I’m back at work this week, after that fall break last week.
I have to admit that I surprised myself with a certain amount of dread about coming back. I was surprised because I love this job, this university – I tend to have a good time here. I suppose, though, that it was because I had a quiet, productive week at home, and that put me in touch with what it feels like to have space of my own, and home-cooked food, and relationships (with people other than students) – all things that are in short supply in Uni City. I also desperately missed Mr. K before I even left, and all day yesterday, my first day back. I missed him on a very visceral level – the feel of him. It was hard, too, to watch him panic as I left. (Boxers naturally look sad because of their droopy cheeks, it’s true – but there is no question that Mr. K was feeling especially down yesterday as he watched me get ready to leave after ten lovely days together.)
Returning to my fourth-year seminar last night, though, wove me back into this life. I walked in there exhausted and relatively unmotivated, and left energized and happy. And today I’ve had another very productive day, what with finishing up and sending off that thing I was working on last week, and doing up a frightfully complex job application, and looking into some research travel (my book project involves work in Paris archives and museums…fun but daunting – expensive!). I feel back into this world, and I like it.
My Chair also reminds me how much I like it here. I’ve mentioned before how excellent she is at her job – she falls into the category of senior scholars I deeply admire, for various reasons. I try to watch and learn from what she does that makes me feel so good - things that are also deeply appreciated by many, many others, judging by people’s loving responses to her, the extent to which they praise her if I mention her name. She is unfailingly genuine and generous with her time and her spirit, and with her ideas. Her commitment to the program is deep and, I think, emotional, but she is pragmatic; she gets things done. The amazing thing is that she manages to make this little department, our little corner of this campus, feel like something approximating a real community.
Today we chatted a lot – about life and work. And then, as she was leaving to go and carve her pumpkin, she spontaneously asked me if I wanted to come over for pizza and Halloween treat-dispensing this evening. This will give me a chance, she said, to meet her partner and her dog.
Of course I’m delighted to be asked, and I’m about to head over to her place…I love the energy in the air on Halloween nights, the people in the street. I miss handing out candy – GF and I live on a major street and no kids come by, sadly.
But I’m also ever so slightly wary. Not of my Chair – she’s lovely, obviously. I’m wary of my own capacity for attachment. Let’s face it, as hard as I’ve been trying to remain nonchalant about what I’m doing here ,I’m already deeply attached to this place that I have no future guarantees with. Christ, I was attached before I came here, what with it being my dream job and all! I would like more than anything in the world to get the tenure-track job they’re on the verge of posting, but the chances of that are slim to middling, because of the combination of fields they need to hire in. I’ve spent the fall trying to balance the need to protect myself emotionally, with my immediate and visceral love for my students and for some of the things that go on here. I’ve told myself it’s a good thing that I’m not really integrating into the community terribly much for that reason. But here I go, integrating.
Sigh.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
Friday Recipe Blogging: Savoury Scrambled Tofu
Good lord, I'm blogging yet again.
But I'm allowed to, I guess, because what a productive day it's been. I have nearly finished the encyclopedia entry, done up an abstract for a presentation at my university, looked over Medieval Woman's awesome syllabus and corresponded with her about it, and decided to organize a panel on Exciting Topic for good, big, intimidating conference next fall - and potentially got one presenter already (besides me). I have also done four loads of laundry, cleaned the floors, and gone for a run in the wind and rain. And blogged twice before this. And it's not even 7:00.
I'm going to make the tofu scramble below for dinner, before the Queen of Dereliction comes over for a long evening. This is a recipe GF and I eat all the time around here; we love it. I find that other tofu scrambles aren't flavourful enough, often. This one is all flavour - I sort of think of it as vegan junk food. It's not about subtlety. But it's gooood. We usually eat it for dinner, with salad or something. But it can also, of course, be had for brunch - and is good in a tortilla, as a breakfast burrito. Also, it's exceptionally easy...I find that this is a theme with the recipes I post here, even though I do like to cook. I don't do much complex cooking these days.
SAVOURY SCRAMBLED TOFU
From Juice for Life: Modern Food and Luscious Juice
1 tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 1/2 cups tofu
3 tbsp Engevita (nutritional) yeast
2 tsp dill
2 tsp garlic powder
Pinch turmeric
1 1/2 tsp sea salt
1 tsp black pepper
1/2 cup water
Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over meduium heat. Add the onion and garlic and saute until translucent. Crumble the tofu with your hands and add to the pan. Cook for two minutes.
Combine the yeast, sill, garlic powder, turmeric, sea salt, and pepper in a small bowl with just enough water to make a think sauce. Whisk with a fork to remove all lumps.
Pour this mixture onto your tofu and stir frequently. The turmeric will give the tofu a nice golden glow. Cook until liquid has evaporated. Remove from heat.
NOTES: I use a 454-gram/1 lb. cake of tofu. I think 1 1/2 tsp salt is way too much; I use a scant teaspoon. I have never put the garlic powder in, because I don't have garlic powder. It's fine without it.
But I'm allowed to, I guess, because what a productive day it's been. I have nearly finished the encyclopedia entry, done up an abstract for a presentation at my university, looked over Medieval Woman's awesome syllabus and corresponded with her about it, and decided to organize a panel on Exciting Topic for good, big, intimidating conference next fall - and potentially got one presenter already (besides me). I have also done four loads of laundry, cleaned the floors, and gone for a run in the wind and rain. And blogged twice before this. And it's not even 7:00.
I'm going to make the tofu scramble below for dinner, before the Queen of Dereliction comes over for a long evening. This is a recipe GF and I eat all the time around here; we love it. I find that other tofu scrambles aren't flavourful enough, often. This one is all flavour - I sort of think of it as vegan junk food. It's not about subtlety. But it's gooood. We usually eat it for dinner, with salad or something. But it can also, of course, be had for brunch - and is good in a tortilla, as a breakfast burrito. Also, it's exceptionally easy...I find that this is a theme with the recipes I post here, even though I do like to cook. I don't do much complex cooking these days.
SAVOURY SCRAMBLED TOFU
From Juice for Life: Modern Food and Luscious Juice
1 tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 1/2 cups tofu
3 tbsp Engevita (nutritional) yeast
2 tsp dill
2 tsp garlic powder
Pinch turmeric
1 1/2 tsp sea salt
1 tsp black pepper
1/2 cup water
Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over meduium heat. Add the onion and garlic and saute until translucent. Crumble the tofu with your hands and add to the pan. Cook for two minutes.
Combine the yeast, sill, garlic powder, turmeric, sea salt, and pepper in a small bowl with just enough water to make a think sauce. Whisk with a fork to remove all lumps.
Pour this mixture onto your tofu and stir frequently. The turmeric will give the tofu a nice golden glow. Cook until liquid has evaporated. Remove from heat.
NOTES: I use a 454-gram/1 lb. cake of tofu. I think 1 1/2 tsp salt is way too much; I use a scant teaspoon. I have never put the garlic powder in, because I don't have garlic powder. It's fine without it.
Friday meme-ing
I feel as if I'm nearing the end of this encyclopedia entry, and the last 800 words are easy to write, I think, so I think I can reward myself with a frivolous meme seen at Polyopia.
Explain what ended your last relationship?
Hmmm. Almost impossible to answer unless I write a terribly incoherent book. Let's say "a confluence of factors" to guide us away from the fact that I really don't know.
When was the last time you shaved?
Erm - about two weeks ago.
What were you doing this morning at 8 a.m.?
Standing outside in the cold with the dog. At the park across the street.
What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Making ginger tea.
Are you any good at math?
I am not good. I failed Grade Eleven math through sheer lack of effort, and that was the end of my math career.
Your prom night, what do you remember about it?
I didn't have a prom. I went to alternative schools.
Do you have any famous ancestors?
The Pankhursts, English suffragettes par excellence!
Have you had to take a loan out for school?
Only twice in twelve years; I was lucky with scholarships, and, in the beginning, dad help.
Do you know the words to the song on your MySpace profile?
What MySpace profile?
Last thing received in the mail?
A quarterly statement on ethical funds.
How many different beverages have you had today?
Three. Water, two cups of English breakfast tea, and ginger tea.
Do you ever leave messages on people’s answering machine?
Voicemail, sure.
Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to?
Unfortunately, it was Lionel Richie (fall 1986). This wasn't because I was a fan, but because some friend's dad had comp tickets he gave us. Sheila E. opened, and she impressed me. My first chosen concert was U2, 1987. Those remain the only stadium concerts I've ever been to.
Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
Nope.
What’s the most painful dental procedure you’ve had?
Wisdom teeth removal, I guess - though I was under, so it was post-procedure pain. And then it got infected a week later - that was painful. (I've had so few dental procedures, and they were mostly 25 years ago - except the wisdom teeth - that I'm terrified of them. And have to have a filling replaced a week from today, and I'm worried. I'm a wimp.)
What is out your back door?
Stone steps to the backyard.
Any plans for Friday night?
Er, illegal substances, to be honest. With my friend, the Queen of Dereliction.
Do you like what the ocean does to your hair?
Very much, though I know I wouldn't like it if the ocean were an everyday thing for me - since I am very fastidious and obsessive about having healthy hair.
Have you ever been to a planetarium?
Yes.
Do you re-use towels after you shower?
Of course.
Some things you are excited about?
GF returning from her trip a week from tomorrow. Going dancing tomorrow night. Being finished with this encyclopedia entry soon.
What is your favorite flavor of JELL-O?
Red. (I know, I know, that's not a flavour.)
Describe your keychain(s)?
Way, way too many keys, including two for bike locks and four for various uni offices and doors. They hang on a keychain from the Swansea (Wales) Summer Festival, or some such, which I got at an outdoor production of Pride and Prejudice in Swansea in 2004.
Where do you keep your change?
In my wallet, which means the wallet very, very heavy. Down with pennies!
When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
Well, last week, I guess, though my largest class is only 25.
What was the weather like on your graduation day?
High school: I don't remember. Warm, I think.
BA: Freezing and blustery and grey.
MA: I didn't go.
PhD: February-y. Grey.
Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
Open. There's no one to shut it on.
Explain what ended your last relationship?
Hmmm. Almost impossible to answer unless I write a terribly incoherent book. Let's say "a confluence of factors" to guide us away from the fact that I really don't know.
When was the last time you shaved?
Erm - about two weeks ago.
What were you doing this morning at 8 a.m.?
Standing outside in the cold with the dog. At the park across the street.
What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Making ginger tea.
Are you any good at math?
I am not good. I failed Grade Eleven math through sheer lack of effort, and that was the end of my math career.
Your prom night, what do you remember about it?
I didn't have a prom. I went to alternative schools.
Do you have any famous ancestors?
The Pankhursts, English suffragettes par excellence!
Have you had to take a loan out for school?
Only twice in twelve years; I was lucky with scholarships, and, in the beginning, dad help.
Do you know the words to the song on your MySpace profile?
What MySpace profile?
Last thing received in the mail?
A quarterly statement on ethical funds.
How many different beverages have you had today?
Three. Water, two cups of English breakfast tea, and ginger tea.
Do you ever leave messages on people’s answering machine?
Voicemail, sure.
Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to?
Unfortunately, it was Lionel Richie (fall 1986). This wasn't because I was a fan, but because some friend's dad had comp tickets he gave us. Sheila E. opened, and she impressed me. My first chosen concert was U2, 1987. Those remain the only stadium concerts I've ever been to.
Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
Nope.
What’s the most painful dental procedure you’ve had?
Wisdom teeth removal, I guess - though I was under, so it was post-procedure pain. And then it got infected a week later - that was painful. (I've had so few dental procedures, and they were mostly 25 years ago - except the wisdom teeth - that I'm terrified of them. And have to have a filling replaced a week from today, and I'm worried. I'm a wimp.)
What is out your back door?
Stone steps to the backyard.
Any plans for Friday night?
Er, illegal substances, to be honest. With my friend, the Queen of Dereliction.
Do you like what the ocean does to your hair?
Very much, though I know I wouldn't like it if the ocean were an everyday thing for me - since I am very fastidious and obsessive about having healthy hair.
Have you ever been to a planetarium?
Yes.
Do you re-use towels after you shower?
Of course.
Some things you are excited about?
GF returning from her trip a week from tomorrow. Going dancing tomorrow night. Being finished with this encyclopedia entry soon.
What is your favorite flavor of JELL-O?
Red. (I know, I know, that's not a flavour.)
Describe your keychain(s)?
Way, way too many keys, including two for bike locks and four for various uni offices and doors. They hang on a keychain from the Swansea (Wales) Summer Festival, or some such, which I got at an outdoor production of Pride and Prejudice in Swansea in 2004.
Where do you keep your change?
In my wallet, which means the wallet very, very heavy. Down with pennies!
When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
Well, last week, I guess, though my largest class is only 25.
What was the weather like on your graduation day?
High school: I don't remember. Warm, I think.
BA: Freezing and blustery and grey.
MA: I didn't go.
PhD: February-y. Grey.
Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
Open. There's no one to shut it on.
Requiem for a university
Yesterday I went to Grad School University for the first time since my PhD convocation in February. (I know, February - weird.) A student of mine from the last time I TA'd there - two years ago - has been in touch, and really wanted to see me if ever I was on campus. So I planned a visit there since I also needed to use their library to get some articles for my winter term teaching.
It was a strange feeling, walking the crowded trajectories of that institution I'd spent so very many years at. On one level, it is so familiar that it's in my muscle memory. I walked like an automaton through corridors I'd passed through probably thousands of times. It took conscious effort to remind myself that I wasn't the same person I was when I was there, that the me on these paths had grown away from this place, that I wasn't on my way to the lecture for the course I TA'd for, or to buy myself a banana bran tea biscuit at the coffee shop or whatever else I used to do there. But if I wasn't doing any of those things, if I wasn't really here any longer, what was my relationship to it?
I went to the library - again, the almost oppressive sense of familiarity closed in - and then made my way to where my PhD program lives. Things have changed so drastically there that when I stepped off the elevator, I felt immediately lost, was convinced that the offices weren't there anymore, and almost gave up. I spent a few disoriented minutes wandering around the hallways before I got to the office.
I sat and chatted with the program's admin assistant for half an hour. I emerged with the clearest sense of liberation from this place. The assistant told me endless tales of the woes that have beset the program and the institution. Add to that what I heard from grumpyabdadjunct at our blogger meetup the other day (she is there, too!) and the vicious fighting that takes place among students on the departmental email list (which I am still on - though not for much longer, thank god). Frankly, it seems like it's going to hell in a handbasket. I can't express the relief I felt about being gone from there. It seems to me as if the institution's current direction crystallizes everything that is wrong with higher education today. And the grad program - that ultimately unfriendly program populated in part by self-righteous, emotionally stunted twits - is just as bad, though it styles itself as the opposition to the institutional disaster.
If I were starting there now, I realized, I don't know if I would finish. I think I'd be out of there within the year. Ouch.
So I left that chat profoundly relieved, but also sad. I went to find my former student, Antonio. We had a lovely lunch in a sunny window. Antonio remembered minute details of our course. Things I said, things other students said, the details of arguments he made in a paper on a text he'd fallen in love with, one that I love too. The way I'd come out to him - he is a very openly and flamboyantly gay man - toward the end of the year, shocking him. What I drank (cider) when I took a few of them out to the pub after our last class! He told me, "You were the best TA or prof ever!" Which was so nice to hear from him, a student I respeted greatly. I told him - and it was true - that he'd been perhaps the principal reason our class had succeeded so well; it was his commitment, his work ethic, but also his openness to ideas and willingness to cooperate, that set the tone. Last year I very happily wrote a letter of recommendation to that effect, for the concurrent education program. He got in. He will be a great teacher.
The time with Antonio mediated the earlier, rather distressing time I'd had. Even as the institution loses its way, there will still be people like Antonio, who will forge bonds with people like me, and those relationships will be precious. What is terrible is to realize that they will increasingly be lived under duress. And that should be fought against very hard.
It was a strange feeling, walking the crowded trajectories of that institution I'd spent so very many years at. On one level, it is so familiar that it's in my muscle memory. I walked like an automaton through corridors I'd passed through probably thousands of times. It took conscious effort to remind myself that I wasn't the same person I was when I was there, that the me on these paths had grown away from this place, that I wasn't on my way to the lecture for the course I TA'd for, or to buy myself a banana bran tea biscuit at the coffee shop or whatever else I used to do there. But if I wasn't doing any of those things, if I wasn't really here any longer, what was my relationship to it?
I went to the library - again, the almost oppressive sense of familiarity closed in - and then made my way to where my PhD program lives. Things have changed so drastically there that when I stepped off the elevator, I felt immediately lost, was convinced that the offices weren't there anymore, and almost gave up. I spent a few disoriented minutes wandering around the hallways before I got to the office.
I sat and chatted with the program's admin assistant for half an hour. I emerged with the clearest sense of liberation from this place. The assistant told me endless tales of the woes that have beset the program and the institution. Add to that what I heard from grumpyabdadjunct at our blogger meetup the other day (she is there, too!) and the vicious fighting that takes place among students on the departmental email list (which I am still on - though not for much longer, thank god). Frankly, it seems like it's going to hell in a handbasket. I can't express the relief I felt about being gone from there. It seems to me as if the institution's current direction crystallizes everything that is wrong with higher education today. And the grad program - that ultimately unfriendly program populated in part by self-righteous, emotionally stunted twits - is just as bad, though it styles itself as the opposition to the institutional disaster.
If I were starting there now, I realized, I don't know if I would finish. I think I'd be out of there within the year. Ouch.
So I left that chat profoundly relieved, but also sad. I went to find my former student, Antonio. We had a lovely lunch in a sunny window. Antonio remembered minute details of our course. Things I said, things other students said, the details of arguments he made in a paper on a text he'd fallen in love with, one that I love too. The way I'd come out to him - he is a very openly and flamboyantly gay man - toward the end of the year, shocking him. What I drank (cider) when I took a few of them out to the pub after our last class! He told me, "You were the best TA or prof ever!" Which was so nice to hear from him, a student I respeted greatly. I told him - and it was true - that he'd been perhaps the principal reason our class had succeeded so well; it was his commitment, his work ethic, but also his openness to ideas and willingness to cooperate, that set the tone. Last year I very happily wrote a letter of recommendation to that effect, for the concurrent education program. He got in. He will be a great teacher.
The time with Antonio mediated the earlier, rather distressing time I'd had. Even as the institution loses its way, there will still be people like Antonio, who will forge bonds with people like me, and those relationships will be precious. What is terrible is to realize that they will increasingly be lived under duress. And that should be fought against very hard.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The goodness of today
This is turning out to be a nicer day than usual...not that my days have been bad, per se, but they have admittedly been characterized by a kind of searching/questioning/uncomfortable orientation of late:
Why is this a nice Wednesday?
Why is this a nice Wednesday?
- The sun came out! Hurrah!It was only for about 15 minutes. But still - it's about damn time.
- I have been battling a cold for the last 48 hours. It has been trying to worm its way in to wreak havoc, but I have been struggling valiantly against it. I sense that I am triumphant.
- There are roasted beets in my fridge and in my life.
- I just spoke to my great friend in Berlin, whom I miss and don't talk to enough. We made a plan to have her be accountable to me with her dissertation writing, as she tries to finish up a PhD that has dragged on too long. She will send me 20 pages every two weeks. I love being involved in something like this; it makes me feel productive, too.
- Today I was able to let my hair down as I wrote my encyclopedia entry, and say, "to hell with structure - I'll fix it later!" I've never really been able to do this before, as I wrote the other day about my difficulties with revision.
- I am having dinner with a good friend tonight at my favourite Japanese restaurant.
- I have been having such a satisfying off-blog email conversation with a blogger about work/life. Also I had a lovely blogger meetup on Monday. This "community" rocks!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Editing skills, or lack thereof
I am writing a long encyclopedia entry this week.
It is putting me in touch with the naked fact of my inability to edit.
I've never been in a situation where I've needed to deeply edit my writing - at a structural level, I mean.
My mode has always been to edit as I go...I don't just freewrite and then go back and cut and rewrite. I write, carefully, once. I work sentence by sentence, deleting or restructuring individual thoughts at sentence level before I go on to the next thought/sentence. It has meant that I am not the world's fastest writer (nor am I, by any means, the slowest), but also that I have never had occasion to tear apart something I've written. Because I've gone over something so fine-toothedly at the micro-level, I effectively understand the finished product as...well, completely and forever finished.
In retrospect, I wish there had been significant structural problems with my dissertation, so that my supervisor or committee members had asked me to restructure. (Actually, I think there are structural problems, but nobody else ever said there were.) Rather, what feedback I got on this largest piece of my work to date, which could have made me an editing machine, was at the level of a missing reference here, an idea that needed pushing there, a context I might want to mention way over there. I didn't actually have a lot of revisions at all. And that was nice then, sure. But now it is leaving me flailing a little.
That conference paper I gave ten days ago? It is a mess, in terms of structure. I could feel this as I wrote it, but couldn't figure out what to do about it (possibly because I wasn't willing to just start slashing and burning, such an approach being too painfully novel to me). I showed it to a friend, and he said it was fine. But when I was giving the paper, I thought, "Oh dear. This doesn't work." I feel quite certain about this. But the task of fixing it is completely daunting. In the end, it will be okay with this work because what I'm going to do is significantly expand and lengthen it. And I feel as if that expansion will have a healing effect, so to speak. But if I had to just restructure in the context of the truncated work that it is as a conference paper, I wouldn't know where to begin.
And now I'm writing this encyclopedia entry, and the challenge I gave myself was to just write, and to worry about the big-picture structure later. To train myself in this. Could I do it? No. I still niggle over every sentence, line editing as I go, so that when I am happy with a sentence or paragraph, it feels as if it is effectively set in stone. But I know that this one, too, is going to have some structural problems. And again, how will I fix them? Argh!
I sometimes tell myself that it's okay, that this is just my style, and blah blah blah. But I don't think it is okay, because it's getting me in hot water lately.
If anyone has any fantabulous and less painful editing techniques they'd like to share, I'll be all ears.
It is putting me in touch with the naked fact of my inability to edit.
I've never been in a situation where I've needed to deeply edit my writing - at a structural level, I mean.
My mode has always been to edit as I go...I don't just freewrite and then go back and cut and rewrite. I write, carefully, once. I work sentence by sentence, deleting or restructuring individual thoughts at sentence level before I go on to the next thought/sentence. It has meant that I am not the world's fastest writer (nor am I, by any means, the slowest), but also that I have never had occasion to tear apart something I've written. Because I've gone over something so fine-toothedly at the micro-level, I effectively understand the finished product as...well, completely and forever finished.
In retrospect, I wish there had been significant structural problems with my dissertation, so that my supervisor or committee members had asked me to restructure. (Actually, I think there are structural problems, but nobody else ever said there were.) Rather, what feedback I got on this largest piece of my work to date, which could have made me an editing machine, was at the level of a missing reference here, an idea that needed pushing there, a context I might want to mention way over there. I didn't actually have a lot of revisions at all. And that was nice then, sure. But now it is leaving me flailing a little.
That conference paper I gave ten days ago? It is a mess, in terms of structure. I could feel this as I wrote it, but couldn't figure out what to do about it (possibly because I wasn't willing to just start slashing and burning, such an approach being too painfully novel to me). I showed it to a friend, and he said it was fine. But when I was giving the paper, I thought, "Oh dear. This doesn't work." I feel quite certain about this. But the task of fixing it is completely daunting. In the end, it will be okay with this work because what I'm going to do is significantly expand and lengthen it. And I feel as if that expansion will have a healing effect, so to speak. But if I had to just restructure in the context of the truncated work that it is as a conference paper, I wouldn't know where to begin.
And now I'm writing this encyclopedia entry, and the challenge I gave myself was to just write, and to worry about the big-picture structure later. To train myself in this. Could I do it? No. I still niggle over every sentence, line editing as I go, so that when I am happy with a sentence or paragraph, it feels as if it is effectively set in stone. But I know that this one, too, is going to have some structural problems. And again, how will I fix them? Argh!
I sometimes tell myself that it's okay, that this is just my style, and blah blah blah. But I don't think it is okay, because it's getting me in hot water lately.
If anyone has any fantabulous and less painful editing techniques they'd like to share, I'll be all ears.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Two weekend highlights
This was going to be a post trying to work through some reflections I have brewing about the loneliness I wrote about last time...but I think I'll save that for another time. Because there were two great things about my weekend:
Remember how I posted, last month, about my mourning the very close friendship I had made in last year's Uni City? About how it seemed to be over with Faux-Girlfriend? Well, I won't bore you with the details - they have to do with a major problem I was having with my ISP, which was screwing with my emails to and from a few people...and what I didn't realize was that she was included in that small group. We literally weren't getting each other's messages. Anyway, we are so back on - have talked a couple of times, and are emailing. And it feels so good - such deep relief.
Faux-Girlfriend was in Home City for the weekend, and she and her boyfriend stayed overnight with me last night. As if that weren't enough - and it really was special, it really felt like an emotional reunion - they had stocked up on fine food. They'd bought five artisanal Quebec cheeses, and the best olives I've had in North America, and homemade caramelized onion flatbread, and sparkling wine, and Riesling, and handmade caramel/sea salt truffles . And we made that our dinner, and it was divine. Since one of the things Faux-Girlfriend and I share is a deep love of good food - and of drinking together - it was about the loveliest thing I'd done in months. And the cheese! Good lord, the cheese...
And then tonight, there was this: A CBC TV movie called Booky Makes Her Mark. When I was ten or eleven, I had an obsession with these Canadian young adult books by Bernice Thurman Hunter, about a character named Booky. I reread those books - especially With Love From Booky - more than any other. I'm not sure what it was about them that appealed so much - probably the depiction of everyday life in a historical period, the Great Depression..I continue to enjoy that. And the books were set in Home City - I think it was in part that I was able to map out Booky's life. Also, Booky wanted to be a writer, a fantasy that appealed deeply to the voracious reader - and writer - that I was in those days. It's funny - I recall that I was on to adult books in general, but I just could not get enough of that series...Many of the scenes in those books are really etched in my consciousness...
And yet, of course, I'd forgotten about them. So to have them made into this Sunday-night, classic-CBC, gritty-but-feelgood TV movie was just such a thrill! What a way to be reminded. Best of all, Megan Follows starred as Booky's mother. Megan Follows! Could Sunday night have gotten any better? Megan Follows, of course, played Anne of Green Gables in the two CBC miniseries of those LM Montgomery books - TV events with which I was similarly obsessed, in the same period as the Booky books.
Sigh. I even ate my dinner (which involved roasted sweet potatoes - yum!) in front of the TV, watching Booky and Megan. My mother never allowed me to eat in front of the TV. That's a policy that I agree with in spirit (imagine being a single mum, cooking dinner for your ungrateful kid and having her eat it slouching in front of the TV instead of talking to you). But I have to say that eating a meal while I watch TV still resonates with forbidden decadence.
Remember how I posted, last month, about my mourning the very close friendship I had made in last year's Uni City? About how it seemed to be over with Faux-Girlfriend? Well, I won't bore you with the details - they have to do with a major problem I was having with my ISP, which was screwing with my emails to and from a few people...and what I didn't realize was that she was included in that small group. We literally weren't getting each other's messages. Anyway, we are so back on - have talked a couple of times, and are emailing. And it feels so good - such deep relief.
Faux-Girlfriend was in Home City for the weekend, and she and her boyfriend stayed overnight with me last night. As if that weren't enough - and it really was special, it really felt like an emotional reunion - they had stocked up on fine food. They'd bought five artisanal Quebec cheeses, and the best olives I've had in North America, and homemade caramelized onion flatbread, and sparkling wine, and Riesling, and handmade caramel/sea salt truffles . And we made that our dinner, and it was divine. Since one of the things Faux-Girlfriend and I share is a deep love of good food - and of drinking together - it was about the loveliest thing I'd done in months. And the cheese! Good lord, the cheese...
And then tonight, there was this: A CBC TV movie called Booky Makes Her Mark. When I was ten or eleven, I had an obsession with these Canadian young adult books by Bernice Thurman Hunter, about a character named Booky. I reread those books - especially With Love From Booky - more than any other. I'm not sure what it was about them that appealed so much - probably the depiction of everyday life in a historical period, the Great Depression..I continue to enjoy that. And the books were set in Home City - I think it was in part that I was able to map out Booky's life. Also, Booky wanted to be a writer, a fantasy that appealed deeply to the voracious reader - and writer - that I was in those days. It's funny - I recall that I was on to adult books in general, but I just could not get enough of that series...Many of the scenes in those books are really etched in my consciousness...
And yet, of course, I'd forgotten about them. So to have them made into this Sunday-night, classic-CBC, gritty-but-feelgood TV movie was just such a thrill! What a way to be reminded. Best of all, Megan Follows starred as Booky's mother. Megan Follows! Could Sunday night have gotten any better? Megan Follows, of course, played Anne of Green Gables in the two CBC miniseries of those LM Montgomery books - TV events with which I was similarly obsessed, in the same period as the Booky books.
Sigh. I even ate my dinner (which involved roasted sweet potatoes - yum!) in front of the TV, watching Booky and Megan. My mother never allowed me to eat in front of the TV. That's a policy that I agree with in spirit (imagine being a single mum, cooking dinner for your ungrateful kid and having her eat it slouching in front of the TV instead of talking to you). But I have to say that eating a meal while I watch TV still resonates with forbidden decadence.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Lonely Friday
I am at the beginning of my fall break, since I don't teach on Fridays - next week is a week off. It comes just in time, too, in terms of work I have to catch up on; I have a long encyclopedia entry due on the 31st that I haven't started yet, because writing that conference paper for last week took longer than I imagined it would...I also have more job applications to do, and I have been requested to submit an abstract for a research presentation at my university. And I have to finish getting copies of readings for a new course that starts in January, so I can get the coursepack produced. So I'll be productively busy for the next ten days. Amidst all of this, since I'm in Home City, I have a whole lot of catching up to do with friends...and am filling my week up with little dates. Including my very first-ever blogger meetup, scheduled for Monday!
What is sad is that GF isn't here. She left, on Monday, on a three-week trip. (The company she worked for essentially folded in mid-September...in lieu of a traditional severance, she has salary continuance for seven months...so is happily off in Europe before she starts a new job later in November - a job she's really excited about.) This is great for her - it's what she needed after months of stress about the job ending; I'm so happy she's taken this trip - she's been wanting for years to get to Italy, and is finally doing it.
Except, except...I'm lonely for her. I feel as if we're incredibly distant from each other right now. I spend half weeks in Uni City, so only see her on weekends. And we have both been on these trips of our own that cut into that time together. We have plans to go away for a few days over Christmas (both of us really like escaping that fuss), but all I can see in the foreseeable future, besides that, is time apart. More trips taken on our own - I have a weekend next month, and ten days in February, and conferences in April and May...All without her.
This would be okay - we're both very independent - except that it feels as if what little time we've had together has also been strained, of late. Our day and a half together before she left for the trip was characterized by low-grade irritation...she seemed profoundly annoyed by me. Not a good way to leave things before three weeks apart. This isn't new, really. We talk most days when I am away...I call her. This seems normal to me...we have alife together, have lived together for over three years. I don't want to talk at length, just look for a ten- or fifteen-minute check-in. And I save things up to tell her about. But almost every time I call, these days, the dynamic is the same. I never feel as if she's happy to hear from me, and in fact feel as if I'm irritating her. I always say, a minute or two into our conversation, "well, sounds like this is a bad time...I'll talk to you later..."And she, wanly and unconvincingly, tells me it's fine.
I brought this up last weekend, and she explained that she just doesn't do well on the phone, especially when our moods are so different...I'm usually calling her all excited and with things to report...and she's just...hanging out.
But still. Last year, we lived apart. I actually moved to last year's Uni City...and only came home for a few days every two-three weeks. And we did so well! Talking on the phone and all.
So now I feel slightly paranoid and a little bit uncertain. I don't want more uncertainty - I have enough, with not knowing whether I'll be employed after May 31, and not knowing where I'll be in a year from now. I want this relationship to feel like a rock, and it doesn't right now.
What is sad is that GF isn't here. She left, on Monday, on a three-week trip. (The company she worked for essentially folded in mid-September...in lieu of a traditional severance, she has salary continuance for seven months...so is happily off in Europe before she starts a new job later in November - a job she's really excited about.) This is great for her - it's what she needed after months of stress about the job ending; I'm so happy she's taken this trip - she's been wanting for years to get to Italy, and is finally doing it.
Except, except...I'm lonely for her. I feel as if we're incredibly distant from each other right now. I spend half weeks in Uni City, so only see her on weekends. And we have both been on these trips of our own that cut into that time together. We have plans to go away for a few days over Christmas (both of us really like escaping that fuss), but all I can see in the foreseeable future, besides that, is time apart. More trips taken on our own - I have a weekend next month, and ten days in February, and conferences in April and May...All without her.
This would be okay - we're both very independent - except that it feels as if what little time we've had together has also been strained, of late. Our day and a half together before she left for the trip was characterized by low-grade irritation...she seemed profoundly annoyed by me. Not a good way to leave things before three weeks apart. This isn't new, really. We talk most days when I am away...I call her. This seems normal to me...we have alife together, have lived together for over three years. I don't want to talk at length, just look for a ten- or fifteen-minute check-in. And I save things up to tell her about. But almost every time I call, these days, the dynamic is the same. I never feel as if she's happy to hear from me, and in fact feel as if I'm irritating her. I always say, a minute or two into our conversation, "well, sounds like this is a bad time...I'll talk to you later..."And she, wanly and unconvincingly, tells me it's fine.
I brought this up last weekend, and she explained that she just doesn't do well on the phone, especially when our moods are so different...I'm usually calling her all excited and with things to report...and she's just...hanging out.
But still. Last year, we lived apart. I actually moved to last year's Uni City...and only came home for a few days every two-three weeks. And we did so well! Talking on the phone and all.
So now I feel slightly paranoid and a little bit uncertain. I don't want more uncertainty - I have enough, with not knowing whether I'll be employed after May 31, and not knowing where I'll be in a year from now. I want this relationship to feel like a rock, and it doesn't right now.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Performative dressing and teaching
The other day, New Kid on the Hallway posted a really interesting musing about the way teaching academics’ dress changes as their career progresses – she was thinking especially about the ways that things shift in the transition from TA to professor. In response, I’ve been thinking about my own history of dressing to teach, and it seems to me that the change reflects something larger about teaching and how the place it takes in my life…
When I was a TA for six years, I didn’t think much about what I wore. I was fine with wearing jeans; I didn’t look terribly different from my students. When, last year, I became a full-time professor, I began to think quite consciously about my sartorial presentation. I began to dress up, to some extent. I don’t wear jeans to teach, for example – the only time I’m comfortable wearing them in the classroom is on those rare occasions when students are writing an exam or test – i.e. when the spotlight isn’t on me. I don’t wear suits, generally, either – I only own one suit, and it’s fairly dramatic. But I do think about achieving a pulled-together look when I am teaching. Part of this is about projecting authority, since I am mistaken for being younger than I am. But there is, I think, much more to it.
This year, since I am spending half of each week away in Uni City, I have to pack on Sunday nights. This demands that I decide on Sundays what I will wear on each day Monday through Thursday. So there is a very deliberate quality to my dressing…On Sunday night, I imagine each day, feel for myself anew the tenor of that day’s class, and decide how I might best match it - or, more accurately, meet it – with dress. There is some subtlety in this decision-making; I imagine that the theory class, in its Main Campus incarnation, demands a different presentation than the tiny, seven-student version of that class at Satellite Campus.
All of this clothing-related deliberation might sound trite and ridiculous. But I don’t think it is. I realize that it has much to do with the way the performative element of teaching. By performance I don’t mean masquerade in the sense of hiding anything about myself…I mean an enhancement of who I am. Teaching was a major step for me, as someone who was shy when I began; the first year I TA’d was excruciating. But it has changed me, as I’ve written before. And that’s because it puts me in touch with elements of myself I’d never have seen without it, elements that seem clearly linked to the self I thought I knew, but that are differently articulated, because they are so public. One example is a sense of humour that creeps into my teaching – it is not the one I have in my regular life, but I see that it is related to an outlook and humour that people would recognize in me; it is like a magnification of it, or something.
The clothing I wear when I teach is critical to this staging…it helps me feel prepared for it. In a sense, then, rather than covering who I am, the way I dress when I teach helps me learn and know who I am.
When I was a TA for six years, I didn’t think much about what I wore. I was fine with wearing jeans; I didn’t look terribly different from my students. When, last year, I became a full-time professor, I began to think quite consciously about my sartorial presentation. I began to dress up, to some extent. I don’t wear jeans to teach, for example – the only time I’m comfortable wearing them in the classroom is on those rare occasions when students are writing an exam or test – i.e. when the spotlight isn’t on me. I don’t wear suits, generally, either – I only own one suit, and it’s fairly dramatic. But I do think about achieving a pulled-together look when I am teaching. Part of this is about projecting authority, since I am mistaken for being younger than I am. But there is, I think, much more to it.
This year, since I am spending half of each week away in Uni City, I have to pack on Sunday nights. This demands that I decide on Sundays what I will wear on each day Monday through Thursday. So there is a very deliberate quality to my dressing…On Sunday night, I imagine each day, feel for myself anew the tenor of that day’s class, and decide how I might best match it - or, more accurately, meet it – with dress. There is some subtlety in this decision-making; I imagine that the theory class, in its Main Campus incarnation, demands a different presentation than the tiny, seven-student version of that class at Satellite Campus.
All of this clothing-related deliberation might sound trite and ridiculous. But I don’t think it is. I realize that it has much to do with the way the performative element of teaching. By performance I don’t mean masquerade in the sense of hiding anything about myself…I mean an enhancement of who I am. Teaching was a major step for me, as someone who was shy when I began; the first year I TA’d was excruciating. But it has changed me, as I’ve written before. And that’s because it puts me in touch with elements of myself I’d never have seen without it, elements that seem clearly linked to the self I thought I knew, but that are differently articulated, because they are so public. One example is a sense of humour that creeps into my teaching – it is not the one I have in my regular life, but I see that it is related to an outlook and humour that people would recognize in me; it is like a magnification of it, or something.
The clothing I wear when I teach is critical to this staging…it helps me feel prepared for it. In a sense, then, rather than covering who I am, the way I dress when I teach helps me learn and know who I am.
Lack of discretion
So there are students (not mine) standing outside my door as I type this...waiting to speak with one of my department colleagues, who is on the phone in the office across the hall. My door is wide open; they know there's a professor in here.
This is why I can't believe they have the gall to talk about another prof (who is not in my department but who teaches a course that is cross-listed with it) like this, at the top of their healthy lungs:
Student A: I can't even believe it...Simon de Bouvar [sic]...The Second Sex is 700 pages...
Student B: I don't even read it.
Student A: It's an okay class, it's just the reading is ridiculous...
Student B: It's not even an okay class...I hate it. [Prof's name] is an idiot [enraged]...
Student A: Yeah, but isn't he going on sabbatical next year?
Student B: I can't wait to be a professor and go on sabbatical all the time... [!!!!!!!!]
Then Student B says, about the course taught by my department colleague, the one they're waiting for: "I love this class...it's the only one I don't show up hung over for..."
Then, about another of my colleagues: "I hate how she takes four hours to make one point...she's so boring...What is the point of that class, anyway?"
I can't get over students' lack of self-consciousness; doesn't it seem as if this is the kind of thing they shouldn't be shouting, to be overheard by my colleagues and I?
This is why I can't believe they have the gall to talk about another prof (who is not in my department but who teaches a course that is cross-listed with it) like this, at the top of their healthy lungs:
Student A: I can't even believe it...Simon de Bouvar [sic]...The Second Sex is 700 pages...
Student B: I don't even read it.
Student A: It's an okay class, it's just the reading is ridiculous...
Student B: It's not even an okay class...I hate it. [Prof's name] is an idiot [enraged]...
Student A: Yeah, but isn't he going on sabbatical next year?
Student B: I can't wait to be a professor and go on sabbatical all the time... [!!!!!!!!]
Then Student B says, about the course taught by my department colleague, the one they're waiting for: "I love this class...it's the only one I don't show up hung over for..."
Then, about another of my colleagues: "I hate how she takes four hours to make one point...she's so boring...What is the point of that class, anyway?"
I can't get over students' lack of self-consciousness; doesn't it seem as if this is the kind of thing they shouldn't be shouting, to be overheard by my colleagues and I?
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