keychainfroggy

We Had a Baby

2010-02-17T12:28:00.000-08:00

Since October, lots has happened. I got my dissertation done, and we had a baby. I'm doing baby blogging at http://twitchysortofway.blogspot.com so feel free to go over and check out pictures!

Things that can be crossed off the list

2009-10-07T07:04:00.000-07:00

Has anyone ever read Arnold Lobel's Frog and Toad Are Friends? In it, there's a lovely story about Frog (Toad?) making a list of everything he needed to do, losing it, and being paralyzed all day by the silent tyranny of the list. At the end, Toad (Frog?) writes "Go to bed" on the ground, they cross it out, and conquer the list's imperatives.

This story has left me with a psychological desire to make lists only after I have accomplished things. Otherwise, I cede too much power to a piece of paper. So here is a list of things that I have done.

1) Finished (except for minor revisions that will only take an afternoon) two chapters of my six chapter dissertation. Am a little peeved that I have created a situation in which I am going to defend my dissertation when I can't drink. Still, there will probably be a party, so everyone block December 15th out.

2) Rationalized the intensely irrational sock system that was prevailing at our house. And when I say "intensely irrational sock system" I mean that the socks had somehow conspired to avoid pairing at all costs. Some of them, I am certain, had moved to Australia to avoid having out feet put in them. We dealt with the problem in different ways. It doesn't make Leo uncomfortable all day to wear mismatched socks, so he did that some. I kind of panic when my socks don't match (A good day for me is when my socks, my shirt and my underwear are matched). So I just wore flip-flops and was frightened of my sock drawer. I realize that this is the second time I have mentioned this feat, but it's a big thing for me.

3) Have done my Latin for the reading group today. This is good for the blood pressure, because now I won't have to sight translate in front of people who don't give me time to think, but start chipping in with useful advice just as I've sorted the sentence out in my head. Their yapping drives my carefully balanced translation out of my brain, and I just end up getting snappy with them.

4) Have mentally rearranged the furniture. (This is psychologically important, and since I'm not doing any of the actual moving of the furniture, it means that my work is done!)

5) Just now, I managed not to murder a student who walked into class 20 minutes late for an assignment that involved cumulative writing (each student moving along and writing a paragraph stemming from a previous student's paragraph). He doesn't understand why I have to come up with a different assignment for him. So not murdering him counts as a real accomplishment.

Where's My Sherpa?

2009-10-05T13:20:00.000-07:00

I have decided that I will defend my dissertation on December 15. I make this decision because it seems relatively certain to me that I will have no credibility if I waddle into my interviews visibly about to burst a baby out into the middle of the room and say "Oh, yeah. I'll finish my dissertation this spring. No problem." So it has to be done. I've returned to the death march work schedule (with time taken out for naps, of course), but this afternoon, I decided to do something different.

I have conquered the laundry. Leo has socks (matched!) and underwear and t-shirts all neatly arranged in his clothing area. I have sorted all my clothes into "fits" and "maybe sometime this will fit again" piles, and am about to move my clothing bins downstairs, as part of the great "let's not carry the baby up the steep, narrow, treacherous stairs" gradual migration down to the first floor bedroom.

Now we just need to find someone who can help Leo move a really heavy couch out of that room, switch the beds, and . . . oh, I'm not going to think about it right now. I want to focus on the important things: the laundry mountain has been scaled. Take that, Sir Edmund Hilary!

Open Letter To My Students

2009-09-02T04:36:00.000-07:00

Dear students,

I have a few notes I'd like to emphasize after reading your essays (well, most of your essays. After a while, I have to take a break and write a blog post. They're that dire.)

1) When the assignment asks you to write a causal analysis, it is meant to be a paper (wait for it) analyzing causes. Many of you wrote something you entitled a casual analysis, and your papers lived up to the name.

2) When the assignment guidelines remind you that it is important to have a thesis, it would be good if you managed to include such an entity in your paper.

3) Oooh - footnote to soon-to-be ex-students: I don't care that you've made an appointment with your advisor at three today and you need my signature on your drop form before then. I could care less. I'm not going to drag myself down to school while I'm trying to grade the other 39 papers just to be convenient to you.

4) When you're asked to do a rhetorical analysis, there's no need - no need at all - to take ridiculously strong positions. The Mission Statement of the University is unlikely to be a gross manipulation of our emotions. They aren't lying to innocent high school students to lure them it. It's way more likely to be a statement of what the University perceives as its mission.

5) Citing what I say in class is weird. I mean, overcitation is better than undercitation, but you can have too much of a good thing.

a) Spelling my name wrong when you cite me is unlikely to impress.

6) When you're asked to look at an article, and then consider some possible causes for the problems the article identifies, that is not a coded way of saying "summarize the article."

7) When the assignment says that the paper needs a title, that means that the paper needs a title.

8) When the assignment stipulates 12-point Times New Roman, that means that I want the paper in 12-point Times New Roman.

Seriously - they can't READ?

2009-08-25T11:17:00.000-07:00

I have 40 students. Yesterday, I handed out 40 syllabuses. (Well, actually 41. Someone came to my class, realized halfway through she was in the wrong section, found her real class, and then came back to see if she could be in my class instead, because I'm "cooler." Which is, of course, true.) Today I have received 13 emails asking me what the assignment is for tomorrow.

On Sunday, I sent them an email with the syllabus attached, as well as the readings for Wednesday and Friday. Labeled. With dates.

Yet still, 13 bright little sparks want to know if they're supposed to read anything for tomorrow.

It's going to be a long semester.

In better news, I stopped throwing up and so dragged my dissertation out of its box. It's a lot better than I remember, and I'm looking forward to revisiting the first chapter to pump some footnotes in. Then it will be ready to begin making the rounds to my committee members, and I can have my defense before I have this baby. So that's the good news for today.

Plagiarizers deserve nasty deaths

2009-08-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I caught a plagiarizer, though there was just the slenderest bit of deniability, if the person was willing to admit to being stupid and inattentive and unaware of things that I am tolerably certain that I knew in third grade when I realized that I couldn't copy information on the Pilgrims directly out of the encyclopedia for my Thanksgiving report.

I told her on her paper to see me to discuss her grade. I also told her that the point of the assignment was not exercising her skills in cutting and pasting, but to take in information, assimilate it, and reproduce it in her own words. After talking to the department chair and the writing program director, I agreed to let her rewrite the paper on the assumption that she was incapable of taking things in the first time I said them.

This morning, without having consulted with me, she sent me a revised version of her paper. She had lightly altered the bits that I had pointed out as copied, and made infinitesimal changes to the bit that I hadn't bothered to find online, but had suggested was copied. These changes involved excising words or phrases, often at the expense of sense.

So having been told to rewrite it in her own words, she did the equivalent of changing the odd adjective, and sometimes leaving out a phrase that she didn't understand.

I'm going to rip great handfuls of my hair out. I will let her rewrite it if I have to, but I really want to destroy her grade for this. I wish I could convey to students the rage that boils through me when I find that they're cheating. It's an insult to my intelligence. It's a waste of my time. It makes me so angry I want to tear giant chunks out of them and boil them for supper.

It was an argument by analogy. Analogy!

2009-07-30T09:53:00.000-07:00

I'm here again with tales of students. This one isn't so much frustrating as funny. Very funny. So funny that it makes me giggle just thinking of it. Because I am a bad person.

Anyway, the assignment for the final paper in this class is to react to Arthur Levine's and Jeanette S. Cureton's "Collegiate Life: An Obituary." In this essay, they argue that the four-year residential college is dying, due to a number of pressures caused by a shifting population of students and changing goals for college education. In the final section of their essay, they provide a number of possible courses for colleges to take to retain a sense of community. One possible essay I suggested was discussing those solutions and considering their efficacy.

Early in the essay, however, they also included this paragraph:

Think about what you want from your bank. We know what we want: an ATM on every corner. And when we get to the ATM, we want there to be no line. We also would like a parking spot right in front of the ATM, and to have our checks deposited the moment they arrive at the bank, or perhaps the day before! And we want no mistakes in processing-unless they are in our favor. We also know what we do not want from our banks. We do not want them to provide us with softball leagues, religious counseling, or health services. We can arrange all of these things for ourselves and don't wish to pay extra fees for the bank to offer them.

The essay then went on to suggest that students want a similar relationship with the university that we want with our bank. My student read that to mean that students want the same things. I got an essay discussing whether an ATM on every corner would be effective in building community and retaining students from matriculation to graduation (though she didn't use those words). Apparently, frequent ATMs would be a draw for this student, though she thinks that every corner might be excessive.

Am I wicked for laughing? It was just a rough draft . . .

And life keeps getting better and better

2009-07-29T08:14:00.001-07:00

(If, gentle readers, I am boring you with my tales of student failures, I apologize. Writing about it reminds me that I am building up a store of amusing anecdotes about the failures of today's youth, and keeps me from dismembering them and using their legbones as drumsticks to beat on the drums I made from their heads.)

To continue the saga: This morning, at 9:48, I received a text from the student who texts me (who had, by the way, texted me yesterday to inform me that she wouldn't be in class because she had to ice her leg - when I was young, they gave you ice in bags, and you could take it with you to places like class) asking what she was supposed to do for class today. I sent a weekly schedule around last Friday. I emailed her yesterday afternoon giving her - for the second time - the links to the readings for today. I sent a hard copy of the readings home with her friend from class. When I pointed out that I'd emailed her, she said that she didn't check email. This perhaps explains the rash of texting.

Also, in the opening minutes of class (as I write, they're writing a quick reflection on last night's reading, and she's frantically trying to do it) she mentioned that she had a big philosophy paper due yesterday at 5, and by working all day, she managed to finish it. This sorts oddly with her professed need to stay at the gym to ice herself for 2 hours yesterday morning.

And another student just raised his hand and said he couldn't do the writing because he didn't understand the reading from last night. I admit, it's the Preface to John Henry Cardinal Newman's The Idea of the University, but we did spend about 15 minutes yesterday talking about what they were going to read, with me pointing out important quotations. And the question he's being asked to answer is "what does Newman think is the point of a university education?" and the entire second page is taken up with describing this. He's discussing the foundation of University College Dublin and notes that when the Pope founds a university, "his first and chief and direct object is, not science, art, professional skill, literature, the discovery of knowledge, but some benefit or other, to accrue, by means of literature and science, to his own children . . . so, . . . when the Church founds a University, she is not cherishing talent, genius, or knowledge, for their own sake, but for the sake of her children, with a view to their spiritual welfare and their religious influence and usefulness, with the object of training them to fill their respective posts in life better, and of making them more intelligent, capable, active members of society." This seems straightforward to me, especially in light of our discussion yesterday. And I understand that it is written is somewhat difficult 19th-century prose, but if you don't understand a reading, don't you 1) look up the words you don't know 2) read it again or 3) go to the internet and find a commentary (of which there are several)?

I have to say, though, I love Newman's vision of the university. My last two weeks of class are definitely going to be spent trying to inculcate in my students an understanding of the reasons for a liberal education, and a desire for something beyond the narrow confines of a professional degree. I'm going to make them think they have to be well-educated in multiple branches of knowledge in order to be successful human beings, damn it! (And I'm going to fail, but I think my class next fall is going to be built on discussing what a university is and ought to be. It's a topic that I think college freshmen need to at least think about!)

The continuing saga of the silly students

2009-07-27T08:23:00.000-07:00

I got a text message 10 minutes before class started.* It said "Did u cancel class tday like thurs?" (I'm teaching a writing class; weep for me). There had been no suggestion, lets just be clear, that I was going to cancel class today. In fact, I had sent an email on Friday reminding them of their assignment for today. And another one yesterday, in response to the text message "Hey, whts die tmorrow?"**

What lesson have I learned? First, and most importantly, the less my students listen about out of class work, the more I make them write sitting under my eye so I can MAKE them do work. Second, this is the last time I will make my cell number available to anyone who can't spell.***

*Let's just be clear to begin with that I in no way encourage texting from my students. In fact, I actively discourage it, pointing out that it takes me more time to type the response, and I don't have a text plan so they are costing me money.

** This text message was the fifth I have received from this student. After the first I told her not to text me. I soon received another text correcting the spelling to "due."

*** I reserve the right to amend this rule, but it will now always include students. They are not to know how to contact me by phone until they have proved that they can email responsibly.

Ethics, schmethics

2009-07-21T07:26:00.001-07:00

So my students are being as dense as a bucket of sand. Or rather, four buckets of sand. They are refusing to enter into the spirit of learning how to write persuasively. Which is a problem. Usually, I have them write a letter applying for a job that they want, talking about their past experiences. None of these kids have had a job, or want one now. Or, apparently, can imagine a world in which they might want one.

They are resistant to all my exercises trying to get them to persuade. (And this class is without a research component, so it has to be things they already know about). They won't consider audience. They're driving me nuts.

So I have hit on a possibly unethical way of motivating them. Today, I'm going to get all four of them together, and tell them to brainstorm ways to persuade me not to have class on Thursday. I'm going to tell them that they have to think about it from my point of view - the goals of the class, my responsibility to the university, the carefully wrought schedule - and each write me a short letter attempting to persuade me that it is a good idea to cancel class.

If they enter into the spirit of the thing, actually think about what would convince me, then I'll give them the day off (with an assignment to do that will take about an hour).

Is this wicked of me? Should I feel guilty? (Because part of me hopes that they do it well so I don't have to see them on Thursday).

Big Brass Ones

2009-07-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

Actually, to be fair, they were bronze. Leo and I went for a picnic supper in Forest Park to honor our mid-July cold snap, and while strolling around Art Hill, we saw a sculpture that I couldn't make into anything other than a pair of testicles and a penis. (And it's not just me - Leo couldn't either).

I love public art! And from the little raised pedestal on which this installation rests, you get a really good view of St. Louis riding off to the crusades with his sword raised high. (See, there's a penis that is also not a penis!)

Did it grow legs?

2009-07-18T16:39:00.000-07:00

Seriously, how does a can opener vanish? Have I spent the last 10 years harboring a kitchen appliance with occult tendencies? What else is going to vanish with it? Will the sink take it into its head that it would like to see Asia?

It's just a little bit of murder

2009-07-15T09:27:00.000-07:00

I am about one more stupid question from tearing my students limb from limb. They (well, really only two of them, but in a class of four, that's enough) are driving me so far up the wall I'm going to have to get suction-cup shoes and figure out how to eat while being upside-down.

Yesterday, we went to the computer lab to do some easy research for their next paper. They're all officially supposed to start as freshmen in August, but for various reasons are getting a jump on their coursework (for the two I want to murder, being good students is not the reason!). Their assignment was to research a major they were interested in (on the university's webpage - not all that trying) and use that research to write a short, informative essay on the major.

One of my students complained that this assignment was dumb and he couldn't see the point.

Which is funny. Most of the assignments have no intrinsic value - the students aren't learning important information, but rather are learning to write - and I've got no problem with them noticing this. But this one actually has value beyond the practice writing. I mean, they're gathering information about the major they want to sign up for . . . this is a good thing.

He also told me that he couldn't find any information. I showed him how (in 2 easy clicks) to get to the page he needed. Two minutes later he said he was done and asked if he could leave. There were 45 minutes left in class.

Also, if you hear "you might want to do X" from a teacher, you pretty much assume that they mean "if you want a good grade, you might want to do X," right? Not that they're just telling you that you might sometime wish to do that . . . seriously. And if you ask if you need to do something, and the teacher says yes, you wouldn't then say "I'm not going to do that - it's too much work."

Kids these days . . .

2009-07-13T10:44:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, one of my students telephoned me. She mentioned that she was stuck in my car and she needed me to let her out. I informed her that she certainly was not in my car, and she had phoned her English teacher. She apologized, and hung up.

This morning she informed me that it wasn't her fault. She was drunk.

This leaves me with a multitude of questions.

1) How the hell do you get stuck in a car? Can't you usually unlock doors from the inside?

2) Why was she drunk at 3 on Saturday afternoon?

3) Why did she tell me she was drunk? Do I look that nonjudgmental? Because I most certainly am not. I judge. Frequently and with vigor.

A complaint

2009-04-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

Last week, I spent the better part of an afternoon lovingly cleaning every nook and cranny of my refrigerator. I removed shelves, soaked them in an aromatic bath, wiped them clean, dried them, and reassembled the interior of the machine. I changed the shelf configuration from the factory presets to one that would better serve our needs. I worked hard.

Yesterday, the damn thing broke.

It had, of course, waited for the unseasonably cold weather to stop, and had chosen the hottest day of the year thus far. And a weekend, when repairmen are unlikely to want to come and visit.

As far as I can tell, this narrative suggests that cleaning is a bad thing. Way to teach me a lesson, universe.

Teabagging

2009-04-14T07:40:00.000-07:00

First, Rachel Maddow is awesome.

But the people who are actually planning these events? What sort of a sense of history do they have? I admit, American history isn't something I've studied since I was 16 or so, but my memory was that the dodge with the Boston Tea Party was that if they threw the tea off the boat, they couldn't be made to buy it. By that token, all these conservative weirdos should be throwing their paychecks into the ocean so they can't pay taxes on them.

That would be something I'd be willing to watch and laugh at.

In non-blanket related news

2009-03-07T08:25:00.000-08:00

Has anyone ever made potato salad for 70? It's a big task. It requires large bowls, large pots, large knives and large muscles. I think my arms are about to fall off. Besides which, I'm haunted by a fear that somewhere deep within the giant bowl of potato salad, there's an unmixed portion, potatoes without mayonnaise, radishes huddled together, uncut onion, a whole egg, waiting for the moment when someone whose opinion matters to me decides to sample my potato salad. The bowl's too big to be certain. It could happen.

Besides the lingering fear, I have singed thumbs; I mix the mayo into the potatoes when they're still warm so that it creates a smooth, creamy, smashed potato-type salad. This requires cutting the potatoes right out of the boiling water. I manage this by gently maneuvering the potatoes around the cutting board with my thumbs and the point of a knife. The knife is fine.

Not convinced about the Snuggie

2009-03-01T23:07:00.000-08:00

Here I thought the Snuggie was a phenomenon restricted to the internet and friends of mine with vaguely snuggly names - like Panda and Warm Fuzzy - when really it was taking over the world. Imagine my surprise this evening when it transpired that the Snuggie had achieved the glory of a New York Times article.

That fame aside - and who doesn't want to follow the NYT - I'm still not sold. I can't say that I have ever wanted a blanket with sleeves, and if I did, I would wear a housecoat. A fuzzy, warm housecoat that wraps all the way around my, comes to my ankles, is made of flannel or fleece, and has both sleeves and pockets. Admittedly, I would find it tricky to wear to a sporting event, but I like to rock those with my coat/blanket combo, which gives the best of both worlds.

So though some of you may sing the praises of this new technology, I'm going to stick with my trusty flannel housecoat.

Oh, the embarrassment

2009-02-25T08:59:00.001-08:00

So you know how people say "that's nothing to sneeze at?" Well, I wish they wouldn't.

I blame the priest, anyway. Anyone but me. Because there are some things that are involuntary, particularly if you have a cold coming on.

To cut a long story short, I sneezed in the ashes on Ash Wednesday. You show me a symbol of repentance and mortality? I'll sneeze on it.

But I hold that it was a perfectly sensible reaction to having ashes dribbled on my nose when I was already feeling a bit sneezy. And now my cross is all wobbly. By wobbly, I mean smeared across my forehead, because when you sneeze, your head moves. Oh, the shame.

We need gods that want libations

2009-02-21T15:35:00.000-08:00

So here's what I'm thinking. Monotheism, for all its benefits, is really lacking that "I gave you food at your shrine so you owe me" aspect that some forms of polytheism seem to pick up. (I'm ignoring some of the attitudes toward Catholic saints for this).

Take, for example, flat pack furniture. There is nothing that is so frustrating as the construction of the thing. There is no room in the world that is the right size for building the stuff; there are countless bits to lose. Some of the bits come - or rather don't come - prelost. You either need tools that you don't have or the allen wrench starts to erode ten minutes into the job. The parts are mislabeled or not labeled. The instructions go missing. It is a miserable task.

And that's where I think we need polytheism again. If I could take a $20 bottle of wine into the backyard, poor it on the ground, say "Oh god of flat pack, ease my work," and the thing would go well, I would be happy. As it is, with one god, I don't feel that I can waste his time. Something must be done.

(Translation of this post: Leo and I are building cupboards for the back room, and the thing weighs 200 pounds, was missing some hardware, is making us drill our own holes for the handles, and is taking forever to make.)

A question of etiquette

2009-02-12T08:02:00.001-08:00

If you, by some trick of fate, managed to write the 30 vague and insipid Christmas cards to people who work with your husband and then forgot to mail them because you were too busy and then didn't unearth them again until, say, February (hypothetically) what should you do? Here are the options, as I see them:

1) Mail them with a post-it stuck in each one decrying your oversight.

2) Bin them and do it again next year. (The writing, not the forgetting)

3) Call this year a wash and save the cards for next year.

4) Develop an ideological objection to Christmas cards in general, and send e-cards next year to help the environment.

5) Waste time writing a blog post about it instead of actually doing anything.

Thoughts?

Frabjous is the word I'm looking for. Frabjous.

2009-01-28T19:29:00.000-08:00

I have finished a draft of my dissertation, which means that I have 31 days to get a finished-looking draft to the graduate school for review, and 62 days to get the absolutely completed copy to my committee members, because I want to defend the sucker in 77 days.

Which means that in less than three months, if all goes well, I will be Dr. Froggy. (But still not a useful sort of doctor; just one that is entitled to wear all sorts of floofy velvet bars around on robes with belled sleeves. I'm really doing the PhD for the fashion possibilities.

(Also, Panda, if you're reading this, it may mean that your wedding will be the happiest weekend of my life . . . I hope you feel loved!)

Two Facts

2009-01-23T08:10:00.001-08:00

1) I have been working on my dissertation morning, noon, and night (and am hoping for a complete draft as of Monday . . . or maybe Tuesday)

2) I took my computer to the Apple Store to check out some problems, and they informed me that the logic board was shot.

Coincidence? You decide!

Good News!

2009-01-20T17:47:00.000-08:00

1) We have a president I can think about happily.

2) I have a car window that will keep the snow off my neck.

3) I have only about 35 pages of new material to write for my dissertation. (There's a lot of revising, but I've almost got a complete draft).

I feel violated

2009-01-19T17:16:00.000-08:00

My car was robbed this afternoon. It was parked on the street in a residential area; the window was broken and things were taken. In the daylight.

Not, you understand, the things that we would expect them to take. Sure, they got the empty purse from the glove compartment and the wallet out of the bag in the backseat, but nothing else. And reposing in my packet is my credit card, my debit card, my drivers license, student id, and costco card. They got my insurance cards (though the health one had expired, and the car insurance one has a replacement as of next week), my free haircut punchcard at Great Clips, $20 in quarters, $20 in bills and . . . oh, right: The History of King Richard III by Thomas More. Though of the four copies in the backseat, they chose one of the paperbacks. The one that I needed the most (it had my notes in it) but not the most expensive one.

What did they leave? I'm sure you want to know. 1) The Kitchenaid mixer I got for Christmas and need to return to get a color that I want and 2) my PASSPORT. Isn't there a good market for passports? My quick internet search told me that it was worth $10,000 to $15,000 on the black market. So they leave that and the expensive kitchen appliance, and take the book that has value to me, some things that often have value and in this case didn't, and my sense of security.

Also, it's really cold and I don't have a car window. This makes me sad.

Portland People! Pay Attention to Me!

2009-01-15T19:14:00.001-08:00

To all our friends, near and dear, who live in Portland:

Leo and I will be visiting in June.

That is all.

AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGG!!

2009-01-10T16:47:00.000-08:00

I've got six weeks to get a final draft of my dissertation to the Graduate School. This is neither right nor decent, but I'm just not going to be anywhere for the next six weeks.

Well, I'll be in the library. Come find me on the fourth floor! (Except don't, 'cause I might snarl and snap at you, or -even worse - make you read dissertation chapters).

With This I Have A Problem

2009-01-05T17:57:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I came to a conclusion. I've never been fanatical about organic food; I had enough salt-less, sugar-less, home ground wheat what-have-you as a child to have made me perpetually leery of that whole culture. But tonight, I reached a breaking point.

My chicken had bigger breasts than I do.

I was planning to make a nice, quick, semi-Mexican dinner, and so I pulled a couple of chicken breasts out of the freezer and realized that I was holding more meat than I could even begin to imagine eating for one meal. We had one breast split between us, and it was a little more than enough.

What are they feeding these poor chickens? And why don't they give the same hormones to women that get breast implants? Can the chickens walk around comfortably, or do they suffer from back problems? Is there some way that we can organize a charity that will provide bras to chickens who have undergone this treatment?

Anyway, I'm going to start getting my chicken somewhere where the breasts are smaller and don't make me feel inadequate.

Update

2008-12-30T22:20:00.000-08:00

My hair is back to its normal straightess. Now that it doesn't matter a bit. Stupid hair.

Notes from the MLA

2008-12-28T22:17:00.000-08:00

Why did my hair choose today to curl? It's never done it before in my life, yet this morning, when I cared what I was going to look like, it chose to do floopy maneuvers over my left ear. Which is exactly what you want your hair to do while you prepare to go and do THE MOST IMPORTANT JOB INTERVIEWS OF YOUR LIFE.

We've had words, though, and it has promised to behave tomorrow.

In brighter news, a child on a San Francisco street corner saw a sign that amused him, and recited over and over and over "World Famous Male Nude Revue? That's HILARIOUS!" Which it was to all of us that heard him.

Anyway, two interviews down and three to go. Tomorrow evening, I'll be a puddle of puddliness, but I'll no longer have to worry about the strange perambulations of my hair.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T22:00:00.001-08:00

Hope everyone has a pleasant and enjoyable day.

Today's Progress

2008-12-23T11:45:00.001-08:00

I have written 4 pages of my dissertation, revised 20, wrapped 7 presents, and eaten a bowl of soup. It's going to be a good day!

The Worst Idea in the World (Or Why Christmas Will NOT Be Fun This Year)

2008-12-21T10:42:00.000-08:00

There's a conference every year the week between Christmas and New Year's. It's where most of the job interviews for academic jobs in my discipline are done. I'm on the market this year (and even have some interviews, so I might manage to make it in this career), which means that my Christmas is going to be miserable. I'm beginning my panic now, and intend to keep it up through the 29th of December (the day of my last interview). I will then take 3-4 days off, and begin to panic again about whether I've made it to the next level. If you see me, and I gaze at you with glazed eyes, scream, and run away, it's nothing personal, I promise.

A shout out

2008-10-12T21:08:00.001-07:00

To everyone I know that has a blog:

I've been getting too much work done, which means that you're not doing your jobs. I want distraction -- at half-hour intervals, and in five minute bites. Coordinate that amongst yourselves, but make sure that you've got it covered, and don't think that you get to take the weekends off. I ESPECIALLY need amusing on weekends.

Thank you; that is all.

This is not a political blog

2008-09-06T13:23:00.000-07:00

But I'm SO ANNOYED RIGHT NOW.

Because all I've been hearing is how wonderful Palin's convention speech was. And it wasn't. It was not a good speech. Her timing was off. I'm admitting that she read it with expression, but she isn't a good speaker. Good speakers know the crowd, and the crowd knows how to respond. People laughed when she paused after jokes, but not at the joke. People clapped her points, but only after she'd paused for them to do so. It looked good, but the timing was about a half second off.

And it was a mean-spirited, petty speech. And it said nothing about issues people care about.

Oh, and I'm from a small town too. And I don't think that she represents my mode of thinking.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

But you know what? I'm trying my level best not to pay attention to her, because she is an irrelevance and a distraction. An irritating distraction, but nothing more.

I'm not stupid, Mr. McCain

2008-08-31T18:32:00.001-07:00

I just wanted to get that out there. I know I'm a woman, and maybe a little slow, but it seems to me that I am capable of saying to myself "She doesn't have dangly bits, but she still DIFFERS FROM ME ON EVERY MAJOR POLICY ISSUE AND IS APPARENTLY AGAINST POLAR BEARS so I won't vote for her."

I think I can do that.

Also, I'm tired of hearing people say that she and Obama have the same weaknesses so we have to talk about the issues. Lack of experience? Well, Obama has been representing a bunch more people for quite a bit longer than her. That counts. Executive experience? I think that the Obama campaign organization might actually be bigger than Alaska. Just sayin'.

And if Obama (who is in EXCELLENT health) dies, we'll have Biden. If McCain (who isn't) dies, we'll have Palin. Who may be a very nice woman and I will admit that she seems to say what she means and mean what she says . . . BUT she's too far to the right for me. So though she shares the same chromosomal pairing as me, I have to decline to vote for her.

Tetanus shots

2008-08-26T09:25:00.000-07:00

Head over to scarlet panda and read her post on them. I should have listened, and now I'm waiting for my doctor to deign to see me tomorrow (I cut my foot yesterday, but it was on concrete, not anything metal). Stupid tetanus shots.

Elitist? Moi?

2008-08-24T09:26:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty certain that I'm an elitist. I am amused by the quaint (or, as I like to say, wrong) speech patterns of the less educated. The misplaced apostrophe on a certain bar's credit card receipt BOTHERS ME. I assume that everyone, if they were clever enough, would want to get an advanced degree. I have been known to pity my mechanic/plumber/electrician/hairdresser for their lot in life.

But this morning, I managed to cut Leo's hair, and it doesn't look at all bad!!! I mean, it even looks good (if only I can persuade him to comb it). I took clippers and scissors and removed fuzz from his head in a mostly symmetrical pattern so that he can go off to his lawyering looking like a grown-up, not an ultra-cool indie rocker. I wonder if the thrill goes away. I never feel that accomplished talking to a student. Are useful skills actually gratifying? I wonder.

Please go off the trail and urinate on a rock

2008-08-14T21:02:00.000-07:00

In a place of great natural beauty, danger lurks. In the heart of the Olympic National Park, there is a RABID MOUNTAIN GOAT waiting to kill you. Luckily, it is frightened of shouting and sticks.

In order to prevent this horror from dogging your steps, please observe these simple rules (see fig. 1; it involves peeing on a rock!)

Needless to say, this made me very happy.

Ick. Hot. Fingers Melty.

2008-08-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

Did you know that it's possible to become one with your clothing? I am going to go get ready for bed in a few minutes, and here's to hoping that I haven't actually grafted me shirt onto my back.

It was (according to NPR, fount of all wisdom) 105 degrees today with a heat index of 115-120. (You can't do all caps with numbers, but if I could, I would). I think I'm going to go live in my refrigerator.

I called my mother in Washington today and said "tell me about your weather." She wanted to know why, and I told her that I wanted to fantasize about it. I called my mother for WEATHER PORN. It is time to get out more. Or actually, come to think of it, stay in more so that the heat doesn't get to me. Bless my air-conditioned cave of a house. I'll be in the basement if anyone wants me.

If anyone's weather is better, tell me so I can imagine it.

It's REAL! I have proof!

2008-07-31T20:42:00.000-07:00

For Perma.

I'm Back

2008-07-27T05:04:00.000-07:00

One twenty-six hour day through airports involving TWO pat-down searches (apparently I look suspicious. Or random. Who knows?). One not too bad case of jet-lag (I woke up at six this morning and knew I wasn't getting back to sleep). A lot of laundry to do. And I want breakfast.

Also, watch this space for a comparison of English and American Skittles. (The English ones they've made fruit-flavoured instead of color-flavoured!)

Public Transit

2008-07-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

I'm very conflicted. I miss my car terribly when I have to go do things like get my dinner; yesterday it took me an hour and a half to walk to the store, buy the groceries, and walk back. I could have taken a bus, but I wasn't sure which one and I hate asking directions. (This process was no doubt slowed down by the fact that I walked straight from the tube stop, and so had a whole bunch of books over my shoulder). On the other hand, I kind of like my morning and evening commute. I'm sure the novelty would wear off eventually, but since I'm going to the library from 10-7, the trains aren't crowded, and it's kind of soothing. It does take two hours of my day . . .

The one thing I don't like is that all the shops close between 6 and 8. Don't people need to do grocery shopping at midnight like normal people? Also, what's up with pubs stopping food service at 6:30? Of course it just means that I have to drink my supper on the nights that I don't get away from the library soon enough to shop.

As a sad reflection on the times and growing older, on my first trip abroad, I ordered a Tennants and thought it was enormous. I've included a picture with a salt shaker for scale. They aren't that big at all. I am sad to discover that my memories of pints of beer taller than a horse are simply fabrications of my memory -- it's sort of like going back to one's elementary school.

soporific

2008-07-14T07:11:00.000-07:00

So this is embarrassing. I'm sitting in the rare books room of the British Library with the point of my journey in front of me (it's really cute! It's about the size of my hand and has really small type). I've been transcribing for the past couple of hours, and I just realized that I had been dozing and hallucinating, and then finally just plain asleep. In the reading room of the British Library. In the special section you have to sit in when you're looking at super-special old books. Asleep. There are enough people here that look next to death that I'm not sure anyone noticed, but it is embarrassing.

Luckily, I didn't drool. I'm trying to do something not quite so mind-numbing in hopes that I will wake up, but I think what I'm going to have to do is take the book back and have them hold it for me, and go and have some caffeine. Because, come to think of it, I haven't had anything caffeinated yet today, so that might be part of my problem. Hopefully that's it and I'm back soon, all bouncy and full of energy. Or drugged to the gills and needlessly perky. Or something.

2008-07-13T06:28:00.000-07:00

So here is the egregious swan. There it is, floating along with its cygnet, living happily. But within its breast beats the breast of a vicious, nasty bird. I haven't forgiven it yet.

But I have clearly learned to use my camera to post pictures to the net. It's not that I didn't know how, but rather that I had left the cable in London. But as I'm back in London and enjoying a day of relative quiet before going back to the library fun, I thought I'd stick up a picture of the offender. Who, it might be noted, brings its children with it on criminal activity. And didn't share the food with it, so my opinion of its parenting skills took a nosedive. But as any Scottish poet will tell you, the birds are very nasty. Just ask John Damien, the flying abbot of Tungland, whose launch pad I saw in Stirling as well.

I want a scriptorium

2008-07-10T05:09:00.000-07:00

The National Library of Scotland is the coolest place ever. They have these pleasant rooms with long tables with plugs for laptops, and when you want a book, you have to go and fill in a request form and then they go into their secret underground lair and bring it up for you. And deliver it to your place at the long table. When you leave, they frisk you. They won't let you have pens in the library. I spent all yesterday there, and will spend all day today and tomorrow there. It makes me feel like a real scholar.

And on a plus side, they have no swans.

Oh, and an update? Even though it was 50 degrees when I was walking all over Stirling, I am sunburned. I went on the coldest, wettest vacation I could find, but still I am burned.

stupid swan

2008-07-08T15:29:00.000-07:00

I was attacked by a swan today. A vicious, cracker-eating swan. I'll try tomorrow to post a picture of it (it was quite friendly until it tried to eat my book and then me).

Also, I walked around a very nice Loch and then climbed the hill to the penis-shaped Wallace monument, and then climbed the 236 stairs up to the top of that.

And then realized I'd left my camera in the car park.

So my legs are tired and I have no pictures of the best view I've seen in my life. Poop.

Internet Deprivation

2008-07-07T01:35:00.000-07:00

Do you know that England doesn't have internet? I just spend a week without it, and it hurt my soul. 5 days of that week were on a university campus without internet access. All email had to be done from two common computers which were slow and had a line stretching back.

Good Things About This Week:

1. I got to see the last half of the Chester Mystery Cycle performed at Chester Cathedral. It was a bit like a really well done kids nativity play until they brought on a real donkey for Palm Sunday (which was SO CUTE. I want a donkey), and then the play of the Antichrist was all German -- weird music, Margaret Thatcher, the Antichrist was a crucified clown. It rocked.

2. The conference was interesting (I met people who like what I like)! And it looks like I'm going to get my paper published.

3. Trains are soothing.

Bad Things About This Week

1. Took tube from Heathrow to far reaches of North London at rush hour with all luggage. Ick.

2. London was hot.

3. Not enough sleep to go 'round.

4. Yesterday, we realized that the nice ticket lady had not mentioned that we had to SWITCH TRAIN STATIONS TO MAKE A CONNECTION, so we had a frantic taxi ride with all our luggage. And a rugby match had just finished, so the streets are swarmed.

So that's the news. I'll try to post a picture of the hybrid banana/sheep that is the new mascot for Liverpool.

All packed

2008-06-29T21:20:00.000-07:00

I am ready to leave. There are these awesome vacuum bags that suck all the air out of your luggage. My sweaters look freeze-dried. It rocks.

Watch this space for pictures of the reading room at the British Library. And bits of countryside seen out the window of trains. And possibly the view from the top of Arthur's Seat. (Which sounds far lewder than it is.)

I don't think he understands

2008-06-25T15:09:00.000-07:00

My cat and I clearly need to sit down and discuss the terms of his lease. I'm not being picky here -- we jump when he meows, we give him food, we pet him when he wakes us up at improbable hours, we scratch his ears whenever asked. We ask little in return: a few snuggles when he doesn't want them, some aesthetically pleasing sunbathing sometimes, and a bit of ad hoc vermin control. This is where the communication broke down, so I use this forum to say gently to him:

DON'T BRING MICE INTO THE HOUSE!!!!!

Last night, Leo whistled for him to come in (whatever you may say about him, you can't deny that in some ways he is a well-trained animal), and he came happily trotting up the steps and into the back room. It was only when he got in that Leo saw that he was carrying a mouse in his mouth -- a live one -- that he proceeded to drop and bat around. I'll admit that we're probably boring at night, and I can understand that he might want to bring a toy in, but we have a cat so that we DON'T have mice.

Leo came upstairs and explained the situation to me, and we agreed that mice that come in of their own free will looking for a handout deserve what they get, but mice that are dragged inside deserve rescuing. Leo rescued the mouse. All is well.

But Puck is in the doghouse.

Things to do

2008-06-21T16:06:00.000-07:00

In the week before I leave for England, Scotland, etc (libraries, folks, not fun) I have to:

1. Write paper for conference at beginning of trip. Being heard by large people in field. No competing sessions. Eep!

2. Finish essay to send to LARGE SCARY JOURNAL with a habit of rejecting people.

3. Figure out what I'm wearing to things (including, but not limited to the conference). This involves checking weather, because though it's summer, I'm pretty sure England is not 100 degrees. Also shoes. Figure out how to take the fewest number of shoes that allow me to have appropriate shoes for all occasions and not be carrying a giant suitcase with me everywhere.

4. Get some English money so I can leave the airport without pawning some of my clothes. (Or, I suppose, carefully selected shoes).

5. Gather books. Both academic (which involves figuring out which papers I am planning on working on besides the giant book I'm transcribing) and amusing. For amusing books, need a combination of frothy yet not embarrassing.

6. Pack (see 3).

7. For 6, try to acquire voluminous luggage. Also for 5. Also figure out luggage weight limits and spread books about.

8. Print out ticket reservations.

9. Buy train tickets.

10. Figure out whether my cell phone wants to work there and how much it costs.

And probably a whole bunch more. If anyone can think of anything that I need to do that I haven't, please do remind me.

I want to be a Luddite . . . but I can't

2008-06-16T20:22:00.000-07:00

I went to the library this morning. I had emailed myself a list of books and articles that I needed to get. The moment I walked into the library, the internet went down, and I realized that you can't do anything in a library without internet. They've removed the card catalogue. I didn't have my list of books, and there was no way to get it back. There's a Frog and Toad story by Arnold Lobel that seemed strangely apropos.

So I've decided that I'm against technology, because it raises expectations and then just lets you down.*

* I realize that there's some irony in the manner of my complaint.

Impossible Question #7

2008-06-13T20:50:00.000-07:00

I have been given a Herculean task -- I'm writing an essay on a 15th century Scottish poem written by a poet that may have been blind. Other than his name (Blind Hary) we don't really know much about him except that he occasionally got paid for something. I have to construct a paragraph that says "We don't know what books he may have had access to or known. We don't really know much about his education. But since a chunk of my argument hinges on him knowing some things about a series of saints, we're just going to assume that he knew their fairly obscure biographies in detail. And for two of the series who may each be one of two saints, we're just going to go with the one I picked, yeah?"

I can't see it.

But then, neither could he.

Unless that was just a nickname.

So I am going to hie me to the library tomorrow with an agenda: I'm not leaving until I have come to some conclusion about things, and framed it in brilliant prose.

I am a BAD PERSON

2008-06-11T05:28:00.000-07:00

But I can't help it.

I have a student who is hearing impaired, and it's driving me completely crazy. I know that she's not trying to annoy me. I know that she is entitled to learn just like everyone else. I know that she can't help not being able to hear. I feel an immense amount of compassion for her. But . . .

Well really, my objection is that I have no training to deal with this situation (and it is a situation; she can't understand my normal speaking voice). But it puts me under an immense amount of pressure trying to balance her needs and the needs of the 16 other students.

Also to do with not hearing things and how I am a bad person, this amused me greatly. We could use it as a jumping off point for a discussion of censorship, but we could also just laugh hysterically.

Apocalypse soon?

2008-06-01T18:54:00.000-07:00

Leo is sitting in the room with me, reading my blog. Shouldn't he know what I'm up to without having to read my blog? Is this evidence of the coming apocalypse? Should I call him to find out what he thinks about this? Or just wait until he comments on this post?

Best. Quiz. Ever.

2008-05-31T20:29:00.000-07:00

http://www.236.com/news/2008/05/30/which_inflammatory_pastor_are_1_6852.php

(Leo's Rev. Wright . . .)

I can be googled!

2008-05-30T10:01:00.000-07:00

One of the sad side effects of my marriage was that it made me ungoogleable. Try it. You don't really get much that is linked to me. But now, because I have an article published in an online journal (which is published by a real and reputable publisher, so it's a real thing) you can find me! I exist on the web!

(Of course, you have to google me in quotation marks with all my middle initials, but it's still progress. Of a sort).

Pointless Reviews

2008-05-25T12:07:00.000-07:00

I have, I admit, a somewhat snobby take on productions of Shakespeare, but the current Richard III running nearby has one serious problem; I put to you a hypothetical situation:

Say you need to portray a character whose arm is withered and needs to be tethered to his side. Do you simply have him put it in his pocket, or do you have him grabbing his crotch? The Shakespeare Festival of St. Louis seems to have opted for the crotch-grab. They have also given him a glove on that hand and not the other. It means that he looks a little like Michael Jackson . . . but mostly he just looks pervy.

Particularly when he gives Anne a ring that he takes off his finger (at least, I assume it was his finger . . . )

not QUITE right

2008-05-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

My summation of grading possibilities was not quite right, but was close-ish. I had 4 students whose papers were less than half the length they were meant to be, 1 plagiarist, and 1 who turned papers in after the deadline for grades.

Oh, and one person (the one who wanted me not to enforce my attendance policy) that gave me a paper on something we read earlier in the semester that he'd already written a paper on, instead of something that we'd read recently.

I have decided that I am happy to be done. And I graded 60 papers in one day, which left me with a throbbing headache and a sense of righteous accomplishment.

It begins . . .

2008-05-12T07:21:00.000-07:00

In a few minutes (after I finish blogging to waste time and put off the evil day) I am going to start grading my stack of final papers. I'm projecting (and, if anyone wants to make it interesting with a little friendly wager, let me know) 2 cases of plagiarism, 4 people whose papers don't make the required length requirements, and at least one person who gives me a response paper along the lines of "I like The Importance of Being Earnest, because of the pretty costumes," which will also tell me that he/she didn't actually read the play, and is relying entirely on the film.

But the rest will probably be fine.

On the bright side, this is the last grading/teaching/thinking about students that I will have to do for at least 15 months.

mmm . . . carrots

2008-05-05T10:46:00.000-07:00

Check out this rather disturbing quiz --

http://Bush-McCainChallenge.com/?rc=challenge-friends&r_id=12570-4022553-.QFv6z

It tells us exactly why Hilary needs to get the hell out of the race so that we can focus on the actual presidential campaign and keep McCain from getting a free ride.

whining, moaning and students

2008-05-02T11:59:00.000-07:00

(You notice how I'm leaving ambiguous whether it's me or the students who's whining and moaning? That's cleverness!)

So a student came in yesterday to see me. He admitted right up front that he'd missed a third of the classes this semester, and he said that he hoped that it was all right. Or rather, he hoped that I wasn't "going to be super-mean on your attendance policy." By "super-mean" I think he meant enforce it at all. When I said that it depended a bit on why he'd missed the classes he said "I'm not going to lie to you -- some of the time it was laziness, but some of the time it was because I had a really hard class right after yours, so I had to skip yours to study for the other one."

This is, by the way, not an answer that will endear you to a teacher.

When I said that I wouldn't automatically fail him, as my policy says I would, and rather would grade his work as it was, he asked what grade he was likely to get. I said that he might get a C. He said he was really hoping for a B or even an A. I ask you -- what sort of person thinks they deserve an A for showing up 66% of the time? In a class with an attendance policy?

Well, this is new

2008-05-01T00:10:00.000-07:00

So I decided to blog. I'm not sure why, but it seemed like something everyone else was doing.

I think it was part of beginning to feel old. Because nothing keeps you young like sitting huddled over the keyboard typing words that no one will read.

I'll come up with something clever to say later.