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.
6/09/2006
6/07/2006
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.
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.
6/05/2006
how to have a great birthday
- Wake up in your own bed, with your honey and dogs snuggling all around.
- Go on a long dog walk.
- Return for coffee and bagels and birthday cards and presents!
- Get a hair cut and begin to feel like your own self again, not some shaggy monster.
- Go to the office and find only a modest pile of paperwork that accumulated in your absence.
- Get notified that you won a research grant! Do happy dance.
- Find the elusive recalled library book on your office bookshelf.
- Eat a healthy and tasty lunch.
- Write recommendations, memos, and administrative emails with ease.
- 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!
6/03/2006
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:
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.
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.
5/30/2006
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...
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...
5/29/2006
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?
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?
5/27/2006
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.
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.
5/25/2006
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.
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.
5/24/2006
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.
5/20/2006
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.
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.
5/19/2006
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.
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.
5/12/2006
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...
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...
5/09/2006
decisions
I have (at least) three options, one of which I must choose in the next 10 minutes.
#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.
- Stay in my office and grade essays.
- Leave and go to yoga.
- Leave and go elsewhere to grade.
#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.
5/07/2006
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:
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:
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.
5/05/2006
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:
What are your summer plans?
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
What are your summer plans?
4/20/2006
EOS: season of forgiveness
I'm going to follow Dr Crazy's example and start forgiving myself things during this End of Semester (EOS):
- The messy state of our house. (And more specifically the grungy state of the bathroom, which I know would only take me 30 minutes to deal with but I just haven't found those 30 minutes lying around anywhere.)
- The fact that I didn't make it to yoga or the gym today, even though I wanted to. I did, however, walk with the dogs for almost 2 hours (two separate walks) and mowed the yard.
- The patchy scrubbiness of our grass in front, the gaping expanse of dirt in the back yard, and the twiggy remains of two small bushes (plants?) that died last summer. I have never pretended to be somebody who knows anything about outdoor plants or who even cares about them. If it were really our house we'd zeroscape it if I got to pick. (We're renters so every month I feel yard shame when Landlord comes by for the check.)
- The fact that Sudoku is my new best friend for Faculty Council meetings.
- My underpreparedness for tomorrow, and the next day.
- Having only done one of my book orders so far for next term.
- The fact that despite my overloaded work state, I have managed to watch one TV show every night this week. (We taped Invasion tonight, and are working our way thru a DVD of Veronica Mars, which we'd never seen on real TV.)
- My boring blog.
- The breakout on my chin.
- The fact that it is 1 in the morning and I still have work to do. And what am I doing? See #8.
4/17/2006
Monday, Monday
Well, the evil virus has left my body. Thank goodness. But I had a cranky Monday anyway, faced with the awful feeling of being way behind on everything.
My grant application is done! and so are my taxes. (woo. hoo.) But the grading fairies didn't stop by to magically take care of the bibliographies I have to evaluate, nor to read the Master's theses weighing down my bag. Yup, it's End-of-Spring Semester. Which is way crazier than End-of-Fall. Thesis meetings, committee meetings, committee election meetings, merit review meetings, and meetings of the committee on committees. (Which hasn't yet held a meeting on meetings, but I'm sure it's on the agenda somewhere.) Everyone is distracted, ready to be done with all of this. (Except possibly my Chair, who thrives in departmental bylaws meetings like a vampire feeding on blood.) Maybe it's graduation looming, maybe it's spring pollen, maybe it's the bare skin exposed everywhere. Or maybe our semester is just 1 or 2 weeks too long?
My grant application is done! and so are my taxes. (woo. hoo.) But the grading fairies didn't stop by to magically take care of the bibliographies I have to evaluate, nor to read the Master's theses weighing down my bag. Yup, it's End-of-Spring Semester. Which is way crazier than End-of-Fall. Thesis meetings, committee meetings, committee election meetings, merit review meetings, and meetings of the committee on committees. (Which hasn't yet held a meeting on meetings, but I'm sure it's on the agenda somewhere.) Everyone is distracted, ready to be done with all of this. (Except possibly my Chair, who thrives in departmental bylaws meetings like a vampire feeding on blood.) Maybe it's graduation looming, maybe it's spring pollen, maybe it's the bare skin exposed everywhere. Or maybe our semester is just 1 or 2 weeks too long?
4/16/2006
when reality bites...
Well, I made it partway through my ambitious weekend list. I've made good progress on my grant apps and the laundry, and the dogs had two long walks yesterday. But now we are all piled on the bed feeling kind of punk. GF sprained her ankle badly Friday night and has to keep it elevated. And then, starting last night, I seem to have picked up some kind of stomachy bug. I'm just uncomfortable enough (fever, multiple trips to the bathroom) to feel cranky and distracted. Plus I'm achey so sitting at my desk really isn't a comfortable option. So, blessings once again to my Chair for granting me the use of a laptop. But my dream of cleaning up the house, managing all my work, and exercising heavily just isn't going to come true this weekend.
But on the good side: I get to hang out with my family who are all very sympathetic to my plight. Speedy has her head resting on my feet as I type this, and the Boss is curled on GF's pillow. They are kind of tired out after hunting for new dog toys in the yard this morning. . . I hid some rubber balls and new squeaky toys and they loved it. We may have to institute Toy Hunts for other holidays as well...
But on the good side: I get to hang out with my family who are all very sympathetic to my plight. Speedy has her head resting on my feet as I type this, and the Boss is curled on GF's pillow. They are kind of tired out after hunting for new dog toys in the yard this morning. . . I hid some rubber balls and new squeaky toys and they loved it. We may have to institute Toy Hunts for other holidays as well...
4/15/2006
the list
on my list for the weekend:
- write two small grant applications
- prepare and file my taxes
- attempt long-procrastinated revisions on article
- grade and comment on student bibliographies
- post stuff on the department's website
- do 5 loads of laundry (2 down already!)
- vaccum and mop the floors
- clean the bathroom
- take many dog walks
- take little blogging breaks
- get to yoga
- go to the gym
Friends with Money
I took yesterday as a day off, the first Friday I'd been able to avoid the office for a long while. My gf and I took the dogs to the dog park, went out to lunch, and even made it to the movies, where we saw Friends with Money, the new film from Nicole Holofcener, who previously did Walking & Talking and Lovely and Amazing. Since character-driven ensemble dramas are among my favorite types of film, and this one includes Catherine Keener, Frances McDormand, and Joan Cusack in it, I had high expectations and they were all satisfied. The film focuses on four 40ish women friends in LA, and their assorted husbands, careers, children, boyfriends, etc. It's not a comedy, though there are some humorous moments -- it's really more of a character piece. There are bittersweet moments, angry moments, sad and funny parts. I suppose it's part of the whole "40 is the new 30" thing (someone I know actually heard someone say that recently) so that 40-somethings can now in our culture be portrayed as trying to figure out their lives in the way that 15 years ago it was the 30somethings. If you have husband and house and money but you're still not happy, what do you do? If you don't have those things, does it mean you're not going ever to be happy? How do you balance individual happiness against the larger issues in the world -- in your family, your neighborhood, your city, the planet? Each of the women has a different approach to these questions.
One of the truest things in the movie I thought was how we often use other people's lives as a distraction from our own, or as a way to make ourselves feel better. So one couple are having a conversation about depression that isn't really going anywhere -- and then they'll say "well what about Christine? can you believe that...". The film neatly shows us this happening and, I think, offers the viewers the chance to self-reflect a little bit, to consider how we ourselves are inevitably using the characters in the film as emotional or social yardsticks (well, I'd never be as rude as that; my partner is better than hers; but I'm not as succesful as she is). It's entertaining but substantive as well. The reasons why I like this movie are sort of the same reasons I like reading so-called "personal" blogs -- glimpses into other lives that help you understand better the whole messy picture of being human.
One of the truest things in the movie I thought was how we often use other people's lives as a distraction from our own, or as a way to make ourselves feel better. So one couple are having a conversation about depression that isn't really going anywhere -- and then they'll say "well what about Christine? can you believe that...". The film neatly shows us this happening and, I think, offers the viewers the chance to self-reflect a little bit, to consider how we ourselves are inevitably using the characters in the film as emotional or social yardsticks (well, I'd never be as rude as that; my partner is better than hers; but I'm not as succesful as she is). It's entertaining but substantive as well. The reasons why I like this movie are sort of the same reasons I like reading so-called "personal" blogs -- glimpses into other lives that help you understand better the whole messy picture of being human.
4/12/2006
which era is it?
You know those magazine ads for Microsoft Office that show dinosaurs in business suits? Today I could see those dino-heads sitting around the table in our conference room during a department faculty meeting. Yup, it's curriculum review time. Time to bring out the same arguments that have been waged up and down these halls apparently since 1961 (the earliest date that was brought into conversation today).
Best worst moment: someone made a motion which she herself labelled "troglodytic" which was seconded by at least four other colleagues.
Best worst moment: someone made a motion which she herself labelled "troglodytic" which was seconded by at least four other colleagues.
4/09/2006
bee irritated
In a comment thread at Julie's about Starbucks, a couple of people mentioned the irritating advertising for the upcoming film Akeelah and the Bee which was co-produced by Starbucks Entertainment. I'm equally irritated by the general sense of overload produced by all the signs and coasters that litter the store I frequent. To state in the advertising material that a film is "inspirational" is enough to make me definitely NOT see it. And I'm still not convinced that an entertainment production company is an obvious linkage with the coffee empire. The music CDs made some kind of sense, in that SBX plays music in the stores and some people want to create the same ambience at home. But are they going to serve lattes in the movie theater? That actually would be awesome, since only some of our local theaters offer coffee at the concession stand. But I don't think that's the case here. Judging from the promotional materials on their website, they think this film expresses values that SBX wants to invoke in its customers. Blech.
But my irritation isn't just about the clutter, or the tenuous connection between coffee and a film about children. It's also about the cultural fuss about spelling bees. After all, from the description, this film seems like a mash-up of Spellbound and Bee Season with a little dash of Oprah sentiment thrown in. Now, that documentary and novel each had its strengths and weaknesses. But do we really need more? Plus, there already was a film made from Bee Season (which I haven't seen).
What I find irritating is that spelling bees, and their participants, tend to be presented in the media as amusing/touching examples of nerdiness. Spellbound, for instance, tended to emphasize the ways in which the champion spellers were misfits in their schools, either through their looks, their singleminded devotion to spelling, or their behavior. The spelling bee then becomes this redemptive space where the nerds can finally get prizes too. Because in modern American culture the only way anyone gets any social status is through sports or game-show type models of competition.
There are so many things that I find irritating about this. First of all -- spelling has nothing to do with intelligence, any more than one's ability to pitch a ball corresponds to overall physical health. Sure, some spellers are smart; but some are not. And there are plenty of smart people who can't spell. And we all know about how unhealthy some baseball players are.
Secondly -- if you want to applaud or sympathise with smart nerdy kids -- who are discriminated against and harassed on a daily basis in school -- then find better examples. Sure, they're not so easy to cheer on, because their interests and activities don't conform to a "win-all or lose" paradigm. They're awkward, eccentric, interesting, complicated, and unique. To hold up a few students who are good at memorizing stuff as if they are the ideal for all intelligent people is itself a dumbing-down strategy that tries to make Joe Ordinary feel better. Since coffeeshops are some of the few public spaces left where nerdy people can feel comfortable -- where it's OK to read a book or stare at the computer -- it seems all the more annoying to me that this film is SBX's first choice. To put a word like "pulchritude" on a coaster and make Joe Java Ordinary feel smug because he recognizes it hardly makes the world a better place.
But my irritation isn't just about the clutter, or the tenuous connection between coffee and a film about children. It's also about the cultural fuss about spelling bees. After all, from the description, this film seems like a mash-up of Spellbound and Bee Season with a little dash of Oprah sentiment thrown in. Now, that documentary and novel each had its strengths and weaknesses. But do we really need more? Plus, there already was a film made from Bee Season (which I haven't seen).
What I find irritating is that spelling bees, and their participants, tend to be presented in the media as amusing/touching examples of nerdiness. Spellbound, for instance, tended to emphasize the ways in which the champion spellers were misfits in their schools, either through their looks, their singleminded devotion to spelling, or their behavior. The spelling bee then becomes this redemptive space where the nerds can finally get prizes too. Because in modern American culture the only way anyone gets any social status is through sports or game-show type models of competition.
There are so many things that I find irritating about this. First of all -- spelling has nothing to do with intelligence, any more than one's ability to pitch a ball corresponds to overall physical health. Sure, some spellers are smart; but some are not. And there are plenty of smart people who can't spell. And we all know about how unhealthy some baseball players are.
Secondly -- if you want to applaud or sympathise with smart nerdy kids -- who are discriminated against and harassed on a daily basis in school -- then find better examples. Sure, they're not so easy to cheer on, because their interests and activities don't conform to a "win-all or lose" paradigm. They're awkward, eccentric, interesting, complicated, and unique. To hold up a few students who are good at memorizing stuff as if they are the ideal for all intelligent people is itself a dumbing-down strategy that tries to make Joe Ordinary feel better. Since coffeeshops are some of the few public spaces left where nerdy people can feel comfortable -- where it's OK to read a book or stare at the computer -- it seems all the more annoying to me that this film is SBX's first choice. To put a word like "pulchritude" on a coaster and make Joe Java Ordinary feel smug because he recognizes it hardly makes the world a better place.
4/07/2006
a walking tale
An acquaintance of mine recently said to me that she was glad they had installed a new taller fence around their yard. They wanted more privacy from the neighbors, but she in particular felt that now she was free to play with their dog without feeling self-conscious. I felt both glad for her about the fence, but also sad that she cared so much that it had hampered her play heretofore. For me, one of the many lessons I've learned from our dogs is to let go of self-consciousness. Plus, of course, it helps to be getting older. There are a lot of things I just don't care about as much as when I was younger. This is not to say I'm not self-conscious in certain situations -- being shy, over-educated, and having been raised by parents who were class and cultural outsiders means that I am hyper-aware of myself when I have to deal with the extremely wealthy, or in spaces like suburbia.
But being with The Boss and Speedy frees me from all awkwardness, since they really don't care. They want only to spend time with me. We play elaborate games of "Chase Speedy with the ball" and "Boss's Tugfest" in our yard, with rules and conventions that have developed over time. If my neighbors see me running and playing, who cares? It actually has never even crossed my mind.
When walking with the dogs, I often carry on some running commentary or conversations with them about what we see, how they're acting, etc. Some of it is along the lines of "leave that dead bird alone" and some of it is more personal and nonsensical. I sing little madeup rhymes to them and just have fun. (I do realise that I might sound (might in fact be becoming) Crazy Dog Lady but I still would not share my toothbrush with either of our dogs, which is my personal benchmark for such things. (Based on someone I once knew.))
Yesterday morning, we were out on a walk a bit earlier than usual. Because of the presence of schoolchildren (and the alarming crossing guards who make Speedy anxious) we walked a slightly different route than we customarily do. I was happily singing a little spring song to them as we turned the corner by the Catholic church. And there was a guy in a monk's outfit in a little meditation garden facing the street. I'm no expert in Church garb, but this sure seemed like traditional brown monk type robes I'd expect at the Renaissance Faire. He looked up coldly at me and I stopped singing. Then I nodded and said good morning, and kept walking.
And then, half a block further down the street, both Speedy and then The Boss decided to poop on the grass in front of the church's office building. I picked it up of course but couldn't help but feel like there was some judgment going on.
But being with The Boss and Speedy frees me from all awkwardness, since they really don't care. They want only to spend time with me. We play elaborate games of "Chase Speedy with the ball" and "Boss's Tugfest" in our yard, with rules and conventions that have developed over time. If my neighbors see me running and playing, who cares? It actually has never even crossed my mind.
When walking with the dogs, I often carry on some running commentary or conversations with them about what we see, how they're acting, etc. Some of it is along the lines of "leave that dead bird alone" and some of it is more personal and nonsensical. I sing little madeup rhymes to them and just have fun. (I do realise that I might sound (might in fact be becoming) Crazy Dog Lady but I still would not share my toothbrush with either of our dogs, which is my personal benchmark for such things. (Based on someone I once knew.))
Yesterday morning, we were out on a walk a bit earlier than usual. Because of the presence of schoolchildren (and the alarming crossing guards who make Speedy anxious) we walked a slightly different route than we customarily do. I was happily singing a little spring song to them as we turned the corner by the Catholic church. And there was a guy in a monk's outfit in a little meditation garden facing the street. I'm no expert in Church garb, but this sure seemed like traditional brown monk type robes I'd expect at the Renaissance Faire. He looked up coldly at me and I stopped singing. Then I nodded and said good morning, and kept walking.
And then, half a block further down the street, both Speedy and then The Boss decided to poop on the grass in front of the church's office building. I picked it up of course but couldn't help but feel like there was some judgment going on.
Friday poetry blogging
I have rarely (if ever) participated in Friday poetry blogging, because I'm usually overwhelmed by the choices. How can I pick one poem? How can I answer when someone asks me what my favorite novel is? These questions undo me. But I've been dipping into other people's Friday poetry blogs and enjoying all that I've been reading there. So here goes.
This is Sonnet XXV from Dante Gabriel Rossetti's The House of Life series (1870).
WINGED HOURS.
Each hour until we meet is as a bird
That wings from far his gradual way along
The rustling covert of my soul,—his song
Still loudlier trilled through leaves more deeply stirr'd:
But at the hour of meeting, a clear word
Is every note he sings, in Love's own tongue;
Yet, Love, thou know'st the sweet strain suffers wrong,
Through our contending kisses oft unheard.
What of that hour at last, when for her sake
No wing may fly to me nor song may flow;
When, wandering round my life unleaved, I know
The bloodied feathers scattered in the brake,
And think how she, far from me, with like eyes
Sees through the untuneful bough the wingless skies?
This is Sonnet XXV from Dante Gabriel Rossetti's The House of Life series (1870).
WINGED HOURS.
Each hour until we meet is as a bird
That wings from far his gradual way along
The rustling covert of my soul,—his song
Still loudlier trilled through leaves more deeply stirr'd:
But at the hour of meeting, a clear word
Is every note he sings, in Love's own tongue;
Yet, Love, thou know'st the sweet strain suffers wrong,
Through our contending kisses oft unheard.
What of that hour at last, when for her sake
No wing may fly to me nor song may flow;
When, wandering round my life unleaved, I know
The bloodied feathers scattered in the brake,
And think how she, far from me, with like eyes
Sees through the untuneful bough the wingless skies?
4/02/2006
I did it!
Last night I completed the Bikram challenge! 60 consecutive days of Bikram yoga.
The strangest thing about finishing the challenge is that now it seems ordinary to go to yoga every single day. I do remember that five or six months ago I thought that 3 or 4 days in a row was the maximum I could do without needing a day off. Obviously, that's not true. I also used to think I was maintaining a regular practice with 4 or 5 days total a week. I think my standards have now been raised. I know I can do more.
What else happened during the challenge?
My yoga improved. I gained strength, balance, and flexibility. In yoga as in other exercise, I've found that you improve for a while, then you hit a plateau, then eventually start improving again. Doing the challenge bumped my practice up to another level. I'm still very aware of all the poses I struggle with, but I know that overall my practice improved.
My mind improved. I've been a happier and nicer person over the past 60 days. More importantly -- I've had no days of full on depression, which for me is pretty significant. I think I've been calmer in my responses to things. Setting such a clear priority, and making sure that if nothing else happens, I at least get to yoga, helped organize my day, and made me feel that I was accomplishing something. I've been struggling with meeting my goals the past couple of years, and so this feels good.
My body improved. I took my measurements on February 1st, when the challenge started -- I'm glad I did, because now I have concrete evidence of the visible physical changes. My clothes fit differently, and people in yoga class commented on what they saw. But since I live in my body every day, it's easy to become accustomed to it very quickly, and doubt the reality of the change. So, by the numbers: I didn't lose any pounds, but I did lose inches. Chest 3, waist 2 1/2, hips 2, thigh 1.
3/30/2006
Bikram questions answered
KF at Planned Obsolescence, who is currently taking yogalates (Yoga plus pilates) classes, is thinking about trying Bikram. She wrote recently:
These are good questions, the questions most people have before trying hot yoga. How hot is it really, and will I die? Most Bikram studios are heated to 105 degrees, and humidified to about 40% humidity. The precision with which these conditions are reached depends in large part on the climate of your area (esp with the humidity-- classes in Florida are going to be much more humid than those in Arizona).
Yes, it is hot. You are going to sweat. A lot. Possibly more than you thought you could. It's actually good for you to sweat -- it helps detoxify the body and it is essential to your body's cooling system. Sweat will be running down your face, down your neck, off your fingertips, etc. You don't want to wipe away the sweat during class, not only because it's distracting, but also because leaving it on your skin helps your body regulate its internal temperature.
Every Bikram practitioner has experienced moments during a class when s/he feels pretty awful. As your body is adjusting to the heat and detoxifying, you might occasionally feel a little nausea or dizziness. When that happens, you stand still, kneel down (if the class is doing standing poses) or lie down in savasana. When you feel better, you rejoin the class. During your first class, your main goal is to stay in the heated room. Even if you were just lying down for most of the class and focusing on your breath, you would be gaining health benefits. All certified Bikram instructors repeat these instructions to their students at the beginning of class, and no one is ever asked to do a pose if they feel bad. If you feel bad, you lie still until it passes.
The good news is that even the worst sensations pass fairly quickly. And many students don't feel that way at first -- it might be much further on in your practice, and then you suddenly have a struggling class. Every day is different. This yoga teaches you to be very aware of your body, of how much you slept, what you ate, etc.
There are also some things you can do to make your first few Bikram classes easier:
More Bikram questions, anyone?
There’s a Bikram yoga studio just a few blocks from my condo, and I’m seriously considering going there to check it out when I get home. But I’m got certain kinds of anxieties about Bikram, anxieties that I could stand to have dispelled before I go forward with this. Mostly these concerns have to do with the heat: while the studio I’m now attending is heated, class temperatures generally fall somewhere between 80 and 90 degrees, I think, and I can definitely tell the difference between hotter days and less hot days, and between hotter areas of the room and less hot spots. Generally speaking, hotter = more mashed-potatolike feeling at end of class. So this is why I’m concerned: the Bikram place near me says that its studio is heated to 100 degrees, and that’s a hefty number more degrees. Will there be nausea? Danger of passing out? Brain-deadness?
These are good questions, the questions most people have before trying hot yoga. How hot is it really, and will I die? Most Bikram studios are heated to 105 degrees, and humidified to about 40% humidity. The precision with which these conditions are reached depends in large part on the climate of your area (esp with the humidity-- classes in Florida are going to be much more humid than those in Arizona).
Yes, it is hot. You are going to sweat. A lot. Possibly more than you thought you could. It's actually good for you to sweat -- it helps detoxify the body and it is essential to your body's cooling system. Sweat will be running down your face, down your neck, off your fingertips, etc. You don't want to wipe away the sweat during class, not only because it's distracting, but also because leaving it on your skin helps your body regulate its internal temperature.
Every Bikram practitioner has experienced moments during a class when s/he feels pretty awful. As your body is adjusting to the heat and detoxifying, you might occasionally feel a little nausea or dizziness. When that happens, you stand still, kneel down (if the class is doing standing poses) or lie down in savasana. When you feel better, you rejoin the class. During your first class, your main goal is to stay in the heated room. Even if you were just lying down for most of the class and focusing on your breath, you would be gaining health benefits. All certified Bikram instructors repeat these instructions to their students at the beginning of class, and no one is ever asked to do a pose if they feel bad. If you feel bad, you lie still until it passes.
The good news is that even the worst sensations pass fairly quickly. And many students don't feel that way at first -- it might be much further on in your practice, and then you suddenly have a struggling class. Every day is different. This yoga teaches you to be very aware of your body, of how much you slept, what you ate, etc.
There are also some things you can do to make your first few Bikram classes easier:
- Really, really hydrate yourself for the whole day before class (this is one reason I don't recommend doing a super-early class at first, since most of us don't drink water while we sleep). I aim to drink at least 2 liters of water during the day, 3 or more if the weather is hot, before going to class in the evening.
- Add an electrolyte supplement to some of that water an hour or so before class: a packet of Emergen-C, or ElectroMix (both made by Alacer) is especially helpful, and doesn't have all the sugar of Gatorade. But Gatorade is available at every minimart and drugstore. So if that's what you've got, drink some.
- Plan your eating. The conventional advice is not to eat for 2 hours before class. I think that's true if you have normal blood sugar, a sensitive stomach, and if "eating" means heavy food (a full meal, or meat & fat). For myself -- a vegan with low blood sugar issues -- it's actually important for me to eat a little snack fairly close to class time. Class is 90 minutes long and if my blood sugar is too low heading into it, I'll feel sick. So I eat a banana and some soy milk, or part of a Clif bar, something like that, 30-60 minutes before class. But I wouldn't eat anything that requires significant digestion (broccoli, even brown rice) since you want your stomach to be ready to move. You know already how sensitive your stomach tends to be, and how your blood sugar is. Don't be afraid to tinker a little bit with the conventional recommendations if it works for you. Most people can handle a little fruit before class, and it can help a lot with the lightheadedness in the heat. Bananas and oranges are especially useful for the potassium.
- You'll want to have a liter of water with you in class -- most studios sell water there, but I recommend if you can, to prepare your bottle ahead of time. Freeze a bottle that's half full and then add water to that. You want about half ice, half water -- this will keep your water chilled during the class.
- Don't gulp water -- sip it very judiciously during the water breaks (which occur at set intervals in class). Gulping (esp if it's iced) will make your stomach cramp. The water in class is really for your mind more than your body -- it takes 20-30 minutes for water to be absorbed into your body, so the water you drink during class isn't enough to compensate for what you're sweating out. That's why you have to drink a lot beforehand.
- If you're suffering from the heat, splash some of your water on your neck or on the back of your head during the water break. It's way more refreshing than drinking it!
More Bikram questions, anyone?
vs recommendation letters
I'm trying to understand a justifiable rationale for requiring recommendation letters for faculty applying for small grants in the humanities. (as an aside: when scientists apply for grants do they need rec letters?)
I'm not talking about the writing of rec letters for students getting into school, for grad students on the job market, or even for faculty hiring in general, although there are problems in all of those areas too. We all have read (and possibly written) letters that were clearly dashed off in a hurry, written out of a sense of obligation rather than enthusiasm, or simply to get a person out of your office. I mean, really. The most absurd/pathetic applicants for our recent faculty positions (and I'm talking here about people without PhDs, or with degrees in fields not remotely connected to the job, or people whose personal pathologies were visible all over their cover letters) -- all of these people still somehow managed to shake the bushes and get a positive recommendation letter from somebody. Which in and of itself casts some question on the usefulness of the letters. But when you are hiring someone to a faculty line, or accepting someone into your grad program -- you are entering into a longterm relationship with the person. So the idea of getting a letter from someone who actually has met and known the person has some validity, and yes, sometimes the letters can tell you things (like about someone's teaching) that you can't see elsewhere in the file.
But why require letters for small grant programs? (Small in this context means $250- $5,000 -- amounts that most of the scientists I know would sneeze at but which could go a long way in xeroxing money, microfilm money, travel to libraries.) The granting institution/agency isn't going to ever meet the awardee in person. Yes, their name will be attached to published work deriving from the grant period -- but to find out whether someone is a successful published scholar in their field, you have only to look at the cv. The cv lets you know how efficient someone is in getting their work out. The project description gives you plenty of information about the content and significance of the work. It seems to me that letters let the grant committees off the hook of actually having to know anything about the grant field.
More insidiously, the practice of requiring such grant letters reinforces the conservatism and elitism of academe. People with connections to big-name letter writers (who generally came out of top rank programs) get more awards than people without such connections. People in defined conventional areas of study get more awards than people in newer interdisciplinary areas. There's also tremendous unstated workload for those people in positions of power who are asked to write such letters. Their agreement or decline (or delay) serves as a hidden gatekeeping function for The System. The result is that those who have, get more. And those who don't, struggle.
I'm not talking about the writing of rec letters for students getting into school, for grad students on the job market, or even for faculty hiring in general, although there are problems in all of those areas too. We all have read (and possibly written) letters that were clearly dashed off in a hurry, written out of a sense of obligation rather than enthusiasm, or simply to get a person out of your office. I mean, really. The most absurd/pathetic applicants for our recent faculty positions (and I'm talking here about people without PhDs, or with degrees in fields not remotely connected to the job, or people whose personal pathologies were visible all over their cover letters) -- all of these people still somehow managed to shake the bushes and get a positive recommendation letter from somebody. Which in and of itself casts some question on the usefulness of the letters. But when you are hiring someone to a faculty line, or accepting someone into your grad program -- you are entering into a longterm relationship with the person. So the idea of getting a letter from someone who actually has met and known the person has some validity, and yes, sometimes the letters can tell you things (like about someone's teaching) that you can't see elsewhere in the file.
But why require letters for small grant programs? (Small in this context means $250- $5,000 -- amounts that most of the scientists I know would sneeze at but which could go a long way in xeroxing money, microfilm money, travel to libraries.) The granting institution/agency isn't going to ever meet the awardee in person. Yes, their name will be attached to published work deriving from the grant period -- but to find out whether someone is a successful published scholar in their field, you have only to look at the cv. The cv lets you know how efficient someone is in getting their work out. The project description gives you plenty of information about the content and significance of the work. It seems to me that letters let the grant committees off the hook of actually having to know anything about the grant field.
More insidiously, the practice of requiring such grant letters reinforces the conservatism and elitism of academe. People with connections to big-name letter writers (who generally came out of top rank programs) get more awards than people without such connections. People in defined conventional areas of study get more awards than people in newer interdisciplinary areas. There's also tremendous unstated workload for those people in positions of power who are asked to write such letters. Their agreement or decline (or delay) serves as a hidden gatekeeping function for The System. The result is that those who have, get more. And those who don't, struggle.
3/25/2006
shaping graduate students
I've been thinking a lot lately about how one learns to be a graduate student. I've been rather frustrated with my grad class this term -- I'm afraid it's been really a rather mediocre experience. My students are nice enough, and some of them are bright. But they're just not doing the work, or doing it in the ways that I expect from graduate students.
At the institution where I did my Master's, it was common practice for faculty to hand out lists of secondary readings that were not on the syllabus, not exactly required reading -- but we were expected to read at least some of that material. Those lists were a set of critical signposts, some help with navigating the topics.
At the institution where I did my PhD, it was assumed that we had the skills to come up with our own lists of critical material. It was expected that you did the assigned reading for class, the extra research for your presentations and essays, and additional critical reading just to learn more about the topic. And, too, in order to not feel stupid in class discussion. Yes, it was a competitive culture that had many dark sides. But to be in a room of smart people who are trying to show off how much they've read about a text? Not that terrible a thing. The showing off could be tiresome, but we all did a lot of work, and it paid off.
Now, the department in which I teach is nothing like either of my graduate institutions. We are far from top tier, and our students are a motley bunch. Some are using our MA as a stepping stone to a better PhD program; others need to stay in this region for family or work reasons and need the credentials. Others are pursuing the PhD in order to teach at junior colleges. A small number of our best students get jobs at 4-year teaching colleges. But almost none of them are heading towards a research-intensive career.
Our students aren't professionalized when they arrive, and the culture in the department doesn't seem to be doing a good enough job of it. The graduate student association sometimes holds orientation sessions, and the faculty offer sessions on professional topics like preparing conference abstracts or getting ready for the job market. But no one is telling them how to behave in class.
I should make it clear that I don't expect that my students would behave the way I did when I was getting an MA. Their backgrounds and goals are very different from mine. But, what I do expect is that they come to class ready to discuss the material. That if I give them focus questions, they will at the very least have prepared something to say in response to those questions. I've been trying a whole range of different strategies (focus questions, informal writing, even group work) with only limited success. It's been frustrating to feel that I'm treating them like my undergrads, when I expect much more initiative from graduate students. And I tell them so. I try to make my expectations very clear.
I guess next year I will have to be even more blunt. But should one have to tell graduate students that they actually need to do the reading? That in a seminar you're expected to talk?
At the institution where I did my Master's, it was common practice for faculty to hand out lists of secondary readings that were not on the syllabus, not exactly required reading -- but we were expected to read at least some of that material. Those lists were a set of critical signposts, some help with navigating the topics.
At the institution where I did my PhD, it was assumed that we had the skills to come up with our own lists of critical material. It was expected that you did the assigned reading for class, the extra research for your presentations and essays, and additional critical reading just to learn more about the topic. And, too, in order to not feel stupid in class discussion. Yes, it was a competitive culture that had many dark sides. But to be in a room of smart people who are trying to show off how much they've read about a text? Not that terrible a thing. The showing off could be tiresome, but we all did a lot of work, and it paid off.
Now, the department in which I teach is nothing like either of my graduate institutions. We are far from top tier, and our students are a motley bunch. Some are using our MA as a stepping stone to a better PhD program; others need to stay in this region for family or work reasons and need the credentials. Others are pursuing the PhD in order to teach at junior colleges. A small number of our best students get jobs at 4-year teaching colleges. But almost none of them are heading towards a research-intensive career.
Our students aren't professionalized when they arrive, and the culture in the department doesn't seem to be doing a good enough job of it. The graduate student association sometimes holds orientation sessions, and the faculty offer sessions on professional topics like preparing conference abstracts or getting ready for the job market. But no one is telling them how to behave in class.
I should make it clear that I don't expect that my students would behave the way I did when I was getting an MA. Their backgrounds and goals are very different from mine. But, what I do expect is that they come to class ready to discuss the material. That if I give them focus questions, they will at the very least have prepared something to say in response to those questions. I've been trying a whole range of different strategies (focus questions, informal writing, even group work) with only limited success. It's been frustrating to feel that I'm treating them like my undergrads, when I expect much more initiative from graduate students. And I tell them so. I try to make my expectations very clear.
I guess next year I will have to be even more blunt. But should one have to tell graduate students that they actually need to do the reading? That in a seminar you're expected to talk?
3/21/2006
new toy!
Sometimes, doing administration pays off.
I had learned from our computer support person that some faculty in my department have both desktops and laptops -- this is not something that's widely known, since there isn't funding for everyone to have two machines. But there is more funding available for computers now than there used to be -- my first PC at the U I had to use for six years, which meant it was pretty well outdated by the time it was replaced. Nowadays we are on a better upgrade schedule, and apparnetly there's enough extra room in the budget to help out some people with special requests.
So I waited until my Chair was feeling indebted to me for some crap administrivia I was taking on -- and then I sent him my request for a laptop, pointing out all the many ways I would use it in the classroom as well as for my research. (I've been stuck using a loaner machine whenever I want to make presentations in class, which is a royal pain).
He approved my request, and then I had to wait for the purchase approval, the UPS screwup, and the installation & setup by our support folks. And today I finally got my new machine!
So I'm blogging from the couch right now, fully enjoying the benefits of our home wireless network. I still have to do a lot to get this machine set up the way I want it, plus copy my bookmarks etc from my desktop(s). But it's going to definitely improve my research, my teaching, and maybe even my blogging!
I had learned from our computer support person that some faculty in my department have both desktops and laptops -- this is not something that's widely known, since there isn't funding for everyone to have two machines. But there is more funding available for computers now than there used to be -- my first PC at the U I had to use for six years, which meant it was pretty well outdated by the time it was replaced. Nowadays we are on a better upgrade schedule, and apparnetly there's enough extra room in the budget to help out some people with special requests.
So I waited until my Chair was feeling indebted to me for some crap administrivia I was taking on -- and then I sent him my request for a laptop, pointing out all the many ways I would use it in the classroom as well as for my research. (I've been stuck using a loaner machine whenever I want to make presentations in class, which is a royal pain).
He approved my request, and then I had to wait for the purchase approval, the UPS screwup, and the installation & setup by our support folks. And today I finally got my new machine!
So I'm blogging from the couch right now, fully enjoying the benefits of our home wireless network. I still have to do a lot to get this machine set up the way I want it, plus copy my bookmarks etc from my desktop(s). But it's going to definitely improve my research, my teaching, and maybe even my blogging!
3/18/2006
ewww
In women's locker rooms, especially in situations when you've been all in one class together (as compared with the huge random locker room at my gym), there's frequently some friendly conversation and occasionally the sharing of certain items. I've given away tampons, and received ibuprofen, all in the general friendly spirit of the changing room. Hair elastics seem to be another popular item for losing, offering, or borrowing -- one that I'm exempt from, since I have hair short enough to allow me to reply only with a blank look when someone asked "can I borrow a brush"? That was over 10 years ago, and until today remained the oddest locker room request I'd heard.
But today, as I was getting dressed after my post-yoga shower, a woman who was a complete stranger (not only had I never talked with her before, I'd never even seen her at my studio before) said "would it gross you out if I asked to borrow your deodorant?"
Um, yeah. It would. And did.
I said no, I really couldn't do that, and she seemed to understand, though she complained that she would have to go to work without deodorant. As she zipped up her bag, it got me thinking -- would it have been any different if it was one of the women I talk to at yoga? Deodorant just doesn't seem to me to be something you share. Am I just overly squeamish?
But today, as I was getting dressed after my post-yoga shower, a woman who was a complete stranger (not only had I never talked with her before, I'd never even seen her at my studio before) said "would it gross you out if I asked to borrow your deodorant?"
Um, yeah. It would. And did.
I said no, I really couldn't do that, and she seemed to understand, though she complained that she would have to go to work without deodorant. As she zipped up her bag, it got me thinking -- would it have been any different if it was one of the women I talk to at yoga? Deodorant just doesn't seem to me to be something you share. Am I just overly squeamish?
random Saturday night thoughts
Spring break has been wonderful. I'm sorry that it has to end. Though if it didn't, it wouldn't really be "break," I guess.
I'm busy trying to wrap up various house projects this weekend, and get some things ready for the remaining weeks of the semester. There are few things more draining for me than sorting through piles of paper. When it's all shredded, recycled, filed, or acted upon, I'll be really happy. But right now I'm still in the dreary stages of picking up each document and figuring out what needs to be done with it.
Today was day 46/60 on the yoga challenge!! I'm excited because in the last few days Standing Bow, which used to be one of my favorite postures, and then became one of my really struggling ones, has started to be fun again. One of my teachers made a comment about how to visualize your kidneys in the pose and it all started to work so much better.
I got to play with a super cute puppy last night -- the easiest and most fun dog rescue ever. I came home to find this adorable puppy in my driveway. Her tag had two phone numbers and the explanation that she was deaf. I got her playing with our dogs in the yard, and then started phoning. Turned out that her person was out of town, and had left her puppy with her brother & sister in law -- they do spaniel rescue and live across the street from me. But puppy Abby was tiny enough to squeeze through a gap in their fence while they were out for dinner. It was an interesting night for Speedy, who we still call "puppy" even though she's now 3. She took on a big dog role in teaching the puppy a couple of her favorite games, and also in "protecting" me when the puppy tried to climb my leg. The Boss behaved herself quite well, though she's not a big fan of little puppies. She kept demanding that I or Speedy play with her, instead. But everyone enjoyed the long playtime.
We saw 16 Blocks and thoroughly enjoyed it. Ultraviolet was a disappointment. Waiting for my gf to come back from a trip away so we can check out V for Vendetta.
I'm busy trying to wrap up various house projects this weekend, and get some things ready for the remaining weeks of the semester. There are few things more draining for me than sorting through piles of paper. When it's all shredded, recycled, filed, or acted upon, I'll be really happy. But right now I'm still in the dreary stages of picking up each document and figuring out what needs to be done with it.
Today was day 46/60 on the yoga challenge!! I'm excited because in the last few days Standing Bow, which used to be one of my favorite postures, and then became one of my really struggling ones, has started to be fun again. One of my teachers made a comment about how to visualize your kidneys in the pose and it all started to work so much better.
I got to play with a super cute puppy last night -- the easiest and most fun dog rescue ever. I came home to find this adorable puppy in my driveway. Her tag had two phone numbers and the explanation that she was deaf. I got her playing with our dogs in the yard, and then started phoning. Turned out that her person was out of town, and had left her puppy with her brother & sister in law -- they do spaniel rescue and live across the street from me. But puppy Abby was tiny enough to squeeze through a gap in their fence while they were out for dinner. It was an interesting night for Speedy, who we still call "puppy" even though she's now 3. She took on a big dog role in teaching the puppy a couple of her favorite games, and also in "protecting" me when the puppy tried to climb my leg. The Boss behaved herself quite well, though she's not a big fan of little puppies. She kept demanding that I or Speedy play with her, instead. But everyone enjoyed the long playtime.
We saw 16 Blocks and thoroughly enjoyed it. Ultraviolet was a disappointment. Waiting for my gf to come back from a trip away so we can check out V for Vendetta.
3/16/2006
all those hours down the drain
Well, the latest news from my Chair is that, after countless hours of faculty effort (reading files, discussing files in meetings, interviewing candidates, lunches and city tours, etc, etc), we won't be successfully completing one of our searches. There are few things worse for department morale than a failed search. Just as a successful search can energize and bring people together in a renewed vision for a particular area or subfield, a failed search can reinforce suspicion, negative attitudes, and a sense of defeatism.
In this case, I really don't see that it was the fault of anyone in my department; competing offers and candidates' personal situations are outside our control. And there is only so far that we can get our Dean to match competing offers -- we are a public institution and inevitably have fewer resources than some other places. It's frustrating to know that there were probably other good candidates out there who somehow didn't get onto our short list. One of the sad things about doing searches is that you see the awful consequences of the overproduction of PhDs up close.
A failed search does nobody any good. Certainly not my department. We all have to retreat and lick our wounds and somehow figure out how we're going to go about this again next year. It's such a draining process under the best of circumstances -- this will make it even more difficult to get good people to volunteer their time to the hiring process.
In this case, I really don't see that it was the fault of anyone in my department; competing offers and candidates' personal situations are outside our control. And there is only so far that we can get our Dean to match competing offers -- we are a public institution and inevitably have fewer resources than some other places. It's frustrating to know that there were probably other good candidates out there who somehow didn't get onto our short list. One of the sad things about doing searches is that you see the awful consequences of the overproduction of PhDs up close.
A failed search does nobody any good. Certainly not my department. We all have to retreat and lick our wounds and somehow figure out how we're going to go about this again next year. It's such a draining process under the best of circumstances -- this will make it even more difficult to get good people to volunteer their time to the hiring process.
3/15/2006
Myers Briggs reworked and in color
So I took the personality test that NK did, but came up with a much less beautiful color bar:
I'm a big Myers-Briggs fan, having taken the full test twice in workplace situations and learned a lot from it. This test doesn't exactly tell me anything new about myself -- but because it tracks a few more variables as you work your way through the questions, the results (especially the comparative ones*) are interesting. Plus, the question formats are great -- slider bars and grids you can use rather than simple multiple choice. An interesting interface, in general.
*The comparative results, apparently based on a sample of 30,000 test takers, told me, among other things, that 70% of test takers were less masculine than me; 98% felt they had less agency than I do; and only 2 % are less spontaneous than me.
I'm a big Myers-Briggs fan, having taken the full test twice in workplace situations and learned a lot from it. This test doesn't exactly tell me anything new about myself -- but because it tracks a few more variables as you work your way through the questions, the results (especially the comparative ones*) are interesting. Plus, the question formats are great -- slider bars and grids you can use rather than simple multiple choice. An interesting interface, in general.
*The comparative results, apparently based on a sample of 30,000 test takers, told me, among other things, that 70% of test takers were less masculine than me; 98% felt they had less agency than I do; and only 2 % are less spontaneous than me.
3/14/2006
new perspective
One goal for this break is to work on my sleep debt. I managed about 25 hours over the past two nights. Which leads to my new rule:
After 15 hours of sleep, everything seems better.
After 25 hours of sleep, everything seems GREAT.
No, really, even picking up dog poop this morning seemed like not a bad chore. I was breathing! outside! the sun was shining!
[Don't worry, cynicism and complaints will return soon enough. ]
After 15 hours of sleep, everything seems better.
After 25 hours of sleep, everything seems GREAT.
No, really, even picking up dog poop this morning seemed like not a bad chore. I was breathing! outside! the sun was shining!
[Don't worry, cynicism and complaints will return soon enough. ]
3/12/2006
social report
My gf and I actually went to a party last night, one where we only knew three of the people (one moderately well, enough to be "friend," the other two very slightly, as members of her household) and had met two others before for something like two minutes.
We had a good time.
Now, this actually is earthshaking news, because we are social hermits. What made this easier than usual: it was a surprise 40th birthday party for the person we knew best, so the focus of the evening was really on her; her sister and spouse had created a really fun environment and the surprise worked really well; and most of the people there were teachers or librarians. Our kind of people! At least half of them were even more awkward than we are. And the other half were reasonably funny or interesting.
It's hard to pinpoint, exactly, when my social skills atrophied to their current state. I was always someone who had friends -- a small-to-medium group of friends, with one or two people I was especially close to. And even now, I still have three long-distance friends who I talk to with some regularity. But I don't really have friends locally -- I have colleagues, and acquaintances at the dog park or at yoga -- but that's about it.
It's hard to find new friends, hard to find the time to spend figuring out if they could or would be your friend. Hard to find the time to have friends, even. Between work and my partner and our dogs, my life is pretty full. But as someone who's used to having other people to hang out with, I can't help but feel that I ought to be out searching for a friend. But it feels risky, too much like dating. It feels awkward, especially since most people my age are either wrapped up in children or single & barhopping. I'm neither of those things, and want to figure out some friend-space that's in between.
I don't think any new friends will come out from going to this party, but it felt good to exercise those social muscles just a little bit.
We had a good time.
Now, this actually is earthshaking news, because we are social hermits. What made this easier than usual: it was a surprise 40th birthday party for the person we knew best, so the focus of the evening was really on her; her sister and spouse had created a really fun environment and the surprise worked really well; and most of the people there were teachers or librarians. Our kind of people! At least half of them were even more awkward than we are. And the other half were reasonably funny or interesting.
It's hard to pinpoint, exactly, when my social skills atrophied to their current state. I was always someone who had friends -- a small-to-medium group of friends, with one or two people I was especially close to. And even now, I still have three long-distance friends who I talk to with some regularity. But I don't really have friends locally -- I have colleagues, and acquaintances at the dog park or at yoga -- but that's about it.
It's hard to find new friends, hard to find the time to spend figuring out if they could or would be your friend. Hard to find the time to have friends, even. Between work and my partner and our dogs, my life is pretty full. But as someone who's used to having other people to hang out with, I can't help but feel that I ought to be out searching for a friend. But it feels risky, too much like dating. It feels awkward, especially since most people my age are either wrapped up in children or single & barhopping. I'm neither of those things, and want to figure out some friend-space that's in between.
I don't think any new friends will come out from going to this party, but it felt good to exercise those social muscles just a little bit.
3/10/2006
spring break mix n match
I've been on spring break now for approximately four and a half hours -- and it sure feels great! So far I've eaten lunch, taken a nap, and walked the dogs. My plan for the week ahead is to combine the best parts of the following spring break models:
Hollywood Style: I'm doing hot yoga every day, and gym workouts at least four days next week. Plus I've been drinking homemade smoothies.
Prof Style: I plan on finishing an article and doing some initial research for the next one. I also have to do some filing/sorting/weeding of citations and sources.
Fixit Style: I need to finally hang the wall mirror purchased three weeks ago, and find a replacement sink strainer basket. Figuring out a plan for the yard would be good too.
Homebody Style: It's time for the semi-annual purging of my closet, and some super-cleaning of the rest of the house.
Nerd Style: I hope to read the third novel of an SF series I've gotten completely hooked on, and play on the internet.
Sloth Style: Sleeping, and more sleeping. Naps are good too.
What I'm not doing next week? Sitting in meetings. Or going to the office at all, if I can help it.
Hollywood Style: I'm doing hot yoga every day, and gym workouts at least four days next week. Plus I've been drinking homemade smoothies.
Prof Style: I plan on finishing an article and doing some initial research for the next one. I also have to do some filing/sorting/weeding of citations and sources.
Fixit Style: I need to finally hang the wall mirror purchased three weeks ago, and find a replacement sink strainer basket. Figuring out a plan for the yard would be good too.
Homebody Style: It's time for the semi-annual purging of my closet, and some super-cleaning of the rest of the house.
Nerd Style: I hope to read the third novel of an SF series I've gotten completely hooked on, and play on the internet.
Sloth Style: Sleeping, and more sleeping. Naps are good too.
What I'm not doing next week? Sitting in meetings. Or going to the office at all, if I can help it.
3/08/2006
yoga update: 35/60
Lest you think that I sail through every day completely blissed out and contented from doing all this yoga...Today was the complete opposite. I was cranky, irritable, tired, and frustrated at everyone and everything, including most especially myself. Yoga class itself was fine, perhaps the closest thing to a calm spot in this annoying day. But there too I had to struggle with my monkey brain.
I've talked to other people who have done or are doing a 60-day Bikram challenge, and just about everyone agrees that right now is the struggling part. The first 25, 28 days for me were easy -- I was a little tired around day 9 but soon picked up from that. My asanas were improving, my body was changing, my mind was clearer. The challenge experience was so obviously a great thing and the yoga itself wasn't hard. And then there was day 31. The most challenging class I've had in two years. One of the meditative things I like about this yoga is that it is the same sequence of poses and breathwork every day -- and yet, it is never the same. Just as two days, two minutes, two breaths are never identical. Learning to relax into the uncertainty, the differences, is part of the practice. Sure, your conscious mind is always trying to rationalize things: it's easy or hard today because of what I ate, how I slept, how humid the air is outside...all of these things are factors, but the basic truth of this practice (of all mediative practice?) is that life is change. And that we humans don't deal very well with change -- we want to cling to the things we love, and we want to avoid the things we fear. We only want the changes we think we can control. Ha! says the universe. That's not the Change plan you're signed up with.
On day 31, I felt sick right away, during the opening breathwork. Enough so that I had to sit down, for fear of vomiting (and since I was standing in the front row, that would have been especially awkward). I got through it, and got through the class -- I eased up on a couple of poses, and sat out a couple of repeated sets. I hadn't felt that sick in a really long time. But in this practice, we believe that dizziness or nausea is just part of the body's detoxification process. It simply means you have to slow down, tune in to what's going on. It always passes. To have that experience in class is very humbling -- it brings you right back to beginner's mind, to the best possible attitude of openness and learning. All students practice together, the experienced and the novices -- and again and again we are all in the position of being awkward, off-balance, uncomfortable. It's a good process.
I haven't felt that physically challenged since, although the past couple of days have been days of struggle. I'm a bit stiff in spots, a bit awkward as my hip continues to settle into a new, better alignment. But if anything, I'd say that this period of mental and physical challenge only refuels my commitment to the 60-day experience. This already has been one of the best experiences of my adult life -- and I'm only halfway there.
I've talked to other people who have done or are doing a 60-day Bikram challenge, and just about everyone agrees that right now is the struggling part. The first 25, 28 days for me were easy -- I was a little tired around day 9 but soon picked up from that. My asanas were improving, my body was changing, my mind was clearer. The challenge experience was so obviously a great thing and the yoga itself wasn't hard. And then there was day 31. The most challenging class I've had in two years. One of the meditative things I like about this yoga is that it is the same sequence of poses and breathwork every day -- and yet, it is never the same. Just as two days, two minutes, two breaths are never identical. Learning to relax into the uncertainty, the differences, is part of the practice. Sure, your conscious mind is always trying to rationalize things: it's easy or hard today because of what I ate, how I slept, how humid the air is outside...all of these things are factors, but the basic truth of this practice (of all mediative practice?) is that life is change. And that we humans don't deal very well with change -- we want to cling to the things we love, and we want to avoid the things we fear. We only want the changes we think we can control. Ha! says the universe. That's not the Change plan you're signed up with.
On day 31, I felt sick right away, during the opening breathwork. Enough so that I had to sit down, for fear of vomiting (and since I was standing in the front row, that would have been especially awkward). I got through it, and got through the class -- I eased up on a couple of poses, and sat out a couple of repeated sets. I hadn't felt that sick in a really long time. But in this practice, we believe that dizziness or nausea is just part of the body's detoxification process. It simply means you have to slow down, tune in to what's going on. It always passes. To have that experience in class is very humbling -- it brings you right back to beginner's mind, to the best possible attitude of openness and learning. All students practice together, the experienced and the novices -- and again and again we are all in the position of being awkward, off-balance, uncomfortable. It's a good process.
I haven't felt that physically challenged since, although the past couple of days have been days of struggle. I'm a bit stiff in spots, a bit awkward as my hip continues to settle into a new, better alignment. But if anything, I'd say that this period of mental and physical challenge only refuels my commitment to the 60-day experience. This already has been one of the best experiences of my adult life -- and I'm only halfway there.
3/02/2006
score card
- ounces of water I've drunk this morning: 72 (almost half of my daily goal)
- days of consecutive Bikram yoga: 29 (today will be day 30! but I won't go to class until evening)
- inches lost since starting the yoga challenge on Feb 1st: 2.5 (1 waist, 1.5 hips)
- work-related emails (not from students) festering unread in my inbox: 12
- hours spent in meetings so far this week: 8.5
- time spent on research this week: 1 measly little hour
- lines of poetry I need to read before my afternoon class: 800
- times I've interrupted my class prep today: too many to count
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