Two excellent runs this week! Finally convinced that I can, in fact, run longer and harder than I thought (all cred has to go to nas for that). We've found a new loop with hills and flats that's really quite good and very challenging for me after the flatness of the tow-path.
I really should be starting to write right now but thought I'd take a moment to do this first! I've got a fairly sizeable section of my introduction to hand in - and a new section for chapter 2. Hopefully, my wonderful supervisor will be satisfied with my progress in this last, gruelling 6 months! I've decided not to apply to the post here because my CV just isn't up to scratch. Instead I'm going to spend some time polishing up articles and get those out - buff up the CV and start from a position of confidence. I sent off a proposal to a collection at the end of March and have heard back from the editors - but only that it'll be June before they let me know! Oh well. I've plenty to occupy me until then.
We're off to the Lake District tomorrow for the Easter weekend. Luckily for us, our generous friend has offered his cottage and is driving up from Cambridge. The weather has just turned into early-summer so with luck that will hold through the weekend. Though I've always thought that Good Friday should be slightly overcast - more respectfully suitable. Similarly, I've always thought 'happy easter' sounded a bit odd. Catholic school hangovers I suppose. But then, what else could you say? 'Have a contemplative easter'? A 'thoughtful easter'?
I thing I'll listen to Jessye Norman this afternoon - I have a collections of spirituals sung by her and they are simply beautiful. For the season, I shall listen to 'Were you there?'. I love that song. It's ridiculously slow to sing with a congregation but breathtaking from a great soloist.
I will miss Easter at home. It always signalled the real start of spring. I did get some easter chocolate - thanks Gran! but ate it before I could photograph the evidence...very tasty. Gotta say, Cadbury's cream eggs are much better over here!
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Sunday, April 01, 2007
thots on running
Why isn't progress a one-way street? Today my run was terrible - I couldn't find my rhythm, couldn't catch my breath, felt generally saggy and baggy - could feel every uneven surface from my soles through my feet knees hips and back. Nasser assures me that he feels the same - he's so good when I morph into a two-year-old in the middle or at the end of a run. I know I'm awful - I don't deserve such a great coach most days. I'd give up on me. In fact, that's likely part of the problem, I do give up on me too quickly.
Some days, I can run forever - like I used to run when I was little at school or just round the house playing by myself or tag with everyone. I used to love the 100m dash at our 'track and field' days. I hated the field part of the day - first off, they never let us to the fun stuff that I wanted to do from reading too many children's versions of Greek mythology: javelin, discus...for some reason, they did let us attempt the shot-put. I suppose a 11-year old isn't going to be able to throw that very hard. Surely though some major shoulder and back trauma could've happened?? Anyway all I liked was the 100m.
It was a solo sport - which was important as a shy, coltish kid - and the build-up, even in elementary school, was huge. There was always a crowd for the 100m. People knew who'd won the previous year; whether people were record contenders (ridiculous in elementary school!). Why is the 100m the crowning achievement? It's just fast. Now the 400m - that's a challenge. Fast and long. But I digress. I loved the 100m because I got anxious and when I got anxious my shoulders tense up, my chest constricts, my breath feels tight - nothing unique in this I know; in fact, it's kinda text-book anxiety. But to me, it feels as though every bit of energy in my body is bound in my ribcage and that if I don't let it out, I'll explode. Sometimes, even now, I have to go away from people and shake it out, or jump a bit, or hold my breath til the energy explodes behind my eyes in little fireworks. But in the 100m, I just let it burst through the starting line and running felt like dying. And dying was flying.
I didn't set any records - I don't even think I won. But I liked it.
I do love running but when it's a bad run - it's just awful. I'm likely just transferring stress from everything else - especially my research - and compounding it rather than letting the run pound it out.
Some days, I can run forever - like I used to run when I was little at school or just round the house playing by myself or tag with everyone. I used to love the 100m dash at our 'track and field' days. I hated the field part of the day - first off, they never let us to the fun stuff that I wanted to do from reading too many children's versions of Greek mythology: javelin, discus...for some reason, they did let us attempt the shot-put. I suppose a 11-year old isn't going to be able to throw that very hard. Surely though some major shoulder and back trauma could've happened?? Anyway all I liked was the 100m.
It was a solo sport - which was important as a shy, coltish kid - and the build-up, even in elementary school, was huge. There was always a crowd for the 100m. People knew who'd won the previous year; whether people were record contenders (ridiculous in elementary school!). Why is the 100m the crowning achievement? It's just fast. Now the 400m - that's a challenge. Fast and long. But I digress. I loved the 100m because I got anxious and when I got anxious my shoulders tense up, my chest constricts, my breath feels tight - nothing unique in this I know; in fact, it's kinda text-book anxiety. But to me, it feels as though every bit of energy in my body is bound in my ribcage and that if I don't let it out, I'll explode. Sometimes, even now, I have to go away from people and shake it out, or jump a bit, or hold my breath til the energy explodes behind my eyes in little fireworks. But in the 100m, I just let it burst through the starting line and running felt like dying. And dying was flying.
I didn't set any records - I don't even think I won. But I liked it.
I do love running but when it's a bad run - it's just awful. I'm likely just transferring stress from everything else - especially my research - and compounding it rather than letting the run pound it out.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Abstract thoughts
I just sent off an abstract for a collection of essays - it's from the fourth chatper of The Thesis so wasn't too hard - still a new experience and took far more psychological space than it should have, or than I have space for right now! The intro is just not going to be done for Monday. I still over-estimate my ability to write, forgetting than when I did write 2000 words a night A) I was about 19 and B) they were mostly crap.
We watched Children of Men the other night. It was terrifically disappointing possibly because I had really high hopes for it. First off, while the title sounds all 'ooh...how evocative and traditional and poo like that' it begs the question: is the problem with the future related to the fact that they are relying on men to reproduce the species? I simply will not buy the aesthetic argument that 'children of humankind' is 'clunky'. Honestly. A friend pointed out that there are also some fairly disturbing comparisons made between the black heroine and livestock. The sexual politics of the thing were just all over the place and the end turns into a video-game. No there really is never a question that Kee and her daughter will survive, but they could have done something more interesting with the premise of the thing. Another thing, how is one baby going to solve the infertility problem of the whole planet? Shouldn't they be more interested in Kee and whoever the father is? I suppose one reason for the silly title is that, in the film, women have obviously spectacularly failed at our one single biological task: reproduction. Maybe the film is actually suggesting that we hand that over to men and see how they do (Theo, our hero, dies by the way, but not until safely handing Kee and baby over to other men). Okay so the entire world is more or less united in mouring the whole no children thing - but the fault is tacitly or otherwise placed with women. And another thing, (which my friend also pointed out), I didn't care about anyone in the film - which, I appreciate, is not exactly a solid criticism, but I think I was supposed to. Particularly our hero, whose tangled past just bored rather than intrigued and whose rather pathetic attempts to be indifferent and avoid the whole plot were kind of laughable.
Blah.
Another sure sign of spring: the end of the tax year. And the budget travelling in its very special little red briefcase from No.11 to parliament and from there onto the front pages of every newspaper in the country. Guess what? For those of us down here, nothing changed.
We watched Children of Men the other night. It was terrifically disappointing possibly because I had really high hopes for it. First off, while the title sounds all 'ooh...how evocative and traditional and poo like that' it begs the question: is the problem with the future related to the fact that they are relying on men to reproduce the species? I simply will not buy the aesthetic argument that 'children of humankind' is 'clunky'. Honestly. A friend pointed out that there are also some fairly disturbing comparisons made between the black heroine and livestock. The sexual politics of the thing were just all over the place and the end turns into a video-game. No there really is never a question that Kee and her daughter will survive, but they could have done something more interesting with the premise of the thing. Another thing, how is one baby going to solve the infertility problem of the whole planet? Shouldn't they be more interested in Kee and whoever the father is? I suppose one reason for the silly title is that, in the film, women have obviously spectacularly failed at our one single biological task: reproduction. Maybe the film is actually suggesting that we hand that over to men and see how they do (Theo, our hero, dies by the way, but not until safely handing Kee and baby over to other men). Okay so the entire world is more or less united in mouring the whole no children thing - but the fault is tacitly or otherwise placed with women. And another thing, (which my friend also pointed out), I didn't care about anyone in the film - which, I appreciate, is not exactly a solid criticism, but I think I was supposed to. Particularly our hero, whose tangled past just bored rather than intrigued and whose rather pathetic attempts to be indifferent and avoid the whole plot were kind of laughable.
Blah.
Another sure sign of spring: the end of the tax year. And the budget travelling in its very special little red briefcase from No.11 to parliament and from there onto the front pages of every newspaper in the country. Guess what? For those of us down here, nothing changed.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Mornings and afternoons
We've been adding linseed (flax) to our morning oatmeal - which is the best breakfast food ever - cause hey, I'm 30, I figured I should start thinking like this. Anyway, it's nice and slightly nutty.
But you know what I miss? Red River cereal. If anyone has any out there, I'd appreciate a list of what's in it. I'm pretty sure flax was there, likely millet...I could make my own if I knew the rest. I also miss cream-of-wheat which we've searched for but can't find here. We did bring some back from Canada but went through it pretty fast.
Dear lord, I'm blogging about breakfast cereals. There is just no way to pass this off as anything but procrastination...
But you know what I miss? Red River cereal. If anyone has any out there, I'd appreciate a list of what's in it. I'm pretty sure flax was there, likely millet...I could make my own if I knew the rest. I also miss cream-of-wheat which we've searched for but can't find here. We did bring some back from Canada but went through it pretty fast.
Dear lord, I'm blogging about breakfast cereals. There is just no way to pass this off as anything but procrastination...
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
minor injuries
Within about two minutes of play on the basketball court on Sunday I was injured. Yup. Tragically, I jammed my finger the first time I tried to catch a 'pass'. It hurt like hell. I had no idea basketball was so dangerous. I think I'll stick to running. Amazingly, I haven't injured myself running. The swelling on my poor finger is pretty much gone but wow, did it ever swell up. And some impressive bruising has appeared all the way down to my palm. The annoying thing about the injury is that it hurt but wasn't debilitating...I mean, if I'm going to hurt my hands at this stage, it might as well be something that works as a legitimate excuse for an extension!
Logan managed to sneak out the open kitchen window the other day - we didn't realise until he frantically scrabbled at the door to get in. His tail was huge!! I don't know what scared him but he hasn't been that keen at the door since. Laila is still uninterested in the big world. She's become a most cuddly cat though still strange - this morning she ate some strawberry.
Virgin media has a new ad campaign right now featuring Uma Thurman. Initially, they were just celebrating how many times you could watch Uma's movies on Virgin (I think Richard Branson must be a fan), now they just seem to feature Uma rambling about rain. I'm not sure what the point is but I've lost any interest in watching her films. It's always funny when a commercial brings about the opposite reaction from what is intended.
The weather has been absolutely gorgeous the last two days - I'll say it quietly: I think it's spring!! Walking home from the library was lovely: the mist was back from the morning and the sky was watercolour wash with leftover sunshine. In spite of my general feeling that the day deserved a do-over, it was a pretty nice finish.
Logan managed to sneak out the open kitchen window the other day - we didn't realise until he frantically scrabbled at the door to get in. His tail was huge!! I don't know what scared him but he hasn't been that keen at the door since. Laila is still uninterested in the big world. She's become a most cuddly cat though still strange - this morning she ate some strawberry.
Virgin media has a new ad campaign right now featuring Uma Thurman. Initially, they were just celebrating how many times you could watch Uma's movies on Virgin (I think Richard Branson must be a fan), now they just seem to feature Uma rambling about rain. I'm not sure what the point is but I've lost any interest in watching her films. It's always funny when a commercial brings about the opposite reaction from what is intended.
The weather has been absolutely gorgeous the last two days - I'll say it quietly: I think it's spring!! Walking home from the library was lovely: the mist was back from the morning and the sky was watercolour wash with leftover sunshine. In spite of my general feeling that the day deserved a do-over, it was a pretty nice finish.
Friday, March 23, 2007
It's where I hang my hat
Overheard just down from the uni steps. Speaker: female, young, would-be rah, clearly undergraduate, likely of some vapid communications degree. Situation: (from what I could ascertain) fallout of a recent seminar discussion combined with commentary on some related social event.
'Don't call me a feminist! I ain't a feminist!'
Yes dear. Because god and Primark forbid that you associate yourself in any way with the movement that enabled you to attend the institution at which you took the course that prompted such a reaction.
As I was about to board the bus home, the lady in front of me dropped a pound coin inbetween the pavement curb and the bus wheel. But she continued to board so I assumed she hadn't noticed. So I picked it up. And found her on the bus and handed it back. The response to my 'excuse me ma'am, I think you dropped this'?
'Ta, luv. I ded, bu' whern't gan t' ben' dahn t' ghet ih'.
Lovely. I should have kept it. What kind of person doesn't pick up a bloody pound?! That's a whole bus fare home!
Then, just as the bus reached within sight-distance of my stop, a group of school-girls at the back started yelling 'BOGEYS' at the top of their prepubescent lungs.
Considering the things I've heard loudly proclaimed on public transit, I thought it was kind of sweet.
'Don't call me a feminist! I ain't a feminist!'
Yes dear. Because god and Primark forbid that you associate yourself in any way with the movement that enabled you to attend the institution at which you took the course that prompted such a reaction.
As I was about to board the bus home, the lady in front of me dropped a pound coin inbetween the pavement curb and the bus wheel. But she continued to board so I assumed she hadn't noticed. So I picked it up. And found her on the bus and handed it back. The response to my 'excuse me ma'am, I think you dropped this'?
'Ta, luv. I ded, bu' whern't gan t' ben' dahn t' ghet ih'.
Lovely. I should have kept it. What kind of person doesn't pick up a bloody pound?! That's a whole bus fare home!
Then, just as the bus reached within sight-distance of my stop, a group of school-girls at the back started yelling 'BOGEYS' at the top of their prepubescent lungs.
Considering the things I've heard loudly proclaimed on public transit, I thought it was kind of sweet.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Ultimate Song
Having nearly 6 HE degrees between us, a slight hangover, and time to catch up on bits of dangling conversations on the walk to the city centre, Nas and I have discovered The Ultimate Song. Without straying into schmulz, it walks a careful line between sincerity and mockery; it has not one but TWO wanking-guitar solos; too polished to be grungy and forbidding, too dirty to be emo or prog, The Ultimate Song gestures with class and grace towards it's formidable predecessors, it's impressive colleagues in the field of ROCK, and offers a sweet salute to the unknown guitar wankers of the unseen future.
Yes, your heart is singing it - your heels are keeping time with that tight rhythm guitar - you are unconsciously bringing your arm up for that air-chord...
More than a Feeling. Boston. Nope, yer not dreaming now.
That's right.
(Note: a google search of 'the ultimate song' does not turn up 'More than a Feeling' or Boston...yet).
In case you need further proof of it's Awesome Power, consider the following testimonial: Aqua Teen Hunger Force neighbour, Carl Brutananadilewski, actually refers to it as 'the ultimate song'. This and other interesting facts about the ultimate song - for example, it took 7 years to write - can be found here. That's right - it's so great it has its own wikipedia entry.
Go on. Listen. Feel your chest expand with emotion - play that air guitar. Let it sink into your soul. Make it more than a feeling.
Yes, your heart is singing it - your heels are keeping time with that tight rhythm guitar - you are unconsciously bringing your arm up for that air-chord...
More than a Feeling. Boston. Nope, yer not dreaming now.
That's right.
(Note: a google search of 'the ultimate song' does not turn up 'More than a Feeling' or Boston...yet).
In case you need further proof of it's Awesome Power, consider the following testimonial: Aqua Teen Hunger Force neighbour, Carl Brutananadilewski, actually refers to it as 'the ultimate song'. This and other interesting facts about the ultimate song - for example, it took 7 years to write - can be found here. That's right - it's so great it has its own wikipedia entry.
Go on. Listen. Feel your chest expand with emotion - play that air guitar. Let it sink into your soul. Make it more than a feeling.
This is thot
Sometimes, people make me warm and fuzzy inside. Sometimes, they make me feel bad for generally being cynical about the state of the world as it is and the future of humanity (what a prat! Do I really spend any time thinking about that? while sober?).
Downtown doing the groceries this morning and on the way home, we stopped at the best sweet shop in the city and bought our favourite chocolate - from an amazing Belgian artisanal company - and proceeded to the best comic store in the ENTIRE WORLD (I did think that before this morning). As is my wont, I immediately squealed as though the store were full of baby polar bears, put down my precious chocolate, and started reading from the counter display. The fellow who owns the store is fantastic and we've been patrons since moving here so he doesn't even raise an eyebrow at my performance - I established my cred long ago. Anyway, Nas found something new, we chatted with the owner about various books, browsed through their fantastic collection of small-press stuff and chapbooks, and left. Only about 30 minutes later did I realise that I was no longer in possession of my chocolate.
So I swore. And stomped around a bit. And hiked with our groceries all the way back to OK Comics. And as soon as I walked in lovely owner smiled and presented me with my chocolate bar. And the world was sunny again.
C'mon, I'm writing up my thesis - yes, this does count as really really making my day.
I forgot to mention that Nas cut my hair last week. I love it - and I've gotten more compliments than when I've spent £40.
Facebook: I'm increasingly ambivalent about Facebook. I still love it - it's brought me into contact with people I haven't seen in nearly 10 years; people that I wouldn't know how to find otherwise. At the same time, I wonder about the efficacy or point of 'reconnecting' virtually with people I met and grew fond of because of shared experiences, shared spaces and places - not simply e-letters exchanged because of a convenient new SNS. But then, I think good crap! what kind of a luddite/cynical isolationist am I? Maybe it's cause I'm just not very good at acquaintances; there are people on there that used to be big parts of my life - people that I thought I would be in touch with 'forever' - people who didn't disappear suddenly, but gradually. I just looked around one day and realised that they weren't there and any regret was because I hadn't noticed them leaving: I'd just felt the space where they'd been. And I suppose the older I get (hey, nearly 30! Wisdom speaking - pay attention) the more I'm afraid of giving with the same intensity that I threw into every relationship when I was young and boundless. These facebook-entries are haunted - not so much by memories, as by shades of fearlessness and youth. The casual 'hey, there you are! How've you been?' somehow thick with the intensity of the friendship-that-was. And I'm afraid of the things that I've forgotten, the people - including myselves - that I've left behind, because I don't know them anymore. So it's a risk I suppose; a chance to reconnect not only with old friends but with old selves, younger me-s that I insist are strangers now to this woman I've become.
But then I realise I want to be a part of this; I miss these people and I respond to this newness of old friends - this is how we are becoming and moving forward, by folding back on ourselves.
Downtown doing the groceries this morning and on the way home, we stopped at the best sweet shop in the city and bought our favourite chocolate - from an amazing Belgian artisanal company - and proceeded to the best comic store in the ENTIRE WORLD (I did think that before this morning). As is my wont, I immediately squealed as though the store were full of baby polar bears, put down my precious chocolate, and started reading from the counter display. The fellow who owns the store is fantastic and we've been patrons since moving here so he doesn't even raise an eyebrow at my performance - I established my cred long ago. Anyway, Nas found something new, we chatted with the owner about various books, browsed through their fantastic collection of small-press stuff and chapbooks, and left. Only about 30 minutes later did I realise that I was no longer in possession of my chocolate.
So I swore. And stomped around a bit. And hiked with our groceries all the way back to OK Comics. And as soon as I walked in lovely owner smiled and presented me with my chocolate bar. And the world was sunny again.
C'mon, I'm writing up my thesis - yes, this does count as really really making my day.
I forgot to mention that Nas cut my hair last week. I love it - and I've gotten more compliments than when I've spent £40.
Facebook: I'm increasingly ambivalent about Facebook. I still love it - it's brought me into contact with people I haven't seen in nearly 10 years; people that I wouldn't know how to find otherwise. At the same time, I wonder about the efficacy or point of 'reconnecting' virtually with people I met and grew fond of because of shared experiences, shared spaces and places - not simply e-letters exchanged because of a convenient new SNS. But then, I think good crap! what kind of a luddite/cynical isolationist am I? Maybe it's cause I'm just not very good at acquaintances; there are people on there that used to be big parts of my life - people that I thought I would be in touch with 'forever' - people who didn't disappear suddenly, but gradually. I just looked around one day and realised that they weren't there and any regret was because I hadn't noticed them leaving: I'd just felt the space where they'd been. And I suppose the older I get (hey, nearly 30! Wisdom speaking - pay attention) the more I'm afraid of giving with the same intensity that I threw into every relationship when I was young and boundless. These facebook-entries are haunted - not so much by memories, as by shades of fearlessness and youth. The casual 'hey, there you are! How've you been?' somehow thick with the intensity of the friendship-that-was. And I'm afraid of the things that I've forgotten, the people - including myselves - that I've left behind, because I don't know them anymore. So it's a risk I suppose; a chance to reconnect not only with old friends but with old selves, younger me-s that I insist are strangers now to this woman I've become.
But then I realise I want to be a part of this; I miss these people and I respond to this newness of old friends - this is how we are becoming and moving forward, by folding back on ourselves.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Facebook!
I've discovered something even more fascinating than blogging. Yes, in spite of all my blustering about joining something on which my students could find out personal and embarrassing details about me (such as spelling errors and favourite movies), I've joined Facebook.
I love it.
I also discovered that I absolutely love making lists of things about me. Which is why my personal file on said website is bigger than anyone else's that I've come across.
I think I'm going to have to work on my CV before applying for any jobs, alas. Unless they will humour me by listening to the things I'd like to publish - or would have published if I didn't have to hold down two jobs during my degree just to pay rent! So rather than spend time applying now, I'm going to spend time writing articles out of my thesis. It does beat trying to come up with a first line for my introduction. I have about twenty false-starts for that already...
It's snowing and sunny today, bizarre, yes. Tonight, there is fun planned - we're meeting up with some friends from the old workplace. I am being especially virtuous today to make up for it though: I ran for 30 minutes this AM, I'm spending the afternoon bashing my head against my desk in the library, and I'm going to pilates this evening.
I love it.
I also discovered that I absolutely love making lists of things about me. Which is why my personal file on said website is bigger than anyone else's that I've come across.
I think I'm going to have to work on my CV before applying for any jobs, alas. Unless they will humour me by listening to the things I'd like to publish - or would have published if I didn't have to hold down two jobs during my degree just to pay rent! So rather than spend time applying now, I'm going to spend time writing articles out of my thesis. It does beat trying to come up with a first line for my introduction. I have about twenty false-starts for that already...
It's snowing and sunny today, bizarre, yes. Tonight, there is fun planned - we're meeting up with some friends from the old workplace. I am being especially virtuous today to make up for it though: I ran for 30 minutes this AM, I'm spending the afternoon bashing my head against my desk in the library, and I'm going to pilates this evening.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Not nearly (bad as it seems)
It wasn't so bad - in retrospect; at the time, I was fairly furious. But the sofa in the PG common room isn't half bad for a nap. It's a pretty cosy room - though the windows do bang against the sashes a bit. Oh well. I did get ripped off by the taxi-man for my ride home - £4.50!! My last fivver...
He's not the worst husband ever - just a bit of a deep sleeper. Luckily work yesterday was busy-ish (for the library I'm at anyway!) so I didn't have to sit at the desk for any long stretches. I even shelved for over an hour. Last day of term - all the kids brought their books back - the shelving bays were stacked. Shelving is actually fairly relaxing; it's dead easy, repetitive, and requires little to no thought.
There's a job posting for a year-long position at Leeds in 18th-century literature. I've emailed my supervisor to ask her opinion but I think I will apply for it - with no hopes but that of gaining some experience in a nice familiar setting. I've got the teaching experience - just not the publication record. In the next two weeks I have to finish my chapter draft, write a proposal for a collection of essays, and now, write up and submit my CV and application for a REAL JOB. Yikes. So much for Easter hols.
That being said, I do have motivation - we've been invited up to the Lake District! If that doesn't get me going, eager to finish everything, nothing will.
BTW, it's Mother's Sunday here - and it snowed today. I don't think these things are related. But the sun has suddenly appeared and it is beautiful outside now. I prefer Mother's Day in May tho that might be purely nostalgic since my favourite mass when I was a kid (Catholic school - yes, I had a favourite mass) was the one dedicated to the Virgin Mary in May (which I was taught was the 'Month of Mary' and got to feel rather special that my birthday was in that month too) that kind of extended to all mothers. I remember the church was beautiful - this was before they painted it an ill-conceived shade of pink - and of the heaps of flowers there, most of them were Lillies of the Valley, which I loved for some reason. I loved the hymns to Mary as well.
Anyway, the point is - happy mother's day mum! and Grandma! But I'll call on the real mother's day...
He's not the worst husband ever - just a bit of a deep sleeper. Luckily work yesterday was busy-ish (for the library I'm at anyway!) so I didn't have to sit at the desk for any long stretches. I even shelved for over an hour. Last day of term - all the kids brought their books back - the shelving bays were stacked. Shelving is actually fairly relaxing; it's dead easy, repetitive, and requires little to no thought.
There's a job posting for a year-long position at Leeds in 18th-century literature. I've emailed my supervisor to ask her opinion but I think I will apply for it - with no hopes but that of gaining some experience in a nice familiar setting. I've got the teaching experience - just not the publication record. In the next two weeks I have to finish my chapter draft, write a proposal for a collection of essays, and now, write up and submit my CV and application for a REAL JOB. Yikes. So much for Easter hols.
That being said, I do have motivation - we've been invited up to the Lake District! If that doesn't get me going, eager to finish everything, nothing will.
BTW, it's Mother's Sunday here - and it snowed today. I don't think these things are related. But the sun has suddenly appeared and it is beautiful outside now. I prefer Mother's Day in May tho that might be purely nostalgic since my favourite mass when I was a kid (Catholic school - yes, I had a favourite mass) was the one dedicated to the Virgin Mary in May (which I was taught was the 'Month of Mary' and got to feel rather special that my birthday was in that month too) that kind of extended to all mothers. I remember the church was beautiful - this was before they painted it an ill-conceived shade of pink - and of the heaps of flowers there, most of them were Lillies of the Valley, which I loved for some reason. I loved the hymns to Mary as well.
Anyway, the point is - happy mother's day mum! and Grandma! But I'll call on the real mother's day...
i am the worst husband ever
Term ended at York this Friday. And with the end of the day, so did my teaching duties this term. A reason to celebrate, if ever there was one - and celebrate i did. I celebrated so much that i sent myself home early (a bit worse for wear). A kiss for kaley, a walk home in the rain, a stop at the takeaway for a so-traditional-it-hurts fish and chips, some idiotic late night television, and off to bed my one am.
Being a security minded fellow, i made sure in my psedo-somnelent state to make sure our front door - by putting the chain on.
I'm fast asleep and dreaming when an hour or so later, kaley comes home, tries the door, finds it impassable, and does the smart thing.
She knocks.
(no answer but a snore)
She calls the phone and lets it ring for an hour
(i'm still cutting z's)
She heaves stones at the bedroom window
(i roll over)
Suddenly, at four am, I wake up in a cold sweat when i realize that i've locked her out. I call her mobile phone, and she's walked up a big hill in the early early morning back to the university, and has made herself as comfortable as possible in the graduate common room (it's common practice for stressed out students to sleep there as project deadlines loom).
At 9:30 am, i watched my lovely wife leave for her shift at the library.
i'm open to suggestions as to how to make this one up to her.
(edit: I can hear you thinking. "this is a pretty illiterate post for a fellow who calls himself a writer" - and you would be right. Rather than correct myself and preserve a veneer of respectability, i choose instead to let my grinding syntax and careless errors speak toward how pathetic i was feeling at the time.)
Being a security minded fellow, i made sure in my psedo-somnelent state to make sure our front door - by putting the chain on.
I'm fast asleep and dreaming when an hour or so later, kaley comes home, tries the door, finds it impassable, and does the smart thing.
She knocks.
(no answer but a snore)
She calls the phone and lets it ring for an hour
(i'm still cutting z's)
She heaves stones at the bedroom window
(i roll over)
Suddenly, at four am, I wake up in a cold sweat when i realize that i've locked her out. I call her mobile phone, and she's walked up a big hill in the early early morning back to the university, and has made herself as comfortable as possible in the graduate common room (it's common practice for stressed out students to sleep there as project deadlines loom).
At 9:30 am, i watched my lovely wife leave for her shift at the library.
i'm open to suggestions as to how to make this one up to her.
(edit: I can hear you thinking. "this is a pretty illiterate post for a fellow who calls himself a writer" - and you would be right. Rather than correct myself and preserve a veneer of respectability, i choose instead to let my grinding syntax and careless errors speak toward how pathetic i was feeling at the time.)
Friday, March 16, 2007
Me, me, ME!
Ah the last day of term...teaching finished for the meanwhile...a seemingly endless succession of days without students in my office, gym, or library...
The weather's gotten cold again. I was hoping for a nice clean March - in like a lion, out like a lamb. I suppose it is only the middle of the much-misaligned month. I'll give it another chance. The garden's not quite ready for planting yet.
I haven't yet heard from the panel I applied to at this year's RMMLA conference in Calgary. Alas, I think that means they're trying to find a way to gently let me down. Nas, on the other hand, was accepted to a very exciting-looking conference in Maine next fall on Literature and Science. Yeah, I'm a bit jealous. His research is so much sexier than mine...
The Bulgarian Bullet and I went to our first regular pilates class since our course finished at the beginning of the week. It was awesome. And way harder than our beginner stuff! My shoulder has been acting up - I'm writing my introduction - and pilates does help. Nas pointed out yesterday that I sleep with my head off the pillow, which might have something to do with the pain in my shoulder/neck. I'll have to invest in one of those special pillows...yeesh, I'm getting old.
But for the short meantime, there's a gathering of all us relieved post-grads tonight to celebrate the end of term and a squash game before that (where I will be trounced, alas). Tomorrow I may work, but tonight - I play!
The weather's gotten cold again. I was hoping for a nice clean March - in like a lion, out like a lamb. I suppose it is only the middle of the much-misaligned month. I'll give it another chance. The garden's not quite ready for planting yet.
I haven't yet heard from the panel I applied to at this year's RMMLA conference in Calgary. Alas, I think that means they're trying to find a way to gently let me down. Nas, on the other hand, was accepted to a very exciting-looking conference in Maine next fall on Literature and Science. Yeah, I'm a bit jealous. His research is so much sexier than mine...
The Bulgarian Bullet and I went to our first regular pilates class since our course finished at the beginning of the week. It was awesome. And way harder than our beginner stuff! My shoulder has been acting up - I'm writing my introduction - and pilates does help. Nas pointed out yesterday that I sleep with my head off the pillow, which might have something to do with the pain in my shoulder/neck. I'll have to invest in one of those special pillows...yeesh, I'm getting old.
But for the short meantime, there's a gathering of all us relieved post-grads tonight to celebrate the end of term and a squash game before that (where I will be trounced, alas). Tomorrow I may work, but tonight - I play!
Saturday, March 10, 2007
a week's worth of ramble
What a week...I've learned that a common cold can turn into nasty things - like conjuntivitis... Which has a very high ick factor. And it developed between 2 and 4pm on Thursday, right in the middle of my seminars. How charming I must have looked trying to demonstrate any kind of authority or reassurance while leaking snot from my eye. Luckily, I'm currently sporting a kind of Thurston Moore, circa 1995, coiffeur and so was able to at least obscure the eye in question.
And the medication that the chemist handed me over the counter was a drug that caused my dad to doubt my ability to read - he made me spell it out over the phone - and then calmly explain that it wasn't available back home because it (very rarely) caused persistently deadly side-effects. Fun! Anyway, the eye seems to be clearing up on its own - maybe the three doses of deadly-drug worked.
The highlight of the week was definitely Wednesday night - completely worth the rest of the week - I'm still smiling. We meant to go to a concert at Nas's uni but were having such a wonderful time just talking and making goofy-lovey-dovey faces at each other that we decided to give it a miss. You know when you realise that in spite of sharing a (very small) space, you haven't actually exchanged anything more important than the state of the milk in the fridge? Yeah. So I dressed up, Nas met me off the train in York, we walked around the city enjoying the sudden reappearance of the sun after threatening clouds all day. York is beautiful in the late afternoon, especially when heavy rain-clouds move off to the east and the sun is starting to set in the west. If anyone is planning on visiting York, try to be there for this. The Minster is particularly stunning as Yorkshire stone compliments Yorkshire weather-effects with a native grace: the whole thing glows in that kind of light.
In keeping with this mellow yellow kind of afternoon, Nas promised me a banana-flavoured beer...and it was! We had dinner at Concerto Cafe - and I will whole-heartedly advertise them here. Small, cosy, excellent food, lovely wine. The only thing I might say is that we weren't really asked how everything was - the service might have been a bit more engaging. But then, I suppose plenty of people prefer service as invisible as possible. I did think that the style of the place might suggest a more informal approach. But it was lovely - and with a view of the Minster's impressive west entrance. Such a perfect evening.
Tonight we're going to a good old-fashioned pizza party...
I've been reading about privacy recently. It's interesting, of course, to be writing about such a topic on a weblog - do I have a reasonable expectation of privacy? Do I want privacy given that I'm using this medium? If I don't, do readers suppose that I present an authentic 'me'? I suppose authenticity is an outmoded concept anyway. But it is interesting in light of something I heard during a seminar about a project commissioned by the CBC asking prominent writers to keep diaries - with the understanding that they would be published. One participant noted that she had started doing things, noticing things, in order to include them in her journal. On the other hand, privacy can protect the trivial; it isn't always a mask to conceal subversive or exceptional private lives. I suppose one outcome of the explosion of weblogs is the relevation of a critical mass of quotidian lives - a defensive presentation of the ordinary and mundane. And of course, in turn, it creates a readership comforted by the multifaceted projections of the universality of experience, if we consider it in its broadest, most general aspects: eating, loving, working, sleeping; health and illness; change and stability; interactions with people and self-centred reflections of how they affect me. It's a comforting continuity - a borderless mass of code that lets me believe there is solace in the trivial details of my life and the people and things that share my life - not just for me, but for strangers for whom reading my 'private' log is participating in a continuing, becoming, existence.
But then again, maybe not.
And the medication that the chemist handed me over the counter was a drug that caused my dad to doubt my ability to read - he made me spell it out over the phone - and then calmly explain that it wasn't available back home because it (very rarely) caused persistently deadly side-effects. Fun! Anyway, the eye seems to be clearing up on its own - maybe the three doses of deadly-drug worked.
The highlight of the week was definitely Wednesday night - completely worth the rest of the week - I'm still smiling. We meant to go to a concert at Nas's uni but were having such a wonderful time just talking and making goofy-lovey-dovey faces at each other that we decided to give it a miss. You know when you realise that in spite of sharing a (very small) space, you haven't actually exchanged anything more important than the state of the milk in the fridge? Yeah. So I dressed up, Nas met me off the train in York, we walked around the city enjoying the sudden reappearance of the sun after threatening clouds all day. York is beautiful in the late afternoon, especially when heavy rain-clouds move off to the east and the sun is starting to set in the west. If anyone is planning on visiting York, try to be there for this. The Minster is particularly stunning as Yorkshire stone compliments Yorkshire weather-effects with a native grace: the whole thing glows in that kind of light.
In keeping with this mellow yellow kind of afternoon, Nas promised me a banana-flavoured beer...and it was! We had dinner at Concerto Cafe - and I will whole-heartedly advertise them here. Small, cosy, excellent food, lovely wine. The only thing I might say is that we weren't really asked how everything was - the service might have been a bit more engaging. But then, I suppose plenty of people prefer service as invisible as possible. I did think that the style of the place might suggest a more informal approach. But it was lovely - and with a view of the Minster's impressive west entrance. Such a perfect evening.
Tonight we're going to a good old-fashioned pizza party...
I've been reading about privacy recently. It's interesting, of course, to be writing about such a topic on a weblog - do I have a reasonable expectation of privacy? Do I want privacy given that I'm using this medium? If I don't, do readers suppose that I present an authentic 'me'? I suppose authenticity is an outmoded concept anyway. But it is interesting in light of something I heard during a seminar about a project commissioned by the CBC asking prominent writers to keep diaries - with the understanding that they would be published. One participant noted that she had started doing things, noticing things, in order to include them in her journal. On the other hand, privacy can protect the trivial; it isn't always a mask to conceal subversive or exceptional private lives. I suppose one outcome of the explosion of weblogs is the relevation of a critical mass of quotidian lives - a defensive presentation of the ordinary and mundane. And of course, in turn, it creates a readership comforted by the multifaceted projections of the universality of experience, if we consider it in its broadest, most general aspects: eating, loving, working, sleeping; health and illness; change and stability; interactions with people and self-centred reflections of how they affect me. It's a comforting continuity - a borderless mass of code that lets me believe there is solace in the trivial details of my life and the people and things that share my life - not just for me, but for strangers for whom reading my 'private' log is participating in a continuing, becoming, existence.
But then again, maybe not.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
March madness
...which for me, has less to do with basketball and more to do with marking essays...
Lurgy didn't last as long as I feared it would - either that, or my body is actually trying to avoid marking by making me want to go and play outside. It was warm enough in the afternoon yesterday that we went and played a set of tennis at the courts in our lovely local park. When the sun went behind the clouds, we had to come home - not quite there yet.
Yes...marking... I have to stop after a certain number of papers otherwise I get rather vitriolic in my comments. I just wrote 'APOSTROPHE!!!' across one paper. But, honestly, how exactly do you get this far in life - or in an English degree - not knowing how to use an apostrophe? I know if anyone reading is an experienced teacher or prof that you are shaking your head and muttering about the idealism and rigidity of youthful PhDs...which is exactly what my teaching mentor and marking partners have done. But seriously. An apostrophe? I knew how to use one of those before I left elementary school. The occassional massive generalisations and twisted logic make me laugh - which is worth something. But I do love to see burgeoning interests peeking out of almost-there prose - and that is sincere. I've got great seminar groups this semester.
I think I'll try and make it to York this afternoon to see the concert Nas proposed. I'll call it a reward for getting through a few more papers and a chapter of my new book (it's not exciting - well, it is to me, but falls in the realm of watching a nerd with a new pocket-protector organize her pens).
Lurgy didn't last as long as I feared it would - either that, or my body is actually trying to avoid marking by making me want to go and play outside. It was warm enough in the afternoon yesterday that we went and played a set of tennis at the courts in our lovely local park. When the sun went behind the clouds, we had to come home - not quite there yet.
Yes...marking... I have to stop after a certain number of papers otherwise I get rather vitriolic in my comments. I just wrote 'APOSTROPHE!!!' across one paper. But, honestly, how exactly do you get this far in life - or in an English degree - not knowing how to use an apostrophe? I know if anyone reading is an experienced teacher or prof that you are shaking your head and muttering about the idealism and rigidity of youthful PhDs...which is exactly what my teaching mentor and marking partners have done. But seriously. An apostrophe? I knew how to use one of those before I left elementary school. The occassional massive generalisations and twisted logic make me laugh - which is worth something. But I do love to see burgeoning interests peeking out of almost-there prose - and that is sincere. I've got great seminar groups this semester.
I think I'll try and make it to York this afternoon to see the concert Nas proposed. I'll call it a reward for getting through a few more papers and a chapter of my new book (it's not exciting - well, it is to me, but falls in the realm of watching a nerd with a new pocket-protector organize her pens).
Monday, March 05, 2007
Lurgy monday
I've managed to pick up whatever bug Nas had last week. I was hoping I'd somehow escaped it, but alas, no such luck. So here I am, at home on the couch with my honey-lemon 'tea', my books, and my drafts of my thesis, while the sun shines beautifully through the windows. Alas. By staying inside for the next two-three days I'm hoping to beat this in time to see the concert we've been planning to see in York on Wednesday evening. I haven't been out of the city since I got back after Christmas. Plus, I really don't want to reschedule my five seminars on Thursday.
We made it up to the garden on Saturday - and to the garden centre. Nas dug a huge bed for potatoes and our garden-mate and I dug a couple more. We also found some lovely flowers to plant - poppies, heather, and something called 'snake-headed flotilary' which is apparently a native species that environmental groups are encouraging gardeners to re-introduce. It's really very pretty with flower heads that do look suspiciously like snake heads that are mottled purple and white. My thyme survived the 'winter' (such as it was!) - it's root system escaped the pot it was in and it anchored itself firmly to the ground where I'd left it. Nas had to dig around it to move it. And as another global-warming anecdote: our salad leaves are still coming up from last spring. Usually the cold should kill them off... and our romanesco broccoli survived as well! I was chuffed to find them though - every year, our garden gives us something unexpected, gifts from the ground - usually its potatoes.
Now we have onions, potatoes, and garlic ready to go into the ground in a couple weeks - aparently, there is still danger of frost at nights. We also got a kilo of majestic potatoes (that's both the name of the particular species, and a description of their taste and versatility) so we should have potatoes coming out of our proverbial ears come late summer.
Sunday, Nas and I walked down to the farmer's market in the city centre. Usually, I work at the library on the weekends it's held (1st and 3rd Sundays of the month) but I was off this weekend. It was fantastic - I love markets and could spend hours wandering around sampling things. This week we got some lovely game sausages from the Dales, some wild mushrooms (which we ate in a mushroom risotto last night whacked up with some delicious home-made veg stock a friend brought us and porcini mushroom stock), free-range organic eggs, local honey, lemon curd, and marmalade, and a freshly made baguette. I've recently converted to eggs and I'm eager to try whether, as Nasser claims, they really do taste better than battery-produced eggs. I love the taste of self-righteous satisfaction as much as the next person, so I'm betting they will. The wild mushrooms definitely challeged my perception of mushrooms - they actually tasted of mushroom. I don't remember the name of the ones we bought but they were lovely creamy things with a really rich, woody flavour. I like eating food that announces it's origins - these tasted of crumbling logs and mulch, something that caught in the mouth and nose that called up earth, dark colours and closeness.
This morning Nas commented that his entire breakfast was made with things bought locally - our market eggs and bread from the bakery round the corner. Soon we'll have our own produce to add to the table.
Oh and I did read the paper this weekend - Friday and Saturday actually. It's as I thought - nothing much has changed. Aparently shipping by sea is more harmful than air travel...I guess we should all get comfy where we are. They did also include a quite-handy guide to UK cycling trips - and I think the trains are still okay morally and environmentally. But that's only this week. Which reminds me, I need to call the city council and complain that my recycle bin is being emptied into the rubbish truck...
We made it up to the garden on Saturday - and to the garden centre. Nas dug a huge bed for potatoes and our garden-mate and I dug a couple more. We also found some lovely flowers to plant - poppies, heather, and something called 'snake-headed flotilary' which is apparently a native species that environmental groups are encouraging gardeners to re-introduce. It's really very pretty with flower heads that do look suspiciously like snake heads that are mottled purple and white. My thyme survived the 'winter' (such as it was!) - it's root system escaped the pot it was in and it anchored itself firmly to the ground where I'd left it. Nas had to dig around it to move it. And as another global-warming anecdote: our salad leaves are still coming up from last spring. Usually the cold should kill them off... and our romanesco broccoli survived as well! I was chuffed to find them though - every year, our garden gives us something unexpected, gifts from the ground - usually its potatoes.
Now we have onions, potatoes, and garlic ready to go into the ground in a couple weeks - aparently, there is still danger of frost at nights. We also got a kilo of majestic potatoes (that's both the name of the particular species, and a description of their taste and versatility) so we should have potatoes coming out of our proverbial ears come late summer.
Sunday, Nas and I walked down to the farmer's market in the city centre. Usually, I work at the library on the weekends it's held (1st and 3rd Sundays of the month) but I was off this weekend. It was fantastic - I love markets and could spend hours wandering around sampling things. This week we got some lovely game sausages from the Dales, some wild mushrooms (which we ate in a mushroom risotto last night whacked up with some delicious home-made veg stock a friend brought us and porcini mushroom stock), free-range organic eggs, local honey, lemon curd, and marmalade, and a freshly made baguette. I've recently converted to eggs and I'm eager to try whether, as Nasser claims, they really do taste better than battery-produced eggs. I love the taste of self-righteous satisfaction as much as the next person, so I'm betting they will. The wild mushrooms definitely challeged my perception of mushrooms - they actually tasted of mushroom. I don't remember the name of the ones we bought but they were lovely creamy things with a really rich, woody flavour. I like eating food that announces it's origins - these tasted of crumbling logs and mulch, something that caught in the mouth and nose that called up earth, dark colours and closeness.
This morning Nas commented that his entire breakfast was made with things bought locally - our market eggs and bread from the bakery round the corner. Soon we'll have our own produce to add to the table.
Oh and I did read the paper this weekend - Friday and Saturday actually. It's as I thought - nothing much has changed. Aparently shipping by sea is more harmful than air travel...I guess we should all get comfy where we are. They did also include a quite-handy guide to UK cycling trips - and I think the trains are still okay morally and environmentally. But that's only this week. Which reminds me, I need to call the city council and complain that my recycle bin is being emptied into the rubbish truck...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Wednesday full of Logan's woe
For those of you paying attention, and I certainly haven't been, you'll remember how Laila spent her first night with us under the kitchen cupboards - the roughly 4" crawl-space that, luckily!, is open where the cupboards meet the, luckily!, moveable gas range. I say 'luckily' twice because Logan just managed to get himself stuck down there. I feel awful as it is my fault - he snuck into the cupboard as I was leaving for the grocer's and I shut the door thinking he'd just push the door open. Obviously I didn't have my cat-brain on. Cats generally take the path of least resistence. If there is a closed door (even one that could easily be opened by said cat) and a tiny door-less path, cat will take the door-less route, even if it means squishing his slightly overweight self into a place that even Laila, who is about half his size, would have to ponder.
As soon as Nas realised where Logan was, he moved the range away from the cupboard (we keep it very close to prevent Laila from investigating under there), and Logan squeeeeeeezed himself out. In retrospect, that bit was quite amusing. He's filthy though and I felt terrible as his lovely coat is all sticky with no-one-knows how many years of accumulated dirt and grime under there. We gave him some ham. I think he's okay - he's stretched out on the floor now, contemplating how much cleaning he needs before he's his gorgeous, shiny self again.
As soon as Nas realised where Logan was, he moved the range away from the cupboard (we keep it very close to prevent Laila from investigating under there), and Logan squeeeeeeezed himself out. In retrospect, that bit was quite amusing. He's filthy though and I felt terrible as his lovely coat is all sticky with no-one-knows how many years of accumulated dirt and grime under there. We gave him some ham. I think he's okay - he's stretched out on the floor now, contemplating how much cleaning he needs before he's his gorgeous, shiny self again.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
This is Tuesday
We went for a run in the rain this morning - not driving sleet or anything but we were soaked by the time we got home. The biggest trouble with running in the rain - for myself and the Tortise anyway - is glasses getting wet and fogging up. We decided, in light of this, to run a well-known loop of 25 minutes. Nas is residing on the couch at the moment as he managed to pick up a nasty bug on Sunday night when we were out with a friend who was just recovering from being flu-ish. I'm home spoiling him today - and just not feeling like walking all the way to my office in the rain only to sit there and read. May as well spoil myself a little and read in the comfort of my own lounge.
I just got notice that the library has the new Patricia Meyer Spacks book waiting for me: Privacy: concealing the eighteenth-century self. That will get me to campus tomorrow! There is no irony here - I'm can't wait. Plus it's a book that I suggested the library buy...ooh, the power.
It just struck me that I haven't read a paper in yonks. I have no idea what is going on outside of my street (nothing at the moment) and the university campus (well, at least the small world between the School of English, my office in the library and the sandwich shop over the road...). I'm assuming that everything is ticking along.
Well...I should get back to my sick husband and finishing the book I'm reading at the moment (re-reading actually - Gallagher's Nobody's Story: the vanishing acts of women writers in the marketplace, 1670-1820). My friend just posted a meme about reading that I was going to answer and put up on my blog - then I realised that I don't read for pleasure anymore... *sigh* someday...
I'm making polenta for supper and using up the last of last week's vegbox. There's a rind of provalone in the fridge and a sad little quarter of white cabbage that I've been saving. Some carrots and parsnips, roasted to summer-sweetness, should perk him (and us!) right up. Oops...I seem to be channeling Nigel Slater's less-erudite doppelganger...sorry.
I just got notice that the library has the new Patricia Meyer Spacks book waiting for me: Privacy: concealing the eighteenth-century self. That will get me to campus tomorrow! There is no irony here - I'm can't wait. Plus it's a book that I suggested the library buy...ooh, the power.
It just struck me that I haven't read a paper in yonks. I have no idea what is going on outside of my street (nothing at the moment) and the university campus (well, at least the small world between the School of English, my office in the library and the sandwich shop over the road...). I'm assuming that everything is ticking along.
Well...I should get back to my sick husband and finishing the book I'm reading at the moment (re-reading actually - Gallagher's Nobody's Story: the vanishing acts of women writers in the marketplace, 1670-1820). My friend just posted a meme about reading that I was going to answer and put up on my blog - then I realised that I don't read for pleasure anymore... *sigh* someday...
I'm making polenta for supper and using up the last of last week's vegbox. There's a rind of provalone in the fridge and a sad little quarter of white cabbage that I've been saving. Some carrots and parsnips, roasted to summer-sweetness, should perk him (and us!) right up. Oops...I seem to be channeling Nigel Slater's less-erudite doppelganger...sorry.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Teaching and learning
My seminar groups so impressed me last week - definitely one of those classes that make it completely worthwhile. We were looking at Pope's Eloisa to Abelard - the poem that made me think that there might be something to Pope after all - and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's 'Epistle from Arthur Grey, a Footman after his condemnation for attempting rape'. They cracked 'em wide open.
Our delivery of veg and fruit was rather disappointing this week. It seemed a bit smaller and I've found a rotten kiwi, orange, apple, and a really stinky potato. I do appreciate that organic stuff doesn't keep as well as treated produce, but I found the yucky veg the day after it arrived! I know it's the end of February - not the most productive in terms of veg here in jolly ole - but still, I am paying for it. I'd prefer more fresh, usable cabbage (which I'm developing a taste for - must be my German side coming out!) than manky potatoes. Luckily, the company asks that we tell them about such incidents so I shall send out an email and hopefully no more rotten veg!
There is an tree all a-flower around the corner from our house. And the sun is shining. Today is pilates rather than running - tomorrow, with luck, the sun will shine again and we can run by the canal.
My seed potatoes are happily 'chitting' in the kitchen. My friend and I went into Saltaire for 'potato day' on Saturday - I've never seen such a scrabbling for taters! I managed to get out with four varieties (3 organic, 1 non-organic) so this year Nas, I, and our allotment-mates will be enjoying Maris Bard (1st early), red Duke of York (2nd early), Golden Wonder (early maincrop), and Arran Victory (late maincrop). I'm very excited. We're also going to plant some standard Majestic or such for everyday eating. Hopefully, this early spring will mean a long growing season. I'll take some pictures of the plot next weekend - it will be the 'before' picture! - and try and record this year's growing and such.
Yesterday I saw a friend's Baroque orchestra and choir perform Handel's Alexander's Feast; or, the Power of Music up at the uni. Then I went to see Hot Fuzz with Nas. I like running the gauntlet from top culture to pop culture. The singing in the concert was beautiful and the orchestra played on period instruments which is always good fun to watch. The trumpets without valves were amazing and they also had a theorbo, which is a beautiful and very unusual stringed instrument somewhere between a sitar and a mandoline in appearance... Very educational.
Our delivery of veg and fruit was rather disappointing this week. It seemed a bit smaller and I've found a rotten kiwi, orange, apple, and a really stinky potato. I do appreciate that organic stuff doesn't keep as well as treated produce, but I found the yucky veg the day after it arrived! I know it's the end of February - not the most productive in terms of veg here in jolly ole - but still, I am paying for it. I'd prefer more fresh, usable cabbage (which I'm developing a taste for - must be my German side coming out!) than manky potatoes. Luckily, the company asks that we tell them about such incidents so I shall send out an email and hopefully no more rotten veg!
There is an tree all a-flower around the corner from our house. And the sun is shining. Today is pilates rather than running - tomorrow, with luck, the sun will shine again and we can run by the canal.
My seed potatoes are happily 'chitting' in the kitchen. My friend and I went into Saltaire for 'potato day' on Saturday - I've never seen such a scrabbling for taters! I managed to get out with four varieties (3 organic, 1 non-organic) so this year Nas, I, and our allotment-mates will be enjoying Maris Bard (1st early), red Duke of York (2nd early), Golden Wonder (early maincrop), and Arran Victory (late maincrop). I'm very excited. We're also going to plant some standard Majestic or such for everyday eating. Hopefully, this early spring will mean a long growing season. I'll take some pictures of the plot next weekend - it will be the 'before' picture! - and try and record this year's growing and such.
Yesterday I saw a friend's Baroque orchestra and choir perform Handel's Alexander's Feast; or, the Power of Music up at the uni. Then I went to see Hot Fuzz with Nas. I like running the gauntlet from top culture to pop culture. The singing in the concert was beautiful and the orchestra played on period instruments which is always good fun to watch. The trumpets without valves were amazing and they also had a theorbo, which is a beautiful and very unusual stringed instrument somewhere between a sitar and a mandoline in appearance... Very educational.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
I wanted to be Mr Black
30 minutes again! This time without pushing. The whole running group was out this time - the Bulgarian Bullet, the Tortise, the Carrot (me!), and the Fa(s)t of Leeds. We're thinking of getting shirts like a bowling team. I'm going to propose that we all run the Run for All in June. We were down by the canal again today and it works out perfectly when all of us are out as the Bulgarian Bullet and the Fa(s)t of Leeds are much faster - as the name may suggest - than the Tortise and myself. In addition to being one of the loveliest people I've ever met, the Tortise is a great running partner. When it's just the Bullet, the Fa(s)t, and me, I run too hard trying to keep up (or impress the Fa(s)t).
My pilates instructor caught me cracking my neck in class yesterday and told me off for it. It was embarrassing. I'm trying to quit...really...after this last cra--*...ahhhhh... Pilates really is improving my posture and the pain in my shoulders and upper back from typing for long stretches. But enough about me, let me tell you about me.
We've re-signed on our place as the last thing we want to do in the middle of writing up is move. We gave them a list of repairs and such but have so far heard nothing. I'm giving it to the end of the week before I start taking out my writing-up frustration on the property agent.
The fifth season of Buffy is on Sky at the moment - in the morning too. Fantastic for getting in that ass-kicking mood so necessary to spending the entire afternoon in the library...
Oh yes, just got the new Explosions in the Sky album - really wonderful. Go get it.
I just realised that it's Shrove Tuesday. Our friend who now teaches in Turkey was famous round these parts for his pancake parties - real Canadian-style pancakes, (with real Canadian maple syrup for those who appreciate it and corn syrup with maple flavouring for those indifferent) not crepes which is what they serve here when they promise 'pancakes'. According to The River Cottage Family Cookbook, what I consider 'pancakes' are actually 'drop scones'.
So I suppose Lent is beginning. A good time for reflection. Which I suppose, traditionally, is done sometime between Christmas and New Year's - before making a 'New Year's resolution'. Who on earth can reflect during the Christmas season? Christmas Eve mass is like an oasis of calm (and potential absurdity when the sermon involves robots) in a whirlwind of family and food (my idea of heaven). Though I'd propose that resolutions and changes follow Lent rather than be part of them. I get the whole giving up indulgence and the origins of the season (is Lent a season? I suppose if January and February are now 'Awards Season', Lent has its credentials in order), but I think 40 days of reflection would produce at least a resolution or change with half a hope of lasting longer than Easter dinner.
My pilates instructor caught me cracking my neck in class yesterday and told me off for it. It was embarrassing. I'm trying to quit...really...after this last cra--*...ahhhhh... Pilates really is improving my posture and the pain in my shoulders and upper back from typing for long stretches. But enough about me, let me tell you about me.
We've re-signed on our place as the last thing we want to do in the middle of writing up is move. We gave them a list of repairs and such but have so far heard nothing. I'm giving it to the end of the week before I start taking out my writing-up frustration on the property agent.
The fifth season of Buffy is on Sky at the moment - in the morning too. Fantastic for getting in that ass-kicking mood so necessary to spending the entire afternoon in the library...
Oh yes, just got the new Explosions in the Sky album - really wonderful. Go get it.
I just realised that it's Shrove Tuesday. Our friend who now teaches in Turkey was famous round these parts for his pancake parties - real Canadian-style pancakes, (with real Canadian maple syrup for those who appreciate it and corn syrup with maple flavouring for those indifferent) not crepes which is what they serve here when they promise 'pancakes'. According to The River Cottage Family Cookbook, what I consider 'pancakes' are actually 'drop scones'.
So I suppose Lent is beginning. A good time for reflection. Which I suppose, traditionally, is done sometime between Christmas and New Year's - before making a 'New Year's resolution'. Who on earth can reflect during the Christmas season? Christmas Eve mass is like an oasis of calm (and potential absurdity when the sermon involves robots) in a whirlwind of family and food (my idea of heaven). Though I'd propose that resolutions and changes follow Lent rather than be part of them. I get the whole giving up indulgence and the origins of the season (is Lent a season? I suppose if January and February are now 'Awards Season', Lent has its credentials in order), but I think 40 days of reflection would produce at least a resolution or change with half a hope of lasting longer than Easter dinner.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Jogging to Stars
I ran for 30 minutes this morning.
Okay, Nasser pushed me to run for 30 minutes when I would have given up at 20. But I did it.
It was a really beautiful morning - there are already crocuses (croci?) up in the parks. The sun was actually warm on my face. The pavement was dry. From the top of the ridge we could see clear over the valley. It's one of my favourite views. One day I'll take a photo and post it.
Well my friend at work just told me she ran for 2 hours and 21 minutes.
She's training for the Paris Marathon (and running for WaterAid). I'm not. There is a run in June that I'd like to do though. It's organized by cancer-survivor Jane Tomlinson. Kinda like the Terry Fox runs back home, it's a 10km run for cancer research. As it isn't until June, I've got loads of time to work up to it.
I see Britney Spears shaved her head. And there is an amazing photo of a 4,000 year old star dying in the Observer today. Here it is at the Hubble site. 4,000 years ago and it makes the news today. Everything old is new again.
While you are pondering whether or not your passing will be so remarkable, check out this site on black holes. I love hubble. I'd like a shirt with that on it and maybe a pretty picture of the lion's head nebula.
Okay, Nasser pushed me to run for 30 minutes when I would have given up at 20. But I did it.
It was a really beautiful morning - there are already crocuses (croci?) up in the parks. The sun was actually warm on my face. The pavement was dry. From the top of the ridge we could see clear over the valley. It's one of my favourite views. One day I'll take a photo and post it.
Well my friend at work just told me she ran for 2 hours and 21 minutes.
She's training for the Paris Marathon (and running for WaterAid). I'm not. There is a run in June that I'd like to do though. It's organized by cancer-survivor Jane Tomlinson. Kinda like the Terry Fox runs back home, it's a 10km run for cancer research. As it isn't until June, I've got loads of time to work up to it.
I see Britney Spears shaved her head. And there is an amazing photo of a 4,000 year old star dying in the Observer today. Here it is at the Hubble site. 4,000 years ago and it makes the news today. Everything old is new again.
While you are pondering whether or not your passing will be so remarkable, check out this site on black holes. I love hubble. I'd like a shirt with that on it and maybe a pretty picture of the lion's head nebula.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
and then there were seven...
Seven months, that is (until The Deadline). My supervisor wants to see a 'complete draft' of my thesis in five weeks. This is good as my deadline is 30 September - still far far away - but also terrifying as I'm quite happy in the cocooned academic world of post-graduate research. Even though I'm occassionally sick to death of living like a student (tho I don't mind the discounts - particularly on rail travel!), I find I'm rather afraid of those first big steps in the world without teacher.
Which is ridiculous because as Dr Cox finally tells JD, 'you and your "colleagues" have all actually learned enough to start teaching each other' (it's a bit flat as the performance is really inimitable). And of course, (in the most optimistic of moods as it is beautifully sunshiny outside and the library is quiet), I have my students.
At any rate, I'm nearly finished my dissertation which is really rather amazing. I may have to go and have a drink tonight to celebrate the fact that after all that stress, I'm not going to have to dash to the finish.
What else?
I made another loaf of bread all by my lonesome. um...we're still running - which is very good. I really should have applied to the IGA conference but my idea is still a bit skechy and I'm not actually sure that I'm talking about Gothic texts. But there is a very exciting conference in Aberdeen, hosted by the Centre for the Study of the Novel, which is at least more affordable!
After this weekend I have five weekends off in a row! I hope that this lovely weather holds and I can get up to the garden. Next weekend is the seed-potato sale/real-ale festival in Saltaire - I know, you all wish you were here. Well let me tell you - there are few things more enjoyable than an ale festival in the north of England.
Which is ridiculous because as Dr Cox finally tells JD, 'you and your "colleagues" have all actually learned enough to start teaching each other' (it's a bit flat as the performance is really inimitable). And of course, (in the most optimistic of moods as it is beautifully sunshiny outside and the library is quiet), I have my students.
At any rate, I'm nearly finished my dissertation which is really rather amazing. I may have to go and have a drink tonight to celebrate the fact that after all that stress, I'm not going to have to dash to the finish.
What else?
I made another loaf of bread all by my lonesome. um...we're still running - which is very good. I really should have applied to the IGA conference but my idea is still a bit skechy and I'm not actually sure that I'm talking about Gothic texts. But there is a very exciting conference in Aberdeen, hosted by the Centre for the Study of the Novel, which is at least more affordable!
After this weekend I have five weekends off in a row! I hope that this lovely weather holds and I can get up to the garden. Next weekend is the seed-potato sale/real-ale festival in Saltaire - I know, you all wish you were here. Well let me tell you - there are few things more enjoyable than an ale festival in the north of England.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
obligatory soft focus kitten shots
i thought that things seemed a bit text-heavy lately, so here's a gratuitous shot of our foundling.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Laila's Very Bad Day
Laila had a Very Bad Day yesterday. It began, like most mornings, with her people getting up and having tea. But then she was unceremoniously captured and stuffed in her basket. I do hate putting her in there - she cries as soon as the door closes. And doesn't stop crying until she gets to the vet where I can almost see her little voice freeze up with fear. She pooped in her cage while we were in the cab - thankfully, the cabbie was a pet-owner himself and very understanding. The vet took her temperature which just can't be fun anyway, said how small ('titchy') she was, petted her and stuffed her back in the basket again. Then I had to leave her there. Poor little thing!
I walked back up to Meanwood to fetch her later in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day actually and the walk was lovely. Since we stopped working in Headingley, I've stopped walking up that way.
At any rate, I got to the vet's just in time for the appointment (it's a 45 minute walk!) - poor Laila! She hadn't come round from the anaesthetic as quickly as they thought she would. She was swaying and weaving like a public-school boy on a five-day freshers week bender. Her foreleg was shaved and she had a big bald patch with the incision on her side. She woozled around the house all evening - much to my amusement and Nasser's dismay (he's got a bit of a soft spot for this one) - but wasn't sick and didn't worry at her stitches.
Also, I made my first loaf of bread - from Hugh Fernley-Wittingstall's The River Cottage Family Cookbook. It was beautiful and likely the most rewarding cooking experience I've had in ages. Not matched tonight alas - I just cannot get the hang of latkes...
Oh and Laila has fully recovered. Here is a picture of my amazing bread (with sundried tomato and black olives...) and Nasser's banana bread (we don't have a loaf tin so it's more of a cake-shape).
I walked back up to Meanwood to fetch her later in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day actually and the walk was lovely. Since we stopped working in Headingley, I've stopped walking up that way.
At any rate, I got to the vet's just in time for the appointment (it's a 45 minute walk!) - poor Laila! She hadn't come round from the anaesthetic as quickly as they thought she would. She was swaying and weaving like a public-school boy on a five-day freshers week bender. Her foreleg was shaved and she had a big bald patch with the incision on her side. She woozled around the house all evening - much to my amusement and Nasser's dismay (he's got a bit of a soft spot for this one) - but wasn't sick and didn't worry at her stitches.
Also, I made my first loaf of bread - from Hugh Fernley-Wittingstall's The River Cottage Family Cookbook. It was beautiful and likely the most rewarding cooking experience I've had in ages. Not matched tonight alas - I just cannot get the hang of latkes...
Oh and Laila has fully recovered. Here is a picture of my amazing bread (with sundried tomato and black olives...) and Nasser's banana bread (we don't have a loaf tin so it's more of a cake-shape).
Friday, February 02, 2007
poop on my shoes
i absolutely love my life sometimes.
lately, we have changed our running route. for the last six weeks or so, i was running along a big traffic artery here in Leeds. it was useful when i was beginning to run, because i could measure my progress pretty easily. if i made it to a certain landmark on the street one day (a bus stop, a certain store, a lamppost), i would try to surpass that distance the next time.
the down side to the old route was the traffic. the honking. the people in their cars, watching as i huffed and puffed my way past them, mired in morning rush. the people in their cars who took it upon themselves to make rude gestures, or mock my pathetic speed. the people in their SUVs, perched so high that they didn't see me at all.
now, i spend my mornings running though a postcard. with perhaps a few more empty beer cans and crisp packets and carrier bags and cigarette butts, sure
but no cars.
now, i cover the miles in a blissful, arboreal paradise along the euphemistically named 'river' Aire. today, i finished a fast four or five miles, looked down, and noticed a tiny brown stain on my ankle.
it was poop.
from what animal, i know not. but somewhere between the fresh air and the endophins, i found i couldn't care less. so go on, dog walkers, stray cats, foxes, badgers, feral children...poop wherever you like. i'll run right through it.
lately, we have changed our running route. for the last six weeks or so, i was running along a big traffic artery here in Leeds. it was useful when i was beginning to run, because i could measure my progress pretty easily. if i made it to a certain landmark on the street one day (a bus stop, a certain store, a lamppost), i would try to surpass that distance the next time.
the down side to the old route was the traffic. the honking. the people in their cars, watching as i huffed and puffed my way past them, mired in morning rush. the people in their cars who took it upon themselves to make rude gestures, or mock my pathetic speed. the people in their SUVs, perched so high that they didn't see me at all.
now, i spend my mornings running though a postcard. with perhaps a few more empty beer cans and crisp packets and carrier bags and cigarette butts, sure
but no cars.
now, i cover the miles in a blissful, arboreal paradise along the euphemistically named 'river' Aire. today, i finished a fast four or five miles, looked down, and noticed a tiny brown stain on my ankle.
it was poop.
from what animal, i know not. but somewhere between the fresh air and the endophins, i found i couldn't care less. so go on, dog walkers, stray cats, foxes, badgers, feral children...poop wherever you like. i'll run right through it.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
l'ennui apres midi
So the system has crashed today at the library...which actually means that I CAN'T do any work. But I can still go online - just not onto the university server.
Huh.
I was in the middle of a lovely long email to our friend who lives in Turkey and I'm kinda annoyed that I couldn't finish that. I was in a really good email-writing space - I was planning to go on to write other equally witty and thought-provoking, yet intimate emails. I just know that when I can access it again, that flow will be gone. Alas.
Friends made us dinner last night - despite the fact that it was actually our turn to make them dinner. It worked out well for us as she is a wonderful cook and both are fantastic hosts and company. They work our allotment with us so we planned and dreamed about the spring and summer gardening season.
I start teaching this week.
We think Laila might be getting hormonal - fortunately for everyone (especially Logan, who is getting confused), she's getting clipped 'n' chipped in a week...!
Huh.
I was in the middle of a lovely long email to our friend who lives in Turkey and I'm kinda annoyed that I couldn't finish that. I was in a really good email-writing space - I was planning to go on to write other equally witty and thought-provoking, yet intimate emails. I just know that when I can access it again, that flow will be gone. Alas.
Friends made us dinner last night - despite the fact that it was actually our turn to make them dinner. It worked out well for us as she is a wonderful cook and both are fantastic hosts and company. They work our allotment with us so we planned and dreamed about the spring and summer gardening season.
I start teaching this week.
We think Laila might be getting hormonal - fortunately for everyone (especially Logan, who is getting confused), she's getting clipped 'n' chipped in a week...!
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Loose ends
Just tidying up a loose end from an old post...
Emily Dickinson, 'It is easy to work when the soul is at play'
It is easy to work when the soul is at play --
But when he is in pain -- The hearing him put his
playthings up Makes work difficult -- then -- It
is simple to ache, in the Bone, or the Rind --
But Gimlets -- among the nerve -- Mangle
daintier -- terribler -- Like a panter in the Glove
(poem 244 in Johnson's 1955 edition)
Can't say I am or have ever been a fan of Dickinson's poetry.
Emily Dickinson, 'It is easy to work when the soul is at play'
It is easy to work when the soul is at play --
But when he is in pain -- The hearing him put his
playthings up Makes work difficult -- then -- It
is simple to ache, in the Bone, or the Rind --
But Gimlets -- among the nerve -- Mangle
daintier -- terribler -- Like a panter in the Glove
(poem 244 in Johnson's 1955 edition)
Can't say I am or have ever been a fan of Dickinson's poetry.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Close Guantanamo!
Guantanamo Bay detention centre was opened in early 2002. That makes it 5 years old.
Five years too long.
Please go here and do what you can - Amnesty International puts it well: Guantanamo degrades us all.
Five years too long.
Please go here and do what you can - Amnesty International puts it well: Guantanamo degrades us all.
Monday, January 22, 2007
not always to the swift
Marking exams...ugh.
My friend and I went to our first pilates (p'LAH-tees, not pie-LATE-ees apparently) class today. It's an 8-week course with our favourite instructor for a tenner. A nice mix in the usual work-out routine. I didn't expect it to be so tiring!
Lamb cawl for dinner - sounds exotic but is really just lamb stew ('cawl' being Welsh for 'stew'). The real highlight is Nas's home-made bread which makes any meal into comfort food. I made soda bread the other night (from The River Cottage Family Cookbook which I found in Skipton before Christmas for 1/2 price!) - it's cheater's bread, but tasty. But since it doesn't use yeast, it doesn't fill the house and heart with the right smell. Nigella Lawson writes very well about how food creates nostalgia where none should really exist. She's talking specifically about cherry pie (something distinctly American rather than British), but I think home-made bread does it for me. I adore bread and to wax philosophic about it is far too easy: bread is undeniably mysterious and amazingly simple - it also requires the kind of intimate labour that very few other foods demand. Nasser makes it with a calm assurance and tranquility that I admire. I'm sure these things transfer somehow into the food itself - yes, I loved Like Water for Chocolate - and I'm afraid that, right now, my bread would be tough and brittle no matter how long I stretched and pounded.
My friend and I went to our first pilates (p'LAH-tees, not pie-LATE-ees apparently) class today. It's an 8-week course with our favourite instructor for a tenner. A nice mix in the usual work-out routine. I didn't expect it to be so tiring!
Lamb cawl for dinner - sounds exotic but is really just lamb stew ('cawl' being Welsh for 'stew'). The real highlight is Nas's home-made bread which makes any meal into comfort food. I made soda bread the other night (from The River Cottage Family Cookbook which I found in Skipton before Christmas for 1/2 price!) - it's cheater's bread, but tasty. But since it doesn't use yeast, it doesn't fill the house and heart with the right smell. Nigella Lawson writes very well about how food creates nostalgia where none should really exist. She's talking specifically about cherry pie (something distinctly American rather than British), but I think home-made bread does it for me. I adore bread and to wax philosophic about it is far too easy: bread is undeniably mysterious and amazingly simple - it also requires the kind of intimate labour that very few other foods demand. Nasser makes it with a calm assurance and tranquility that I admire. I'm sure these things transfer somehow into the food itself - yes, I loved Like Water for Chocolate - and I'm afraid that, right now, my bread would be tough and brittle no matter how long I stretched and pounded.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Things I like about my job
1. Shelving books. This sounds like jobworthiness. It's not. To be honest, having to shelve books does me more good than the collection. I have found most of the research material for the historiography issues in my thesis from shelving in the modern history section than from endless searches on the e-catalogue. Today, for example, I will be spending my lunch perusing The Writing of History by Michel de Certeau.
2. The building. It really is inspiring in that way that always seems to evoke classical music and warm cosies in my deep-down-ivory-encased academic heart. It's only in the last few years that I've begun to understand and pay closer attention to the dynamics of space. Most people, including myself, are familiar with the usual sentimental plea of appreciating natural space - all that 'stopping to smell the roses' (literally) drivel. Not until my oldest friend in the world married an aspiring architect (who continues to aspire - after all, says Dr Freud, the end of desire is death - but has achieved architect status) and I went here, did I pay much attention to the construction of space. Anyway, to make a long story short, I love this building. And I think it might love me back.
Okay, that's all I could think of - just to balance out all the days when I hate my job and don't post about it...
Stuck in my head: Death Cab for Cutie - I will follow you into the dark (I've actually had this in my head since I read about it here)
2. The building. It really is inspiring in that way that always seems to evoke classical music and warm cosies in my deep-down-ivory-encased academic heart. It's only in the last few years that I've begun to understand and pay closer attention to the dynamics of space. Most people, including myself, are familiar with the usual sentimental plea of appreciating natural space - all that 'stopping to smell the roses' (literally) drivel. Not until my oldest friend in the world married an aspiring architect (who continues to aspire - after all, says Dr Freud, the end of desire is death - but has achieved architect status) and I went here, did I pay much attention to the construction of space. Anyway, to make a long story short, I love this building. And I think it might love me back.
Okay, that's all I could think of - just to balance out all the days when I hate my job and don't post about it...
Stuck in my head: Death Cab for Cutie - I will follow you into the dark (I've actually had this in my head since I read about it here)
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
hum-erica
today was the first seminar for my 19th century american literature class. in the midst of an exercise, i overheard a student confess: 'everything i know about america i learned from...' (and here the student named a very influential film)
[i'm not being cagey - i just don't want to get dooced]
which led me to steer the discussion into a very interesting direction, based on completing the sentence:
'everything i know about america i learned from...'
my answer was the album Tricks of the Shade by the little known hip-hop band, The Goats.
NOTE: the lyrics for this album are posted on this website, and there are some definitely Not-Safe-For-Work words published here, so proceed with caution. (having just visited their site, i discovered that they are selling an mp3 version of their album to download for a pretty reasonable rate - i'm not necessarily plugging the band, but if you've taken the time to read the lyrics and are impressed, why not shell out a bit and download it? it's one of the few albums i know of that repays repeated listenings...or perhaps i'm thick and just needed to listen to it a hundred times to figure it out. either way...i like it, and if you are not of the faint-hearted, you might, too.)
I would love to hear from you all about your american awakening...it's a topic of almost endless fascination for me.
[i'm not being cagey - i just don't want to get dooced]
which led me to steer the discussion into a very interesting direction, based on completing the sentence:
'everything i know about america i learned from...'
my answer was the album Tricks of the Shade by the little known hip-hop band, The Goats.
NOTE: the lyrics for this album are posted on this website, and there are some definitely Not-Safe-For-Work words published here, so proceed with caution. (having just visited their site, i discovered that they are selling an mp3 version of their album to download for a pretty reasonable rate - i'm not necessarily plugging the band, but if you've taken the time to read the lyrics and are impressed, why not shell out a bit and download it? it's one of the few albums i know of that repays repeated listenings...or perhaps i'm thick and just needed to listen to it a hundred times to figure it out. either way...i like it, and if you are not of the faint-hearted, you might, too.)
I would love to hear from you all about your american awakening...it's a topic of almost endless fascination for me.
stay tuned
I'm starting to feel old every time I turn on the telly. Not that I'm becoming vaguely uncomfortable with what the kids are wearing these days or why anyone would be interested in watching [insert reality TV show here]. It's all the death.
I admit - I am as guilty as the next person for my taste in crime drama (which only worsened when I started studying Gothic literature): I can happily sit through the scientifically-squeaky-clean crime scenes of everyone's favourite forensics drama, languish for hours with the ever-so brusque Brisco and the forever young and sexy (female) DAs of Law & Order. I can even sit through the spin-offs if nothing else is on. I'll watch Bones, if only to prove to myself over and over that acting wasn't what kept Angel on the air for five seasons. I've seen more bodies since those shows started than my entire previous experience of action-flicks. Nine times out of ten, we mock the shows - they are just great for TV-karaoke. Seriously lacking in narrative or character depth, they defy the viewer to formulate a reason for enjoying them other than plain old Freudian fascination with other people's dirty secrets, voyeuristic pleasure of being behind that yellow tape instead of being admonished to 'keep walking' and blatantly lied to with 'there's nothing to see here', and just a smidgen of self-righteous smugness.
I love 'em.
But what is with the horror? As a sensitive soul (Planet Earth makes me cry), I've had difficulty watching Unexplained Mysteries; now, I'm supposed to be entertained on an average weekday night by (admittedly, AA-15) horror programs? It's turning into some ghastly repeat of my childhood: happily singing along to the end credits of Today's Special and suddenly being glued to the carpet with fear as the freaky therumin-theme of Dr Who filled the room.
I note they've brought over Intelligence to match the Can-con of Da Vinci's Inquest. I wish they'd brought over Little Mosque on the Prairie. I caught 10 minutes of the pilot before I flew home after Christmas. How is it?
I admit - I am as guilty as the next person for my taste in crime drama (which only worsened when I started studying Gothic literature): I can happily sit through the scientifically-squeaky-clean crime scenes of everyone's favourite forensics drama, languish for hours with the ever-so brusque Brisco and the forever young and sexy (female) DAs of Law & Order. I can even sit through the spin-offs if nothing else is on. I'll watch Bones, if only to prove to myself over and over that acting wasn't what kept Angel on the air for five seasons. I've seen more bodies since those shows started than my entire previous experience of action-flicks. Nine times out of ten, we mock the shows - they are just great for TV-karaoke. Seriously lacking in narrative or character depth, they defy the viewer to formulate a reason for enjoying them other than plain old Freudian fascination with other people's dirty secrets, voyeuristic pleasure of being behind that yellow tape instead of being admonished to 'keep walking' and blatantly lied to with 'there's nothing to see here', and just a smidgen of self-righteous smugness.
I love 'em.
But what is with the horror? As a sensitive soul (Planet Earth makes me cry), I've had difficulty watching Unexplained Mysteries; now, I'm supposed to be entertained on an average weekday night by (admittedly, AA-15) horror programs? It's turning into some ghastly repeat of my childhood: happily singing along to the end credits of Today's Special and suddenly being glued to the carpet with fear as the freaky therumin-theme of Dr Who filled the room.
I note they've brought over Intelligence to match the Can-con of Da Vinci's Inquest. I wish they'd brought over Little Mosque on the Prairie. I caught 10 minutes of the pilot before I flew home after Christmas. How is it?
Sunday, January 14, 2007
you+are+a
today at work was so boring. so much so, that i found it necessary to study on the job in order to liven things up a bit. (what did emily dickinson say about the soul-at-play? bonus points to the geek who can find the relevant text and finish the sentiment...)
apostrophe is a really neat poem/online poject. (c)lick away, clicksters, and let the era of posthuman poetry reign!
egad, i geek.
apostrophe is a really neat poem/online poject. (c)lick away, clicksters, and let the era of posthuman poetry reign!
egad, i geek.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Baroness Felicia von Kittenstein and the Zeppelin
...are the nicknames I've given my cats.
I'm home! Just back from drinks with my wonderful Leeds friend at our wonderful local. I managed to get home early Thursday morning (about 3.00am) by running from the plane, dashing through customs control (thank you residency visa!), and hoofing it to the underground. I made the last train out of London with 30 minutes to spare. The flight was okay - the seat beside me was taken by a lovely woman on her way to Rome. I ended up giving her the book I'd finished (Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden - fantastic if anyone's looking for some new Canadian fiction) and she gave me a hug and wished me a wonderful future. I hope she has an amazing stay in Italy and gets home safely. I very much enjoyed talking to her.
Flights are strange that way. I like them - they feel at the best of times like a kind of pilgrimage: what better way to spend the time than telling and listening to stories?
Tomorrow it's back to The Thesis. Today we woke up very late and spent the first few hours cleaning our room of junk, unworn/old clothing and such which all went to the charity shop down the road (where we found our friend a £1 squash racquet). It's easier to breathe without all that excess over my head at night.
Currently reading: The In-between World of Vikram Lall by MG Vassanji
Currently watching: Law and Order: SVU and Buffy, season 6
I'm home! Just back from drinks with my wonderful Leeds friend at our wonderful local. I managed to get home early Thursday morning (about 3.00am) by running from the plane, dashing through customs control (thank you residency visa!), and hoofing it to the underground. I made the last train out of London with 30 minutes to spare. The flight was okay - the seat beside me was taken by a lovely woman on her way to Rome. I ended up giving her the book I'd finished (Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden - fantastic if anyone's looking for some new Canadian fiction) and she gave me a hug and wished me a wonderful future. I hope she has an amazing stay in Italy and gets home safely. I very much enjoyed talking to her.
Flights are strange that way. I like them - they feel at the best of times like a kind of pilgrimage: what better way to spend the time than telling and listening to stories?
Tomorrow it's back to The Thesis. Today we woke up very late and spent the first few hours cleaning our room of junk, unworn/old clothing and such which all went to the charity shop down the road (where we found our friend a £1 squash racquet). It's easier to breathe without all that excess over my head at night.
Currently reading: The In-between World of Vikram Lall by MG Vassanji
Currently watching: Law and Order: SVU and Buffy, season 6
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Snow and other revelations
It finally snowed! Okay, there's none left on the ground, but at least it was snowing. It's not that this was the first green Christmas that I've ever experienced, (tho it was by far the warmest), but it seemed particularly eerie this year. Maybe it's just hang-over from An Inconvenient Truth, or a pervasive national guilt about dropping out of Kyoto - either way, I'm pretty sure stories that start with 'when I grew up the snow was so high...' are no longer exaggerations - or the product of an increasingly faulty memory (blame the dissertation, not age!).
And I've become comfortable with the fact that I like Beyonce's 'Irreplaceable'. Even outside of the gym. I may have to put it on my little MP3 player for those chilly walks to campus...
In other news, I'm still in Canada. My teeth turned against me suddenly the night before Nas and I were due to fly home.
Changing my flight: $228
Emergency root canal: $700
Incredibly powerful painkillers and assorted Tylenols: 6-7
The relief when my gorgeous, wonderful, lovely dentist finally gave me a shot of local anaesthetic: priceless
Believe me when I say I have stories about British dental care - at least my own experiences of it - but at least when I called my British dentist with my emergency last spring, I was in the office and he'd frozen the offending tooth toot sweet. The dental clinics here at homesweethome list 'emergency appointments' in their yellow-page adverts but when I called the receptionists calmly explained that their 'emergency appointments' were filled up for the day. Huh?!
Thankfully mum's dentist - who shall henceforth be known as the enamel angel - agreed to shift round her schedule and see me that day (the day I should have been on the aeroplane home!).
Other revelations: Christmas is great, my family is amazing; winter just isn't the same and whatever happened to seasons?
Oh yes, Catan is a great game - particularly when you've friends like ours to play. Thanks all for a great holiday - I miss you all already.
And - how 'bout a Simcoe website to go with the Simcoe party? I know a pretty amazing web-designer...
And I've become comfortable with the fact that I like Beyonce's 'Irreplaceable'. Even outside of the gym. I may have to put it on my little MP3 player for those chilly walks to campus...
In other news, I'm still in Canada. My teeth turned against me suddenly the night before Nas and I were due to fly home.
Changing my flight: $228
Emergency root canal: $700
Incredibly powerful painkillers and assorted Tylenols: 6-7
The relief when my gorgeous, wonderful, lovely dentist finally gave me a shot of local anaesthetic: priceless
Believe me when I say I have stories about British dental care - at least my own experiences of it - but at least when I called my British dentist with my emergency last spring, I was in the office and he'd frozen the offending tooth toot sweet. The dental clinics here at homesweethome list 'emergency appointments' in their yellow-page adverts but when I called the receptionists calmly explained that their 'emergency appointments' were filled up for the day. Huh?!
Thankfully mum's dentist - who shall henceforth be known as the enamel angel - agreed to shift round her schedule and see me that day (the day I should have been on the aeroplane home!).
Other revelations: Christmas is great, my family is amazing; winter just isn't the same and whatever happened to seasons?
Oh yes, Catan is a great game - particularly when you've friends like ours to play. Thanks all for a great holiday - I miss you all already.
And - how 'bout a Simcoe website to go with the Simcoe party? I know a pretty amazing web-designer...
Saturday, December 09, 2006
the vegetable enigma
It was a custard apple. And very tasty it was too. This week, nothing unrecognizeable...well, okay, I wouldn't have known it was kale but the bag was labelled. What do I do with kale? Anyway, I'll figure it out. Everything goes in soup!
We leave for Canada in less than a week - 5 days actually. It's working out well as two friends have now volunteered to stay and watch lovely Logan and little Laila. I hope the weather is Christmas-y. Here - it's not so much. Last night tho, just to force in some cheer, Nas, I, and some friends went down to the German Kristkringlemarkt in the city and had some food and beer - deliciously meaty! I should've taken a photo - now there is no evidence of the staggering amount of meat we ate...
We leave for Canada in less than a week - 5 days actually. It's working out well as two friends have now volunteered to stay and watch lovely Logan and little Laila. I hope the weather is Christmas-y. Here - it's not so much. Last night tho, just to force in some cheer, Nas, I, and some friends went down to the German Kristkringlemarkt in the city and had some food and beer - deliciously meaty! I should've taken a photo - now there is no evidence of the staggering amount of meat we ate...
Sunday, December 03, 2006
my favourite vegetables
Last Thursday, in our fruit box, we got a pineapple and a mango. Pretty sweet. With our lovely friend Susan, (and she really is one of those rare people who is truly 'lovely'), we've been splitting organic fruit and veg boxes. It's really fantastic - every week thus far we've gotten a mystery fruit or veg: one turned out to be a kohlrabi (quite tasty in our veg biryani). The mystery fruit (Susan keeps passing them off - her turn next time!) remains an enigma of the fruit world. It was really tasty but I've no idea what it was... Kinda pineapple like in consistency, but softer and less stringy; sweetness like a guava (but without the gritty texture); shaped kinda like a fat mango. It had very hard pips throughout and the skin looked like a kid had made it out of moddelling clay with her thumbs to make a pattern.
We started on this cause we realised that the green-grocers on our corner was actually a trap...it's like having a huge extension on the kitchen. And we were going every day for something or other. So now, we split a huge box of fruit and a regular box of veg and we're all happy chappies.
It's from Goosemoor organics - a farm near Weatherby. They don't taste quite as nice as our own allotment veggies...but our allotment has a way to go before it can sustain us year round.
We started on this cause we realised that the green-grocers on our corner was actually a trap...it's like having a huge extension on the kitchen. And we were going every day for something or other. So now, we split a huge box of fruit and a regular box of veg and we're all happy chappies.
It's from Goosemoor organics - a farm near Weatherby. They don't taste quite as nice as our own allotment veggies...but our allotment has a way to go before it can sustain us year round.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
PAID
Pay-day at last! And after all that, it doesn't really seem worth the wait. Of course, since pay-day is the last of the month and rent-day the very next day, I don't even get to look at the shiny shiny numbers in my account before they're gone.
It's definitely one of those days. Luckily I have The Brother From Another Planet to look forward to when I finish and go home. We've just discovered the uni library's audio-visual collection. Fun and free!
oh yes - I nearly forgot: about a month ago, we filled out a questionaire about energy consumption; we got the results yesterday. Their advice? A very helpful 'insulate outer walls'. Great. Thanks. I wonder how our agency would feel if we tried doing that ourselves. Perhaps we should invest in some tapestries?
It's definitely one of those days. Luckily I have The Brother From Another Planet to look forward to when I finish and go home. We've just discovered the uni library's audio-visual collection. Fun and free!
oh yes - I nearly forgot: about a month ago, we filled out a questionaire about energy consumption; we got the results yesterday. Their advice? A very helpful 'insulate outer walls'. Great. Thanks. I wonder how our agency would feel if we tried doing that ourselves. Perhaps we should invest in some tapestries?
Monday, November 27, 2006
Me meets the mould monster
Everything we own is in danger of being eaten by mould.
I love our house - mostly I love the power-shower and the gas hob in the kitchen. There's no storage space, it's a bit small, there's no garden. But then, it's mostly quiet, there's a green-grocers and a fantastic Halal butchers just round the corner, and it's a 10-minute walk to campus and 20 to the city centre. And we haven't moved in three years...!
But it is damp and mouldy. I did once have a very nice man who'd been called round to check out the mould problem explain that it was simply because the temperature outside was so much colder than the temp inside - case closed - that was just the way it was - how quaint... Thing is, I grew up in Canada where the temp outside was MUCH MUCH colder than the temp inside and, while Jack Frost drew lovely pictures every morning on every window, we never had condensation and black mould up and down the walls. I can understand it in a bathroom - as a student, I'm familiar with the mouldy bathroom issue. But everywhere?
So we keep the heat steady, we don't hang clothes to dry, we open the bathroom window after showering (all of which, by the way, on the advice of our letting agency who, despite being geared towards students, don't seem to have any understanding of the skyrocketing cost of electricity and gas) and still, without fail, every year this time, the mould returns like some freakish weather-based demon.
But when I find my pair of trusty black-stretch-boot-cut trousers covered in mould...what's am i to do?
Suggestions? Send 'em on.
I love our house - mostly I love the power-shower and the gas hob in the kitchen. There's no storage space, it's a bit small, there's no garden. But then, it's mostly quiet, there's a green-grocers and a fantastic Halal butchers just round the corner, and it's a 10-minute walk to campus and 20 to the city centre. And we haven't moved in three years...!
But it is damp and mouldy. I did once have a very nice man who'd been called round to check out the mould problem explain that it was simply because the temperature outside was so much colder than the temp inside - case closed - that was just the way it was - how quaint... Thing is, I grew up in Canada where the temp outside was MUCH MUCH colder than the temp inside and, while Jack Frost drew lovely pictures every morning on every window, we never had condensation and black mould up and down the walls. I can understand it in a bathroom - as a student, I'm familiar with the mouldy bathroom issue. But everywhere?
So we keep the heat steady, we don't hang clothes to dry, we open the bathroom window after showering (all of which, by the way, on the advice of our letting agency who, despite being geared towards students, don't seem to have any understanding of the skyrocketing cost of electricity and gas) and still, without fail, every year this time, the mould returns like some freakish weather-based demon.
But when I find my pair of trusty black-stretch-boot-cut trousers covered in mould...what's am i to do?
Suggestions? Send 'em on.
Friday, November 24, 2006
dear santa...
One week left in November 2006 - is it trite to say something like 'where does the time go'?
Our friend has returned to Leeds with the winter - she'd laugh if she heard that since a big part of leaving Leeds was escaping the winter! At any rate, it's great to be welcoming someone home rather than sending them off.
I still haven't figured out what I'd like for Christmas. I cringe at the price of books - especially when I'm a member of one of the best research libraries in the UK - I don't like technology; I have a mobile. I suppose I could use new trainers for the gym as I've been using my squash shoes...but then, I've been using my squash shoes and they've worked so far! Stuff for my garden? I don't think I can carry seeds into Britain from Canada. Kitchen gadgets? The only kind of technology I like! but then, anything quality is heavy (a very dear friend once carried a pasta machine to ours from Canada - very very dear!). Besides, our kitchen is the size of a closet and pretty much full. Clothes? How dull. Jewellry? I don't really wear much and I'm not much of an accessories person. Shoes? YES but kind of a strange thing to ask for - I'm not sure why, but people don't tend to buy shoes as gifts...
Am I one of those people? One of those impossible-to-buy-for people? I don't think so. It's just that I usually feel like my family knows me better than I know myself - that and they are all those people: you know, the can-find-perfect-gift-for-anyone-anytime people.
For me, I prefer thinking of all the lovely things to do at home:
* watch telly with Grandma and Papa - they've always had the most comfortable floors - great soft carpetting.
* practice Gran's recipes (with her expert supervision) - she doesn't write anything down so every year I try and learn how to make those things I've taken for granted.
* have breakfast with mum and dad in the kitchen - with CBC on the radio and The Globe and Mail on the table
* chat with mum in the kitchen - I don't know why, but we always have the best chats in the kitchen while making food.
* dinner-discussions with dad! And game-night...we'll have to think of a new one for this year (last year was Cranium year...)
* go to Vietnamese place with aunt and uncle - my dad's sister is probably the greatest aunt ever and they know the owners of the best Vietnamese place...
* go out with sibs et al. - my sibs don't get nearly enough coverage on this blog
* meet Nina - this is really part of the last item...
'See everyone from home' is just too big...but I really hope we get to see some friends that we missed last year, and our newly-wed friends in T.O.
But to do all of that, I need to:
* finish chapter
* finish teaching
* pack
* pick up Christmas puds from Harvey Nicks
* get train tickets to London
Huh. What's the day again?
Oh yeah...just to tease...I've got the special-est gift ever for the bro this year...!
Our friend has returned to Leeds with the winter - she'd laugh if she heard that since a big part of leaving Leeds was escaping the winter! At any rate, it's great to be welcoming someone home rather than sending them off.
I still haven't figured out what I'd like for Christmas. I cringe at the price of books - especially when I'm a member of one of the best research libraries in the UK - I don't like technology; I have a mobile. I suppose I could use new trainers for the gym as I've been using my squash shoes...but then, I've been using my squash shoes and they've worked so far! Stuff for my garden? I don't think I can carry seeds into Britain from Canada. Kitchen gadgets? The only kind of technology I like! but then, anything quality is heavy (a very dear friend once carried a pasta machine to ours from Canada - very very dear!). Besides, our kitchen is the size of a closet and pretty much full. Clothes? How dull. Jewellry? I don't really wear much and I'm not much of an accessories person. Shoes? YES but kind of a strange thing to ask for - I'm not sure why, but people don't tend to buy shoes as gifts...
Am I one of those people? One of those impossible-to-buy-for people? I don't think so. It's just that I usually feel like my family knows me better than I know myself - that and they are all those people: you know, the can-find-perfect-gift-for-anyone-anytime people.
For me, I prefer thinking of all the lovely things to do at home:
* watch telly with Grandma and Papa - they've always had the most comfortable floors - great soft carpetting.
* practice Gran's recipes (with her expert supervision) - she doesn't write anything down so every year I try and learn how to make those things I've taken for granted.
* have breakfast with mum and dad in the kitchen - with CBC on the radio and The Globe and Mail on the table
* chat with mum in the kitchen - I don't know why, but we always have the best chats in the kitchen while making food.
* dinner-discussions with dad! And game-night...we'll have to think of a new one for this year (last year was Cranium year...)
* go to Vietnamese place with aunt and uncle - my dad's sister is probably the greatest aunt ever and they know the owners of the best Vietnamese place...
* go out with sibs et al. - my sibs don't get nearly enough coverage on this blog
* meet Nina - this is really part of the last item...
'See everyone from home' is just too big...but I really hope we get to see some friends that we missed last year, and our newly-wed friends in T.O.
But to do all of that, I need to:
* finish chapter
* finish teaching
* pack
* pick up Christmas puds from Harvey Nicks
* get train tickets to London
Huh. What's the day again?
Oh yeah...just to tease...I've got the special-est gift ever for the bro this year...!
Monday, November 20, 2006
Cinema thots
I forgot to mention - we saw The Prestige on Friday night. Has anyone seen it? I'm not sure what to think of it. I want to like it but parts of it were really terrible (David Bowie as Nikola Tesla - but with simply dreadful Russian accent; Christian Bale's fairly awful cockney accent; Scarlett Johanssen's almost-there English accent) but there were some really interesting themes. Alas, typically, the ending was far too heavy-handed - for a film about magic and showmanship, it displayed a total lack of subtlety.
I've discovered that it is a book - I thought all the way thru that it would make, in the right hands, a brilliant truly Gothic story - so I'll have to read it. There is one significant deviation from Priest's novel - one that involves the surprising effect of Tesla's machine. But I think the more interesting story is Borden...anyway... I don't want to ruin it for anyone who wants to see it - though it might be worth waiting for the DVD release.
I've discovered that it is a book - I thought all the way thru that it would make, in the right hands, a brilliant truly Gothic story - so I'll have to read it. There is one significant deviation from Priest's novel - one that involves the surprising effect of Tesla's machine. But I think the more interesting story is Borden...anyway... I don't want to ruin it for anyone who wants to see it - though it might be worth waiting for the DVD release.
Slip-time
Wow - I can't believe that it's past the middle of November...
In the last two weeks:
* I got my residence permit to live in the UK for 2 years - then I have to apply to stay indefinitely (with, undoubtedly, another goodwill gift of at least £300).
* the University of York has not only paid Nasser's remaining fees, but also paid for his final writing-up year.
* I've been working full-time (well, training full-time) at the Local Studies library in the city
* Nasser's best friend has been over from Spain
* I finally got cover for my last December shift at the university which means I don't have to call from Canada and pretend I'm sick
* The German Christmas market has come to the city again!
Local Studies is a facinating place to work - maybe it's cause I'm not from this city (or country!) so it's all new to me. We have maps from the 16th century of the area - I learned that round the corner from my house used to be a brewery - and that it's called 'Burley Lodge' because there once was a lodge with grounds right where we live. The library has the censuses from 1843 thru to 1901 and parish records for most area churches (including non-conformist) from the 16th century when churches were obliged to keep records.
Last week, I started to help out on some of the continuing projects - Local Studies doesn't exactly have a huge budget and most of the information is in dusty, crumbling old books or on microfilm. So (and this is still slightly behind the times!) we're digitizing our own collection onto MS databases. For the last week, I transcribed graveyard records from microfilm to paper. It was fascinating. Old records (this one was for the area of the city right over the valley from us) list occupation, age, place of death, parish... wonderfully suggestive stuff. As I wrote, I couldn't help but picture these people (I just made it up to records from about June 1939 on Friday afternoon) dying. It's a small thing - a name: so incredibly evocative and yet so empty on its own.
All I had was a name not spoken in 50 years, an occupation ('labourer' was the most common for men), an age, and where they died. And it represents a whole lifetime - and more curiously, it represents a perfectly unique, individual lifetime. Names can be repeated - I recorded a John Smith or Thomas at least 2ce an hour - but a name plus a death-date plus where they died: that's irreducibly one person's experience. That these people had been largely forgotten in most cases is true - but I enjoyed it, selfishly, as a reminder of the materiality of the past: that these were people who were as I am, who died in a place as I will, and were recorded by details that stripped them of their substance but preserved their uniqueness as I might be.
And I buried them again - and perhaps more surely this time: anyone can open a book and find a name (even by accident), now they are so much binary code.
But enough - Mondays are no day for sustained philosophical digressions!
Nas's best mate was up on the weekend from Spain which was lovely - even the weather thought as much and we've had two almost perfect very-late-fall days of sunshine and crisp air. We went up to York yesterday to one of my favourite pubs for a Sunday lunch - and went to the Fudge Kitchen... I did splash out a bit but it's in my freezer waiting to accompany after-dinner-drinks over Christmas. And one piece is set aside for my friend who has a new baby and needs lots of energy (and really good chocolate...). A couple of Christmas puds from Harvey Nick's and we're set for foodstuffs to take to Canada...
Tonight is the first Christmas do of the season - at the School of English. It feels a bit early - but then, we're off for Canada in three weeks...yikes!
In the last two weeks:
* I got my residence permit to live in the UK for 2 years - then I have to apply to stay indefinitely (with, undoubtedly, another goodwill gift of at least £300).
* the University of York has not only paid Nasser's remaining fees, but also paid for his final writing-up year.
* I've been working full-time (well, training full-time) at the Local Studies library in the city
* Nasser's best friend has been over from Spain
* I finally got cover for my last December shift at the university which means I don't have to call from Canada and pretend I'm sick
* The German Christmas market has come to the city again!
Local Studies is a facinating place to work - maybe it's cause I'm not from this city (or country!) so it's all new to me. We have maps from the 16th century of the area - I learned that round the corner from my house used to be a brewery - and that it's called 'Burley Lodge' because there once was a lodge with grounds right where we live. The library has the censuses from 1843 thru to 1901 and parish records for most area churches (including non-conformist) from the 16th century when churches were obliged to keep records.
Last week, I started to help out on some of the continuing projects - Local Studies doesn't exactly have a huge budget and most of the information is in dusty, crumbling old books or on microfilm. So (and this is still slightly behind the times!) we're digitizing our own collection onto MS databases. For the last week, I transcribed graveyard records from microfilm to paper. It was fascinating. Old records (this one was for the area of the city right over the valley from us) list occupation, age, place of death, parish... wonderfully suggestive stuff. As I wrote, I couldn't help but picture these people (I just made it up to records from about June 1939 on Friday afternoon) dying. It's a small thing - a name: so incredibly evocative and yet so empty on its own.
All I had was a name not spoken in 50 years, an occupation ('labourer' was the most common for men), an age, and where they died. And it represents a whole lifetime - and more curiously, it represents a perfectly unique, individual lifetime. Names can be repeated - I recorded a John Smith or Thomas at least 2ce an hour - but a name plus a death-date plus where they died: that's irreducibly one person's experience. That these people had been largely forgotten in most cases is true - but I enjoyed it, selfishly, as a reminder of the materiality of the past: that these were people who were as I am, who died in a place as I will, and were recorded by details that stripped them of their substance but preserved their uniqueness as I might be.
And I buried them again - and perhaps more surely this time: anyone can open a book and find a name (even by accident), now they are so much binary code.
But enough - Mondays are no day for sustained philosophical digressions!
Nas's best mate was up on the weekend from Spain which was lovely - even the weather thought as much and we've had two almost perfect very-late-fall days of sunshine and crisp air. We went up to York yesterday to one of my favourite pubs for a Sunday lunch - and went to the Fudge Kitchen... I did splash out a bit but it's in my freezer waiting to accompany after-dinner-drinks over Christmas. And one piece is set aside for my friend who has a new baby and needs lots of energy (and really good chocolate...). A couple of Christmas puds from Harvey Nick's and we're set for foodstuffs to take to Canada...
Tonight is the first Christmas do of the season - at the School of English. It feels a bit early - but then, we're off for Canada in three weeks...yikes!
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Pax Felix
I think we have a truce...at least, we're pretty sure they aren't constantly trying to kill each other...
Friday, November 03, 2006
another Friday
I just lost an entire post...very frustrating. Anyway, my eyes are blurring and my head hurts and I blame G.J.Barker-Benfield and The Culture of Sensibility. I've been reading it all afternoon, trying to decide how to define 'Sentiment' and 'Sensibility' in my dissertation. Fun times. Met my supervisor this morning - lovely as usual - and now know the likely panel for my viva this time next year. Slightly scary - but kind of exciting too. It's nice to know this has a definite end in the not-so-distant future.
Yesterday I bit back my pride, withdrew money from our Canadian credit line, and paid for those things that must be paid for: university fees (I was half-hoping that they'd accidentally give me my scholarship again this year...alas...), new gym membership, new underwear...(new convert to Bravissimo right here). Briefly entered fug of 'why-am-I-still-broke-and-a-student?' but snapped out of it by the time I got home (it was pitch out and only 4.30!). So now I'm officially a student again, officially a gym member, and I have underwears without holes, sticky-out wires, etc etc etc.
For the record, my seminar classes did not like Dryden. I must find a new angle on it to get them into it a little more next year. They did thank me for the annotations that I handed out, which was nice. It's a tough piece - doubly so for students without much knowledge of either the Bible or Restoration history. Curious? It was Absalom and Achitophel, A Poem.
Yesterday I bit back my pride, withdrew money from our Canadian credit line, and paid for those things that must be paid for: university fees (I was half-hoping that they'd accidentally give me my scholarship again this year...alas...), new gym membership, new underwear...(new convert to Bravissimo right here). Briefly entered fug of 'why-am-I-still-broke-and-a-student?' but snapped out of it by the time I got home (it was pitch out and only 4.30!). So now I'm officially a student again, officially a gym member, and I have underwears without holes, sticky-out wires, etc etc etc.
For the record, my seminar classes did not like Dryden. I must find a new angle on it to get them into it a little more next year. They did thank me for the annotations that I handed out, which was nice. It's a tough piece - doubly so for students without much knowledge of either the Bible or Restoration history. Curious? It was Absalom and Achitophel, A Poem.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Happy Hallowe'en!
I've never actually lived in a house with a front door that kids would knock on at Hallowe'en - even in Canada. All the places in Kingston and Windsor were apartments - and Brits just don't celebrate Hallowe'en. Thankfully really. It's getting a bit carried away in the homeland as I recall. Anyway, there's likely some good scary movies on tonight...but I'm going to bed early and keeping the night-light on instead (see previous entry...).
This week has begun badly. Last night, already exhausted from the night of no-sleep on Sunday, I had an asthma attack. I should explain something: I have allergy-related asthma and fall is a bad time of year as I'm allergic to damp and mold. My asthma attacks aren't life-threatening, just very very frustrating as they tend to come on before bed and keep me up cause I can't lay down without coughing. Anyway, since my lovely GP at the student practice here figured out that it was asthma and gave me some handy inhalers (geek-chic! I'm in!), it's all been sorted. In fact, I haven't needed my trusty inhaler for over a month...
And because of that, I didn't realise that both inhalers were empty until the weekend. But the only appointment I could get at student practice was yesterday and it wasn't until after the chemists were closed...you see where this is going?
Asthma attack. No inhalers. Poetic justice of some kind.
And to top it all off, data somewhere has been filed incorrectly and Nasser didn't get paid this month. Oh yeah. November...bring it on.
But on the plus side, I did get paid. Which means we can afford rent and bills this month at least! And I finished annotating Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel for my Civil War and Resoration Literature class on Thursday. Now they have absolutely no excuse for not getting it. The hardest thing this year as been trying to teach 17th century literature to students who are without even a passing knowledge of the Bible. For them, an apple is always just an apple.
And the cats have been lovely and cosy today. And it is Hallowe'en. My favourite Hallowe'en was when I went as a pumpkin. My mom made the costume and it was amazing. Her pet name for us all is 'pun'kin' so maybe that's why it's my favourite (thankfully, that was long before digital cameras so I think I'm free from fear of mum ever posting those photos - I loved the costume but I'm pretty sure it wasn't flattering!).
This week has begun badly. Last night, already exhausted from the night of no-sleep on Sunday, I had an asthma attack. I should explain something: I have allergy-related asthma and fall is a bad time of year as I'm allergic to damp and mold. My asthma attacks aren't life-threatening, just very very frustrating as they tend to come on before bed and keep me up cause I can't lay down without coughing. Anyway, since my lovely GP at the student practice here figured out that it was asthma and gave me some handy inhalers (geek-chic! I'm in!), it's all been sorted. In fact, I haven't needed my trusty inhaler for over a month...
And because of that, I didn't realise that both inhalers were empty until the weekend. But the only appointment I could get at student practice was yesterday and it wasn't until after the chemists were closed...you see where this is going?
Asthma attack. No inhalers. Poetic justice of some kind.
And to top it all off, data somewhere has been filed incorrectly and Nasser didn't get paid this month. Oh yeah. November...bring it on.
But on the plus side, I did get paid. Which means we can afford rent and bills this month at least! And I finished annotating Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel for my Civil War and Resoration Literature class on Thursday. Now they have absolutely no excuse for not getting it. The hardest thing this year as been trying to teach 17th century literature to students who are without even a passing knowledge of the Bible. For them, an apple is always just an apple.
And the cats have been lovely and cosy today. And it is Hallowe'en. My favourite Hallowe'en was when I went as a pumpkin. My mom made the costume and it was amazing. Her pet name for us all is 'pun'kin' so maybe that's why it's my favourite (thankfully, that was long before digital cameras so I think I'm free from fear of mum ever posting those photos - I loved the costume but I'm pretty sure it wasn't flattering!).
Monday, October 30, 2006
Things that go bump in the night
I was pretty sure that at some point I'd stop being afraid of horror movies. I mean, I study horror-literature, I love monsters, zombies, vampires, the uncanny, the history of horror, the psychology of fear, and so on. But the tragedy of my life (okay, that was slightly hyperbolic) is - I can't watch horror films. I can read about them - oh yes, I have several important looking scholarly books on the subject; I can enthuse about them at length, analyze, dissect, discuss... but I simply cannot watch them.
By 'horror' movie I mean anything remotely visually frightening. That includes, for example, certain episodes of The X-Files and The Twilight Zone, and general mainstream horror movies. But in all honesty has also included Kill Bill (I&II), Sin City, Interview with a Vampire, and (many years ago - possibly the catalyst for all this) the Ewoks movie. The worst one was Seven; I was up nights for about two weeks and didn't like being alone in the house so spent a lot of time at my friend's bar in Kingston while Nas was at work at nights.
But there are exceptions that always tease me with the possibility that I might be getting over it. I've never had a problem with The Shining; I thought The Blair Witch Project was boring; I love Romero zombie flicks and Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead series (even the first one, which Nas assures me was actually meant to be scary). I'm generally better with psychological thrillers and I can usually sit through a Hitchcock film without any consequences. For some strange reason I can also manage OTT slasher flicks. But not Saw. So I just can't narrow down what exactly scares me.
I mention this because last night, before my new favourite Torchwood (a Doctor Who spinoff) came on, Channel Five had 'The Scariest Movies of All Time On'. And I watched it. And Nasser warned me that maybe I shouldn't. But I did. I don't know if it was The Fly or the meat-hook scene in (the original - of course! I'm still a snob about these things!) Texas Chainsaw Masacre that kept me up. Possibly the finale of Rosemary's Baby (tho the commentators they had for that clip completely missed the mark - even the guy from the Church of Satan) got to me at 2am or maybe, this time, I couldn't handle the pasty-faced Avon rejects that are Raimi's zombies.
Anyway, long story short, I couldn't sleep. And I kept Nasser up. And now I'm cranky even though it is a lovely day outside and I handed in a draft of a chapter last week and don't have to see my supervisor until Friday. And I get paid this week (finally!).
On a lighter note, yesterday we went on a marathon walk around Leeds. We left at 11am and didn't get home until 5.30. The clocks went back yesterday morning so it is definitely fall now and dark by 5pm, alas. But our house is cosy and warm and full of kittens.
By 'horror' movie I mean anything remotely visually frightening. That includes, for example, certain episodes of The X-Files and The Twilight Zone, and general mainstream horror movies. But in all honesty has also included Kill Bill (I&II), Sin City, Interview with a Vampire, and (many years ago - possibly the catalyst for all this) the Ewoks movie. The worst one was Seven; I was up nights for about two weeks and didn't like being alone in the house so spent a lot of time at my friend's bar in Kingston while Nas was at work at nights.
But there are exceptions that always tease me with the possibility that I might be getting over it. I've never had a problem with The Shining; I thought The Blair Witch Project was boring; I love Romero zombie flicks and Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead series (even the first one, which Nas assures me was actually meant to be scary). I'm generally better with psychological thrillers and I can usually sit through a Hitchcock film without any consequences. For some strange reason I can also manage OTT slasher flicks. But not Saw. So I just can't narrow down what exactly scares me.
I mention this because last night, before my new favourite Torchwood (a Doctor Who spinoff) came on, Channel Five had 'The Scariest Movies of All Time On'. And I watched it. And Nasser warned me that maybe I shouldn't. But I did. I don't know if it was The Fly or the meat-hook scene in (the original - of course! I'm still a snob about these things!) Texas Chainsaw Masacre that kept me up. Possibly the finale of Rosemary's Baby (tho the commentators they had for that clip completely missed the mark - even the guy from the Church of Satan) got to me at 2am or maybe, this time, I couldn't handle the pasty-faced Avon rejects that are Raimi's zombies.
Anyway, long story short, I couldn't sleep. And I kept Nasser up. And now I'm cranky even though it is a lovely day outside and I handed in a draft of a chapter last week and don't have to see my supervisor until Friday. And I get paid this week (finally!).
On a lighter note, yesterday we went on a marathon walk around Leeds. We left at 11am and didn't get home until 5.30. The clocks went back yesterday morning so it is definitely fall now and dark by 5pm, alas. But our house is cosy and warm and full of kittens.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
...and thanks for waiting.
I absolutely hate dealing with our phone/telly/internet company. Our telly signal has been out for the last week. Last night, Nasser waited on the phone (which is of course, a 0845-number) for ages only to be told, in that horridly chipper automated voice that it would be another 15 minutes for an advisor. I am now on the phone to ask how my next bill will reflect the fact that I haven't had the service for a week. I'm not optimistic - I've dealt with British customer service before.
I don't know which is worse - the muszak or this inanely optimistic and happy automated voice that keeps interrupting with advice.
Well, have just gotten some advice. It should be back on in a couple hours. If not...call back...
Later that same day...
I've no clue whether or not my telly is back on. I kinda forgot about it and came to the library where I still am...
I am exhausted and hungry and fairly cranky as all I've had to eat since noon is a banana (it was a big banana - I just finished it), some chocolate, and some pumpkin seeds. I should've brought my oat cakes. They are my new favourite thing. Nas made much fun of me as I had to go to the fancy organic shop downtown for them (as that's where my friend G got the ones that I liked so much at a party) and then we found them for about half the price at our co-op... He's also been laughing at my insistence that I had to have puy lentils from above-mentioned shop. They ARE different from brown lentils, I swear. Anyway, I like them and they are hard to find.
Now I'm really hungry.
Nas is teaching tonight and picking me up from the library - that was supposed to make me stay and work until then. But I think I'm out of steam. Maybe I'll curl up on my window bench and read. I love my office.
I don't know which is worse - the muszak or this inanely optimistic and happy automated voice that keeps interrupting with advice.
Well, have just gotten some advice. It should be back on in a couple hours. If not...call back...
Later that same day...
I've no clue whether or not my telly is back on. I kinda forgot about it and came to the library where I still am...
I am exhausted and hungry and fairly cranky as all I've had to eat since noon is a banana (it was a big banana - I just finished it), some chocolate, and some pumpkin seeds. I should've brought my oat cakes. They are my new favourite thing. Nas made much fun of me as I had to go to the fancy organic shop downtown for them (as that's where my friend G got the ones that I liked so much at a party) and then we found them for about half the price at our co-op... He's also been laughing at my insistence that I had to have puy lentils from above-mentioned shop. They ARE different from brown lentils, I swear. Anyway, I like them and they are hard to find.
Now I'm really hungry.
Nas is teaching tonight and picking me up from the library - that was supposed to make me stay and work until then. But I think I'm out of steam. Maybe I'll curl up on my window bench and read. I love my office.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Not a very interesting post unless you know us...and even then...
The days are just packed.
Monday was my sis and dad's birthdays - when I was a kid, I was always a little jealous that they shared a birthday.
Wednesday was Nasser's birthday. I hope he had a good time - I'm not very good at planning parties - particularly when I'm trying to finish a chapter at the same time. On my birthday last May, Nasser threw me the greatest party EVER. The problem is, I got so nervous worrying about matching or topping it that I couldn't think of anything. Come to think about it I'm a crap hostess cause I spend most of the time at my parties worrying about being a good hostess. I need to relax.
Thursday was my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary. They were married 19 October 1946. Amazing: they have been married for twice as long as I've been alive. When I was really little I asked grandma if it was okay with her that I marry papa when I grew up. Obviously, even at the age of 4 (?) I had discerning taste.
And yesterday, we found out that my sister is now, in her words, the proud teacher of a grade four class! Mum and dad must be so relieved that one of us is finally employed...
Monday was my sis and dad's birthdays - when I was a kid, I was always a little jealous that they shared a birthday.
Wednesday was Nasser's birthday. I hope he had a good time - I'm not very good at planning parties - particularly when I'm trying to finish a chapter at the same time. On my birthday last May, Nasser threw me the greatest party EVER. The problem is, I got so nervous worrying about matching or topping it that I couldn't think of anything. Come to think about it I'm a crap hostess cause I spend most of the time at my parties worrying about being a good hostess. I need to relax.
Thursday was my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary. They were married 19 October 1946. Amazing: they have been married for twice as long as I've been alive. When I was really little I asked grandma if it was okay with her that I marry papa when I grew up. Obviously, even at the age of 4 (?) I had discerning taste.
And yesterday, we found out that my sister is now, in her words, the proud teacher of a grade four class! Mum and dad must be so relieved that one of us is finally employed...
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
my birthday
today i turn old.
i wear the bottoms of my
trousers rolled only because i am
short.
i won't tell more
you should be writing me poems,
today.
i wear the bottoms of my
trousers rolled only because i am
short.
i won't tell more
you should be writing me poems,
today.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Grinsomnia (a poem for pedagogues)
gotta grit my teeth before words before
these shores of no speaka da eengleesh,
silences worthy of gangsters in movies,
you see you know like what i mean-
or so it seems from these
eighteen eighteenagers
and their masteries of love, god, the
intricacies of euthanasia and sledgehammer suicides
in outlandish clothes and an utter lack of
past the ends of their noses,
all the while slipping in
these shores of no speaka da eengleesh,
silences worthy of gangsters in movies,
you see you know like what i mean-
or so it seems from these
eighteen eighteenagers
and their masteries of love, god, the
intricacies of euthanasia and sledgehammer suicides
in outlandish clothes and an utter lack of
past the ends of their noses,
all the while slipping in
tongues.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Friday the 13th
It's Friday the 13th. If it was summer and I were back at home, I might be in Port Dover at one of the biggest motorcycle rallies in North America. I wonder if there were some hardy cyclists out in Dover for this one?
I forgot to report back on The History Boys (which I think is now in theatres) last weekend - and I forgot that it was Thanksgiving at home. On the play first: I really enjoyed it. It is very British and I'm not sure how well it would translate across the pond to be honest. The ending is highly problematic, in many ways, as is Bennett's treatment of women throughout. It feels very rushed and slightly tacked-on. There are I suppose, two endings really: one for the main plot and one that ties up the several sub-plots at once. Neither are particularly good and both feel like cop-outs on Bennett's part. I'll leave it there in case anyone wants to see it - or read the script.
Thanksgiving dinner ex-pat-styles was delicious. And entirely vegetarian. And there was pie left over when I got there. By his own admission, Nasser did not win the pie-off...his pastry was a bit rushed and not quite done on the bottom. I liked his best though cause the pumpkin bit was perfect. And I am thankful for too many things to list but mostly friends and family, near and far (mostly far right now but Christmas is coming!).
Laila is doing really very well - she's up and playing with a ball of wool now and loves being cuddled. Her eyes have cleared up but the spot on her right eye hasn't faded. She might have lost some vision there but it doesn't seem to bother her. Logan is showing off whenever he sees her, generally affecting to take no notice but watching her intently when he thinks no one is looking. Laila is still Queen of the Loo though and very shy about coming out into the hallway. I guess she's only been here for a week - the better part of which was spent recovering from her ordeal on the streets.
And we've booked our tickets home for Christmas! I can't believe how expensive flights are this year. But I suppose they've got us over a barrel - it's not like we've got alternative transportation available. Though we're both keen to take the boat once, just for the experience. I don't think Logan and Laila would enjoy it particularly though! And I suppose aeroplanes are massive polluters and a luxury that we shouldn't take too much for granted...(and we didn't pay for the tickets anyway...thanks grandma, papa, mum, and dad! Someday we will have real jobs and be millionaires and shower you with expensive but tasteful and environmentally sound gifts).
I forgot to report back on The History Boys (which I think is now in theatres) last weekend - and I forgot that it was Thanksgiving at home. On the play first: I really enjoyed it. It is very British and I'm not sure how well it would translate across the pond to be honest. The ending is highly problematic, in many ways, as is Bennett's treatment of women throughout. It feels very rushed and slightly tacked-on. There are I suppose, two endings really: one for the main plot and one that ties up the several sub-plots at once. Neither are particularly good and both feel like cop-outs on Bennett's part. I'll leave it there in case anyone wants to see it - or read the script.
Thanksgiving dinner ex-pat-styles was delicious. And entirely vegetarian. And there was pie left over when I got there. By his own admission, Nasser did not win the pie-off...his pastry was a bit rushed and not quite done on the bottom. I liked his best though cause the pumpkin bit was perfect. And I am thankful for too many things to list but mostly friends and family, near and far (mostly far right now but Christmas is coming!).
Laila is doing really very well - she's up and playing with a ball of wool now and loves being cuddled. Her eyes have cleared up but the spot on her right eye hasn't faded. She might have lost some vision there but it doesn't seem to bother her. Logan is showing off whenever he sees her, generally affecting to take no notice but watching her intently when he thinks no one is looking. Laila is still Queen of the Loo though and very shy about coming out into the hallway. I guess she's only been here for a week - the better part of which was spent recovering from her ordeal on the streets.
And we've booked our tickets home for Christmas! I can't believe how expensive flights are this year. But I suppose they've got us over a barrel - it's not like we've got alternative transportation available. Though we're both keen to take the boat once, just for the experience. I don't think Logan and Laila would enjoy it particularly though! And I suppose aeroplanes are massive polluters and a luxury that we shouldn't take too much for granted...(and we didn't pay for the tickets anyway...thanks grandma, papa, mum, and dad! Someday we will have real jobs and be millionaires and shower you with expensive but tasteful and environmentally sound gifts).
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Shameless cute pics...
Presenting Laila Rae Monkeybutt!
She cleaned up pretty well. Logan's been really quite good about her occupying the bathroom as well. Hopefully they will get along when she's bigger and can come out and play.
Note: the toothbrush is for purposes of scale. She's that small.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Round one to Laila!
After peeing all over her bedding the last two nights, Laila has decided that the litter tray is more lady-like. She did poop behind the loo - but she pooped, twice! Getting all those worms out at least. She's purring when Nas skritches under her chin too. And she's eating like a champ. She's not out of it yet but it's looking good right now!
Library was dull but now I'm off to Bradford to see The History Boys by Alan Bennett. Hopefully there will be pie left at the Thanksgiving dinner when I arrive...
And yes, she is named after Laila Ali.
Library was dull but now I'm off to Bradford to see The History Boys by Alan Bennett. Hopefully there will be pie left at the Thanksgiving dinner when I arrive...
And yes, she is named after Laila Ali.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Whiskers on kittens
are normally one of my favourite things.
Which is why when Nas called me yesterday while I was in my office to say that a kitten had washed up with the rain outside our door, I rushed home.
This Kitten, however, was not a happy one. As soon as Nas put her down in the house (after rescuing her from the wheel-well of our neighbour's car - and being bitten for his efforts), she bolted behind the stove, under the cupboards, and crawled around our L-shaped cupboards to the furthest corner she could reach. The one that we couldn't get to or see no way no how. We pulled out the stove, the washing machine...thought about pulling apart the cupboard until we realised it was likely structural. Or at least built so badly that there was no way of telling which board would pull the whole thing down. So after much anxious fretting on my part and calmness on Nasser's, we put some food and water in the cupboard, shut the door cause Logan was very curious and left the kitten to find her own way out. I went swimming cause I couldn't take the waiting.
This morning, she was behind the fridge. Now she's in Logan's cat-box (permission obtained). She's a sorry little thing. We thought at first that she must be lost but now we think she's likely been left. She's calico with white feet and a white nose but dirty and a little smelly. And she has a weepy eye and a cough. But she's eating and drinking and has used Logan's litter box (no permission sought!).
Nasser has forbidden me to name her.
This afternoon she is going to the veterinarian and we are going to try and find her a home. Preferably not this home - but who can tell. Perhaps we can hold an online poll for names. In the meantime, to warm your September-chilled hearts, check out the much loved and linked-to Kittenwar.
UPDATE: Her name is Laila and she has taken over our bathroom for the right now...she's definitely a stray (I officially hate all people who don't spay or neuter their pets - may dreams filled with a scantilly clad Bob Barker haunt you eternally) and she has Feline Herpes, Cat Flu, fleas like you've never seen, and worms. She's also anemic... So £45 later, she's flea-free, on her way to being worm free, and on penicillin. She also smells much better - in panic, she pooped and peed all over the carrier on the way to the vet. Logan's been vaccinated against cat flu but she's still in quarantine.
Just like all those birds I brought home, mum! By the time I'm 60 I'll be finding stray horses on my door or something...
Thursday, October 05, 2006
One of those days
Yesterday was one of those days...specifically, one of those days when I wished with almost all of my heart that I had just gone to law school after Queen's. And y'know, I wasn't thinking that if I'd done that right now I'd be wildly successful, internationally profiled, and fabulously wealthy. I was, quite honestly, daydreaming about how, if I'd gone to law school right out of Queen's, I'd be breaking even. Sadly, at the tender age of 29, my dreams have diminished from private jets, designer clothing, and a hand-bag for every day of the year to just not having to worry about buying a pair of new jeans when my old ones have fallen apart, and I'm still wearing them cause they're the only casual trousers I have, even though people start asking me if I want to sell The Big Issue rather than buy it.
How is it possible that I work three part time jobs and Nasser works two and we're broke?
And then, of course, I realise that we're not broke - don't worry mum! - and that I am living my dream anyway. I just didn't, when I dreamt it, remember to dream about the financial end... So we can't afford gym memberships at Virgin Fitness and the Gap is about as high as our street goes. We've got a full larder and fridge, enough books to keep us almost entirely happy, and digital TV.
In one of those bizarre packages that can only make sense in the coporate world it is cheaper for us to have digital telly, phone, and 2Mb broadband than just to have 1Mb broadband and phone. Hey Frasier is on, I'm not complaining.
How is it possible that I work three part time jobs and Nasser works two and we're broke?
And then, of course, I realise that we're not broke - don't worry mum! - and that I am living my dream anyway. I just didn't, when I dreamt it, remember to dream about the financial end... So we can't afford gym memberships at Virgin Fitness and the Gap is about as high as our street goes. We've got a full larder and fridge, enough books to keep us almost entirely happy, and digital TV.
In one of those bizarre packages that can only make sense in the coporate world it is cheaper for us to have digital telly, phone, and 2Mb broadband than just to have 1Mb broadband and phone. Hey Frasier is on, I'm not complaining.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Autumn not fall
September was, officially, the craziest month of the past few years. Glad it's over but a little concerned to find that it is October already. Which leaves only two very short months and a couple even-shorter weeks until Christmas...aiyee!! Sorry, that's still the C-word until at least after American Thanksgiving.
Our road trip was fantastic - our fabulous driver made it the whole way there and back in wonderful humour. The w
ay there was lovely - Wiltshire is really beautiful countryside. And Longleat is stunning. I don't think I would ever get over looking out of my front windows at the beautiful, perfectly Platonically English landscape and seeing a rhinocerus contentedly munching the lawn. In the hunting gallery we also saw the doublet Charles I wore at his execution - complete with bloodstains around the neck...macabre, yes. But as I'm teaching Civil War and Restoration Literature this term, I thought it a good omen! The same room, the 'hunting gallery', also housed two prehistoric Irish Elk skulls with horns. Another example of Nature's twisted sense of humour.We saw Stonehenge (from the road - £5 to get 10 feet closer?!):
And then went to Old Sarum and had delicious pub grub in Salisbury. We did miss the cathedral as it was nearly dark - very impressive spire though. As everyone who knows me understands, I am food-centred: I remember things by associating them with tastes. Now, Salisbury will always be evoked by a really nice venison steak. And mushrooms. Really good mushrooms.
And now, here we are, back in Leeds. Thanksgiving is coming up - another ex-pat dinner to look forward to. Nasser is making the pumpkin pie; in Canada, this is a fairly simple procedure thanks to the invention of canned pumpkin. Last year, when we hosted the ex-pats, we looked high and low at every grocery store within walking distance for such a thing. None to be found. So Nas, brilliant cook that he is, found a recipe and made it from scratch with fresh pumpkin. It was the best pumpkin pie we had ever tasted. Well, Jeff and I, the two other Canadians, thought so. And we are experts. My humble offering was maple whipping cream to top the pies.
My two classes really impressed me in our first seminar gathering - very talkative and enthusiastic. I'm really quite looking forward to the classes. Research and writing are also going well - must be the weather! I'd hate to think I was actually beginning to get the hang of this...
