Zizek!

I forgot to say - after all my stress (including calling my grandmother in near-tears and making her worry!), I had a really excellent supervisory meeting last Friday.

I also forgot to mention that we saw SpiderMan3 on the weekend. It's so awful. My god - over 2 hours of complete and utter drivvel. Not even Bruce Campbell could save it (though he was the one spot of relief!). It's just so very republican - so very normative and deterministically heterosexual. So very boring.

And we watched Little Miss Sunshine - which was very feel-good.

Took a kicking in squash yesterday. I don't like playing a game of squash - keeping score makes it less fun for me, even when I'm winning. But it was still fun. I didn't keep score - though I definitely lost! And we went for a good run today in the early morning sunshine.

Saturday, we're hoping for very good weather as we're planning a day in the park - 5 May birthdays (mine included).

Oh yes, I also found this: Zizek! It's a documentary film about the Slovenian academic. See, academics are cool.

Eat(ing), Drink(ing), and Be(ing) Merry

I'm still alive! My meeting with my supervisor was fantastic - as usual. Actually, it was better than usual as we were able, for the first time, to talk about the project as a whole. She asked me what my thesis was about and I answered - and answered well. So now, in the final stretch, I have a month to submit my introduction and chapter one. And so on from there.

Our friend visited from London this weekend - which was lovely. Friday we just sat around - all exhausted (she teaches primary school in London) - ate pasta and listened to music while catching up and such. Saturday we went into Leyburn with a bunch of friends from Leeds for the food and drink festival. Lovely beers!! And the food tent! Nasser ate enough meat to last him a couple days at least. They had amazing ice-cream stalls too - our friend G-- had ginger ice-cream. I had green gooseberry and mango frozen yoghurt. They also had a very interesting farming display with the theme 'Farming for Food' about local, sustainable farming projects. They had calves (squee!!) and a some very strange looking sheep (they looked like they had dredlocks...). Inside there was a display of textile production (for which the Aire valley is historically important): from the sheep (stinky, matted wool coated in lanolin) to the finest skeins. And I didn't realise that different kinds of sheep produced different wools: the leicestershire (lancashire?) blue's wool was gorgeous - silky and fine, but another sheep's was like stiff cotton balls.

Having eaten and drunk our fill - my favourite beer was a Belgian-style wheat beer called 'Val de Plas' from Wharfedale breweries - we made our way home. I should say, getting out and back required a train and two different buses. Considering there were eight of us trying to stick together, it could have been (should have been!) disasterous. Unbelievably - and I will tell this story when I hear of nightmare journeys involving only one train! - our connections were not only on time, they were perfectly timed. The longest we waited was about 15 minutes in Leyburn on the way home. The sun even came out in the afternoon and the wind softened.

Nas gave me an early birthday present - a new camera (okay, it's for both of us!) that he found for a great deal at a second-hand shop because it's missing the manual and packaging. This is a long way of saying...I didn't take many pictures... But next weekend is birthday-palooza in the park for five (5!) of us born in May. I promise to faithfully record the event - I may even buy a new frock for the occassion as it is supposed to be slightly-formal wear (we're going to play garden games and eat canapes).

So a good weekend had by all. And now back to work. We went for a good run this morning - I was so stiff! Shin splints seem to be getting better - they only really bother me starting out now. I have to write a paper this week as I've been invited to give one at the York post-grad seminar next Tuesday. 'Write' is misleading - I'll be ripping the guts out of one of my chapters and tweaking it to sound like a paper rather than a chapter!

week's end

ugh. What a week. I have been sternly told by my grandmother that I take on too much. She's likely right. It's just that most of the time, I feel like I'm not doing enough: enough research, enough paid work, enough exercise... This week I think I topped my record: Monday-Wednesday I was in my office by 9.30, wrote (or tried to write - another problem) until 12.30, had lunch, worked at the library until 5pm, went back to office and wrote (tried to) until anywhere between 7.30 and 9.30...went home. I also ran Tuesday and Wednesday at 7.15 - and they were really really great runs. I probably should've kept the running up but yesterday I had to teach all day starting at 10 so I postponed the run til today. Yet, as you see, gentle reader, it is 'today' and I am typing, not running. The spirit was very willing - the flesh is tired.

This week, I was supposed to hand in the second half of my introduction. It's not in. I have a fairly unproductive way of dealing with this - I wind myself up, convinced that my supervisor is going to tear me open to find the writing, become irritable, snappy, and tired, - none of which makes writing much easier. As I've said before, I've got no reason to believe that my supervisor will treat me thus - she never has been anything but supportive and encouraging. But in that state of mind, everything becomes an issue - this morning when I woke up feeling awful, I immediately felt guilty for feeling unable to run. Upon calm reflection, I do see how this pattern is silly - but I haven't yet figured out a way out of it in the moment.

Anyway, just sitting here, I'm feeling better (and supervisor emailed today to say not to worry - I'd emailed her on Wednesday panicking about my writing...). I have my last consultation hour of the year - possibly my last before finishing my PhD! - and then the meeting this afternoon. Our friend is visiting from London this weekend and we're heading out to the Dales to go to a food and drink festival - hopefully the weather co-operates. Every morning has felt like November and every afternoon like June. I got a sunburn from teaching outside...

a taste of my youth

My friend Betsy and I went to the playground today for a little shoot-around. Basketball isn't really my favourite sport (I just don't have the knack of it), and I can't talk her out to the tennis courts - so we went to where the hoops are.

Last time we went out there, we played a two-on-two with a couple of fellows (we'll call them Jim and Jam). It was a good, intense, and equal match. They were out again today, and we started a game.

And then, five fifteen year old schoolboys of Indo-Pakistani descent asked us in broad Yorkshire accents if we wanted to play full-court with them.

Betsy beckoned to me. "This is getting out of control, Nas."

I agreed. I was really out there for the company and I'm crap at team sports, but by this point the loudest (and least athletic) of the kids was already dividing us into teams. "What the hell Betsy," I said, stretching my thirty-four year old quadriceps, "let's give them a run for their money."

"They probably have more money than we do," Betsy shot back.

Before things got rolling there was the requisite round of trash-talk. The Loudmouth kid was
being, well, loud. I noticed he was wearing jeans and started calling him Levi Strauss (after the denim company, of course - not the famous structuralist anthropologist, Claude Levi-Strauss - although I don't imaine the kids were confused). Somehow, I also dubbed another of the kids "Tyra" (after the fashion model Tyra Banks...he took it really well, though!)

We split into teams and on our first possession when I brought the ball up into their court and an overly eager defender broke my glasses. Nothing takes the fun out of an early evening game than that. And in that moment, I was reminded of an old truth:

No matter how old you get, if you're standing on tarmac with a slightly bent nose and a broken pair of glasses in your hand while a friend puts a hand on your shoulder, asking "Are you all right?" - you're seven years old. It's an involuntary reaction that feels disturbingly like "My mom is gonna KILL me when I get home."

(But I think I've grown a little since then. I went home and got my 'nerd' frames and played out the rest of the game - which is an improvement over staying home and weeping into a bowl of fruit cocktail while getting yelled at for being careless...)

nasser 1, racists 0

Today was an excellent day. Kaley and I went to a place called the Yorkshire Sculpture Park (YSP) on a whim. The sun shone, and the train lazily rolled into Wakefield. We hopped on a bus and walked for half a mile through a neighbourhood populated by almost as many cows as people. Nestled in the midst of this lies scenery is the YSP - a couple of square miles of groomed parkland, dotted with artworks of varying degrees of grandeur and oddity.

I wanted to go to see the Andrew Goldworthy stuff. I had seen a photo of one of the pieces in a newspaper article, but the actual thing (it's called the 'leaf room') utterly astonished me. The other rooms (clay, wood, and stone) were equally breathtaking, each for their own reasons.

(It actually lies beyond my power to describe these installations, or how moving they are. I'd been lucky enough to see some other examples of his work in the National Scottish museum, so I knew I liked his work before I got there. The difference now? I LOVE him. And it's not so much about the works themselves - it's more a sense of how I want to conduct my life. I want to connect to things (real things) with the kind of directness that Goldsworthy accomplished and communicates with his work. Okay, now I'm gushing. Go find his work and see it live, whenever possible. You won't be disappointed.)

We made our way home a bit grudgingly, because Kaley had to work at 5:00pm at the local library. On my solitary trip home, with Kaley safely at work, I noticed a woman (we'll call her the Drunk Old Loud Lady, or DOLL for short) one seat ahead and across from me leaning into the couple sat in front of her, poking the young woman sitting there.

'That's odd," I thought, as the DOLL audibly said something about how everyone hates Chinese people (the DOLL's victim was of visible Asian descent). The elderly African gentleman sitting directly behind the DOLL and across from me reached out and tapped the DOLL on the shoulder in an effort to stop her from harassing the young woman.

"Paki!" the DOLL yelled at the man. "Don't touch me!"

(This is where I felt I had to step in.)

"Actually, I'M the Paki in this situation," I told the DOLL. I don't think she really got the joke, though. I then politely informed her that I was going to tell the driver to escort her from the bus. She dared me to try, and having nothing to lose, I stepped to the front of the bus and told the driver (who was very understanding) about the situation. When I turned to return to my seat, I saw the African gentleman being very un-gentlemanly. He had his hand around the DOLL's throat, and was forcing her back into her seat. I stepped in between them, and order was temporarily restored.

Of course, it WAS just after 5:00, and the bus is moving very slowly (the driver could only eject her at the next stop, and no earlier). Which gave the DOLL time to regroup, and begin yelling more racist obscenities. And the odd thing was, no one did anything. They were waiting for the driver to call in the cops. So I stood up again and said to the DOLL, "Let's just go now. You and me. Let's get off." And somewhat to my surprise, she agreed.

Of course, as soon as she got off, I hopped back on and signaled to the driver to shut the doors.

But not before she yelled "Paki!" one last time as we pulled away.

Turning back into the bus to regain my seat, I was greeted with applause. I raised my hands and let out a whoop.

Score one for the good guys.

(but i suppose she's still out there. which makes me a little sad.)

decided

So I went to the garden - it hasn't rained yet anyway. On the way home, I stopped at the co-op for some Cheerios. I know, I know: they're made by Nestle. Though apparently Nestle has been making large steps towards ethical production. I'm just making myself feel better here...

Leftover stew and yorkshire puds for dinner...comfort food of the highest order.

whether weather

ARGH!! I can't tell weather it's going to rain or not...which means I'm hopping back and forth trying to decide whether to go up to the garden to water everything or wait and see if it rains. If it doesn't rain, I'll have to go up; if it does rain and I have gone up, all my little seeds will be floating! It's been like this for a couple days now: overcast and oppressive, sprinkling every so often but holding back on the downpour that's surely coming. This has been a really dry April.

Well...I suppose I'll wait an hour and see...

starting weak

Do I ever love 'Left and Leaving' by The Weakerthans... It makes me happy no matter when or where I here it. Even though, I suppose, it's nominally a sad song. Or at least a song for reflecting on.

Run today was slow and hard - the weather's gone all funny: humid but not hot. Even by 7.30 the air was unduly heavy. It brings on my asthma - which was bothering me last night - I'm a bloody barometer in this kind of beastly British weather. But we ran nonetheless and that's the thing.

And on Saturday we were up at the garden for nearly four hours. Nas dug three new beds - very impressive. Cath and I dug up and fertilized the other beds and planted onions, garlic, salad leaves, and peas. I know - I don't have any pictures yet - I will put some up soon.

We've been listening to the BBC 24 news channel as part of our mornings lately. It's interesting - usually we become irate at some example of stupidity or ignorance and have to thrash it out before going to work. Today, there was a story about the dramatic increase in unwanted animals - an issue close to my heart. It angered me because the reason for the increase was the number of people simply dumping pets that they no longer wanted to care for. See - I'm getting insensed again. What is it with this culture of not-me? I am so thoroughly sick of people not being at fault. There is no beginning or end to this phenomenon - I see it everywhere. Pedagogy that suggests that there is no 'failure' - there are no 'bad students'. Health stories that blame fat on genes, addiction on upbringing, criminality on lack of caring. When, exactly, do people have to suck it up? Surely we are still striving to teach children that responsibility cannot simply be given up when it becomes inconvenient? Of course, they see exactly this abdication of responsibility and care around them everyday at the highest levels. See - this is the thing - animals and children will always be the first victims of negligence and cruel carelessness - but this is becoming endemic. And I have to level it at bullshit humanistic individualist crap - "I deserve" and "I want" seem to be valid reasons for just about anything. Because if we only 'want' something, we have no real responsibility for it - it's reason for being is only to serve us. When we no longer 'want' it, we can be rid of it. If our 'wants' create things - they are things that fall under our dominion and power - regardless of its autonomy or existence (a kitten, a child), our 'want' has created it...ARGH! I'm not getting this out right.

I know this isn't new - my rage and frustration, I mean. Though likely the apathy that instigates it isn't new either. But why is it okay for some people to wash their hands of responsibility? Why is that okay? Why do they get to be empowered by the act of negating responsibility? I get it - it's heroic for someone to recognize their limits. That's just not bloody good enough. Recognize your limits and then surpass them. It was Pilate that washed his hands.

See! My frustration has driven me to a bible allusion!!

Ooh...that reminds me (in a typical ADHD move) - I have a new book - it's the book too. And it was free - bless those clerical errors at big companies. There is an online King James version but I have to read so much online - it's nice to have the whole thing in easily-referenced print. And, for some reason, I've always felt strange borrowing one from the library. I'm not sure why. I guess I still feel like I should have one... Now I do.

Going solo

Ugh...I don't like running by myself. I'm not sure why - I mean, we don't really chat with each other when we run as a group: grunt and point more like! I think it's just the knowledge that other people are out there with you. I think the yucky run I just completed may also have been influenced by running in the afternoon - I really should stick to morning runs. Which I plan to do from now on. But...I did it! 20 minutes by myself. I managed to run too fast to begin with - sprinted up the stairs at the beginning of my route. Why? Cause I thought it looked cooler... yes, I'm a loser like that. The weather has been lovely - more June than April - so morning runs should be perfect. Hopefully, June won't be more like April...

I had a most unproductive day in the library. Some days everything is on - others... I just sat and stared at my books. I think running in the morning is better for getting the brain-juices flowing as well.

And my seeds came in the mail! Both Nas and I have this weekend off work at the uni libraries so we're going to go a-planting. And digging. I think I killed my heather - which is some kind of accomplishment given how hardy the stuff is. Alas. But I replanted it so maybe it'll come back? My gardening know-how hasn't really improved in two years of having this garden - I still think any food we get is mostly due to the plant's will to survive rather than anything I do!

I've nothing to say about Virginia - nothing can be said. I am shocked and angry at the unwillingness to even broach the subject of gun control from both the BBC and CNN - the desperate manoeuvers to pin blame somewhere are almost comical, if the situation weren't so tragic. I can only wish solace and comfort for the families and friends affected by this.

saturday girl

I'm working in the local studies library in the city today. I love working here. And we've just swapped sides (of the building) with the Business and Research library. Now we have the gorgeous, cathedral ceiling with carved butresses and wooden arches. They are in the process of recovering a Victorian tiled hall downstairs - it looks absolutely beautiful. I'm having an extended go at the city council right now as I believe that they are more focused on tourists and visitors to the city than the people that live here. But this tiled hall and the renovation of the art gallery next door is a point in their favour. That reminds me - local elections are next month...

Things I'm looking for in a candidate:

* committment to my area - which I love for its informality, parks, and multicultural environment
* committment to environmental issues with a real and viable plan to improve recycling and rubbish disposal in our area - as well as working with other reps to improve the city's environmental record generally
* awareness of the often-strained town/gown relations in areas immediately surrounding us - this is a tough one. I really object to the city awarding permission for immense blocks of flats in very desirable locations for students only. We're fairly lucky since where we live is only just starting to be colonized by students. It's not the students I have an issue with, btw, its the landlords - or accurately: land-barons.
* continued support for area improvements. They are finally doing work on the mosque at the end of our road. It's a strange building but I think it will be much more open and inviting when the new landscaping blooms. The parks have been redone pretty recently as well - yea!
* (a real plus - I'd campaign for this person) dedication to and a solid plan for reducing speed in our neighbourhood. There are a lot of children around us - something that I've had to get used to - and no one in the area has a private garden. The only place they have to go is the park down the road or over the tracks. Traffic around us is insane. People rip down the roads with absolutely no regard for anything. It's one of the few things that I can honestly say puts hate in my heart. Actually, that's putting it strongly. But I do intensely dislike them and wish I could wage some kind of masked-vigilante justice on them.

I took my tea-break outside cause the weather is just that nice and was watching some lovely young lads throw themselves about the stairs and railings. I'm not sure what exactly the aim is but they were having a great time doing it. It's not quite parcour - something between that and acrobatics. Anyway, they got chased away by a security guy. I thought that was unfair as they were having fun - they weren't yelling or being rude; they moved politely aside whenever anyone walked by or needed the stairs; they weren't smoking, drinking, or hanging around looking miserable (the preferred pasttime of Leeds youth). And it was rather a good show. I suppose the city would be worried about lawsuits in the case of an accident...? Litigious society...another pet peeve!

But the biggest beef I have today is with the media. Kate and Wills have split. If you haven't heard, wherever you are reading, now you know. I hope it doesn't affect your day as it apparently should be affecting mine. They actually had a commentator on the BBC news this morning! It was the most unbelievably ridiculous 'story' I've ever heard. The commentary was also incredibly insulting to Ms Middleton: she was accused, essentially, of being a nag and not understanding the immense pressure that the future king is under. She was 'neglected' in London while he pursues the traditional and oh-so-useful military career in Dorset. Apparently, his last gaff - something about army buddies, ladies, and media attention, should have been excused by Ms Middleton because that's just what army lads do... charming. The extent of crap attached to that sentiment is greater than the entire 'net can hold. Not once did mr I-actually-get-paid-for-this-spew mention that, though he insisted that the break-up was mutual and amicable - it could have been Ms Middleton's idea. My my, who would dump an embryonic king? Impossible! you say? Ha! I still appreciate the woman for flooring an interviewer who asked her if she thought she was lucky (to be sleeping with the heir-apparent) - she responded with arch disbelief at the question: 'I think he's the lucky one' (or something similar - no, I'm not going to provide a reference - deal).

Either way - why in the name of all that is good do we care about a family whose very existence is proof of the continuing weakness for outmoded and outdated traditions based on birth over merit? Well. That's out of my system.

Auspicious days

Hey! It's Friday the 13th! I hope the weather in Dover is co-operating...! Happy Friday 13th!

Silly bird

Pigeons is dumb birds. I just sat outside with a friend and had a coffee in the early afternoon sunshine and watched a pigeon try to eat an entire crust in one go. Poor thing! The bread got stuck in his beak. I probably looked a fool trying to catch it - yes, I know pigeons are disease carrying vermin but the thing was really getting quite frantic and people around were watching and laughing. At long last, without my help, pigeon managed to cough up the offending piece of lunch and fly off - rather embarassed no doubt.

I'm marking in my office - the last batch of essays for the term. My meeting with my supervisor is in a couple hours and I can never get any research/writing done before such meetings. I've no reason to think that she is going to eviscerate me - but healthy paranoia has kept me going thus far.

And we're planting potatoes and onions this afternoon! My seeds still haven't arrived, alas. I think we're over the threat of frost here - but I never can tell. Potatoes are buried so deep that it shouldn't bother them too much anyway.

Next week, back to class - I really enjoy my seminars this term. My kids are sharp and interested, which makes all the difference in the world. And we're finally getting to Burney's Evelina, which I love teaching. ah...just remembered why I came to campus - I have to report on last semesters student-feedback forms... back to the dungeon.

Keswick is heaven - and other unrhymed revelations

Our kettle broke this morning - the bit attached to the lid came off. So we took the opportunity presented to go into the city and buy a new kettle. As we'd spent £8 on the kettle about three years ago, we weren't too upset. Indeed, originally we thought Ha ha! a perfect excuse to hie us down to the fancy kitchen-gear store and get a company-worthy kettle. Silly us. Such kettles - all bright and shiny with space-age design - run to about £40-50 on sale. Suitably chastened, we went to good ol' Wilko's and found a perfectly useable kettle for £10.

On the way, we also found a sweet bargain at a kitchen store that is going out of business. Denby plateware 50% off! So we are 2 lovely cereal bowls and 2 pasta bowls nearer having decent plates. Which is a silly and frivolous thing, I know. But it made us very happy. And our cheap piece of salmon tasted nicer on such lovely plates. Last time my mum was here, she offered to buy us a set of good plates. I refused on the grounds that our odds and bobs would last til we could buy our own. One of the bowls I was basing that on now has mold under the enamelling... I know mold can grow anywhere in this country, but...!

Lastly, but not leastly, we spent the Easter weekend with friends in the Lake District - a much-needed and absolutely wonderful break from the city and research. Our friends were perfect hosts: they gave us a ride up and back, fed us to bursting point, took us round Keswick, walked up hills that must have been mere strolls for them and generally made us feel at home in P--'s lovely family cottage. Our bedroom was at the back of the cottage and every morning we could wake up to this view:














A quick digression...on the way up to Keswick, we stopped for lunch at Aysgarth Falls in the Dales National Park. It really is stunning - and where one of the fight sequences in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves was filmed. That didn't stop us enjoying the scenery. Here is Nasser smiling up at me from the banks of the river just below the upper falls.

Our friend prepared not one but three egg hunts on Easter Sunday - something completely unanticipated and unbelievably sweet. And it made me very homesick and rather nostalgic: when I was a kid, my grandparents' house was beside an empty lot that was left untouched for years. It was 'the forest' and I spent hours playing in it. Every Easter, when the weather was nice, papa would hide eggs in the forest, under the carpet of pine needles, and I'd scrabble around finding them with my sister and brother. This year, when Nas and I woke up, we found a two trails of eggs leading from our bedroom door - one for each of us! - and out into the garden. In the afternoon, there was a string maze and in the evening an honest-to-goodness egg hunt with clues all over the cottage. Above and beyond the call of duty! And left us both with the most stunning chocolate hangovers ever. This was the haul from the first egg hunt...









Sunday, we climbed up Cat Bells - a hill we could see from the back garden. The weather was perfect - sunshiny and golden with enough of a breeze to keep us well on our toes at the top! The view was amazing - the Lakes is so incredibly stunning. I can see why Wordsworth loved it so - I still can't understand how, in such a beautiful location, he still wrote such awful stuff. The clouds are never lonely up there there's never only one.







On Monday, we dyed our Easter eggs - our good friend was kind enough to send with us some dyes from Bulgaria. They made bew-tee-fool eggs which we took out into the fog and clouds of Lattrig and sent rolling down the fells. I can't remember which one won - though my friend and I discovered that unpeeled, hard-boiled eggs are bouncier...








Apparently, Lattrig is the traditional site of egg-rolling in Keswick. We were the only ones up there that day - the weather being unsuitable for much other than chasing sheep and imagining how great the view would be without the fog.







So that was our weekend. If we could've, we'd never have come home. But no - it's nice to be back with Logan and Laila and our books and on our street. We have a new neighbour who has a lovely puppy. The weather is getting warmer - we're planting our potatoes on Friday. We're already planning on going back to the Lakes though...

fresh starts and a solid finish

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!

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.)

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!

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.

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 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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

obligatory soft focus kitten shots

i thought that things seemed a bit text-heavy lately, so here's a gratuitous shot of our foundling.

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).

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.

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...!

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.

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.

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.

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)

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.

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?

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.

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

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...