history in the files

I made some good progress yesterday in weeding out my filing cabinets at home. I started with a drawer of files from some of the first articles and conference papers I ever wrote, figuring that older stuff would be easier to sort through. It was, especially since I now feel pretty distant from those essays. There's a small amount of material to keep and file into my reference collection, and a few things that I archive (contracts for publication, correspondence with editors, etc). But there's a lot that can be dumped in the recycling bin. I no longer need any hard copies of drafts, edits, etc. (I did check and I have electronic copies of all of these papers, should I ever for some reason need them).

Obviously, a lot of this material could have been (and should have been) recycled two or three moves ago. But I'm beginning to see that sorting through papers takes a kind of attention and energy that I never have when I'm packing for a move. Or, I could have weeded these out when I got tenure. But at that time, I still felt too close to my past, too close to my graduate school training, too close to the dissertation research that in part helped me get tenure. Now, I'm feeling like I have more distance psychologically and intellectually, so I can better assess what I really need to keep.

One of the interesting things along the way was realizing in a very material way how much technology has changed the way I work, and the way the profession as a whole functions. There were all of these letters in these files -- little typed notes with brief questions or remarks, friendly correspondence from one of my mentors, notifications of acceptance to a conference etc. All of which today would be done on email. I might as well have been looking at an archive from the 1950s. It was kind of startling how dated my own career suddenly looked. Best find: a letter from my mentor from 1991 asking if I had tried email, and saying "it is a very convenient way to communicate." (And yes, 1991 was the first time I got an email account. Using Pine. Ah, those were the days.)

Another realization: I used to write really, really small. I was shocked to see some of these pages of handwritten notes. I guess that was in part a carryover from undergraduate days in the classroom taking lecture notes. I remember that I used to only buy extra-fine point pens. But now, it looks like someone else wrote those notes. I can't write that small any more. Partly because then I can't read it. (And lately I've been buying not just medium point, but bold point pens for certain kinds of notes.)

I'm actually getting rid of some of these notes, the ones on texts or topics I really don't see myself ever revisiting. Or if I do, I'll have to re-read the text anyway, and create new notes, so why bother. Especially these cramped, hard to read notes. I'm trying to be realistic about my work habits and note-taking habits, although that's hard to do. The reality is that most of the notes I take, are taken for a particular project, with particular questions or problems in mind. Which means that they are of only limited use for other projects. I'm trying to embrace the recursiveness of text-based research -- the truth that when I re-read a text (primary or secondary) I see new things. That is a good thing, rather than an indicator of time wasted. I think I've often been frustrated at having to re-read things, but I need to just accept it as part of the process. Or my process, anyway.

I have more thoughts brewing about notes and note-taking systems, but for now I'm going to relish the feeling of lightening my file drawers, which is making real and psychic space for my new projects, the scholar I am today, rather than the person I was so many years ago.

attic update

Remember those critters in the attic? My GF climbed up there several times (which involves getting the huge ladder from the garage and shimmying through a small hole in the ceiling-- kind of a production) and shone a flashlight around, with no luck seeing any animals. But she also didn't see piles of poop, or obvious destruction, so that was some relief. Things quieted down a lot for those couple of days, so we put the big ladder away.

And then after a few days, we started hearing noises again. Sometimes it sounds like they're bowling above our heads -- you can hear things rolling around. (The attic is unfinished, with lots of little spaces for hiding. Nothing is stored up there. Because of the way the house was added on to, there's two levels to the roof, and all kinds of crawl space.) Oddly, though, the noises have to be really loud for the dogs to notice. The dogs are much more anxious about critters in the yard, or under the house. Several times I've noticed Speedy (who's really the hunter of the pack) peering up intently at one corner of the house at night, but I've never been able to see anything, until two mornings ago. Speedy got me up at 5:30 asking to go out and pee (which is not unusual for her). But what she really wanted to do was go out and sniff and look up at that corner.

Now, usually, Speedy gets so worked up about whatever she's looking at, she winds up barking loudly and scaring it off (squirrels etc). But she was really intent and quivering. So I joined her and stood for a long while in the yard, looking up at the neighbor's tree which practically touches our roof. Finally I was rewarded by seeing a little masked bandit face! That's right, a raccoon. She was just sitting in the tree, I think eating some berries from it. Then something small and super fast (I'm guessing this was one of her babies) rushed past us on top of our fence and jumped up into the tree with mama. The thrashing of the tree branches was too much for Speedy, who started barking, and I saw mama raccoon lumbering across my neighbor's roof to the big tree in our front yard. I couldn't see stripes on her tail, but her face was masked so I'm pretty sure she's a raccoon. Certainly not a possum.

The good news? once the babies are weaned, they'll likely all leave the attic. Then we have to try and figure out their entryway and block it up. The other repellent suggestions I've read have been pretty easy and nontoxic to try -- natural orange spray, cayenne pepper, talk radios. GF's going up there probably scared them away for a little while, because they don't like light or noise. And, luckily for us, raccoons don't eat in their den. There's no food they're getting from our attic or around the house (our trash bin has been unmolested, and the dogs eat inside). So they're just playing and sleeping up there.

We still have wild creatures in our attic, but somehow knowing what they are is comforting.

progress

Today I was able to do the entire class at my mat, without needing the balancing barre! This is a huge step and makes me feel more like I'm fully practicing. My ankle still has a ways to go to gain back my usual level of strength and balance, but I'm definitely getting better.

files

It's summer time, so I'm in the midst of several re/organizing ventures. When I moved last summer, to both a new house and a new office, I thought I'd sort through my files at that time. But then reality kicked in, and it was easier to simply pack them up and throw them back in the filing cabinet when the move was done. I had so much else to sort through that I never got around to the mega purge I'd planned in my mind. So now, this is the time.

One of the organizational areas that I actually feel really good about is my paper filing system. I'm not always great about putting folders back in the drawers, but I know where they should go and can easily find things (provided that I put them back in the drawer). But I haven't substantially changed it since graduate school, and I figured it was time to weed out some things and possibly alter some filing categories. For instance, "Dissertation Files" (as separate from "General Subjects") which then became "Book Files," can now be weeded out or folded into my general reference drawer as appropriate. And there's a lot of stuff that I used to keep paper copies of that I no longer need to because it's readily available digitally -- I'd rather save PDFs for journal articles, for instance, than paper copies.

I use plain manila folders, third-tab cut, but I don't worry about which tab comes next in the drawer. No hanging folders -- they take up space and would confound my system. Color folders sometimes seem appealing, but I would have difficulty assigning colors to particular categories and then worrying about running out, etc. (And having just random colors would not work, at all.) I occasionally will pick up a blue or red folder from work to use for Things That Must Be Mailed Today or some such hot folder. But I'd never file the bulk of my work in colors.

I'm sticking with my basic system, which is subdivided into the big categories of Professional and Personal, with a few subcategories within each, and A-Z filed within those. David Allen advocates one single A-Z file, but that's not how my mind works. If I need my glasses prescription, I know to look in the Personal/Health section. And my research files have to be divided into several categories (by type of material, and by project). It's all just a question of figuring out how you plan to use your files. But I've rarely met academics who didn't already have pretty good filing systems in place (whether or not they actually put the papers away). How can you get through a dissertation without one? If you feel you need a tune-up, Julie Morganstern has good advice on files, and so does Allen.

But I finally gave in and bought a label maker (an inexpensive Dymo Letratag), per David Allen's instructions. That's my incentive for working on this overhaul, to see nicely labeled folders fillling my cabinet. And he's right. Your folders really do look better with a clear printed label on them. Your ideas look better. And, for the moment at least, it makes filing seem more fun.

from the mat

Looking for some positive spin on the sprained ankle, I thought today after class how having an injury is sometimes a good path back to beginner's mind. Right now, I'm wearing a brace in class, and I have to do the one-legged poses at the barre in the back of the room. I'm usually one of those front-row people, the ones who get there early to soak in the heat for 20 minutes before class starts. But since I have to go to the barre for part of class, I'm standing in the back, where you can't see your whole body in the mirror, where you are surrounded by the newer students who are struggling. And, I should note, I'm struggling too, forced to reconsider the basic dynamics of the moves. I'm newly aware of the relationship between my hip bones and my feet, the way the knee does or does not communicate between them. The poses demand all my attention, a focus that is less meditative, more precise than my usual mental state during class. More like the experience of being a beginner. My left ankle is a beginner, just starting to figure out how to last through half the class, shrinking from certain poses, stumbling through others. Right ankle, on the other hand, is an advanced student, who sometimes can't help but show off a bit. But they're both in the same class, doing the same moves. I am my ankle. Both of them.

social event

My GF and I were invited and actually attended a 4th of July party yesterday. This wouldn't be shocking news for most people, but for hermits like us, it is. It helped, of course, that the hosts (and guests) were not connected to our jobs, or families, so the irritation factor and social-reputation stakes were pretty low.

I'd just read Nicolas Boothman's
How To Make People Like You, which is a quick primer on basic communication skills, drawing in places on some of the early NLP research. NLP (think Tony Robbins) is kind of interesting, if controversial (and, like any communication skill, easy to use either for Good or Evil). Boothman's book (which I'd gotten at the library after reading about it on someone's blog) starts with basic protocols for introducing yourself (remembering to make eye contact and smile are things that seem really obvious, but are sometimes difficult for me). Then there's information about synchronizing yourself with the person you're talking to -- which most of us do anyway, instinctively, with people we know or like already -- you tend to match your posture, tone, rhythm, etc. He suggests that people primarily process information through visual, auditory, or kinesthetic methods,and that paying attention to the word choice someone uses can help you communicate appropriately (i.e., the difference between "I see what you mean" and "I hear what you're saying"). Finally, there's a fascinating section on eye movements and their relationship to the brain's processing of memory -- within the scope of his book, you simply learn to observe people's eyes to understand them better.

So I approached the party as a chance to try out some of Boothman's tips. I wasn't consciously doing it most of the time, but I do think that I had an easier time chatting with strangers than I usually would. If nothing else, the book reminded me of some things I already know about communication -- things that in the right setting I already do. And having read his book makes all the small human interactions of the day (greeting the barista, the secretary, etc) a little more interesting, as a chance to try out this new system of information and possibly have a better interaction.

the brain-ankle connection

Today was the third yoga class I've attended in as many days -- I have to modify a few poses (i.e., I do bridge instead of floor bow, and use the barre for all one-legged balancing poses) but I'm SO HAPPY to be back in class. And I think it's been helping to strengthen my ankle and improve circulation etc. But best of all, I'm not feeling quite so depressed. I really need exercise just to function in a moderately intelligent way. Tomorrow morning I'll try some dog walks (my GF has been patiently doing double duty the past week). It'll be a while before I can stand on my toes or lift heavy weights, but I'm making progress.

maybe eventually I'll even come up with a real topic for a blog post.

Streep week

A Prairie Home Companion was a really pleasant surprise for me. You see, I grew up in the Midwest. I left the Midwest. And I just can't be ironic about it. Nor nostalgic. So I've never understood the appeal of Garrison Keillor's radio show -- never quite could get which of those two options it was supposed to be. And all that old-timey stuff -- the biscuit jingles etc-- is like an Antique Shoppe filled with collectible Norman Rockwell salt shakers. I understand that some people find it appealing or cute or possibly could camp it up so much as to be Pop Kitsch, but it just makes me want to run quickly in the opposite direction. So I was NOT planning on seeing Altman's latest, even though it was Altman. But my friend was visiting and really, really wanted to see it, and since I had sprained my ankle I felt bad that she was just sitting around and talking with me on the couch, so we went. And I thoroughly enjoyed it. Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep were fabulous, John O'Reilly and Woody Harrelson too. Streep was perfect as Yolanda Johnson, half of a singing sister act -- she would draw you in, but then you'd see in the next moment how her weak boundaries between stage and life were clearly a problem for her depressed and sullen daughter (Lindsay Lohan) who resents her mother's vapid stubborness and performative charm. I surely overidentified with Lohan's character (having a theatrical mother myself), but I thought that their scenes were really well done.

The ending felt kind of tacked on, and the mumbled bit about Lohan's getting her mother to sign away her power of attorney seemed an unnecessary and overdone jab about the greedy younger generations -- especially after the daughter's performing on stage. I know it was probably meant as a contrasting flavor to lessen the sweetness, but it didn't seem at all consistent. Tommy Lee Jones as the representative of the evil corporation who's buying out the radio show folks was enough. Because the real battles in the film aren't with competitors, but with time itself, and death.

And then yesterday we went to see The Devil Wears Prada, in which Streep shines as Miranda Priestly, the Fashionable Boss from Hell. There's a scene late in the film where her assistant Andy comes upon her unexpectedly, wearing a bathrobe and without styled hair or any makeup on -- the entire audience gasped at the sight, so convincing was the character as someone who controls surfaces to her advantage. Although there's campy moments in the film (how could there not be), Streep doesn't just play it for drag -- there's pathos underneath.

And I love the casting of Anne Hathaway for the role of Andy, the heroine of the story (and no, I haven't read the book so I can't compare it) -- a wonderful intertextual move given her role in The Princess Diaries. Both stories are about fairy-tale transformations, from awkward ugly duckling into beautiful swan, complete with sympathetically embarassing mistakes, makeover scenes, and amazing dresses. Andy is told several times that "there are thousands of girls who would kill to have your job," in a media culture where Vogue is something like a royal family and many girls are willing to try on the glass slipper. Even if you don't follow fashion, you too are nonetheless pushed around by the Fashion Cartel, who decree which colors are in. A fairy tale for the postmodern age, the film lets us both indulge in fashionable fantasies even while Andy (and the film) thinks they're kind of silly, and have our morals satisfied, since Andy's makeover comes at a Faustian bargain price, and she eventually has to renounce it all to become Lois Lane. Yes, it's predictable, but it's a lot of fun.

what I have learned

• If I didn't exercise, I would have a lot more time.
• But if I didn't exercise, I would have to spend a lot of that time being depressed.
  

Today was day 6 on restricted activity because of my f*n sprained ankle. It's getting better, but I have to be careful not to overdo it -- this is my bad ankle that was injured years ago and has never been the same since. I know from experience that waiting until it's really healed is important so that I don't reinjure it right away.

I'm used to getting a certain amount of activity every day, and it's an important element in my brain chemistry management plan. Not getting it is starting to really get me down. I can do some very modest yoga and stretch, but even the minimal amount of walking I've beeing doing (parking lot to office, etc) gets my ankle really tired by day's end.

Each night I've been surprised by how long the evening is after I come home from campus -- I usually have 2-3 hours of transit time and yoga and/or gym in between. So it's been nice to do some reading and hang out with the dogs. But not nice enough that I'd trade if given the choice.

Intuition

I recently finished Allegra Goodman's newest novel, Intuition, which focuses on the work and lives of medical researchers in a Boston area research lab. It's a rather philosophical novel in its concerns and its structure, probing into questions about ethics and epistemology. Did the marginalized postdoc Cliff, doing a failed experiment for the third time (against the orders of his supervisor), really discover something that will aid in the fight against cancer? Or did he falsify his results in some way? Goodman cleverly organizes her chapters, which take up different characters' points of view, so that the reader never gets a definite answer to such questions. Instead, we are inevitably in the position of using our readerly intuition to interpret or predict the actions and motivations of the different characters: the two supervising scientists, their assorted postdocs and techs, the spouses and children whose lives are dominated by the pursuit of medical discoveries.

Unfortunately, the word intuition shows up rather too often in the book's midsection for my liking, making what would otherwise be a rather elegant structure seem a bit clunky. Of course, intuition isn't scientific -- we are told this over and over again. In some ways, the novel seems to be interested in revealing the limitations of the scientific mindset (particularly in the scientists' difficulties with human relationships), but the camps of Science and Humanism seem too exaggerated: on one side, the postdocs suffering for their love of research, the research scientist who never sees his family on holidays because he's in the lab, the chess player who can't imagine a world without rules; on the other, an English professor spouse who has never finished her book about suffering poets, and a gawky teenager who shuts herself up in her room reading John Donne and sends copies of Victorian novels to the postdoc she has a crush on. But these are tensions worth exploring, and some of what I enjoyed in the book was its juxtaposition of different models of knowledge.

The last third of the novel sets these issues aside, however, to castigate all outsiders as inadequate judges of what takes place within the confines of the lab: the NIH committee investigating fraud, the unscrupulous journalists, the hayseed Congressman. But the hierarchies of academe and the desire for reputation are equally under scrutiny in this book, which doesn't really offer much of a conclusion. Everyone, from the disillusioned whistleblower to the possible cheater, just wants to keep on doing research.

I always read novels featuring academics, and it's refreshing to read one that is serious, rather than a satire. I thought a lot while reading it about my friends from graduate school who were in biology, and our many conversations about the different processes of investigation and analysis in our respective fields. We in the humanities think differently about the answers and about the questions than many in the sciences, and what we understand as the work of research is often quite different. If just for the depiction of labwork in all its boredom and brutality, the novel is interesting (although hard to read in places). But I wanted more from the characters -- the coldly patterned structure didn't quite give me the intellectual or emotional satisfaction I wanted as a reader.

deadlines

OK, Universe. I get the message. Yet again, you've sent me a sign that I really need to work on my approach to deadlines. I've always been a deadline-motivated person-- which is not the same thing as a procrastinator (although I've done that too, on occasion, about certain tasks). Staying up late the night before a paper is due to write it is different in cause, experience, and consequences than procrastinating on grading a stack of papers.

I learned early on from watching my parents that this was how you did large projects -- you worked steadily leading up to the big crunch, and then you stayed up late. I stayed up late for the very first paper I ever wrote (in fourth grade, although I had to stay up not for the composition but for the actual writing -- we were getting graded on handwriting and I had to recopy my whole paper, slowly and laboriously).

So, throughout my school years, I worked in adrenaline-crunch mode, cranking out a lot of work just in time to meet the deadline. But I never missed a due date, never asked for extensions. The fear of the deadline was motivating enough.

Graduate school started messing with all of that, as it became clear that some of our profs actually preferred that you take incompletes, or considered that your work couldn't possibly be good enough if you turned it in by end of semester. Due dates became these slippery half-fictional beasts that weren't so scary after all. And that was perhaps my downfall.

In the last few years, I've realized that I have less and less tolerance for the deadline crunch, at both the mental and physical level. I just can't stay up as late at night, I just don't bounce back as well the next day, and the adrenaline rush isn't as fun. I'm too old to live that way. I've been gradually realizing this but it's going to take a while to figure out how to really change all of my work habits -- counting from fourth grade, that's three decades of writing practices I have to unlearn.

So, since I've been slow about this, the Universe has been sending me some not-so-subtle messages. Remember when my mom needed sudden surgery and I had to drop everything and go and take care of her? I had a small project due the following week, a book review I'd been asked to write 2 months previous. I had put off working on it until the semester was over, until I thought I'd have 10 days clear to read the book and write the review. Ha! said the Universe, You should have written it during the first month it was assigned to you.

This weekend a friend's been visiting us from out of town. All week long I was busy with some organizational projects (clearing out files, getting some new shelves at home and rearranging a lot of our household stuff) and also doing some major spring cleaning. None of this was exactly because my friend was visiting, but her arrival did function as a due date for getting the house into presentable order. (Nothing like reorganizing to create new chaos, at least temporarily). What did the Universe do? Made me stumble and sprain my ankle 8 hours before her arrival, before I'd completed the vacuuming and tub-scrubbing and other cleaning chores I'd planned for the half-day before she came. In the end, I suppose it worked out -- I got to spend a few hours reading and working on the couch with my foot propped up, so I was less irritable than if I'd been doing chores all day. And if she's horrified about the state of our house, she's hidden it fairly well. But it's just another lesson. I have to learn to do things early.

I've been starting small -- working on getting to appointments early (the key seems to be always having reading material with me, so as to lessen my social anxiety about waiting). But I need to develop a plan so that I can meet my next deadline with ease and grace and not feel stressed or have to stay up late or give up yoga or anything else. I guess that's what I can try to map out during the next few days when I won't be able to go to the gym or on dog walks while my ankle heals.

And please, don't tell me just to set an earlier deadline. If I could do that effectively, don't you think I would already be doing it? I've tried and I always use up the cushion of time because I know it's there. Focusing on all the things that are unpleasant to me now about working for a deadline might be helpful -- a model of what not to do.

proof of age

Things my GF has said recently:

1. (as we drove past one of the independent movie theatres that still shows cult classics as they were meant to be seen) "I wish the midnight movies would start at 10."
2. (as we went by the location of the new Target which will open soon in our neighborhood, only five minutes from our house) "I can't wait for them to open -- we should go on the first day."

Yup, these are the thoughts of the almost-40s.

furry news

We are now officially a three-dog household. We've taken in my partner's dad's dog, (who shall be known as Old Girl here) full-time, whereas before now we were taking care of her when he was out of town, which sometimes got extended for fairly long stretches. Now that Old Girl is getting, well, older -- she has some arthritis and she's become quite deaf in the past year -- my father-in-law is less able to take care of her. (He's getting older too.) Old Girl used to live with my GF many years ago in another state (when my GF was some one else's GF), along with The Boss -- they get along just fine because Old Girl isn't interested in challenging anyone else's power. Speedy, on the other hand, loves Old Girl with a passion that is rooted in her puppyhood, when they used to play together. Old Girl has always been very gentle and tolerant with young pups.
I think she's happy to be staying with us -- she gets more walks, and home-cooked meals, and plenty of companionship in our pack. But it's sad to see how much she's changing as she's getting older. She spends most of the day sleeping, and she's more and more in her own world because of the deafness. Taking care of Old Girl triggers a lot of my own concerns about getting older, about our parents getting older, all the eldercare issues we will have to be facing in the next five to ten years. Of course it's infinitely easier to take care of an aging golden retriever than one's aging parent. A practice run of sorts.

movie roundup

I have fairly broad tastes in movies, and low tolerance for pretentious Film chatter -- so if you want to read deconstructive readings of rare indie stuff, you can look elsewhere. Because this is the summer movie season -- a time to watch things explode, bad guys suffer, and cute girls get the boy of their dreams -- all while soaking in some over-chilled AC and maybe splurging on some popcorn.

• Poseidon: I thoroughly enjoyed this remake: great dangerous disaster (worth seeing on the big screen), the adorable Josh Lucas (who is actually surprisingly smart -- I saw him on an interview show when Stealth came out and was quite impressed), and best of all, the gay guy doesn't die. You know how it is -- you look at a bunch of characters at the beginning of an disaster/horror/thriller movie and you know a couple of them are going to be offed before it's all over. And usually, unfortunately, it's the person of color or some other minority identity who gets grabbed by the alien first. But that's not (entirely) true this time...
• X-Men: The Last Stand: This was a big disappointment. The change of director (and whatever accompanying decisions came before or after that) has taken this film in a very different direction than the first two, which were exceptional in the comic book adventure genre for really having substantial characters and social/symbolic content. The mutants are my people, after all, and in someone else's hands the fight against a government who wants to "cure" them would have been inspiring and exciting. Instead we get an film that's all action and special effects, no meaningful dialogue or character development -- really, the characters are anti-developed, watered down to simple cardboard caricatures -- a much more typical, and therefore boring, comic book style. And it's incredibly misogynistic (whereas the first two films, and the original comics, are not): over and over, the sexuality of female mutants is sensationalized and made problematic. Sure, Rogue's mutation means she can't touch other people -- that's grounds for making her a really interesting character, and giving her relationships plenty of tension, which is what good films use. Instead, she's turned into a wishy-washy sellout because she wants her boy -- which the film doesn't support as a strong choice, but rather portrays as an inevitable weakness of her girlish identity. Jean Grey's Phoenix split identity as Phoenix is the devouring femme fatale whose sexuality is irresistable and deadly -- and again, this could make her interesting, or at least give Famke Janssen something to do. But no, that's not the route they chose. And Mystique's fate? Oh please. Exploitation, exposure -- a franchise exhausted of its good stuff.
  
• District B-13: Built to show off the talents of parkour inventor David Belle, this was filled with super-amazing athletic feats and the sharp French style of Luc Besson, who co-wrote and co-produced the film. I saw it the day after X3 and the contrast couldn't have been sharper -- here was a movie with amazing action (but very few computerized effects -- these guys are really jumping off roofs) but also a moral code. You want your good guys to be pursuing justice, to be against corruption -- and in X3 the mutants inexplicably wind up supporting the government? Here the bad buys are deliciously bad (both the puffed up bureaucrats and the ganglord) and the good guys kick ass.
  
• The Proposition : Powerful, beautiful, but very, very brutal. I'm glad I saw it, and I think it's a good film -- but I felt worn out and shaken by the end of it. Of course, the presence of Emily Watson's sweet round angelic face is usually a sign that incredible brutality will soon occur. Her performance is fantastic, and she's one of the few modern actresses who can wear period costume and look real about it (no prancy Emma Thompson here). The harshness of the Australian colonial frontier is one of the film's central topics-- the other has to do with torn loyalties. The problem, however, is that the hero's choices aren't ever really explained or justified. If we're meant to accept him as a hero, to believe that he's changed or progressed in some way, there ought to be something more -- and for me, to have experienced the violence in this film, I wanted at least to have gotten more of a moral or psychological payoff.
  
• The Break-Up: I like romantic comedies, I like Jennifer Aniston, and from the previews I'd seen of this film, I expected it to be something quite different than it turned out to be. It's not quite a comedy -- but it's not quite a drama, either. I wouldn't say that it's subverting the romantic comedy formula exactly -- although there's a point in the movie, about 30 minutes before the end, where it could have gone in a much more conventional direction and possibly have been more satisfying. There were moments of dialogue that ring with truth -- but then a lot of stuff that seemed to be drifting along in absurdly bleak directions that didn't seem either realistic or humorous. I saw it basically as an update to Swingers -- as in, where would these guys be a few years later. But it needed a tighter structure or editing or something to really pull it off.
  
• The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift: Awesome. On the next hot Sunday afternoon, get into a movie theater and be blown away with adrenaline, speed, and cool Japanese teen styles. I liked the first 2 FF movies but this one really rocked. Totally fun, and full of everything you could want in a big-screen summer movie: sexy girls, bad boys, fast cars... and the racing scenes never, ever got old.

(Told ya I'm pretty lowbrow in my movie preferences. It's the summer, after all.)

productivity

This summer offers me an important opportunity to reshape some of my work habits and systems: I'm not teaching summer school, so I have more flexible work time right now, and I'm at the beginning of two large projects (each of which is/will spawn various sub projects). Although this work is in some loose ways connected to the work I've been doing for the past 12 years, it feels like a fresh start, cut loose finally from the dissertation research that then shaped my pre-tenure years.

I'm always interested in self-improvement (I've got plenty of room to grow!) and particularly in effective work habits, time management, and spatial organization. I've made plenty of changes over the years, but there are also some things I started doing in graduate school that are still useful and that I want to retain in any new system I create.

I want to work this summer on improving my productivity systems at two very different levels -- at the ground level, I've got several big organizational overhauls to accomplish, like weeding out my paper files and systematizing my teaching files (which are mostly digital). At the sky level (to borrow David Allen's flying metaphor), I want to create work habits and organizational systems that will maximize my strengths and help me in the areas that are difficult. To do this, I'm revisiting some of my favorite books on these topics (David Allen, Julie Morganstern, Robert Boice, Neil Fiore, etc -- all the same books you've read too) and I'm also setting aside some time to write and reflect about what has worked for me already and what I'd like to change.

A few minutes in the productivity/GTD blogosphere shows you that lots of other people are also thinking about their work habits and how to improve them. I enjoy reading these blogs not only for the practical suggestions I've gleaned from them, but also to know that other people struggle with some of the same things I do. I draw the line at message boards, however -- an oft-reiterated plaint/critique is that people can spend way too much time reading about productivity or tweaking their software or their calendar systems, rather than actually getting things done. And certainly that danger is always there -- like with anything else online that can suck you in. But for myself, I've actually found the productivity blogs to be helpful when I'm feeling stuck. It's a break from work, but it's easy work-related reading that is usually inspiring or useful.

One of the challenges I've always found in reading books on time or work management is that many of them assume certain things about the workplace that aren't always true for academics. Many academics are not required to be in an office from 8 to 6 every weekday; some don't choose to work on campus every day; and most may have blocks of time (like the summer) with very few meetings or obligations, and other blocks of time (like the last month of the semester) when teaching and committee work takes up almost all time. Academic work is cyclical and fluid, and can offer tremendous flexibility. That same flexibility can also make it difficult to adhere to one's priorities or accomplish all of one's goals.

Lots of the productivity blogs I've come across are written by people in computer-related fields, whose interest in efficient systems or logical routines for completing tasks integrates well with the actual work that they do. That integration of work action/content and work structure is less clear and maybe less feasible for my own work areas, but it raises a set of questions I think are worth pursuing for anyone working in academe who's trying to improve their work habits through GTD or any other workflow system.

• Where in your workflow do you need to complete discrete tasks? What kinds of tasks are they? Are they best grouped by type of action, content area, or work location?
  
• Where in your workflow do you need to make space for creativity? How is your creativity expressed, channeled, or encouraged?
• What balance of creativity and routine would be ideal for you? What balance do you currently have?
  
• What external constraints shape your time and space? What personal and professional commitments do you have on a daily or weekly basis? What equipment do you need to do your work? Where do you do your best work and why?
• What internal rhythms shape your time and space? When is your energy high or low? What setting is best for you to do which kinds of work?
• What calendars shape your work -- personal, institutional, professional? How much control do you have over your schedule? How predictable is your workload from week to week or month to month?
• What would consitute a productive day for you? Is that vision a realistic and attainable one?
  

random bullets of good stuff

• my visit to the dentist was fine, and I got a good grade on my teeth and gums. (whew!)
• I got an appointment made with the dermatologist, and getting the referral from my PCP for the insurance was much, much easier than I'd feared.
• ever since GF climbed up a ladder to get into the little trap door into the attic, the frolicking creatures have been silent -- and out of sight in the attic, although it is unfinished and full of cracks and crevices for rodent-hiding.
• Asparation, which has got to be one of the worst names they could have come up with (especially when its other name is brocollini, which at least sounds less like "ass") is actually really tasty. Our market mislabeled it as a hybrid between broccoli and asparagus (and that's what the name would make you think --) but it's actually a mix of broccoli and Chinese kale (thanks, JM, for pointing this out). The stems look like asparagus but it doesn't have the taste or slimy texture. Instead, it's like a mild broccoli you can eat the whole stalk of.
• after a super-relaxing yoga class and then a mellow dog walk, I'm lying here on the couch while GF goes and picks up take out food, which we will then eat while watching the just-arrived DVD of Veronica Mars, our latest Netflix TV addiction. Awesome. It's the summer, after all, and I plan on enjoying it!
  

anxiety list

These are the things that are currently causing me varying levels of anxiety. I'm doing OK otherwise, except when I start thinking about one of these situations and then get all tangled up about it.

• We have critters in our attic. I assume they're possums, but we haven't eyeballed them yet. But we can hear them up there. Our attic is unfinished and we don't store anything up there, but still you don't want them chewing up all the insulation and pooping everywhere. We're renters, and we're vegans, and the whole situation is very difficult. Will our landlord do anything about it? will they be destroyed or relocated? if we wait too long what might happen? Do we want to try to humanely trap and relocate them ourselves? Ack. It's incredibly stressful.
• I need to get some suspicious-looking moles checked by a dermatologist. My health plan supposedly lets you visit anyone you want -- but if you want higher coverage, they have to be in-network; and for the best level of coverage you need a referral from your primary care doctor. I've collected recommendations from people I know and have found two derms who are in the network. But I'm dreading dealing with the process of getting a referral. I don't know if they're going to make me come in and pay for a useless appointment with my PCP or if we can just do it over the phone. And then there's trying to make the appointment with the doctor I need to see. Errrggghh. Did I mention that I hate seeing all doctors and have a lot of anxiety about dealing with them in any way?
  
• Some would say I should have a physical with a regular doctor this year. But I don't particularly like my PCP. I got a recommendation from a colleague for someone else who is supposedly wonderful; but when I called on Friday apparently she's not taking new patients from my insurance (even though their web based directory said she was). It's almost impossible to find a female doctor who isn't based at a large teaching hospital (which means your exams are usually performed in front of med students, which is a pedagogical environment I'm not particularly comfortable in). The only smaller, neighborhood alternative I've found is a family practice office, which makes me nervous because of all the kid germs.
  
• I have an overdue dentist appointment on Tuesday for a cleaning. All spring I would occasionally think to myself, "I must have a dentist appt coming up soon" -- but then I never did. Because I now remember that when I saw her last July, her clerk didn't have the January calendar open yet for the following year when my 6 month appointment would be due. I forgot to call, obviously. But you'd think they might have sent me a reminder? I doubt I have any cavities because I was genetically blessed with solid enamel. But I always fear getting a bad grade on my gums. I'm a regular brusher and 3-4x/week flosser, but now I'm nervous about the days I've skipped flossing over the past few months.
  
• I want new tires on my car, because the tires that came on it suck in rainy weather. I mean really, really, suck. But it's a big expense, and then there's the burden of researching tires etc. In the past I've done OK with simply walking into the tire center and asking what they have available in my size, then picking by price range. I could do that again. But since this is really an optional purchase -- my tires are not worn down (I've only had the car a year) -- they just feel unsafe because they're not as grippy as I like -- I'm dithering a little more about it than I usually would.
  

Ah, summer. The season for Dealing With Unpleasant Maintenance.

Famous writers were kids once too

An old friend of mine was in town today for a book reading (she's probably the Most Famous person to have graduated from my high school) -- I hadn't seen her in something like 20 years, so I wasn't sure whether she'd recognize me (because I hope I don't look like that much like I did back then). But in fact, she did, and we had a wonderful time catching up, even with the bookstore staff breathing down her neck as she scrawled her name on extra copies of her book after her line of fans was gone. It was great fun to see her and to reminisce a little bit about junior high. It makes total sense to me that she's a Popular Novelist, since as far back as I can remember she was making up stories. In fourth grade, all the girls would go sit under the tree at recess and she'd tell us an episode in a long serial story she was making up. Not all that different from what she's doing now, only she gets paid and has people who drive for three hours to come and get her to sign a book for them.

There were a number of young people at this reading, kind of nerdy girls in their early teens, who clearly admired my friend and asked her questions about how she became a writer. It was great to see her answering and encouraging them, and to think about how the nerdy girls we used to be turned into the adults we are today. You'd never know just by looking at my friend that we used to spend hours playing with Star Wars action figures (and no, she doesn't write SF) -- but it totally helped shape who we are. Our earliest understanding of plot structures, character development, and the power of fiction to bring new meanings to ordinary life all came from those first two movies (especially Empire). So one of us writes fiction and one of us teaches it. Big surprise.

At a another level too, it was really interesting to be in a little independent bookshop with people who are Serious Fans for her particular subgenre of books, and of her books in particular. These are the readers who actually buy books, lots of books, and who care passionately about them. Some of my students would fall in that category, but not all of them. It's interesting to think about why someone would become an English major who isn't passionate about books. Or maybe their passions are just expressed differently. I mostly don't buy books myself, for instance (I can't afford them and I move too often) but I read widely in serious and nonserious genres, care deeply about books, and always want to encourage people to read more. I don't think it would take someone too long to figure out that I care about ideas, and reading, and writing. I try to assume that some kernel of that passion is in all of my students, even if I can't see it. Maybe it's just not activated by the texts I'm teaching, or their assumptions about my historical period get in the way. A lot of my teaching involves undoing their expectations, whether of the topic or of the college classroom itself.

Of course, there is a big difference between being a fan of a book and being interested/ able/ willing to discuss it critically, to analyze it, to come to some larger understanding about it or its significance. I often tell my students if they are having difficulty with a paper topic that it is much easier to write about (i.e. analyze) a text that they don't love -- as paradoxical as that sounds, if you really really love a book usually you can't see its details clearly. When I teach Jane Austen, for instance, there's always some doe-eyed quiet girl who confesses to having read Pride & Prejudice 50 times. She loves Mr Darcy, and she wants to be Elizabeth Bennett. (After all, who doesn't?) But if she can also learn something about how it is that Austen makes us feel that way about her characters -- through her prose style, through the structure of the plot, through the details she gives and those she omits -- then my student is on her way to an even richer kind of love.

Conservative critics of English departments often trot out claims about how the study of theory "destroys" the love of literature, how professors of English "hate reading" and other claims that I completely don't buy. Every English professor I know got into this business because of love. Writing a dissertation and spending 45 years of your life grading papers and teaching classes is not like working in the widget factory. You have to love it. And if you don't love every minute of every day, at least you can count on the fact that you love the books you teach. Learning how to explain why you love a book -- which I do (using other kinds of words besides "love," although I will sometimes admit to that as well) every week in the classroom, helps you understand not only the book but also yourself a bit better. If your love of a book can't withstand some analysis -- can't survive some historical research, some informed understanding of the structure, context, and implications of a text -- then it's not really love, it's just an infatuation.

Deep, old loves -- like the way I feel about The Empire Strikes Back -- happily persist. Yes, I can see the limitations of Lucas's dialogue; I can point out some of the literary, film, and historical sources he drew upon in crafting his plots; I can discuss how the class and gender dynamics in the film are used to create dramatic tension. These things help me understand the film in relation to its own historical moment and to the films that succeeded it. But still, even now when I watch that movie, I smile in certain places; my sense of possibility quickens; I feel an otherworldly delight that transports me beyond the mundane.

That's how it felt to see my old friend, too.

grad school "friends"

A few days ago, What Now wrote about an old grad school friend who repeatedly diminished her accomplishments or boasted about his own. It resonated with me, and with many others, judging from her comments -- after all, who doesn't know someone like that from graduate school? I've been thinking about her post quite a bit since then, because I have an unanswered email sitting in my inbox from someone who's one of my own such friends.

I do still use the term "friend" when I think of this guy -- who I'll call Affable Joe, because he was (and is still) incredibly easygoing and sociable. We were in the same cohort, and probably had a couple of classes together, though we mostly knew each other socially. When we were writing our dissertations, we became closer friends, meeting for coffee once in a while to commiserate about the agony of dealing with our committees and our manuscripts. We both got jobs the same year, and kept in touch largely through seeing each other at conferences every year or two, plus email.

I do consider him a friend, and writing this makes me remember the strength of the experiences we've shared and of our deeper friendship. But in the last couple of years, there's been more friction in our conversations. By some measures, he's more successful than I am. By other measures, our jobs are at equivalently mediocre institutions. Our publishing records look very different -- we're in different sub-fields and have taken different paths in creating our scholarly profiles. I'm taking on a different role in my department and institution than he is.

Basically, our academic values are very different, and that seems to be causing some friction. I've certainly felt in our last few conversations that he's not supportive of my choices -- he flat out told me that I was heading for "failure" if I took an administrative post. That actually hasn't been true so far at least -- during the past year of admin work I presented at a major conference and won two research grants. Joe still seems to believe in the elitist model of solitary research above all else that our graduate program promoted, but which doesn't fit the institutions we're currently a part of. I don't believe that there is only one single path to success -- nor only one definition of professional or personal success. Perhaps I haven't been as clear in expressing that to him as I should. All I know is that I've felt judged and found lacking in our last few conversations, and it makes me reluctant to talk with him. It feels like it takes a lot of energy to protect myself from someone who used to be a buddy.

how to have a great birthday

1. Wake up in your own bed, with your honey and dogs snuggling all around.
2. Go on a long dog walk.
3. Return for coffee and bagels and birthday cards and presents!
   
4. Get a hair cut and begin to feel like your own self again, not some shaggy monster.
   
5. Go to the office and find only a modest pile of paperwork that accumulated in your absence.
6. Get notified that you won a research grant! Do happy dance.
   
7. Find the elusive recalled library book on your office bookshelf.
   
8. Eat a healthy and tasty lunch.
9. Write recommendations, memos, and administrative emails with ease.
   
10. Learn that childhood friend who is now famous will be visiting your city on a publicity tour later this week. Plan to stop by and surprise her with a face from elementary school.
    

and wait, there's more ahead, starting in four minutes:

• leave the office to go work at the cafe
• drink a fancy soy latte because it's your birthday, after all
• work on Immediate Project A (which must be sent off tomorrow)
• go to yoga!
  
• go out to dinner with GF!

on the book table

Our city's public library consists of a main building downtown, and a number of smaller branches scattered throughout different neighborhoods. Although I really like the downtown location, and it's not far from where I live, sometimes the convenience of my local branch, which is only a few blocks from my house, wins out. You can return items to any branch, where they stay in that location's collection until checked out or requested for delivery to another location. So browsing the shelves at my local branch is always interesting, a kind of snapshot of what my neighbors have been reading lately.

It was through one of these browsing afternoons that I picked up David Leavitt's 2000 novel, Martin Bauman; or, A Sure Thing. I was 40 pages from the end when I had to leave town--not enough to make it worth lugging the hardback book with me on the plane. So one of the first things I did when I returned was to finish this novel, which I enjoyed tremendously. At one level, it's an extended playful meditation on the relationship of "real" life to fiction -- the protagonist is a young writer who publishes an acclaimed short story in "the magazine" (aka the New Yorker) and enters into the 1980s New York literary scene. As did, of course, Leavitt himself. Yes, much of the novel clearly draws upon Leavitt's own experiences and acquaintances (and reviewers were quick to "identify" who certain persons were) -- and yet the text warns us against too easily mapping fictional characters onto real persons, suggesting in its depictions of Martin and his writing teacher, Stanley Flint, that the writer's craft transforms the raw materials of experience into something else, something more coherent and more beautiful.

But the book was compelling to me on other levels as well. David Leavitt (like Martin Bauman, his fictional persona in this novel) is 7 years older than me. And Martin, who narrates the novel in a reflective look through his own past, is 38 -- my age this year. So not only is the inevitable re-interpretation of one's own past something I recognize in myself, but the cultural details Leavitt so carefully records in this novel (late-80s literary culture etc) are also deeply familiar to me. I wasn't partying with the Brat Pack literati, but I read about them in magazines and read their works. I know enough about the world he's referring to to recognize it. But you don't have to know the personalities to enjoy this novel, since the psychological material in it is very rich, and Leavitt is a fantastic prose stylist:

Lately I've come to believe that the process of growing older is essentially one of ruthless and continual editing, so that the novel of one's experience -- at nineteen a huge and undisciplined mess, heavily annotated, the pages out of sequence -- will by forty have resolved itself into a fairly conventional tale of provincial life, and by sixty be reduced to one of those incisive, "minimalist" works in which irony and wordplay displace "plot" (a word I put in quotation marks because Flint loathed it). Thus at thirty-eight I travel in a comparatively restricted circle. At nineteen, on the other hand, I had dozens of friends, and more than that, I looked upon every one of them as a potential intimate. (10)

There is no quicker shortcut to intimacy than the discovery of common ground, of which Liza and I had acres; what we didn't realize -- what we wouldn't realize until we were older -- was that it is upon the method by which that ground is cultivated, not the soil iself, that intimacy in the long run depends. (205)

I vividly remember when Leavitt's first collection of stories, Family Dancing, was published in 1984 -- the cultural impact of that book was huge. Finally, a book about gay people that mainstream literary types were reading. My own parents, who faithfully subscribed to the New Yorker throughout the 1970s and 80s to feel some connection to what they thought of as their own cultural interests, which were not reflected in the small Midwestern town in which we lived -- my own parents read Leavitt's story in that magazine, and even read the collection when it was published. For me, as a still-closeted teen, that was significant.

I read Leavitt's second book, the novel the Lost Language of Cranes (1986) -- but I sort of lost track of his work during the 90s, when I was in graduate school and busy reading other things. I was vaguely aware of the dust-up around his novel When England Sleeps, which drew upon the published memoir of Stephen Spender, who then sued Leavitt for slander. Leavitt was forced to withdraw his novel, and it was later reissued with some changes and an angry preface. So obviously the issues about fact and fiction, and what freedom the artist does or does not have, are important ones for Leavitt. But overall, too, his reputation has suffered, I think, at the hands of reviewers who have criticized him for repeating the same themes or concerns. His early success at a very young age seems too easily to fall into the pattern of inevitable decline that you see not only in literary reviewing, but also in those VH1 bio segments etc.

The political and cultural climate has changed significantly since the mid-80s, too -- all of the reasons why Leavitt's stories were so ground-breaking then are precisely why they might seem tame or dated (or constrained by their middle-class-ness) now. The autobiographical aspects of this novel, particularly in the sections where Martin/Leavitt comments on his own choices and mistakes as a writer, allows him the flexibility of self-criticism, particularly in relation to the AIDS crisis. But the novel is not just a meta-fictional and autobiographical commentary --it's also its own thing, its own creative structure.

Throughout the book, Martin and the other characters struggle to make sense of their lives and their relationships. Commitment -- to a person, to an ideal, to a profession -- is deeply problematic for these Gen-Xers in ways that I understand and see articulated in my peers' lives as well. Success itself becomes fodder for self-doubt, even as Martin and his peers live lives undreamed of by the generation previous to them. The novel's subtitle "A Sure Thing" refers immediately to a comment made by Martin's writing teacher that Martin was most likely to grab at the sure thing. Is this the bitter quibble of an aging teacher jealous of the student's success? The critique of the artist resisting art's assimilation into a devouring mass culture? Or just an assessment of Martin's psychological drives? The novel doesn't rest on easy answers, and neither should we, in our own narrative journeys of self-reflection.

yay!

I'm flying home tomorrow!!!

Mom is doing much better. She makes little comments about wishing I could stay, but I also know that she takes pride in the fact that she's independent enough to live 600 miles away from me. She's able to get around the house now pretty well on her own, and she'll have assistance for chores and certain tasks until she's totally healed.

So, after a day or two of GF-hugging! and dog-snuggling! and sleep! and all the other things at the top of my wishlist, then my summer can really start...

p.s.

My mom's cat is fine now. Thank goodness.

not fully legal

Purely by accident, because the wireless switch was toggled on from when I'd had my laptop at the cafe earlier today, I discovered that if I sit in a particular corner of my mom's living room, I can get on her neighbors' unsecured wireless network. So thank you, nameless & faceless neighbors, for giving me the most relaxing hour I've had in days. I got to catch up on fugly celebrity outfits and some of my favorite blogs. Since I was already tired and in my PJs, I wasn't really going to work that much, anyhow.

I did, however, actually get some work done today while my mom napped. She is doing much, much better now and I feel like I'll be able to leave here and return home in a couple of days without feeling guilty. She's set up with home health aides who will come and do all the gnarly stuff that squeeves me out (cutting toenails, anyone?) plus all the stuff that I've been doing (laundry, bandages, pill counting, etc). And since they're not related to her, they will be far more entertaining than yours truly. Narcissists do really well with being taken care of, preferably by as many different people as possible.

Note to all my readers under age 55: I have seen the distant future and it sure ain't pretty. I know, I know, that by the time we hit our senior years, health care and retirement communities and all that stuff will be totally different -- we'll have Nu Wave 80s night at the Rec Center and we'll still be wearing jeans. (Since the hipsters by then will be clad in super high tech jumpsuits or something.) Our joints will have been replaced by plastic and our brains will be lubricated by vitamins. But still, just in case medical technology hasn't improved that much, or in case you want to save some money and agony in your future -- Do Some Core Muscle Exercises. If you do nothing else for your health and future fitness, do these. I recommend Peggy Brill's The Core Program, which is easy to understand, carefully thought out, and incredibly effective. Even though yoga covers many of the same muscles and principles, I still do Brill's exercise sequence several days a week. Because who wants back pain or to not be able to get out of a chair easily? Or even occasional urinary incontinence?

whinge ahead: 31 flavors of tired

I am so freaking tired. Sure, there's the obvious reason that I've been taking care of a post-surgery older person nonstop for several days. Which means a lot of dish-washing, floor-mopping, and laundry. Every time she gets up or sits down I need to assist her -- she can now walk on her own, but I have to prop her injured limb up so that the swelling will decrease. I've been changing bandages 5 or 6 times a day, although the drainage is finally slowing down. I have to remind her to take her medicine, to eat, to wear her glasses. Every single thing takes at least 15 minutes. Some of this is from the surgery, and the painkillers; some of it is just how she is now that she is older.

But I'm also tired because she's getting better -- because under the best of circumstances, my mother and I do not get along very well. And now that she is feeling better she is acting more like her usual self. Which means she either is picking on me about how I look, how I talk, how I do things -- or she is spouting long monologues about topics of no possible interest or importance.

I'm tired because I am an introvert, and my mother is an extrovert. She thinks it's great to have me right at her side every minute. In the evenings, she wants to flip channels on the TV which is in the room with the couch I'm sleeping on. There is nowhere in her home to avoid the noise of the television--especially since, for some inexplicable reason, my somewhat deaf 71 -year-old mother prefers the testosterone channel, Spike TV. I need time by myself, which I'm not getting. By the time I get her settled to bed in the evening, I am exhausted. I manage to read for maybe 5 minutes before dropping off to sleep. Then she usually wakes me up twice during the night, and I don't really get back to sleep very well. I'm averaging maybe 5 hours a night.

I'm tired because I'm not getting to use my brain for anything -- I'm behind on work deadlines, and behind on my own plans for the summer, and I have neither the time nor the focus to try and get much done while I'm here. One of her friends is supposed to come over tomorrow which will give me a little more time off, but I can't call on them too much since they will have to do a lot of helping her once I leave. I was supposed to be doing work right now -- I managed to convince her I needed a couple hours out of the house to do errands for her, and to do some work -- but I've been just catching up on email in the small amount of time I had once I finished her errands. She's OK on her own now, but she would prefer to have other people's attention and attendance, 24-7.

I'm tired because I'm in the small town in which I grew up. The small town which I fled as soon as I could. The small Midwestern town which prides itself on being so progressive but is still an all-white backwater. I know, there are many worse places to be (I've lived in a few) but I'm emotionally allergic to this town. It makes me feel sad, and anxious, and depressed -- just as I did when I was a teenager growing up here.

I'm tired because my real life, my chosen life and chosen family, are so , so far away. I want to go home. To my real home.

summary version

My mom was released from the hospital yesterday afternoon. Which is good although tiring in a different way.

Wednesday afternoon and night: blood, vomit, urine, laundry.

Thursday day: blood, laundry, house cleaning, vomit, nurse visit, laundry.

The vomit, at least, is her cat's, who seems to be having some stress-related digestive issue.

And did I mention that my mother's internet connection isn't working? so that I can only get online when I can get out of the house for an hour? Must. Get. Ticket. Home.

I'm tired, but she's doing OK, making good progress.

report from the road

Hospitals are grim. I feel really grateful that I don't usually have to go anywhere near them, or even visit doctors at all. My mother had surgery yesterday, so I spent the first half of the day in a waiting room which in retrospect wasn't bad at all -- I was able to listen to my MP3 player and get some work done. But once she was brought out of recovery and up to her floor, I gave up on being able to concentrate. She was still groggy from the anesthetic, but would jolt awake every five minutes or so, confused and disoriented -- in part from the medications, but also because there is So. Much. Noise. in the hospital -- the IV machines are beeping, various alarms are going off up and down the hall, the deaf old people are shouting, the nurses are shouting louder than the old people, etc etc. The 90-something woman in the bed next to my mom lies on her back, mouth open, gasping loudly for air when she's asleep; when she's awake, she garbles incomprehensibly because they took her false teeth away. The nurses are good, but they're stretched very thin -- so you really need a family member or someone there to do basic care, like prevent the patient from tearing at the IV and the oxygen cord, give her sips of liquid, blow her nose, etc. But I don't know how anyone actually rests while they're in there, it's so loud and overwhelming.

beware the exploding brain

It's come to my attention recently that I hate making travel arrangements. I mean, I knew I didn't like doing it, that I often feel stressed out or anxious when planning a trip, and that I sometimes procrastinate about things like plane tickets or hotel reservations. But somehow, each and every time, I think it's about the particular trip, rather than something about the act of making travel plans that throws me out of whack.

Now, it's probably obvious by now that I'm not much of a traveler -- I don't travel often or for fun -- it's nearly always out of obligation (family) or responsibility (work) or careerism (work). I don't have anything against travel for fun, but it just hasn't been in my budget for the last several years.

Now, due to a family medical issue, I find myself having to make arrangements to suddenly get to Home Town for an unspecified amount of time. Now, there are plenty of reasons to be dreading this trip -- my mother and I don't get along that well, my home town makes me feel depressed and adolescent, and I was just beginning my most excellent summer. This trip was definitely NOT in my plan. Plus it makes me anxious that I don't know when I'll be returning (it will depend on her recovery speed). I am a creature of habit and routine and would much prefer to be in my own house, with my chosen family.

But there is something inherent in the task of looking up flights and trying to figure out which of the possible configurations of time and money would be least painful that really makes my head explode. None of the options are good ones. I've narrowed it down to three possibilities, two of which might potentially really inconvenience my partner, or require the dogs to be boarded for a day; the third option gets me there at 11 at night, which has its own inconveniences. (Especially since transportation is an issue, since Home Town is too small to have its own airport.) Errgh.

At least I have the laptop, now, so I will be able to do different kinds of work while I'm there. But it's not how I wanted to start things off for the summer.

FreeMind and project planning

Over the past couple of weeks I've been trying out FreeMind, an open source mind-mapping) tool, and I think it's got a lot to offer.

Now, I should make it clear from the start that I'm a word person. I'm not really an image person -- I can't draw, I don't visualize things easily, and I often have trouble deciphering icons (on computers, in airports, etc) because I don't understand what they represent. Even my dreams often have voice-over narrators or subtitles. But because I know I don't use that part of my brain very often or very well, I sometimes think that I should at least try.

My only previous exposure to mind-mapping was (1) from some personal-growth book I read years ago which used maps as a tool for exploring aspects of the self, and (2) as a "brainstorming" exercise to use with beginning writers. Although profitable in a very localized sense, I didn't continue to explore this approach to generating or organizing ideas both because I didn't see how it could be applied to more complex situations, and because I found the process of drawing wiggly lines on the page very frustrating. (Go back to my inability to draw.) I was always anxious about running out of room on the page, I couldn't read half of what I'd written on the lines, and it was messy.

So when I read about FreeMind recently (somewhere -- lifehacker or 43 Folders or one of the other productivity blogs I allow myself to read at work) it seemed worth a look. Maybe with the expansion, revision, and precision that the computer would offer I could get something more out of mind-mapping.

So far, I've been using it mostly to generate ideas and organize sub-projects for my research. One of the things I've always struggled with in adapting GTD methodology to academic work is that I find it spot-on helpful in dealing with the day-to-day email flow, administrative tasks, etc. But planning a book, say, is a project on a very different level than even "write article" or "write grant application." Managing projects and subprojects, and especially projects with a variety of Next Actions that could be done concurrently, has always been difficult for me. In part I realized this was because reading through a list or outline imposes a linear order even to tasks which are actually potentially concurrent. For example: "look up bibliography on Topic X" and "look up bibliography on Topic Y" could be done in any order. And I need a way of organizing those sub-projects (in GTD-speak, a Project is anything that will take more than one Action to complete it) that lets me see their relationship to each other as well as to the larger project(s) of which they are a part. FreeMind has so far been really useful, both for generating/capturing ideas and also for organizing my workflow.

It's fairly intuitive to use -- the only weird thing I had to dig in the wiki to solve was that you have to start the program from the program icon each time, rather than simply clicking on an associated file in windows explorer -- something about how the java loads in means that you'll lose PDF capability that way. But that's a pretty small thing to have to remember to do. You can choose lines or bubbles for your map, color code text and bubble backgrounds, add connector lines, and even supplemental notes. Plus you can easily fold or unfold particular levels of your hierarchy, depending on what you want to see. Some people around the web are using FreeMind as an overall GTD information manager, using it to track all their Actions, Projects, etc. That's of little interest to me, but it suggests a range of ways to use this free tool to sort and capture whatever stuff you've got floating around in your head, whether for a particular project or for your whole life.

I've just begun reading one of Tony Buzan's books -- he's the MindMapping guru -- and I'm definitely intrigued. I hadn't realized how extensive was the theory behind this approach. (Nor how McLuhanesque some of it was.) What I've been using the maps for doesn't exactly fit into his scheme, which emphasizes using only single words (for concepts, ideas) on each associative branch, but I'm willing to give his style of mindmapping a try for some other purposes. My very reservations about it (not being able to draw, not liking messy documents) go against his whole philosophy, which is about unlocking all parts of your brain. Which probably means I could benefit from giving it a try. Buzan sells his own proprietary mindmapping software (which I haven't looked at yet) so computers are allowed, at least.

There's a lot out there about using mindmaps for younger students and teachers...I'd be interested to hear about people using them for scholarly projects as well.

Hard Candy

There's a wonderful moment near the end of this film when Hayley, the 14-year old protagonist, who is much given to costume changes throughout the narrative (to underscore the protean nature of teenage identity and sexuality) puts on a red hooded sweatshirt and rolls down a wooded hill. It's a celebration of sorts, for the character and for the film as a whole, which is a smart, edgy reworking of Little Red Riding Hood. The wolf is a 30-something man who meets her in a chat room and arranges to meet her in person. He's wearing a disguise of sorts (as does the wolf in granny's nightgown) but so is she. Little does he realize that in her bulging schoolgirl's book bag she has things a little more dangerous than the cookies Little Red usually carries through the wood. She's brought costumes, weapons, and tools with which to wreak her own revenge upon the wolf. The film brilliantly plays on the viewer's assumptions, biases, and sympathies -- it wants to make you uncomfortable, in order to complicate and enrich its message about predators. It's a tense psychological thriller that contains a couple of surprises. Not for the fainthearted, but well worth it.

nerdish object of desire #337

Several years ago, someone once described a colleague of his to me by simply noting "he has a Hinman collator in his dining room." This implied incredible scholarly devotion, an ascetic impulse that would give up the space normally granted to consuming food to a huge beast of a machine, and a level of old-school bibliographic geekery unshared even by most English professors.

Today, I feel a fleeting sense of kinship with that bibliographer, since my current unattainable object of desire is this: the ImageMouse Plus microfilm scanner.

I spent the afternoon at the library of one of our branch campuses, because they have this piece of special equipment that our library on main campus, where I work, does not own. I had phoned to confirm this, and asked if I'd be able to use it, and they said no problem. So today I went. After finding my way around their campus, and locating the library, I talk to three different librarians, none of whom have ever used the machine. Luckily the user's manual was on the table where it was located, and I assured them that I could figure it out (and I was right). The highest-ranking guy, Grumpy Librarian, had to use some kind of secret access password for me to let me onto the computer hooked up to the ImageMouse, and kept grumbling that I wasn't really allowed, that this machine was too much trouble, that he wished they didn't even own it. (Some of my favorite people are librarians -- my ex best friend, a new dog park buddy, several bosses and workmates in my past-- but people skills aren't always their strong suit. ) I mean, I'm faculty at your university, if not on your campus -- there's a reciprocal agreement within our system. And besides, it's not like anyone else wanted to use the thing.

Microfilm is always a pain to work with, usually literally -- I usually get neck cricks and shoulder aches, and often feel kind of nauseous after doing a lot of work with film or fiche. You're sitting cramped in a horrible unergonomic chair doing the same repetitive motion a zillion times, and print is often moving past your eyes. In graduate school the microforms were housed down in the basement, which was always 30 degrees colder than the rest of the building -- just to add to the creepy discomfort of the experience. (Today's room was actually too warm. It's never right, said Goldilocks as she spun another roll of film.)

And the ImageMouse doesn't remove all the pain. But by allowing me to scan microfilm into digital files, it will let me use this material so much more easily for my research and my teaching. (Much better than using the microform printers and then xeroxing, which just degrades the image quality over and over.) It's slow going -- I've got to make a couple more trips next week. At least I do have access to this machine, although apparently it's only by the good graces of Grumpy Librarian. So I don't know how many more return visits I'll be able to do this summer, or in the years ahead. I'll try to persuade our campus librarians to get one of these, but I doubt I'll have much success since our library budget keeps getting cut.

But just think how awesome it would be to have one of these on your desk of your very own! I wish, I wish, I wish...

decisions

I have (at least) three options, one of which I must choose in the next 10 minutes.

1. Stay in my office and grade essays.
   
2. Leave and go to yoga.
3. Leave and go elsewhere to grade.
   

I came in to the office two hours ago only because I had left some of the ungraded essays on my desk last night by mistake. (I had planned to spend the afternoon at a cafe grading.) But once here, my administrative responsibilities took over and I've spent two hours dealing with plagiarism cases and other end of term mini-crises.

#1 would be virtuous; also practical, in that I would be closer to my goal of finishing grading.
#2 would be healthy; also enjoyable. But it would not advance my grading.
#3 would be semi-virtuous, but not really necessary, since I brought coffee and water with me to the office earlier today.

Pleh. I guess I need to stay here and grade. Because if I go to yoga, I will then either have to stay up late or get up early. As it is I may need to get up extra early tomorrow.

I need to remember my Summer Plan. In the summer, I can go to yoga every day. I can go to yoga every day, once I get my grading done.

on being vegan

I've been vegan now for about 14 years. I deeply believe in each individual's right to research information for herself and make her own choices about food, health, purchases, etc. So the extent to which I proselytize about being vegan is usually dependent upon being asked questions by others. Because being a Vegan Missionary isn't in my identity description, and because being vegan is so deeply part of who I am, I often even forget that I've shared information with a specific individual until she or he brings it up again at some later time. For instance, a couple of months ago a woman who had been a staff member in my department a few years ago emailed me to ask "You once mentioned a book you read when you were becoming vegan -- can you tell me what it was?" I was happy to give her the reference, and we exchanged several emails about related topics -- but I have absolutely no memory of our ever having that original conversation. But it made me happy that she did remember, and cared enough to follow up six years later.

After years of vegetarianism, and three vegan girlfriends, my GF has recently made the choice to become fully vegan (thanks in part to PETA's Milk Gone Wild). (Though I should note that she ate very moderate amounts of dairy and eggs.) I'm proud of her for making that choice, and am supporting her through her process. In our recent conversations about these things, I've realized how my thoughts and feelings about dietary choices have evolved over the years, deepening and enriching my beliefs about so many other aspects of this human life.

So, blog readers -- you didn't ask about my being vegan, but I feel like explaining it anyway. (And thereby encouraging further questions or discussion.) However, one of the things I've observed over and over again is that the simple fact of my eating different food from others at a table (at a restaurant, at a work event, etc) makes many carnivorous people nervous. They start justifying their food ("I only eat meat in restaurants"; "I need meat for my iron levels"); apologizing ("Doesn't this bother you?") ; criticizing me ("you must not be getting enough calcium"); patronizing-while-sympathizing ("It must be so difficult to be vegan"); or, possibly the weirdest response (but a very frequent one) -- attempting to gross me and everyone else out ("I once ate cow's eyeball" -- to which someone else invariably responds "well, I ate crocodile testicle" etc etc). (note: I have never been around a bunch of vegetarians who've tried to gross each other out this way. If anything, it's more like "I once baked the most divine tofu cheesecake" -- competing with the goodness of food, not the reverse.)

Sadly, I think a lot of people (or at least North Americans) have a lot of issues around food. And also issues about non-conformity. So I don't have to say anything about being vegan -- if I eat with strangers, someone else nearly always starts questioning me about it. So: if hearing about other people's choices makes you feel defensive or nervous, or if you are going to insist that your way of eating is the Only Right Thing To Do, then do me a favor and stop reading here.

*****************
How I became vegan
As a child, I grew up in a household that ate a mostly Mediterranean/Italian style diet, which included meat several times a week, but usually as one of many ingredients in a stew, pasta dish, soup, or casserole, rather than the "piece of meat plus two sides" stereotypically thought of as "standard American diet." We also ate eggs, cheese, and yogurt. We were none of us very big on milk drinking -- for cultural reasons my parents thought it was something only for small children, or to accompany cereal or cookies. I was not particularly interested in eating meat as a child -- I always liked the other parts of the meal better. So I believe that at a deeper level my metabolic system was always inclined towards a vegetable based diet.

When I left home for college, I became semi-vegetarian, then mostly-vegetarian. I never cooked meat after I left my parents' house. I would eat it occasionally in restaurants or family situations. But this was all at the level of unconscious preferences, rather than a conscious choice or intention. Eventually I decided to commit to the way of life that made the most sense to me and felt better, and started calling myself a vegetarian, coming out as a vegetarian rather than just being one subtly. (Looking back, I figure that the delay was probably due to all the other coming out I was doing back in those years.)

So fast forward to 1992. I was on a vegetarian listserv that included a number of people making the transition to vegan. I got curious, and decided to try it for a month just to see if I could do it. At the time, I was used to eating cheese and yogurt pretty regularly and wasn't sure how much I would miss it.

I never looked back. For me, giving up dairy transformed my physical being so much that it was obviously the right thing for me. My skin cleared up. My seasonal allergic symptoms reduced dramatically. I felt more energetic. Over those first few weeks, my sense of smell and taste became more sensitive as the dairy left my body, so that I really didn't miss cheese any longer because it no longer smelled appealing. Over the months and years since, I've realized many more changes. Most telling -- I haven't had a single sinus infection or ear infection since I gave up dairy -- and this after having regular episodes of both throughout my entire pre-vegan life.

So for me the transition was not difficult, and the benefits were clear. The same isn't true for every person. I don't believe that any one single diet is the right plan for every person on the planet -- we are too varied in terms of our genetic heritage, our environment, and our metabolic expenditure.

Why am I vegan?
It was a mixture of curiosity and health reasons that initially started me on the vegan path. Early on, I also read John Robbins's May All Be Fed, which gave me lots of information that supported my choices and expanded my thinking about the impact of this decision. (If you're interested, I'd probably suggest starting with his most recent book, The Food Revolution which contains updated research information.) I became an environmental and political vegan, concerned with the impact of cattle farming on the land, on water usage, on the ability of the planet to sustain all of the human life covering its surface. I became concerned and outraged at the complicity of our government in claiming to protect and educate its citizens while increasing its own agribusiness profits. Because I believe more in the power of micropolitics than the macro level, it makes sense to me to make my daily choices in line with my political beliefs.

What has developed more strongly over the years that I have been vegan is my sensitivity and concern for the wellbeing of all animals and my commitment to veganism as an ethical and spiritual practice. The Buddhist ethic of doing no harm is important to me as a guideline. And in situations where some harm is inevitable, one can at least try to minimize it. Thich Naht Hanh writes in an essay on anger that:

Our anger, our frustration, our despair, have much to do with our body and the food we eat. We must work out a strategy of eating, of consuming to protect ourselves from anger and violence. Eating is an aspect of civilization. The way we grow our food, the kind of food we eat, and the way we eat it has much to do with civilization because the choices we make can bring about peace and relieve suffering.

Why ingest misery and suffering? If you have access to locally produced animal foodstuffs that are truly chemical free and cruelty free, and you feel that those food items are necessary or enjoyable for you, then that is your decision. But most food consumers don't have access to cruelty free animal products. For myself, a vegan diet is in harmony not only with my physical wellbeing but with my spiritual beliefs in the sanctity of all life.


So what does a vegan eat anyway?
Most of my meals consist of a grain (brown rice, pasta, bread, oatmeal, cereal, etc) plus a protein (legumes, tofu, other soy products, nuts) plus vegetables and/or fruits. Breakfast is usually a soy-protein/fruit smoothie, or peanut butter on toast, or oatmeal with soyprotein powder. Lunch is usually put together from leftovers: it might be beans and rice plus vegetables, or maybe a soy "burger." Dinner might be tofu-vegetable stirfry, chickpea-pasta saute, black bean burritos, veggie curry, etc. I sometimes make vegan versions of lasagne, tacos, even "meatloaf." Most of the world's cuisines don't rely on meat except as an occasional treat or used in small amounts for flavor. You can make up that flavor with other things-- tamari, sesame oil, garlic, lemon juice, herbs, etc. Cookbooks I recommend:

• The Vegetarian Times Complete Cookbook -- I have the earlier edition, but this one looks to be even better. This is a great all-around reference cookbook for the new vegetarian -- advice on cooking every kind of legume and vegetable, and a great selection of recipes for both everyday meals and fancier occasions. Includes recipes with dairy and eggs but many are vegan or vegan adaptable.
  
• The New Farm Vegetarian Cookbook -- easy family friendly recipes from one of the great 70s communes. Pictures of smiling hippies are a plus. Several of our household favorites are from this book.
  
• Tofu Cookery -- don't know what to do with that block of tofu? There's plenty of inspiration in this book.
  
• I also recommend Lorna Sass's cookbooks, if you own a pressure cooker or are willing to get one. I have Great Vegetarian Cooking Under Pressure but all of her books are good.

I own plenty of other cookbooks, but these are ones I actually sometimes use. It helps to like to cook if you're becoming vegetarian or vegan, but it's not hard to learn how to make the basic stuff like beans and rice. And today convenience foods like soy milk, soy burgers, etc are widely available. It's really not that difficult to be vegan once you adjust your ideas of what a meal should contain.

Summer: the plans, the dreams, the fantasy

As things are finally starting to wind down (I know the semester has to end, eventually) now is the time when the summer inhabits my imagination. I'm excited since I'm not teaching this summer, nor am I moving house (both of which I was doing last summer). So this summer already from the get go will be easier, more fun, and hopefully more productive.

But more than that, I'm feeling more than usually enthusiastic. Not just because I've done so much administrative and committee work this year that a couple of months relatively free of such things will be a real break. (Although one high-level administrative search committee will be operative during the summer, and some of my administrative duties continue, just reduced in size.) Not just because it will be a relief not to have to see some of my colleagues for a couple of months. We've had some unusually bitter and divisive department meetings recently that have transformed a generally collegial place into a backbiting snakepit.

But also I'm looking forward to the summer because I'm genuinely excited about the research projects I'm going to be working on. I feel engaged and interested in the new directions my work is taking. I got accepted to a conference at summer's end, which feels like a vote of confidence in my ideas. I heard a rumor (unsubstantiated yet by any official document) that I was awarded some small grant funds for one of these projects. Even more than the real material effect of the money, which would allow me to travel to some libraries, photocopy materials, and maybe purchase some necessary software (yeah, humanists come cheap, if you know any wealthy patrons out there who want to support some English profs) -- what is exciting to me is again the sense that it is a vote of confidence for my work.

And I feel more capable of being productive this year, too. During and since the Bikram challenge, I've had only 1 or 2 days of depression, and those were very mild. So if I can continue keeping my yoga level up to 5-7 days a week during the summer I hope that I'll be better able to handle the unstructured time of summer, which has sometimes been a real obstacle to my accomplishing anything. I don't mean to imply that unstructured time causes depression, but my depressive tendencies can make unstructured time very difficult to manage. And once depression sets in, it's hard to simply say "create your own structure, self." For whatever reason, the yoga works better for me than other forms of exercise for preventing depression (although I'm doing other things as well, and always have -- cardio machines, weights, brisk dogwalks).

Even now, as I'm attending meetings, grading, and trying to close out the term, I've been laying some of the groundwork for the summer. I've been revisiting some of my favorite time and self management books, and exploring new resources I've been discovering online. I've also been reading more books for fun -- my favorite part of summer, and one which last weekend I just had to start early. I've been concerned about a lack of good input into my brain -- and without good input, I don't get good output (i.e., blog posts). I'm a lousy "reviewer" of films or novels but at least I can try to comment on them. And now I've got several blog posts simmering on the back burner. . .

I'm also working on developing a workable schedule for the summer. One problem of course is that I like to stay up at night but I also want to get up early and get a jump on the day. So maybe afternoon naps will have to be added. But I think I want my days to look like this:

• get up early and walk dogs for 1 - 1 1/2 hours
• shower, breakfast
• go with laptop to cafe and work/write for 3-4 hours
• go home, eat lunch
• either read and take notes in the afternoon or go into campus to take care of administrative work (4 hours)
  
• yoga (90 mins + drive & shower = 2 1/2 hours) and/or gym (1-2 hours)
  
• evening dog walk if gf isn't doing it
  
• cook dinner, eat, family time
• blogging/TV/chores/fun reading
  

Of course, not every day will fit exactly into this schedule -- weekends certainly won't -- but having this as my goal will help me plan my days.

What are your summer plans?