... in pink

This news story about a couple of teens who took action against bullies in their school is fabulous!

The students were reacting to an incident on the first day of school when a new student was harrassed and threatened for wearing a pink shirt. David Shephard and Travis Price, a couple of grade 12 students, went out and bought 75 pink shirts to hand out to students to send a signal to the bullies that their behaviour wasn't acceptable.

Now apparently there are several other schools in Nova Scotia where kids are undertaking similar "wear pink" days to protest bullying.

The greatest part about the whole thing is that this isn't adults telling kids what's good and what's not - it's the students who have spearheaded this campaign to stop the bullying. If bullies are ostracized for their behaviour, it will rapidly dampen the effect. It's when no one objects that bullying flourishes. That the students took on this problem is worth far more than all the PSAs produced about it.

Teeny, tiny cars

I read today in the newspaper that downtown Calgary is switching to an electronic pay system for parking downtown.

The rationale behind pulling out parking meters in favor of this new system is that people aren't constrained by where the meters are actually located. Rather, if you can find the space, you've got it. This idea is not new. One of my students proposed this revamp to parking in Boston several years ago. (Of course in Boston, this strategy is already employed in practice where you frequently see three cars occupying the space allocated to two meters.)

The theory is that you can fit more cars into the same space. Preliminary results here bear out the theory, though of course once we get several feet of snow, that might change.

Driving a car that requires less than 3m of parking space, means that if I can squeeze in, it's mine! Since I take up less than half the room of a halfton truck and many SUVs, that means I've got more options for parking than I ever did before. The university has switched to a similar park-if-you-can-fit-in strategy at some of its meters, which I discovered this morning on the monthly research run to the library.

There's also a rumor, not in the article I've linked to, but in the paper version of the paper that *certain* smaller vehicles and motorcycles will also recieve a 25% discount on parking when they register with the system. Double bonus!

Cats, chimeras and DNA

In Free Culture, Lawrence Lessig argues that what makes us human is our DNA. Writing about chimeras – people and other organisms with two sets of DNA because two embryos fused during development – he writes, “the very idea of DNA is that it is the code of an individual. Yet in fact, not only can two individuals have the same set of DNA (identical twins), but one person can have two different sets of DNA (a chimera). Our understanding of a ‘person’ should reflect this reality”. It is important to note that Lessig’s claim that our understanding of “person” should take into account the possibility that they do not have a single unique sequence of DNA rests on an assumption that DNA is what defines the human as such. His claim for DNA as the code of the individual is widely accepted, but DNA is also the code for individual animals, just the same as it is for humans. Consider for a moment that that DNA of an individual housecat differs from other housecats. Each household pet could be identified forensically by their DNA, just as we do in for humans in crime scenes. To find a cat that is a chimera, with two sets of DNA, would not lead us to question whether that cat is indeed a cat.

But according to Lessig, the human chimera should be taken into consideration when defining the human as an individual with a unique and single DNA signature. How is it that the category of person is challenged by the chimera, while the category of cat is not?

I guess I'm not necessarily expecting an answer - it's just a question that emerged from the reading.

Country and City

I've been spending a lot of time driving across vast expanses of prairie (or similar landscape) over the recent months and it's gotten me thinking about rural and urban spaces. I've also moved from a small urban space to a much larger one, and it has got me noticing the differences.

All of this has reconfirmed for me that I am a big city gal at heart.

It's not that I love the congestion and the sometimes lack of privacy that a large urban center offers. Nor is it that I don't like the friendliness that a smaller town or city can offer. It's mostly the amenities that come with an urban center that exceeds a certain size that makes me like the big city.

I've lived in all kinds of places. From a small hamlet of under 300 to a sprawling metropolis of 15 million. Now, I will grant that the huge metropolis can be intimidating, and there certainly are downsides to such a huge place. Transportation becomes more difficult and in some neighborhoods can be downright dangerous. You don't even need to be a metropolis for that to occur. But even though getting around might be a bit harder, you've usually also got a lot more options.

Whereas living in a little hamlet, transportation isn't a problem - the whole place is only about 10 square blocks. But to do any business, you need to travel to a larger center, and getting there can sometimes be a problem. Not to mention everyone knows everyone else's business. There is something slightly consoling about the anonmymity of the city, knowing that if you have a bad day and don't feel like smiling, it's not going to start a rumour about how bad your life is - there's a good chance no one you meet on a day like that will remember you.

But mostly I like the amenities that come with a larger city. Take the one I live in now. In the next month, there's a film festival, a book festival, two concerts I want to see, and an academic conference in my field that will be held here. In a smaller place, I'd have to travel to get that - and then I would be travelling, not able to retreat home after each event. It also is large enough to boast several playhouses, a decent music scene, and a variety of restaurants and clubs that will not leave you wanting when the mood hits for something specific.

And decent public transit if I want/need it.

In a smaller urban center, or in a rural one, there certainly are more people who "know your name" and who you can count on to remember you and to say hi as you pass. In a larger place, there's a lot less of that. But what you don't get from your neighbors, you can still find. There are far more people available to connect with - to find people who share the same interests isn't difficult, and so you create your social networks not out of proximity, but because you share the same interests or values.

It's a bit like social networking on the internet - in all its formats, not just the most recent incarnations - from usenet groups to facebook - you can find someone else with whom you share an interest in almost anything. Sometimes that's good. Sometimes it's not. But I like the idea of having a lot of strangers around me, some of whom will make good friends when I get to know them. Yes, I suppose I pay a price because I could become more isolated within a sea of people, but then again, when I went to blend into that sea, I can dive in and no one will take notice. Then I can go home and call on the network I've created out of that sea. In some ways, there's a certain level of comfort to be taken in that.

Creepy people

I first ran across the idea expressed in this article The Undead Zone: Why realistic graphics makes humans look creepy when I was reading Scott McLeod's Understanding Comics. The author even mentions McLeod in the discussion.

The essence of the article is that we are comfortable with humanoid creatures, in video games or even robotics, but once they get too be human-looking, we focus on the 1% that isn't quite right and get creeped out by it. Of course Freud's unheimlich is the same kind of thing as well.

Today I walked into the living room while a sports show was on television. And just for a moment, the two athletes on the screen looked like CGI characters, not real humans. I felt that kind of creepiness when I thought they were CGI-ed. But when I realized they weren't CGI'ed, that's when they just got a whole lot creepier.

I felt sorry for men who would go through life resembling CGI characters because of their physical features. And then I started wondering if perhaps I had only made that mistake because they were athletes - you know, muscled bodies, few physical defects etc. Both happened to be pale red-heads too, and I wonder if that had something to do with it. After all, the most realistically CGI-ed characters in video games tend to be white, don't they?

I haven't really thought it all out yet, but it got me thinking about the reverse of what the article is talking about. What happens when we think the humans look unrealistic? Is it the same effect as when CGI-ed characters look too human? Something to think about a bit more perhaps...

Finally starting to swim...

... or at the very least, finally keeping my head above water...

...seeing the light at the end of the tunnel...

...emerging from a under the weight of a mammoth to do list.

(pick the phrase you like the best)

I don't know that I'm back on track - I suspect my sense that things are improving is simple self-delusion and wishful thinking. But I do know that I feel much better today about where I stand in relation to all my obligations and commitments. So I'll take the good feelings when I can!

Moving of course is one of those things that eats up incredibly huge amounts of time. It's not just the packing up of all your stuff, the loading it in a truck, the driving it (probably the shortest moving-related activity this time) or the unloading it. It's all the other stuff that goes with moving. The cleaning up of the old place. The fixing of old and/or new place. The changing registrations of cars, schools, utlities, taxes, blah, blah, blah...

But the moving is mostly over. There are a lot of places that don't have a change of address yet - I'm relying on the forwarding to keep me in touch. So that still needs to be done. And there are several boxes that still need unpacking. But life has mostly settled down.

Before the move, I had my classes prepped for two weeks in advance (minus marking of course). Those two weeks got eaten up awfully fast and I was left scrambling the night before a couple of times. I'm working on rebuilding that lead and can say I'm actually getting there. So that's becoming one less thing hanging over my head.

There were a few birthdays following right on the tail of the moving. And I had to finish editing a paper for a deadline. A couple more things - pleasant - but nonetheless requiring time, that kept me busy for what felt like every hour of the day. There's still another paper to edit. Oh, yeah, and that dissertation thing-y to write. But I'm feeling a bit more caught up now, which is nice.

Long and short of it is that there should be more posting - at least a bit more - from now until it all falls apart again...

Singin' in the rain

Sometimes we don't pay attention to the good things in life. It's the annoyances and irritations that get all the headlines.

But over the last two days, we've had showers on an off. On Thursday, I wasn't expecting them and was wearing a sundress with a cute but not really functional sweater, so when it started to rain as I drove away from work, I anticipated cold dashes through rain to the errands I had to complete. When the sleet started, I really got depressed.

But by the time I arrived at my errands, the rain let up. And only restarted when I got home.

Same thing Friday. Rain while driving home. None once I got out of the car to go into the grocery store.

Sometimes I just forget that luck does occasionally go my way. Sure, rain is a small thing, but sometimes, it might be all you have. I'm thankful for how the rain coincided with my schedule the last couple of days.

A matter of style?*

Editing another person’s work and having your own work edited by someone else is an interesting project. Two different people’s writing styles and habits come into contact with each other in the editing process, and the question then becomes, “whose style wins out?”

I suppose a precursor question to that one is “what constitutes style?”

Everyone has their own way of doing things. This of course extends to writing as well. But there are different levels of expertise in writing too. Some people are better at it than others. So how do you tell the difference between an editor’s suggestion coming from the fact that they are better at what they do than you, and when it is just a stylistic preference?

In my MA thesis, my the members of my committee were provided with copies of the thesis before my defense, and of course after the defense, they each had suggestions for things that needed to be done before they would accept the thesis as complete. Most of the suggestions were about content, but one of my committee members had covered the pages of the thesis in commas. She was suggesting throughout the thesis that my commas were not properly placed.

I started editing the thesis, inserting all those commas in, but stopped halfway through because I realized that this was just a stylistic difference. Her writing used more commas than mine, but it wasn’t any more “right” than my style of writing. (Of course commas are the most flexible form of punctuation to use and styles range from almost nothing to insertion between every phrase.) In that case, the suggested comma inserts were a stylistic difference and by not inserting them, I don’t think I produced a poorer quality thesis.

But now I’m faced with a similar editing comment. I’ve been told my style in employing citations is faulty. It wasn’t that the MLA citation style was wrong; the comment was that I don’t do enough to set up quotations before inserting them into my writing. The suggestion for changing it felt artificial to me, like how you set up quotations when you’re first learning how to do so, but the advice was coming from a good place, so I took a look at my citations.

Now at first I accepted this advice and revised the way I embedded citations in my writing. But what’s making me wonder if this is simply a stylistic difference is that I’ve been reading other people’s writing, and realized that there is a wide variation in writing. In particular I’m reading Walter Benjamin, who was really big on citation. He seems to employ citation in a way similar to how I do, but contrary to how my editor indicated it should be done.

The quoting changes have already been made, and I’m happy to leave then as such in the essay, but now I’m left puzzling over whether I need to work on this, or whether it is just a stylistic difference for the next time I sit down to write something. I really don’t know.

*blog post originally written Aug 24th.

*breathing a (small) sigh of relief*

We are moved. Or as my husband says, "now all our crap is in our giant, expensive crap-holder."

The tao of moving

Posting will be sparse to non-existent for the next week. We're packing up this weekend and won't have internet access till the middle of next week in the new place.

Having a conversation with my father about moving the other day got me thinking about the way we think of moving. There's of course the saying that good friends are the ones who show up to help you move, and I've certainly had plenty of friends help me move in the past, so that's been borne out as far as I'm concerned.

But this move we'll be going solo. Just the four of us. Two adults and two teens are a pretty reasonable moving team - especially since we're hiring movers for the two specialty items - the pool table and the piano. I've even got my fingers crossed that the landlord calls tomorrow to say that they or the new tenants will take our washer and dryer off our hands. The new place comes with them (and they're better quality than the cheapie ones we bought while on a student budget) and if someone wants to take them off our hands, it's one less thing to move.

My dad and mom actually offered to drive 6 hours to come help us move, which of course would also likely involve sleeping on the floor and another 6 hour drive back, all probably within a couple of days. I love my mom and dad too much to take them up on such an offer. It was nice, but I wouldn't feel like a very good daughter if I agreed to something like that. I'm sure the four of us will do just fine.

But moving got me thinking about how moving and friends mix (or don't). We aren't having any friends help us this time. Mostly because I haven't asked. I already know that many of my friends are busy/on vacation this time of year. And some are just not the kind of friends who will help you move - they'll do all kinds of wonderful other things for you - but they don't even move themselves, let alone help friends move.

And sometimes I think I've got a moving-karma deficit. I feel like I've done more asking of friends to help move than I've done for friends. Not that I've ever said no to a friend who's asked for help, but I just don't think I've been asked as often as I've been the one asking. The last person I said I'd help moved changed the loading date to a day that I was out of town, so I couldn't even fulfill that promise, which I really regret. Perhaps I can be there for their next move...

So we'll be going solo. But we've booked the truck for an extended period because we knew this would be the case, so we don't have to knock ourselves out with a time limit. We're trying to be fairly zen about it, which makes it more than manageable I think. At least with a local move, you can always make a second trip if you feel the need to do so. Cross-continental moves are soooooo much harder!

One of the advantages of moving only a year after the last move is that you haven't accumulated a lot of junk. Don't get me wrong. We accumulated a lot of stuff - seems like we spent all last September and October buying crap for the house - but it hasn't hung around long enough to become junk yet, so the enormous garage sale or trip the the charity hasn't been a feature of this move.

I just find it interesting that moving brings up all kinds of thoughts and feelings that really don't surface at any other time. Maybe it's just the change that does so, or maybe there's a sense of identity associated with places that gets disrupted when you move. I'm not sure what exactly it is - I just know that moving is a really strange experience when you come right down to it.

Slow-moving hockey animals

I actually don't read the comics section of the paper that often, but yesterday's Get Fuzzy set me and my family laughing longer than usual.
(If you're having problems making out the image, follow the link instead)



Just the day before, we'd found an excellent sale price on a Flames jersey, so now I finally own one. But I'd better watch out for the sloth section when I go!

Moving Week

So this is the week we begin moving. I say begin because we'll be stretching it out till the end of the month - which is a real luxury, especially after all our cross country moves - but it begins Friday.

Obviously posting may be even more sparse than usual... or maybe more than usual as I distract myself from boxes...

On second thought, if I'm not packing, I should be revising the paper that's due at the end of the month. So I guess if you're seeing a blog post over the next week, I'm either sailing through the revisions, or I'm logjammed against an immovable and nasty syntactical behemoth.

But while I'm off packing boxes and furiously typing, I leave you with Tenured Radical's Ten Commandments of Moving. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

Gone but not forgotten

Last week I had been feeling forgotten, like I was falling prey to "out of sight, out of mind" because of the vast distance between me and the academic people I hang out with.

But last night, my writing group and I met online, and it was fabulous! It took us a good week just to find a day that worked for everyone, but we did it and it was almost like being together. Almost. But it was so good to chat with the members and talk about our writing. As usual, they gave me some excellent ideas, and I'm really excited about implementing them. And I'm absolutely riveted to their narratives - I can't wait to read the next installments!

So this long distance thing does work when everyone's committed to it. It's just getting the committment that's the problem!

I don't remember asking for the "challenge" package

Life has felt like an extra challenge the last few days. I can't even just chalk it up to moving-related stuff. It seems that every aspect of my life seems extra challenging lately.

It is 4pm already and all I can really say I've accomplished is to have taught my one hour of class today. Or at least that's all that feels like it was productive.

If I'd been sipping Mai Tai's on a beach or something the rest of the time, I wouldn't be quite so bothered, but today has been eaten up by a lot of minutiae, which is always annoying. Some of those minutiae exploded in size and the amount of time they ate up, which is doubly annoying. It's one of those days when you start looking at the clock because you can't wait for it to finally be over!

I must admit that I spent some of my time just sitting in my car. I think it was time that I needed to spend there though. This morning as I was driving between errands, I approached a green light. Since it was green, I went through. Twenty-odd years of driving has borne out the assumption that "green means go". Halfway through the intersection, I had to slam on the brakes to keep from being wiped out by a guy in a truck who blew right through a solid red light.

Guess what he was holding up to his ear?

I was shaking so badly from the shock that I had to pull over and sit in my car for a bit. Even then, I almost dropped stuff at the bank because my hands were still shaking.

My car has a really good safety rating - I just don't want to personally test how good it is.

The good and the bad

Given my last post, I realize another personal post like this might be too much. But I still want to say it, so here goes.

Last month a good friend called me up and asked me if I'd be interested in teaching some writing courses at a local technical school. I'd been out of the classroom long enough that I said "sure!" and a little while later, she forwarded sample syllabi for the courses.

The teaching has been fabulous so far! The students are really engaged. For the most part, they're there because they want to be. Of course I do have a few students in each of the two classes I teach who think it is unimportant to come to the English class - they see little value in the class and they've told me so. I'm not making it easy on students like that because we do a lot of in class work, so they're bleeding marks rapidly.

While that may not make them see the use of being able to communicate clearly, it will force them into the classroom and participating - hopefully the incidental result is that they pick up a few things while they're there...

So far I've even enjoyed reading my students' writing. Some of it is predictable, but so much more of it than I thought I'd get is imaginative and plays with the goals of the assignments, and those ones definitely make up for the duller ones. These students aren't afraid to take risks in their writing, and while sometimes it bombs, it also pays off huge dividends for them.

The school is having some serious problems with my electronic access - I have none right now - which was mostly a minor inconvenience until Friday. On that day, I had three different administrative personnel come to ask me for the same thing, which I'm unable to deliver since I can't access any of the drives on the server. (I can access the online learning environment, which is great 'cause I can talk to my students, but I can't use any of the computers at the school to do so.)

It was a little frustrating for me to have three different people come to chew me out for not doing something that I'm unable to do. It was particularly frustrating because I'd made sure I told people about my lack of access, and they said that was fine, I could catch up on administrative paperwork later. Then all of a sudden on Friday it became urgent for me to do this, and I ended up feeling incompetent for not having solved the problem myself. Probably an overreaction, but it still felt like that.

At least this deadline put a fire under a few people's asses and it looks like they might finally get me some network access.... But I'm not holding my breath.

The biggest problem right now is that I've got two (new) class preps on top of my online work and all this moving stuff. So right now it feels like I'm constantly writing a new assignment, or otherwise prepping endlessly. I should be prepping right now instead of blogging...!

The prepping itself isn't hard - I've got lots of good material that I've developed over the years. But it does need to be adapted for the new environment, and because the pedagogical goals are different, some of it needs to be created from scratch.

One thing I'm spending lots of time writing is lab assignments. I've never taught a writing class before that had a lab component, so I have to create all those assignments from scratch.

But I'm also loving having the students sitting in front of computers for two hours a week. It gives us so many opportunities to write, and to write small assignments. It gives the students a sense of accomplishment. It allows me to play with ideas that I've had but never figured out how to work into an essay assignment. And it also gives me a chance to work with them as they write, to identify which students have which problems, so that I can tailor my writing suggestions to addressing their specific problems.

Whenever I'd have a choice about it, I would definitely choose running a writing class with a laboratory component. It's just provides so many more opportunities for the students to write.

Just thinking about writing this post made me think about how much of teaching (or any other job I suppose) consists of both the good and the bad, both inside and outside of the classroom itself.

Isolation

When we made the decision to return home last year, I knew that writing a dissertation long distance would mean I would be more isolated from feedback and the advice/support of colleagues and advisors. I accepted this because the benefits of moving outweighed the disadvantages of it.

But I also assumed that the problems of isolation could be overcome by me if I made the effort to stay in touch. I figured that the problems would mostly arise if I didn't keep the communication lines open and keep on track.

I never really considered the possibility that my advisor or colleagues would adopt an "out of sight, out of mind" stance toward me.

But that's what's happened. It was a bit of a shock when I realized it.

Of course one of the lessons you learn in life is that there's nothing you can do to change someone else's actions. All you can do it change your response to them. My first response was a feeling of being hurt and rejected. Which of course makes it hard to contemplate continuing a relationship. While I still feel hurt by being ignored, I know the only thing I can do is to continue to make the efforts I've been making, to hold up my end of the bargain so to speak. Which I will do.

But it doesn't make the sense of isolation any easier, knowing that my communications may continue to be ignored. This is the struggle of the long distance dissertation writer I suppose. The distance makes it more evident exactly what value others place on your relationship. Perhaps it's good to know where I stand instead of assuming a support system that doesn't really exist. That way I can work to create the support system that I need.

Small things amuse small minds

I just discovered and downloaded an excellent image capture software program and am absolutely tickled at how easy screen shots for our latest work project are now going to be.

Small thing... small mind.