Summer, where are you?

I refuse to turn on the furnace before September. I refuse to turn on the furnace before September. I refuse to turn on the furnace before September. I refuse to turn on the furnace before September. I refuse to turn on the furnace before September. I refuse to turn on the furnace before September.

Finished... sort of...

Finished all 4 syllabi for this semester - hooray!

I say I sort of finished them because although the actual syllabus is finished for each class, there are many, many assignments yet to write - I think I've got about a dozen new ones this semester - and I don't feel like I've finished the syllabus until I've at least drafted what I want those assignments to say.

Funny how I don't feel the same need to write exams ahead of time, but writing assignments and presentations I do.

Academic Sponges

When I think of a metaphor to describe my academic career, I sometimes think of a sponge.

I know that's not terribly pretty, and depending on your experience with sponges, it might even be slightly disgusting, reminding you of clean up jobs that you'd rather not remember. But think of it as a nice clean washing sponge or the sort that one might have used before the advent of the ubiquitous loofah sponge. You know, the ones the size of small dinner plates with all those lovely big holes in them.

Anyway. I sometimes feel like my academic career to this point has been like a sponge, soaking up other people's ideas. In classrooms, at conferences, reading books and articles, I feel like I always know so very little about what people are talking about that I just soak it all in.

As a sponge, every once and a while I get a poke, and some of what I've soaked up comes back out in the form of a conference paper or an article, and a really big poke (by my committee to some extent but mostly a self-imposed impatience to finish things) resulted in the dissertation.

Of course this creates a problem that I think I've mostly shed at this point, but that haunts me nevertheless. Because some of what I read wasn't necessarily smart or useful. Especially during my undergraduate career, some of the things I chose to read for research papers and the like wasn't always good.

Which has me wondering how I might integrate more critical analysis of sources into my classes so that my students don't base their research on shoddy sources. I'm thinking of incorporating a research proposal into my lit classes and maybe even the gen ed one so that I have the opportunity to engage in conversation with students about the sources they are considering useful to their projects and steer them away from the superficial or less useful ones. If nothing else, such an exercise should result in better research papers, even if it does little for the student's understanding of quality scholarship and ability to critically analyze sources.

At least, that's what I'm thinking.

Forecast: flurries

No, the Great White North is not going to be getting snow in August... though the way the weather's been so changeable this summer, I wouldn't be surprised. Not that I want it to snow...! *knock on wood*

No, it's a flurry of emails over the last three days that I suspect will just continue to snowball.

It's our first week 'back' at the university, even though classes don't start for another three weeks, and suddenly my daytimer is filling with events/meetings and I've gotten emails from pretty much every department on campus, welcoming me back.

Not to mention the emails about contracts that still need to be drawn up and signed over the next few weeks, and last minute class assignments that now need syllabi and textbook orders. (I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the bookstore can get them in on time, though they should have plenty of time)

It feels like I went from merrily working away on my scholarship last week to a sudden need to finish syllabi (actually, it's mostly just finishing schedules at this point) and start teacher-thinking mode instead. It's a bit of a jarring transition, and the urgency of some of that email flurry isn't helping matters!

Going back and seeing familiar faces

I've been thinking about the 'going back' phase of summer. It's that time when August is in full swing and I start to think about the upcoming semester.

Sometimes there's a sense of panic because I haven't gotten as much done over summer as I had hoped. Sometimes it's with anticipation at teaching a new course.

This year, I've both got new courses - including one that is essentially teaching the dissertation (and I'm not even on the tt track!) - and the panic isn't manifesting since I had almost no expectations for work this summer and what few ones I did have are fulfilled.

I am a little confused and dazed as I try to figure out where to go next with the dissertation. But that makes the prospect of focusing on teaching for a bit pleasant as it will be a distraction from the problem of what to do next and I suspect sometime during that distraction an idea will emerge that will be worth following up on.

I'm also eager to meet my students this year. The class list for one of my classes isn't posted yet, but of the other two, I spotted a few familiar names, and I'm looking forward to getting to know these students in a new class.

Recognizing names on a list is one thing. But I've also been running into my colleagues in some of the most unexpected places. I met two colleagues - one from my department and one from another one - when I was on the coast for vacation. They weren't together, so seeing familiar faces in two different places on the same day was odd. Then two days later and 300 kms away, I bumped into another colleague when we stopped in a small town for lunch. Apparently we all like vacationing in similar places! Finally, I met another colleague last night at a restaurant in town that just opened two weeks ago.

Familiar faces and familiar names. Frankly, I can't wait to go back!

(I know, I know, remind me of this post in a couple of months and I won't believe I wrote it, but there it is!)

When did the twenty-first century begin?

At a recent conference - the first I'd ever seen on twenty-first century literature - I found myself surprised by how many speakers referenced 9/11 as one of the markers for the beginning of the century.

Hmmm....

I was frankly a bit surprised by it and so much so that I feel the need to blog about it by wondering at the markers that signal literary periods. Aside from the gloominess of defining a century by its disasters, what really surprised me the most is that almost every person who mentioned 9/11 in the context of a marker of the twenty-first century was not American.

That surprised me because I guess I hadn't thought of the disaster as being indicative of the century. This is of course partly because I work in representations of science and technology (and by extension, science fiction), so I tend to think in timelines that involve technological change or scientific paradigm shifts and such. But falling so soon after the beginning of the century, the 9/11 event does seem an ideal marker.

But at the same time that it makes it easy to mark off centuries of literature according to the calendar, there are exceptions.

Of course there's the long eighteenth century... Although I'm not a specialist in this area, I realize that there are long discussions (often at the curricular level) about what constitutes eighteenth century literature.

And the nineteenth century often gets chopped into two separate sections because a "long" nineteenth century is really, really long, so that we have the Romantics and the Victorians (at least on the English side of the house).

Even the twentieth century has been divided fairly consistently between the early part of the century, sometimes defined as pre-WWII, but more often associated with the modernist style that developed shortly after the century began, and the post-WWII or "postmodern" period. (There are problems with the label postmodern, but I don't want to take that detour right now)

So then, where does this post-WWII period or postmodern period end (i.e. where does the twentieth century end) and where does the twenty-first one begin?

Standing so close to that line, wherever it might be drawn, makes it difficult to see it, and certainly most of the lines we've drawn through the literature of the past have been assigned to those periods long after they were over. The benefits of hindsight operate healthily in this respect.

But where does the twenty-first century begin?

Y2K?

1989?

9/11?

Now you might be wondering, 1989? What's up with that?

Well, there were several events in 1989/1990 that might make it valid to include the last decade of the twentieth century in the twenty-first, depending on how things unfold as we continue into this century, of course. 1989 was the year of Tiananmen Square and the fall of the Berlin Wall, both events that changed the political landscapes of the East and the West

On the literary front, the fatwa against Salman Rushdie for The Satanic Verses, although not the first case of attempted censorship through violence, was certainly widely reported and the upsurge of anti-Western sentiment that has built since then certainly attests to the critical effect of such beliefs in the world.

On the scientific front, the Human Genome Project was conceived in the late eighties, with an official start date of 1990. Although it seems somewhat anti-climactic now, at the time, the promises of genomics seemed endless and the project was hailed as a marvel that would allow us to cure all kinds of diseases. (Even though the promise of the project seemed to offer more than it delivered, it was that promise and the envisioned new future that seems to me to be a marked break with the more mundane visions of science in the post WWII period. But I can be wrong.)

So, when did the twenty-first century begin?

It's a question whose answer I'm hoping to watch unfold over my career. And that's exciting to me.

Organizational woes

I think I've mentioned before that I signed up for Library Thing in order to keep track of my books (and because I suspect if I ever have to make an insurance claim, the company won't believe me when I tell them the number of books I own). I also signed up for Movie Collector Plus for the same reason.

But I've had to juggle book space a lot in the last few years, which means I sometimes know that I own a book, but can't figure out which bookshelf it's on! Which means I need to spend long periods of time scanning shelves looking for something that's not where it used to be.

So, the question is: would it be extravagant to buy a RFID system to keep track of them?

Just wondering...

Addressing website audiences

Gearing up for the fall semester and the job hunt, which means cruising university websites on a regular basis, this illustration seems absolutely appropriate:



It also reminds me of the kinds of things clients have wanted on their opening pages for elearning projects: statements of purpose, information about the genesis of the project, almost-vacuous statements about what this elearning project will do for you. The latter I really doubt as being useful since people will end up on the page because they've been told to, or because they know what advantage it will provide.

At the same time that I take the point the illustration is making, that there's a kind of generic expectation of websites that their first pages will be filled with this kind of fluff. And it makes a certain kind of sense, just like the acknowledgments page is often the first one in a book, but of limited interest to many readers (or the copyright page for that matter).

Besides, how would one fit all of those things in the right-hand circle that people are looking for on to one page? The difference between the right-hand circle and the left, is that the left is written for a generic kind of reader - an ideal one - who doesn't really exist (or if they do, it's only a few individuals who are looking for this information). Actually, as a job seeker, those statements of purpose can be very handy for getting a grip on what the university thinks of itself and what kind of teaching will take place there, so perhaps the information in the left-hand circle really is more useful than the illustration implies.

But the problem with making the information on the right-hand circle the primary page is that it addresses at least three different audiences: staff and faculty of the school, students at the school, and outside parties interested in attending/visiting the school. That's a lot of audiences for one page to address and address effectively.

The way webpages are conventionally set up, there's a large space near the middle, intended to address the audience interested in the page. But when you've got several audiences, which one would you privilege? This is why those primary pages often include navigation that separates users into functions, i.e. "for students" "for alumni" "for faculty" etc. in order to then address that audience and only that audience in that next level of webpage.

So I take the point of the illustration that much of what's on the left-hand side of it is information few are interested in. But given the number of different users of a university website, it seems that such general pages are by default the best use of the first page.

Empty

My house is feeling quite empty these days. It has been moving toward that state for a while, but more so this last week after youngest daughter moved out.

It's odd. I realize that objectively, the house is not really changed since her departure. Yes, she took a couple of small pieces of furniture and her personal items with her. But my sense of the house being empty is more subjective. I realize there are no children in house anymore and they won't be living with me again.

They visit. In fact, two called on Monday to say they wanted to come over, so we had dinner together (the third was out during the day and too tired to come by, or everyone would've been here). That spontaneous get together was nice. But it also reinforced that they are gone. At the end of the night, they both left for their own homes.

Some days I don't notice it. But on others, I feel like a ping pong ball, bouncing around inside the shell of the house.

Archive Fever

"Contemporary culture is increasingly conscious of its own present as the object of a future memory"
Mark Currie, About Time: Narrative, Fiction, and the Philosophy of Time

The Masterworks Meme

The Masterworks Meme, from The Speculative Scotsman via The World in a Satin Bagcharts some of the must reads of a science fiction education. So. In bold, the books I've read. The books I own but haven't yet read are italicised.

NB: Some of the SF Masterworks were released in a line of special hardcovers - denoted by roman numerals - as well as the paperbacks we all own a few of, so there are a few duplicates in the list.

I - Dune - Frank Herbert
II - The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin
III - The Man in the High Castle - Philip K. Dick
IV - The Stars My Destination - Alfred Bester
V - A Canticle for Leibowitz - Walter M. Miller, Jr.

VI - Childhood's End - Arthur C. Clarke

VII - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress - Robert A. Heinlein

VIII - Ringworld - Larry Niven

IX - The Forever War - Joe Haldeman

X - The Day of the Triffids - John Wyndham

1 - The Forever War - Joe Haldeman

2 - I Am Legend - Richard Matheson

3 - Cities in Flight - James Blish

4 - Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Philip K. Dick

5 - The Stars My Destination - Alfred Bester

6 - Babel-17 - Samuel R. Delany

7 - Lord of Light - Roger Zelazny

8 - The Fifth Head of Cerberus - Gene Wolfe

9 - Gateway - Frederik Pohl

10 - The Rediscovery of Man - Cordwainer Smith

11 - Last and First Men - Olaf Stapledon

12 - Earth Abides - George R. Stewart

13 - Martian Time-Slip - Philip K. Dick

14 - The Demolished Man - Alfred Bester

15 - Stand on Zanzibar - John Brunner

16 - The Dispossessed - Ursula K. Le Guin

17 - The Drowned World - J. G. Ballard

18 - The Sirens of Titan - Kurt Vonnegut

19 - Emphyrio - Jack Vance

20 - A Scanner Darkly - Philip K. Dick

21 - Star Maker - Olaf Stapledon

22 - Behold the Man - Michael Moorcock

23 - The Book of Skulls - Robert Silverberg

24 - The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds - H. G. Wells

25 - Flowers for Algernon - Daniel Keyes

26 - Ubik - Philip K. Dick

27 - Timescape - Gregory Benford

28 - More Than Human - Theodore Sturgeon

29 - Man Plus - Frederik Pohl

30 - A Case of Conscience - James Blish

31 - The Centauri Device - M. John Harrison

32 - Dr. Bloodmoney - Philip K. Dick

33 - Non-Stop - Brian Aldiss

34 - The Fountains of Paradise - Arthur C. Clarke

35 - Pavane - Keith Roberts

36 - Now Wait for Last Year - Philip K. Dick

37 - Nova - Samuel R. Delany

38 - The First Men in the Moon - H. G. Wells

39 - The City and the Stars - Arthur C. Clarke

40 - Blood Music - Greg Bear

41 - Jem - Frederik Pohl

42 - Bring the Jubilee - Ward Moore

43 - VALIS - Philip K. Dick

44 - The Lathe of Heaven - Ursula K. Le Guin

45 - The Complete Roderick - John Sladek

46 - Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said - Philip K. Dick

47 - The Invisible Man - H. G. Wells

48 - Grass - Sheri S. Tepper

49 - A Fall of Moondust - Arthur C. Clarke

50 - Eon - Greg Bear

51 - The Shrinking Man - Richard Matheson

52 - The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - Philip K. Dick

53 - The Dancers at the End of Time - Michael Moorcock

54 - The Space Merchants - Frederik Pohl and Cyril M. Kornbluth

55 - Time Out of Joint - Philip K. Dick

56 - Downward to the Earth - Robert Silverberg

57 - The Simulacra - Philip K. Dick

58 - The Penultimate Truth - Philip K. Dick

59 - Dying Inside - Robert Silverberg

60 - Ringworld - Larry Niven

61 - The Child Garden - Geoff Ryman*

62 - Mission of Gravity - Hal Clement

63 - A Maze of Death - Philip K. Dick

64 - Tau Zero - Poul Anderson

65 - Rendezvous with Rama - Arthur C. Clarke

66 - Life During Wartime - Lucius Shepard

67 - Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang - Kate Wilhelm

68 - Roadside Picnic - Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

69 - Dark Benediction - Walter M. Miller, Jr.

70 - Mockingbird - Walter Tevis

71 - Dune - Frank Herbert

72 - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress - Robert A. Heinlein

73 - The Man in the High Castle - Philip K. Dick

74 - Inverted World - Christopher Priest

75 - Kurt Vonnegut - Cat's Cradle

76 - H.G. Wells - The Island of Dr. Moreau

77 - Arthur C. Clarke - Childhood's End

78 - H.G. Wells - The Time Machine

79 - Samuel R. Delany - Dhalgren

80 - Brian Aldiss - Helliconia

81 - H.G. Wells - Food of the Gods

82 - Jack Finney - The Body Snatchers

83 - Joanna Russ - The Female Man

84 - M.J. Engh - Arslan

*I'm in the process of reading this one, but just about finished

Since I've begun to read science fiction again, it seemed appropriate to play along and wonder about how many of these I'd read, owned, and have yet to read. Not bad.

Peripatetic estrangement

One of the civilizing effects of travel is often thought to be the exposure to different cultures in order to develop an appreciation for the global and realization that the local is, well, indeed, local, and not the only way to skin a cat, so to speak. Hence, the Grand Tour that the gentrified encouraged their (male) progeny to embark upon before settling down to run their estates, or the updated "year off" or "year abroad" backpacking through Europe that is supposed to perform a similar function for the more nouveau gentrified classes in North America.

I won't argue that time in another country is not valuable. It certainly helps to remind you that there is indeed more than one way of doing things and whether the cultural differences you encounter are only mildly odd or downright baffling in their strangeness, they can be enlightening.

[Having read that last sentence, you'll notice that I used the word "can" rather than "are" since in this age of all-inclusive resorts and whirlwind Europe-in-a-week (complete with tour guide) travel options, one can remain blissfully unaware of those differences if one so desires]

But there's also an estrangement that happens when you return home. I know my parents spoke of the "reverse culture shock" they experienced when we returned from our two year stint in Brasil. Since I was young, I certainly noticed differences (though the things I noticed were no doubt very different than the ones my parents did), but for the most part, there was little "shock" in them.

When we returned from living in the U.S., I certainly noticed cultural differences, particularly in the media and in accents, but even traveling to the Caribbean last year or Europe, there was a moment - when I first got into my own car actually - when I felt estranged from my own culture. Most of that seemed to be centered on the enormous size of our vehicles here, which seemed bloated and bullyish as I navigated streets near my home.

But there's also a sense of a shifting pace that contributes to that estrangement as you move from the pleasure- and transport-centered activities of travel, to the more circumscribed and sedentary activities of work and house maintenance. The vivid everyday activities of the other country are slowly replaced by the mundane and repetitive sameness of the same city, job, and house as you slip back into the ordinary. It's not a bad thing, just a strangely transitional place to be.

Placeholder

First google decided I was some kind of spammer and blocked me out of all my accounts. Then I left for vacation. That's my explanation for the radio silence.

Yes, it's a touch pathetic and pedestrian. But such is life.

More anon.

Editorial snafus... con't

So I've finally gotten through the comments for the one solitary, strident reviewer for the r&r I was talking about a few days ago. I think I've done what's necessary to make him (and the editor) happy, so we're in the final stages.

But then I get an email from a journal editor who tells me *I* will miss the deadline for this year's journal. This is because apparently I was supposed to know that when an email came out in spring with a deadline for submission attached, it was the deadline for the edited version (i.e. after reviewers), not my deadline for submitting it.

So then I get a followup email that finally clarifies it (apparently, I'm not the only submitter who didn't realize the deadline was for the post-edit version when we're still in submission stage). So I hustle my ass to get the paper polished up and sent off. And I did send it off, in the midst of all kinds of other dissertation defense/conference presentation work.

Three weeks after sending it off, I finally get an email from the editor indicating receipt (apparently said editor was not checking email while out of town?!) and that it will be sent to reviewers. I just got an email this week saying, 'like the article, but oops, not enough time to revise before the deadline at the end of the month... perhaps you'd like to wait till next year to submit?'

No, I'd not like to wait till next year. I wanted it on the cv for this year, you know, when I go on the market? What good will it do next year?

I'm really frustrated right now, which is why I haven't crafted a response yet. But I'm seriously considering reworking it for a different journal and sending it out in the hopes of getting it accepted before October when I need to start sending my cv out. It's well placed for this particular journal, but it could be slightly reworked for a different one.

More decisions.

Wading

It's amazing how much can pile up when you haven't filed anything for the last ten months and have produced at least two drafts of a dissertation!

I've spent way more time analyzing the comments than addressing them

I have. I have spent more time... no, correction, probably not more - but far too much... time analyzing the comments on the r&r that is due next month than addressing them.

Part of why I say that is because the described weaknesses of the paper fall into two primary areas, both of which are actually fairly easily addressed by revision of my prose and clarification of what I'm already saying, rather than having to go do additional research or reading to add to the essay. But a bigger part of it is because the comments struck me as so bizarre.

When I opened the file with the comments, my first impression of the summary comments was of someone yelling and jumping up and down, trying desperately to get my attention when everyone within eyesight and earshot knew what was going on. No, honestly, I had the recurrent flash of vision, almost as if I could see it out the corner of my eye, or a leprechaun or midget, fists clenched, veins popping, jumping up and down in the corner, yelling "listen! listen! listen!" Not a word of a lie. It's an image that I'm having real trouble shaking as I continue to work on the comments.

And I've had these comments for two weeks now. This isn't my initial run through. I've read them again and again, trying to get over the tone of the comments to get at the substance.

I think I've gotten to the heart of the substance, and that substance is fair and a good evaluation of the weaknesses of the paper. But the tone of the thing is really, really off.

I've had harsh comments before. One of the professors in my doctoral program was well known for harsh comments on papers, and some of the harshest of those are still remembered and routinely quoted when we convene over drinks. I've also gotten comments on a few publications, including one that rejected the article entirely (which hurts of course). But neither the quotable harshness of that professor or the harsh reality that my writing didn't measure up to the journal's expectations can match the off-putting nature of these comments.

Like I said, the criticisms are legitimate, and I'm finding them useful in shaping the piece into a better essay. But the tone is strident and hyperbolic in its insistence that THIS IS A PROBLEM!

Okay, dude! You don't have to shout. I sent this article in knowing it would be peer reviewed and knowing how peer review works. I send the article, two to three people read it and evaluate its strengths/weaknesses, the editor sends it back to me, I address the weaknesses and then send it back again to the editor with an explanation of how I addressed the reader's comments. This is the way the process works. You don't need to yell at me to get me to listen to the weaknesses - I want to produce quality work that will be accepted as valuable by my peers.

But it's this question of quality work that is now making me wonder if I should not send the article back.

When I submitted to this edited volume, I checked out the editor, who seemed to be doing interesting work at a good school. And the topic of the edited collection was novel and provocative. So I submitted an abstract.

They rushed me to get the full article in, but I made the deadline and then waited. Their own deadlines for review came and went (twice), but I finally got the reviewer's comments at the end of May (the day after my conference presentation - how convenient!)

When I opened the comments, I read through, noting the strident tone, but realizing that those comments might be mitigated by more reasonably-toned second reader comments.

But there were none. I had expected at least two readers, even if they couldn't garner three, but I only got the one reader's comments, which meant that I would now have to rely on my own sense of how to tease apart tone from content, rather than being able to start by finding places where both reviewers had agreed (which is usually a good sign that those are the changes to start with!)

I also started to worry and wonder. First, I worried whether I'd gotten enough feedback to produce a quality product. But I also started to wonder about the one reviewer chosen, since he indicated in two places that he has a) not read the novel the article discusses, and b) is not an expert in the theoretical area that largely governs the reading of that novel. Then as I continued to read, it seemed that the reviewer also didn't have a clear idea of the conventions of the genre under discussion as well.

So I began to wonder: why was this reviewer chosen?

The answer seems to be either proximity or desperation.

See, one of the things about electronic editing, is that Word very nicely labels the comments entered into a document with the name of the registered user of the computer they're created on. In this case, a quick google of the name on the comments turned up a graduate student in American literature at the university where the editor works. A graduate student. Who studies American, not British literature. Whose only conference presentation I could find works in a genre and period that are both very different from mine.

Now do you see why I'm wondering if I should do the r&r?

I'm having doubts for two reasons:
1) I haven't gotten feedback from an expert in the field (or text, or genre) in which I'm writing. That means I'm really relying upon my own sense of the validity of the research. I'm a pretty junior scholar (though not as junior as my reviewer) so I know I can use the help of more senior scholars. My ego's not that big that I don't know my own weaknesses and having someone who has less experience than me give me the only feedback just makes me a wee bit nervous.
2) The editor did not/could not find someone in my field to review the paper, let alone two or three people. Which of course makes me wonder why the editor could find so few reviewers. Was it just a matter of timing? Is mine the odd-man-out and didn't fit well with the reviewers they'd lined up? Is this just sloppy editorial work? Did someone back out of reviewing?

I do realize that although the publication could be listed as peer-reviewed, it is essentially the same as a non-reviewed edited collection. So it's not going to be prestigious or count a lot toward the development of my cv. And it's not like I have a reputation to uphold. But I hope to have one at some point.

Will I be making a fatal mis-step if I let this publication go ahead? Or will the potentially inferior status of the edited collection still look better on my cv than nothing at all?

Decisions, decisions.

Keeping the momentum going

Perhaps I could say something clever about energy and buckballs, which is what this Montreal museum is modeled on, but I don't have anything clever to say.

It was only a few weeks ago, but the trip to Montreal feels like ages ago, probably mostly because it was nice and warm there most of the time while here it's been raining off and on for the month. Rain always seems to make days drag for me.

And that's part of my problem right now in keeping the momentum going - I've got lots of projects on the go, but I'm also finding the days and days of time spent mostly at home in front of my computer really drag the will to work out of me. So I've been resurrecting all those tried and true methods for keeping myself motivated when I'm the only one around. So far they're (mostly) working. Actually, they really only ever work most of the time, so I can't complain.

At the same time, the isolation of working from home is tough to deal with sometimes. Although I can have very productive days, at other times, I feel restless and uninspired in ways that don't seem to happen as often when I'm at a workplace (even if that's only part time).

My summer will be nicely broken up with one long trip (to the UK) and a few shorter ones planned, so the reward of getting to do fun things on vacation is part of that motivating strategy. But on a rainy day like today when I'm struggling to address a reader's comments on an article that needs to be revised, they seem very far away!

Relativity

I was tooling around the internets because I'm putting off doing any serious work and getting tired of filing papers that need to be filed when I came across something that stopped me for a moment.

A blogger described turning 39 and finally realizing that he/she had reached adulthood.

Hunh??

I realize my biography is a bit unusual, but I felt the full weight of adulthood somewhere in my early twenties when I realized that life was no longer a game, and the things that you did had really long term consequences. I don't mean that I first learned to really regret at that point. But I did realize that you only get one chance at this, and if you piss it away by screwing around with your life, then you have no one but yourself to blame. And then later you will regret that you pissed away your time and energy on things that didn't count (and I don't just mean careers or money; I mean people and relationships too).

To me, that's what realizing you're an adult is about. It's not about managing your own money or having your own place, or buying your first car. But it is about realizing that there's no one else in the world who has the responsibility for what you do. No one to blame or praise but yourself.

It was also in my early twenties that I realized that me screwing up could screw up other people's lives too, because none of us are isolated, even when it seems that we are, and you're responsible for thinking not only about your own life, but the lives of those people you interact with. I don't mean that you have to worry about what kind of day the grocery clerk is having. But you do have to consider how your actions will affect your family members, friends, or even your coworkers.

I'm not talking altruistic sacrifice. Just an awareness that every action you take has a ripple effect in the world. Some of those ripples are small, but some can cause effects that you can't possibly anticipate. So you want to make the right choices and making the right choices includes considering that you're not the only person who those choices will affect. Sometimes the best choice will hurt other people. That's to be expected at times. But like in many other things, awareness seems to me to be an important feature of decision making. You make the tough choices, but make them as fully aware of the consequences as you can.

So I was surprised that someone who has been around for several decades already felt the revelation of adulthood at 39. And now I'm curious. What does his/her biography look like that we might come to the same understanding at such radically different ages in our lives?

Maybe I just misunderstood. Maybe the revelation of adulthood was something that I have yet to understand. Maybe I've just been playing at adulthood all along and I'm a little slow on the game and will reach the same stage soon (hopefully). Perhaps my understanding of adulthood is different or not quite complete and I haven't really "got" it yet.

But this little story also made me realize how very different life is for every one of us. It reminded me that my story is not yours; and yours is not mine. And if I'm going to understand your story, I need to listen to it without trying to impose mine on it. Food for thought.

Anyone up for a bonfire?

I sorted through the drafts, and drafts, and drafts! of the dissertation today. Now I have a big pile of paper that I can either recycle or burn.

Good thing we just reworked our patio and firepit. If you bring the marshmallows, I have the fuel!

Two forward, one back... or is it one forward and two back?

Alien on a street corner. Yup, that feels about right these days.

To say that things feel weird since the defense would be accurate and yet doesn't quite capture what life feels like these days. It's weird as in not normal but not weird as in alien. And that's got me feeling a bit off.

See, when I look at life, I'm doing the same kind of stuff I was doing before the defense. I'm still writing conference papers and planning syllabi (which is usual between-semester activity). But without that big project in the background, I feel a bit directionless.

I know, I know. Everyone says how lucky and nice it is to have the luxury of not having that big project hanging over my head. And I should be happy that I have time to figure out what I want to do in the next big project.

It should be a luxurious time to just read whatever I want and think about what kinds of things I'd like to do next. But it hasn't felt like that, and I think I finally figured out why today. I packed up my work office this afternoon - in the move from f/t back to p/t, I'll have to move from a solo to a shared office. That left me a little down - nothing serious - just a little sad at what feels like a step backwards.

And I think that's why I've felt so rudderless after the defense. I finish this big huge project, and what happens? I move a step back. The first thing after the defense and I'm sliding two steps back instead of moving forward. And that makes me wonder if that's somehow indicative of the kind of progress (or lack thereof) that I'll make now that I'm on my own.

I mean, I don't really wonder. But it does seem terribly ironic that I work fulltime and defend in one year, then the best I can manage is a part time position and no idea what project I want to undertake next. When you put it that way, it sure feels like a seismic shift, a sliding backward, that I don't really believe is a portent of things to come. But somewhere in my guts, there's an uneasy feeling of discomfort with the situation. That's not making me happy.

Of course, all this rain isn't helping either - it's June for crying out loud! Where's the sun?