High Resolution(s)

Well, 2006 is finally crawling to a halt, praise the skies. What a year. Never have I been so happy to see a year go - and I do hope the door hits it on the way out.

And now it is again time for Resolutions, folks. I always make some effort at resolutions. Not because I believe that they work, mind, but, rather, because I consider it a good time to reflect on lessons learned. Sort of like tax season for the soul. Inventory for your life.

This past year, I resolved to get something published, to take my classes more seriously, to improve my dental care and to start dressing better. I think there was another one, but I have forgotten it. (It must have been accomplished so early in 2006 it slipped my mind, right? Sure.)

Well, in 2006, I did not take my classes all that seriously, again, but this resolution took care of itself. I passed all my courses with good grades, and now I have no more classes. I guess the lesson learned here is that "serious" is only a word to make us feel small, and that "Done" is oftentimes good enough.

As to dressing better, I did buy new clothes. Sure, they were just as unprofessional as before, but I now at least have shirts without moth holes. Let's chalk that up to a partial success, shall we? As to the dental care, mine never was too bad, but I still have not knocked that ten years off they say blindingly white teeth restores. Oh well, maybe next year.

And, most importantly, I did get something published (accepted for publication for 2008). I think that absolves the list in its entirety, don't you?

So, what is on the cards for 2007?

1) To pass my doctoral exams in January 2007 and in May 2007.

2) To prepare, deliver and feel good about my dissertation proposal draft in June 2007, and then finalize a draft for submission in September. I know I have a good dissertation in me, so now I just have to start proving it.

3) To figure out the Murph vs. Canada Border Services issue, and to start seriously attacking the immigration process. Resolution (3.a) would be to start saving and earning as much money as possible to make this all easier. Resolution (3.b) would be to work hard to keep my sanity in the meantime, so he has someone balanced to come home to. Resolution 3 has a million sub-sections to it, so we'll just leave it there.

4) To finally crack the nut of conference presentations, and to deliver at least one paper I am happy with. 2007 will likely see that start of my dissertation work, so now is the time to start focusing on that big, flashing red 2009 "Real Life" deadline, and to start thinking in terms of career.

5) To generally have a better attitude towards life and responsibilties. "Failures" will now be called "set backs." I will work towards a healthy mind, spirit and body. I resolve to be a better friend to those who deserve it, and forget about those who don't, and to take better care of my resources. And no more sliding through, either. I will use my time more wisely, and act/feel/work as if this really is my life and not a game that is already fixed against me.

In short, I resolve to be happy. I have all the ingredients for this, I just have to set the timer and watch it carefully.

You'll note that I have left out any mention of scholarships or accolades, and other pipe dreams that don't rest in my hands. Those things would not be resolutions, but, rather, wishes, and this year I am aiming at improvement. Naturally, there are other resolutions in my mind, but some resolutions are just too private to share, or else they are things I don't wish to jinx here and now. Let's just say that there a dozen different sub-resolutions attached to the ones above, and leave it at that.

Mostly, I just wish for a good year for us all. Wish me well, and good luck to you.

And have a great 2007!
*

Back Where We Started From

I did my whole MA degree sitting in front of the BBC Pride and Prejudice DVD on loop. Sitting there on the sofa with my Hebrew homework and later my thesis, it was a comforting presence, and one I knew so well it didn't even distract me. I would just keep it playing, and look up once in a while when I needed to zone out to it. In that first, course-work-laden year, I even feel asleep to it a number of times, out the on the chesterfield with my books all around me. For two years, I did this, and I believe I must have watched it around 300 times, I kid you not. Well, had it on in the background 300 times.

So, now, stressed, alone and slightly scared, I have dusted it off again. Again, I am sleeping on the sofa with my books, fearing the inevitable carnage that will be this comprehensive exam, listening to the lilt of strings, the awesome sound of Colin Firth's rare voice, and the occasional screech of Mrs. Bennet's spaz outs.

Well, it is keeping me off the ceiling, so that is well worth the $50 paid out 6 years ago, I should think.
*

"When are you coming, cherie?"

The embarassment of having to ask a series of 19 year old video store clerks if they have the movie Green Card (1990) on DVD, and that uncomfortable pause after the question falls, cannot be fully described. The only thing in my mind was that scene from High Fidelity where the guy comes into the hipster vinyl store and asks if they have "I Just Called to Say I Love You" for his daughter. Yeah, that embarassing, only this is Canada so no one yelled.

I guess people have made Green Card jokes at me enough since Murph's immigration hassles started that it worked its way into my brain and now won't let go. I can't explain it - I just have a hankering. There is this restless desire to see that film again. Some people get odd food cravings when sulky - I get film cravings. (Yet, I am still chubby - go figure!)

But this film can't be gotten for love or money - even Amazon takes 14 days to ship the thing out (and it would likely arrive while I am in the States, so that is a no-go). They say porn is so easily available for downloading online because people are embarassed to buy it in a shop. However, this blush-enducing schmaltzfest is not even stealable. It has been deemed non-steal-worthy. So even pervs have more solace in their cravings than I do.

All I want is a little Gerard Depardieu and a little weep. Is that so hard to understand?

I am not a monster! I am a human being, dammit!
*

Dreams

You ever have one of those days in which your sleep life is better than the one you find yourself waking up to?

Doesn't that ruin a perfectly good after-nap afternoon when you discover that?
*

Shot Down

Well, this is why you rarely see "New Years Miracle" movies, folks. No holiday magic came through for me today.

In one of the most romantic and impetuous things anyone has ever done for anyone, Murph tried again to cross into Canada last night, deciding there on the spot at 7pm last night that we needed to spend New Years together. He knew I was lonely and generally falling apart, so he decided it would be worth the risk of getting turned back again, just to cheer me up.

Well, it seems his record has been flagged, and he was sent back to Ohio again. Again. (This time by Buffalo, so we know there isn't just something screwy with Detroit.) However, this time he is at least safe and ok, and not tossed out on a Michigan highway at 2am. At least this time it is morning and he is not too bleary eyed to process the new development.

What now? Well, I guess we continue on with the original plan, and I will be heading to Ohio myself to see him after this infernal exam is done this Friday. I don't think there is any worry about me getting turned away at the border, but, then, one never knows, huh?

So maybe fate doesn't like it when people take the initiative and try to bust the system. That is why no one ever heard the line "fate helps those who help themselves". Well, at least the effort was made.

And it was truly a sweet effort.

Thanks for it.
*

Just Talking to Myself

Yes... I think the isolation is starting to get to me. I may not have a ball with a face on it, but I have put a picture of Tom Hanks on my blog.

That has to be a sign of insanity, no?
*

Snapped

If my life was a painting, it would be entitled "Impending Doom."
*

ARRRGH!!!

Yes. My week is THAT scary.

The comp exam: 6 hours of pouring out everything I know about my discipline. If I pass, I live. If I don't... well, they don't kill me, exactly, but they do toss me on my ear. So after ten years of university, this is it. The buck stops here.

And it all takes place in about 8 days.

(Don't worry. Either outcome, you'll hear about it.)
*

Ain't That a Groove

Listening to the late, great James Brown right now. Rural Nova Scotians aren't known for their soulful "getting down and getting it on" powers, but if we were, I would certainly be up to no funky good. As it is, I boogie at my computer as best I can with my tempo-challenged limbs.

Is there anything greater than "It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World"?

Ok... Possibly "Cold Sweat," I grant you.


***

Speaking of sweat, today, as soon as business hours start, will set aside my exam readings for a few "on hold" hours as I begin the Canada Citizenship and Immigration and border control roll calls. From the bottom up to old Monte himself, there is no limit to what I will do to make this case move through as quick as we can.

I know that, in light of old Sadam's fate, and the loss of Brown and poor Gerry Ford, as well as the strife in Africa, and lord-knows-what-the-new-issue-is in the Middle East, the troubles of two people don't mean a hill of beans in this crazy, mixed up world (to coin a phrase), but it is only a matter of time until we prevail.

Canada, I'm coming for you.

(You'll notice that I refrained from referencing "America is my Home" in this post. I accept your thanks.)
*

Biding My Time

So Christmas is over again, and now it is Boxing Day. Today is the last day of the infernal wait, and on Wednesday I should be able to track down actual humans at Immigration and at the Consulate. Wish me luck, because, man, I need it. After three days of pacing and no way to find help, that phone call will likely come out as a long string of gibberish followed by a sob.

That should impress them.

So, reading and waiting. Waiting and pacing. And doing whatever I can to fill the silence - some (very) good things, and some just plain silly (me and the cat have taken to playing "launch the kitty" with the rocking chair, which is not such a bad game as long as no one gets hurt).

In other news, my comp exam is in 10 days. Well, at least that should provide some distraction from other issues, no?

Right now I just need to remember that patience is a virtue, and try to forget there is a bus to Cincinnati leaving K-W every day at noon.

Yup. Patience.
*

Scared

What if I fail? What happens then?
*

Happy Christmas!

(Note the politely concealed fear and confusion on the face of the poor Jewish kid finding herself on Santa's lap. Hey, face it folks, it is a strange tradition.)
*

In Memoriam

Charles Spencer Chaplin

April 16, 1889 - December 25, 1977


(My 2005 tribute.)

*

Blue Holly for a Grey Christmas

Please Come Home for Christmas

Bells will be ringing
The glad, glad news
Oh, what a Christmas
To have the blues
My baby's gone
I have no friends
To wish me greetings
Once again

Choirs will be singing
"Silent Night"
Christmas carols
By candlelight
Please come home for Christmas
Please come home for Christmas
If not for Christmas
Then by New Year's Night

Friends and relations
Send salutations
Sure as the stars shine up above
For this is Christmas
Christmas, my dear
The time of year
To spend with the one you love

Then won't you please tell me
You'll never more roam
Christmas and New Year's
Will find you home
There'll be no more sorrow
No grief or pain
Because it's Christmas
Christmas once again


... please come home.

One way or another, you have a date for Christmas 2007, ok?.


(To hear this song, go here.)

*

Career Sneak Attack

Reading has not been going very well tonight, so I turned my attention to other pressing matters, such as my never ending quest to fatten that sad CV of mine. I have been busting my hump tonight on conference proposals, just as a way to avoid other, more scary demands on my mind's CPU. (If private life is in shambles, go for career, eh?)

If all goes according to Hoyle, and all these proposals are accepted, my speaking engagements will be as follows:

• February 8-9: Conference paper presentation at U of T
• Mid-February: Public film showing and lecture for WLU RCS
• March 6 & 9: Guest lecturing on Bible & film at WLU
• March 16th (?): Conference paper presentation at WLU RCS arts conference
• May 4-5: AAR Regional conference paper presentation at UW
• May 27-30: CSSR conference paper presentation on Humour in Religion at U of Saskatchewan
• June 8: Departmental presentation of dissertation proposal

Ah... Feel the CV grow... Sense the blood pressure rise.

Oh, and let's not forget those pesky doctoral exams on January 5th and May 11th. (That memory rather makes me hope at least some proposals are rejected.)

What a way to spend Christmas break. Silent night, indeed. I distinctly heard a few screams every time I looked at my calendar.

I wonder... Will the conference organizers be impressed or saddened when they notice that these submissions were sent at like 10pm on Christmas Eve...? Let's just hope they assume I am a consummate and dedicated professional, not the pathetic loner I really am right now, huh?
*

The Feast of Maximum Annoyance

I hate Christmas, and, frankly, Boxing Day just increases my frustration.

I have questions. Big questions. I have issues of a life-altering nature. But can I find one, single civil servant or puny call centre employee? Noooo. Everyone is off celebrating the birth of our Lord and Saviour.

Pfft.

I think Jesus would want me to be helped.
*

The Blogger Formerly Known as Beta

There are several constants in my universe. The bus schedule is always wrong. Profs always contact you randomly just when you least want to talk to them. And, the big one: I.T. folks, as well as tinkerers of many varieties, never know when to leave well enough alone.

So now I am trying to switch this blog to what was Blogger Beta. Not 'cause I want to, mind you, but because we will all have to over the next couple of months. (It would be too simple just to leave those of us who aren't interested in exploring the new fronts of blogging bells and whistles just stay put, so they have to add pressure to annoyance.)

The big problem: I have a Google account with my G-Mail. I have a new blog that I share with someone who uses (the former) Beta, which is tied to that Google account. And I have two old Blogger blogs, including this old clunker. What all this means is that I have two different blogger trains running on parallel tracks, with no apparent way to merge them all. Even though I have to do so soon.

It is all very frustrating.

So, if anyone has been through this, let me know how it went. And if this blog suddenly disappears for a while (or permanently), you'll know that those (expletive deleted) over at Blogger finally ate my blog, like they have been trying to do now for some time now.

People, it isn't a cure for cancer. Just let good enough be good enough, ok?
*

Red Tape Makes for a Blue Christmas

I am sitting here with a cup of coffee and my traditional winter-weather cream of wheat (despite the fact that this December has been unnaturally warm), and combing through immigration laws and processes. My eyes are blurring over all the terms... "How many types of temporary resident visa are there?"

I have been tight lipped about something, because I didn't want to shock anyone or jinx anything, but I feel that all this blog depression deserves some explanation.

Murph, the fellow who was turned back at the border for reasons unknown except for the fact that he did not have a return bus ticket on him (it seems an angry border official forgot that Americans can, in fact, stay in Canada legally for up to six months as long as they caused no trouble), and I are engaged to be married.

We met over the internet, and had become so head over heels over each other that marriage, though something of a quick decision on our part, was the only course of action we wanted. There was no "wait and see" for us. This was permanent, and we knew it. We decided that he would come up here and live for a little while, and maybe around his birthday in February we would get married. No real rush, we figured, since I had my exam and he wanted to see Canada and meet my friends before we tied that proverbial knot.

So, after many upsetting, traumatic and inconvenient things, Murph finally made it to Canada in November, and we spent a month learning that living together was a very nice thing.

But then Murph had to go back to Ohio for a week. It was an annoyance, but there was nothing that could be done, so I sent him off via Greyhound back to the States.

However, when his week was up, on an overnight bus back to Canada, our world rather collapsed. The border was shut to Murph, who didn't want to do anyone any harm, and who just wanted to get back to where he considered to be home. We had planned on starting immigration processes in January, and marry in February, but we were too late.

Last week, all our plans looked like they were going to fall around our ears. Cross border couples experience a lot of indecision at times like this. What if it takes years for us to be together? Can we survive this stress? Should we go ahead and get married, knowing that we may not actually get to live together for some time?

Well, Murph and I have decided that, border or no, we do know what we want. So it is up to us to figure out how to make a life together possible, and it is up to Canada to hear our case and let us live that life. If Canada stands in my way, though I love it, I will leave it. So, we have a deadline. In 2009, when I get my PhD, I will make a decision: If Canada will not let us be here, I will seek a life in the United States. Those of you who know me will see how much this ultimatum hurts me to make, but I feel I have no other choice.

So, in a couple weeks, after my doctoral exam, I will be traveling to Ohio to see Murph, and we will make a trip to the county justice of the peace to do what we set out to do. We will get married, and, either now or years from now, we will be together. This is a stressful thing, but one we feel we must face for the reward in the long run.

So, this holiday season, hug your loved ones tight, and know you are lucky to be able to do that. And enjoy.


(If you have any advice on American-Canadian-Immigration issues, or any immigration law or process, please leave a comment or email me, as we are currently gathering as much information as we can to make this work. We will update as things progress. Thus begins Operation Bring Murph Home. Wish us well.)
*

Holiday Watching

Well, I may be alone for the holidays as far as humans are concerned, but I can't forget that movies are my oldest and best friends, so go to Clapboard Jungle for Holly's take on the best of the season.

Enjoy!
*

Me and the Lonely Guy

There's a guy down the hall who doesn't say much but who always looks like he wishes I would speak to him. He and his (stinky) golden retriever pace the sidewalks, I think just for something to do. I never see him with anyone, and I don't think he knows many people, or if he does they all have better things to do. He is Lonely Guy.

I, on the other hand, freakishly alone and reclusive for the holidays myself, stay inside my den of solitude. The last thing I need is to be the Lonely Chick of the building.

People like to gawk at lonely people. It makes those with friends and loved ones feel superior, maybe, or maybe it is like a car wreck - it is horrible but you cannot look away from the human misery before you. Or perhaps they are staring to try to figure out how not to become the Holiday Lonely themselves.

So, me and Lonely Guy from down the hall wish you all a happy holiday season, and, especially, a great New Year's Eve, which we will be spending, as per our condition in life, alone.

I feel bad for him if he feels even half as depressed as I, and I would talk to him if I wasn't just so damned sure he is a serial killer. Too bad.


***


In order to not end on such a bleak note, I have not only used festive holiday colours (which look more like a grim mockery in retrospect), but bring you Porky with a holiday favourite!

(I tried to get one without that cackling fool of a woman throughout it, but such is life - even YouTube has abandoned me.)


*

I'm Grinding Not Smiling

Woke up later than I wanted, so immediately I was a bit panicky about my exam work, but I was still feeling ok and a bit "up and at em." I stumbled into the bathroom, to discover a pile of cat vomit on the rug. Ok, I sighed. Well, that happens, right? Went out to make coffee, and spilled steaming hot water on my hand. Wow, that hurt. Went in to start work, and the internet wasn't functioning, so I went through the "turn it off and restart in 3 minutes" waltz that lasted a frustrating half hour. Oh well, modern technology - what are you gonna do? So I finally got down to work, eating nasty convenience noodles out of a cup, just to save time, but the cat decided that the noodles would look better spilled on my papers. Calm blue ocean... That's ok. He didn't do it on purpose. La di da. So I made nice with the cat to make up for all the infernal names I had called him. Of course, being mildly allergic to cats at times, my nose started to tickle, and it hasn't stopped since. Very annoying, that. I was quickly finishing the last of my noodles before he could press his luck completely and go for a replay, but, naturally, I sneezed, sending noodle flecks over my desk, key board, and, most delightfully, coffee.

*Deep breath.*

La di da, la di da.
*

I Could've Danced All Night

Actually, I did in my way.

Isn't the phone (and a reasonable long distance plan) a wonderful invention?

Now for some shut eye, and dreams of the promise of a new year.
*

Verschnickered

A's party was a good change of pace, but somehow my wine glass got filled many, many times. Since I never drink, this is a new experience for me. Yes, am still a bit cheerful.

Oh well, it is back to the grind tomorrow, so I better enjoy it while it lasts.
*

This Guy Reminds Me of Someone...

Party at A's house tonight, for his birthday, so I have to burn through some work and an errand... oh, heck, and find something worth bringing to a potluck by 6pm. Jeesh. A jar of dill pickles? Everyone loves pickles, and I have often thought that too few people remember to contribute condiments at potlucks.

I have some big news, but still don't have the words to share it here... Besides, I have gained a healthy respect for jinxes, anyway. Therefore, to save time and indecision, I have decided to let someone else do my blog work today (apologies for the profanity). Someone sent this to me knowing I would see the resemblance immediately.

So, I bring you Murph - in Toon form:

New Mantra

"I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me."

Repeat as neccessary.
*

morning

Some days you have good days. Some days you have bad days.

Some days you have cake for breakfast... I don't know which one that counts as.
*

Reunion

Today, Fritz the Cat has returned to my life, even if it is only for a few weeks. At first he didn't seem to recognize me, but now we are back to normal, and we are getting along like old friends. It is great to have a small fur-person to remind me that I am not the last thing alive in the world, despite the isolation I have been thrown into right now.

So now, armed with cat, hot baths and jasmine tea, my tattered nerves can be patched together to hobble across that exam finish line, hopefully intact and with some honour.

Keep in touch, eh?
*

*Today* is Another Day

I feel hungover. Yesterday I had a depressive wallow for about three hellish hours, so I am feeling the sluggy after effects of letting myself go wading in self-pity. Indulging can sometimes be good. It can also be bad.

So today I am not going to do that. Today I am concentrating on optimistic. Optimism is not too hard for me to find today, as it is becoming increasingly believable that all this negative right now really will become positive. Murph and I were able to list at least four or five things that will be good for this border-requirement-mandated separation. And one or two of them were really quite worth this current mopiness.

Also I get a visit from the Holiday Cat Man today, who will leave something small and furry at my door to keep me company until January, and that is something to look forward to. Other than that, I suspect I will be all by myself for this vacation, between the 21st (A's birthday shindig) and the 3rd (exam cram session with the cohort). Sounds like grand fun, when I had been planning many days of merrymaking with my favourite person. However, the holidays cannot sway the Canadian Immigration people. Maybe we need to update the old saying - The Lord Giveth; The Law Taketh Away.

But as long as there is another day, there is the opportunity for optimism.

Today I choose to indulge in hope.
*

To Fight the Good Fight

I will march forward on this exam. As a friend reminded me today, what is the point of all the struggles of your life if it all comes to naught when the chips are down?

Remember - there is always hope.
*

So...

I am still here in Canada, and Murph has been turned back to Ohio. But he will return. I will go and get him in person once this infernal exam has been conquered.

What is it that they say about the course of true love?
*

The First Time I have Ever Hated Canada

Murph has been turned back at the border, and is currently in limbo somewhere in Detroit. I may have to make an unexpected trip to the States today to rescue him, but I have no idea how to do that. Wish me luck.
*

Heat and the CBC

Today is projected to be the hottest December day in recorded history in Ontario. Toronto will likely go to 15, and we are at about 12. I must admit it is scary to wear a t-shirt and cardy at 9am down to the corner store on December 17th, and break a sweat. Today seems like a day to get outside a bit, methinks. These legs could use a stretch.

However, while you enjoy the heat, take a moment to remember the polar bears, upon whose graves we are enjoying this weather.

(And when you light up that murdered tree, as well, I could say, but that wouldn't be very festive, would it?)

***

I am listening to the CBC right now, to an interview with historian Jan Gross, author of Neighbours. He is talking of his newest book Fear: Anti-Semitism in Poland After Auschwitz.

Gross' books are always worth a read, if for no other reason than the fact that they almost always kick up a (expletive deleted) storm. Though people have accused him of anti-Polish bias, his work seeks to bring to light the role of non-Jewish people other than Germans in the Holocaust. While many Poles did help Jews during the War, many also offended, and it helps no one to make idols of evil out of the Germans alone. I suspect that the truth lays somewhere between the common demonizing German exceptionalism and heated belief in full Polish collaboration, but it is always important to open the mind to as many angles as possible. And Jan Gross makes a good and horrible read at the same time, and I can't wait to get my hands on this book.

So, Santa, if you are listening to the lists of Jews this year (which I think you should consider in order to help counter-act all the nasty going on in Iran right now), this book is my wish. In one of my socks or under my ficus plant. Your choice, big guy.

On a bright note: things are going to get a whole lot less lonely very soon.

*

No Joke

I feel like crap, and my chin is on the floor. Was so blue, I even napped and missed lighting the second candle. Oh well, it is rather silly to do that all by one's self, any way, no? I long for a bath and some jasmine tea, but even that seems like effort right now.

Watched this today, though, and it was a dream - A beautiful and horrible film. I highly recommend it.

I hope for better news tomorrow.
*

Have Yourself a Merry Little Hanukkah

We Were Right. You Are Wrong.

See? A little off the top is clearly the way to go. In your face, Alex Comfort!

And am I the only one who is so immature that I can't help but snicker that a lead guy of this study is named De Cock? Do you suppose that's his real name, or was it adopted for professional reasons?
*

A Smack of Popes

Have major case of the stoopids today. Lousy co-ordination skills, weird tongue slips (such as the spoonerism in this post title, which was meant to be "a pack of smokes"), and general confusion.

Possibly, this is due to lack of sleep or coffee, but equally as pinnable on my comp exam haze.

Ironic that the Stoopid Day occurred the same day Murph alerted me to the fact that my name is in lights for the very first time, and just a day after getting a bit of a shot in the arm on my teaching CV.

Oh well, it was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.

Perhaps this is punishment for all the Bush-bashing I have been doing recently. The ghost of Stoopid Present has given me a chance to see the world through President Chimp's eyes for a day.

Well, me no like.

However, this I like very much, indeed.
*

Some Days, Holly Can't Lose

Today started not so very good, as I slept in until 9.50am, with an 11am meeting to make. However, somehow, I managed to get myself to campus 20 minutes early. Don't ask me what kind of mystical time warp allowed that to happen, but there you have it.

Despite the spotty start, the day has been quite outstanding so far. My meeting was with Dr. E, the prof I will work for this term as a TA for the second level course on the legacy of the Bible in modern ideas of oppression and liberation. Not only is he a seemingly very cool old guy, but he has also restricted my TA work to marking (so no weekly "let's go over the readings you all didn't do, but I will pretend you did" tutorials for the undergrads).

But here's the kicker. Finding out that I have an MA in Biblical Literature, but am now doing film, HE HAS GIVEN ME A WHOLE UNIT OF HIS COURSE. IN MY FIELD.

I have a unit in March, comprised of three hours of teaching over two class sessions, to teach my own subject - a week on the Bible in contemporary film. I will design the lectures and the subject matter, choose the clips and the readings, etc., etc.

This is my first major league teaching gig. A real shot at the main stage, folks. I have been a guest lecturer three times in my career, but never have I had the arena all to myself in such an extended way. This is a huge step towards landing a sessional position next year with a whole course to myself. This is a trial run. Really, an excellent opportunity.

So, yes. My day has been one of victory. Victory over time and significant gain in the career department. Now, if I can triumph over comp depression and loneliness, I will be all set. However, I choose not to think of that right now. Instead, I celebrate!

Oh, and the good meeting is not all. On the way home, by the by, I found a $20 in the snow on the street. In true Charlie Bucket fashion, I did indeed buy a chocolate bar. I also added my own flare - a scratch and win ticket, which I have yet to scratch. Hey, all that luck may pay off even more, right? Who am I to argue with the cosmos?

Have a great day, everybody.


PS> Wish you were here.
*

Bushism of the Day

"One of the things I’ve used on the Google is to pull up maps."
- George Bush

The only thing that makes Bush bettern my dad is that one is one the Tee Vee and one t'ain't.

Aside from that, one is also an arse. Since I promote the 5th Commandment, you'll just have to guess which one.

*

Blue (Almost) Christmas

Just dropped Murph off at the bus station for a trek back to Ohio. Meanwhile, I am stuck here. With a pile of books.

Merry freaking Xmas, people.

Though, at least I have the prospect of cat-sitting everybody's favourite feline, Fritz, to cheer me up. That is something, at least. Maybe I will just tell people I am having a house guest for the holidays, and maybe they won't look at me with so much pity. They don't have to know it is a cat. Just "an old friend." Yes. That will do.

Bus station was odd, as usual, with the general curious assortment of whack-jobs and case studies wandering around. Observation at bus stations is always an interesting pastime. Not always pleasant, but always interesting.

Random thoughts: I wonder, if buses had inner-life, if the out-of-town buses and the inner-city buses would dislike each other. Would the inner-city buses be all urban and smart-ass, and the out-of-town buses be snotty? Would the out-of-town buses look down on the inner-city buses, and sniff "You couldn't cut the muster"? Would there be a hierarchy of power based on which bus gets highway time, and how much? Do buses get more dreamy as they get close to retirement?

Hmpf. The mind wanders. Perhaps I am in some sort of comp exam dementia?

Anyhoo... back to reading. Those books aren't going to prep themselves, you know.

Today's favourite movie: Dave (1993)
*

Imagine a World Void of Worship

... You are now entering the Secularization Zone.

Today, and for the next week, comp books are all focusing on the once-popular Secularization Theory, now also known as the Secularization Myth by the Antis.

This Theory/Myth is based on the post-Enlightenment idea that religion will gradually just disappear as education, science, rationality, assimilation and consumerism all do their work. However reasonable this belief may have seemed in the 60s when it started, the political feel of the 80s, and certainly today's political climate, seems to blow it out of the water.


This week, I wade into the shoals of argument between some of the heavy hitters of the Secularization Debate (Berger, Casanova, Bruce, and Stark & Finke). Ultimately, my department wants me to come up with a well-structured argument for which side I come down on. Me, I'm not so good at taking sides really, but since my gut reaction to the Secularization Theory is "hogwash," I guess that gives me something to start with.

Today's reading: The Sacred Canopy, by Peter L. Berger, one of the canonical texts for the Pros.

I'll keep you posted.
*

What, Me Worry?

Well, yes, actually. I am shaking in my boots. Comp exam coming up in less than a month, and I still don't feel the juice. My attention still wanders away like a mentally challenged puppy, and I can't seem to force it. Also, I can't seem to stay awake for more than 10 hours in a row without getting stupid. All bad signs for success on this thing.

OK, adrenaline - any time you want to kick in and save my ass, you just go right ahead and do it.
*

Comp Hell

Must read. Don't want to. I wonder how many PhD candidates go on murder-suicide rampages each year under the influence of horrid and monotonous doctoral exam reading lists and tediously picky practice questions?

On the bright side, it seems it only takes an hour to read everything there is to know about the Psychology of Religion, and the field of Sociology of Religion is surprizingly bite-sized.


So, a few words of advice for the compers out there. In America is a fine picture, but should not be attempted when you are already kind of depressed about your upcoming exams. Also, when blue, cauliflower seems to help, especially when taken in large quantities and washed down with purple insta-juice crystals. Finally, when in doubt, skim, don't read. Your eyes will thank you.


Tomorrow brings Grimes' magnum opus on religion, ritual and media. I can only hope I get through it without serious injury or major tantrum. In the meantime, this is stuck in my head and won't go away. Good timing, eh?

Be well, world out there. Drop me a line, please. My walls are starting to talk to me, and I don't know how long I can hold out.

Crap - The FEDS!

I was calmly spending my morning dozing and reading under the quilts on this cold December AM, when I was thoroughly put on screaming-red alert by the worst "BANG BANG BANG" on my door, ever. It was either a jealous lover, the police, or the super with one of those "omigawd, gas leak, run, all will die!" kind of messages. So, pantless and scared into a barely contained panic, I listened acutely.

"BANG BANG BANG!"

This time, I felt it was wise to go to the door, though every impulse in me was telling me to hide.

Trying to be as macho as a 28-year-old chick can be, I searched for pants as I made my way to the door. Finally, huddling in my knickers, I had to yell out, "W-Who is it?" I grabbed my overcoat, the only cover I could find in that state, and poised for disaster in the front hallway.

"Canada Post, ma'am. Parcel. I'll leave it out here. Bye."

Jeeze Louise. Canada Post!?! The gentle folks in blue short pants? Why?

I can only guess that the stress of the holidays hits letter carriers even harder than the rest of us. All the same, I hope he hurt his knuckles.

So, for the sake of my parents' yearly care package, I have lost ten years of my life to fear. Now the parcel is sitting here, but I may be too nerve-wracked to deal with my dad's traditional ten layers of duct tape to see what they sent. I am shell shocked, to tell the truth. All thanks to the Jeff Jamar of Canada Post.

Well, that is a rare moment of tranquility I'll never get back.

Merry freaking Christmas.
*

Today, This is Going Down

Today's Target: Helen Berger's A Community of Witches (South Carolina, 1998), an ethnography of neo-Pagan groups in America.

Its consumption will be followed by an all-out assault on the comp exam practice question relating to social scientific views of popular negative opinion on witchcraft and new religious movements in general.

OK, team. You have your primary and secondary targets. Don't come back until mission is accomplished.

Lock and Load.
*

A New Low

Depressed. Maybe it is comps, maybe the weather, maybe other things. Maybe many things. Whatever the cause, I'm down in the mouth, and my mind is working against me.

Took a shower just now - one of those "I'll wash my hair fifty times, or at least until I am more cheerful" showers. My mind wandered to the SSHRC and OGS funding applications I submitted in October, and I wondered absent-mindedly, amidst the lathering, rinsing and repeating, how the selection process was coming along. Then it occurred to me: Any day now.

If my applications make it to the government awards departments, I won't hear if I got the funding for sure until April. However, if memory serves, it is just before Christmas that the University sends out its own poison pen letters that go something like this:

We regret to inform you that, due to the uncommonly strong competition for awards, we were not able to put your application forward for SSHRC funding this year... please try again... we congratulate you on your accomplishments thus far... yadda, yadda, yadda... blah, blah, blah...

You see, the University weeds out the bad eggs and sends the government only the applications they would like to see win. In short, it is any day now that I will hear whether the University is even according me the right to actually apply for funding from the government. So, I will either be given a reprieve until Spring, or I will feel the merciless hand of rejection rip the heart out of my chest ANY STINKING DAY NOW.

I just tip-toed out into the lobby to check my mail with my hair up in a towel. The good news was that the creepy guy down the hall wasn't wandering around the public areas. The bad news is there was no letter.

Oh well. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow my hope will die. That is soon enough.
*

Got the Munchies?

Yesterday, I found the ultimate formula for comp exam blues. A source for the long lost goodness of Hostess chips (a treasure from my childhood), bad 80s action-comedy, and a lilac-scented heaven in bubble bath form.

Ah yes, strange things are done under the midnight sun, but, in comp exam wars, all is fair.

Oh, and I got accepted to a conference today... but somehow the Hostess chip find is more important to me right now. Priorities or what, eh?
*

Next Up: Messrs Chidester and Linenthal

My first reaction to this book, American Sacred Space (David Chidester & Edward T. Linenthal, eds.; Indiana, 1995), is that this has to be some of the tackiest fonts and colour design used on a book, ever. An academic book exploring the space and place on America's religious history, it nevertheless looks like a selection from the Ladies' Home Quarterly book club. What were they thinking? Hideous, absolutely hideous.

Secondly, may I say how much I hate having edited volumes on my comprehensive exam reading list? The exam is a 6 hour Iron Man competition of mental endurance. The PhD cohort must grunt out four essays without the use of aides, during the creation of which we must be specific with scholars' names and theories. An edited volume just adds 8 or 9 more scholars' names to the list of Honoured Wind Bags with very little profit to us.

Finally, this book was dedicated to none other than Walter Capps, the author (literally) of my pain in my first week of comp prep - the man responsible for the awful Religious Studies: The Making of a Discipline. Let's hope they were being ironic, shall we? If this one is as poorly written and as eminently depressing as Capps' travesty, Holly may not live to see 2007.

Well, here goes nothing.
*

Would You Like to be PM?

Do you have what it takes?
*

Your Traditional Xmas Feud

In response to Holly-Hitler-Elf, I bring you Murph Elf.

Enjoy, and I wish you a blessed holiday season... And may you maintain your dignity in the New Year.
*

New Goal

I want to be Barack Obama when I grow up.
*

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin', Keep Them Doggies Rollin'

Now on to Peter Beyer's Religion and Globalization (Sage, 1994). It has only put me to sleep twice, but maybe that was just the cold I am battling. In any case, onward and upward, eh?

Had a strange dream that I am still processing. I will tell it to you when I can. It was one of those dreams that seemed to describe all of my problems to me. Not how to solve them, mind you, but it did describe them to a tee.

The Proclaimers Broke My Brain

Woke up this morning to the radio playing that 500 miles song. I don't know if that was pleasant or not, but now it won't leave my head. My throat hurts, my nose has no function other than decorative today, and I have that song bouncing around in my brain.

Why? Why? WHY?

So, now I give it to you...



You can thank me later.
*

The Buck Stops Here

So with personal drama, a move, bronchitis, money worries, etc. etc., this has been one hell of a term, all when my doctoral exam keeps staring me in the face in just a month's time. So could fate leave me alone to prepare? Oh no.

This morning, at around 9am, I woke up in a chilled delirium, only to spend the following hours in an achy, swollen, whiny mess. I am starting to feel a little better, I hope, I hope... But if one more thing pops up between me and this exam, I may have to take fate by the hand and run it into a brick wall repeatedly for picking on me.

This is one chick fate can't kick around any more.

(No jinx, no jinx, no jinx.)

Now to bed, possibly, with a totally frivolous movie, a cold compress, and a tankard of ginger ale. If this flu/cold/plague is keeping me from studying today, I may as well do it up right, eh?
*

Now Tell Me That Ain't Cute

I am playing with a new toy.

With the money I saved by the timely loan of some crucial software (rather than buying it), I splurged and bought a fancy-schmantzy all-in-one printer/copier/scanner.

And what does one do with such a new toy the first night? Why, I dug into the shoebox full of photos, of course.

I have no idea why, but now I have digitalized all my old school photos. Impressed?

(This pic, btw, is one my family used to callously refer to as my "Anne Frank Look"... Perhaps I should have kept that to myself, huh?)
*

How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck?

How do you know if you have mumps?

Lordy... My throat could make the Macy's parade. I've seen snakes on the Nature Channel have an easier time swallowing their meals. Not good. Really, not good.
*

Getting My Sugar Together

It is time to get my life back on track. Aside from taking these edits seriously, I have also been applying to a couple conferences, trying to square my over-due RA work, getting back into contact with friends (and crawling out of my hermitage), and thinking about life not as a permanent state of horror-over-the-present, but as a hope-for-the-future kind of deal. I have accepted an invitation to do a lecture next term, and am even starting to think about next summer.

I know all this is not at all interesting, but there you have it.
*

With a Little Bit of Luck...

... this thing will be out of my hands on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, and off to the publisher on Thursday, and that'll be it. Do I feel satisfaction? Not really. Relief? Not yet. Tired? Most definitely.

Harassed? You got it, baby.

Nonetheless, tonight's thought: Nat Cole is sublime, and dim blue light the coolest possible thing on jangled nerves.

Now... bed. Definitely bed.


PS: A note to my drafted readers; if you want a new draft, there's one available. Just whistle. You do know how to whistle, don't you...
*

Jack Benny... End Game?

A new draft is complete, and has been sent out to various friends and proof-readers for its final skim before submission. Hopefully, it will survive the process without too much horror, and I can wrap up the poor Jack Benny piece, once and for all.

And what a long and frustrating journey it has been, too. From a random ad posted on a JB fansite, to a finished piece, to a rejection, to a contest, to another rejection, to the market to find some place to put it, now to this...

All roads lead somewhere. That may not be a profound sentiment, but it is all I can be sure of right now.

Now, it is time to get myself into even more trouble by sending off an abstract for conference consideration, and then it is my re-ward: A few more hours of Larry David, for last minute "research."

*snicker* I love my work.

*

There's Music in the Clatter of the Keyboard

Good news: Am not dead of German Measles or any other such illness.

Bad news: Still not finished re-writing the conclusion of my piece.

See Holly run. See deadline approach. Run, Holly, run.
*

Stop the Rocking!

So now I seem to have a fever and my stomach seems intent on jumping out my throat every time I stand up from sitting down... What does my system have against deadlines, anyway?

Oh well. I have three seasons of Curb Your Enthusiasm for use in researching the new conclusion requested by the Editor, so nothing can stop me now... Except for yellow fever or malaria, which I am not sure I don't have, my stomach ache is so bad.

Orange pop, lots of cool air, a popsicle, and sheer will power. That is all that is keeping me upright right now. Wish me luck.
*

Urgh! Slept in!

Crud. I over-slept. Now, has all the "I will survive" good-will I collected up yesterday gone up in one snooze-button-induced puff of progress-dissolving plume of disaster?

Only time will tell.

Now begins the scramble.
*

I WILL SURVIVE

Edits for Oxford (OXFORD!!!) are well under way... Not to jinx anything, but I may actually see the light of day on this. A short paragraph comparing Jack Benny to Jerry Seinfeld or some other newbie schnook, and I am in like Flynn.

Tonight, I go off in search of some TV for rent (Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Mad About You... anything with a prominent Jewish male in it, really) just to round out my "Legacy of Jack Benny" segment, and then a bit of extra research, followed by some touch-ups to the citations, and that's all she wrote. A day or two should do it.

Yes, I'm gonna make it after all!

Holly P., published scholar. Yes, I like that.
*

Smoking Cigarettes and Watching Captain Kangaroo

Well, replace "watching Captain Kangaroo" with "drinking coffee and editing like a fiend all stinking night," and you'll have the gist of my evening. I have to get an edited draft of something out ASAP, and work has been not progressing as quickly as it should. Now is time to light the gas, Holly. No playing solitaire til dawn with a deck of 51... but it is starting to feel as fun and useful as that would be.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, John. Good luck on your next 30 years, too.
*

Don't Jinx It...

Got something very nearly resembling an acceptance for a publication, with some minor edits and one expansion requested. I don't want to curse myself, but things are looking up.

Don't wish me luck. Please.
*

Has Anyone Ever Told You You Look Like the Prince of Wales?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARPO!

Arthur "Harpo" Marx
Film Comedian, Musician, Author, Socialite, Father

November 23, 1888 - September 28, 1964

*

Goose Pimply All Over

Research Methods in Anthropology: Qualitative and Quantitative Approaches, by H. Russell Bernard (2005)... Doesn't that sound EXCITING boys and girls?

Jealous? I know you are.
*

Give Me Your Tears, or I Will Take Them

I went to see Borat (2006) last night, and I don't know if it makes me a horrible person or not, but I laughed and laughed and laughed. Really, I would say "they don't make comedies like this any more," but I don't think they ever did. Bringing Up Baby (1938) this ain't, but wow-ee... What a way to forget your work troubles for a few hours. I highly recommend it to any one not prone to righteous indignation or any form of offence taken. I saw it in a theater filled with college-age men, and even there there were a number of uncomfortable gasps. That should say it all.

But I am left wondering: He can show people in giant, grotesque Jew costumes being chased and beaten to death by a village full of pogrom participants while they try to lay their infectious Jew eggs, but he avoided showing anyone smoking? In the former Soviet Union nation of Kazakhstan, no one smokes??? This seemed to be a stretch of realism not even I could handle.

And if smoking is more offensive than pogroms, rubber fists and poop in a baggy... We really have to sort out our priorities here, people.
*

Take That!

Reading is actually going extraordinarily well today. Stuff is actually getting into my brain, sticking, and, on top of all that, firing my brain. Could it be that the brain-fog is finally lifting on the coast lines of my synapses? Finally?? It's about time, as comp exam reading for the past month was most likely to result in a nap, rather than any real work getting done. It was starting to freak me out, so I am pleased. I may actually survive this exam!


Today, I am finishing up some methodological groundwork via Pals' terrific Eight Theories of Religion (2006), as well as issues involving feminism, with Darlene Juschka's Feminism in the Study of Religion (2001), and, making full use of my suddenly ambidextrous brain, Jose Casanova's fairly comprehensible (what a welcome change from some of these books!) book, Public Religions in the Modern World (1994).

I see the light at the end of the tunnel! It may not last, but any glimmer of academic hope is a welcome change these days.
*

HOW much is that kitten in the window??

I have now been without a cat for a month, and I have to say it is starting to drive me to distraction. Every cat in my neighbourhood is harassed whenever I see them: "Here, kitty... no, come back. Wanna play? Plleeease?" A cat taunted me the other day by walking right past my ground-level window, and would not even pause when I begged him. The situation is getting severe.

So I cruised on over to the local Humane Society website, only to find that cats run at about $200 to $300 a pop. Yes, I know this includes shots and the ole snip, and something extra to keep the very worthwhile thing afloat, but I can't really manage that amount right now, so I remain catless.

It is a sad state.

All I want for Christmas is a little kitty to call my own. Is that too much to ask for? I'd feed him and brush him and take real good care of him, and I would love him lots and lots.

Just, please, please, please, Fate, send me a "Free to Good Home" sign real soon, OK?

Or just send the above cat (named Sprite, at the K-W Shelter) my way, no questions asked.
*

That's It - Back to the Abacus!

I may as well remove this comp, and chuck it into the deepest pit of the farthest reaches of the planet, and place the empty boxes it came in on my desk, and I would have greater satisfaction. At least boxes can be counted on to be what they are: boxes. They would box to their utmost design capabilities. They would be as boxie as I wanted them to be. Their boxiosity would be to their full extent, and their boxing speeds would be exactly as they were meant to be.

As it is, this hunk of steaming annoyance does nothing but make me want to stick a ciggarette in every single hole in my head and smoke until the frustrations go away and stop wanting me to use my left boot to forcibly violate every port and passage on the hedgehog-biting-SOB that passes itself off as a comp.

Labour saving device, my arse!

Whatever you believe purgatory to be, I am in it, and this comp is with me... So, whatever I have done wrong, I am working it off, I assure you.

Rat bastard comp. Burn and rot. May you never reach the Acer land of the honorable dead, and may your motherboard fall out with a thousand syphilitic lesions and ten thousand violent convulsions of electronic pain, you worthless (yet oddly expensive) pain in the sinus.

Oh, and one more thing: 1010101110101010100101110100011010101 - I hope that means something awful to you about your mother, you piece of plastic monstrosity.

I'm not too bitter, am I?
*

Teeter

A hot bath + a cup of jasmine tea = bliss.

Strange emails + indecision + back ache + butt-loads of work = The Enemy.

Which one wins right now?
*

Pee or Off the Pot

Have discovered Digital Distractions... so now, either I put up with a comp slower than the fall of a nun's panties for like 3 days, or I cut and run from an evening's worth of slow cranking annoyance already expended... If anyone has any suggestions to make this thing work better, please drop me a line.
*

Time to Kick Comp Arse

Conditions Stabilizing

Back to listening to the CBC, back to school work, back to contact with local friends, back to AIM with Amanda...

So, yeah... hmmm... Life is returning to normal.
*

Where is the Snow?

Warm-ish and rain is nice, but where is the snow?

With a pile of reading, some hot chocolate inside and a pile of the white-and-fluffy outside would really be the meaning of comfort these days. If you have to be bolted to the sofa, anyway, then you may as well have a climate-related reason.

Oh well... back to it.
*

Death March (First Leg) Complete

Walter Capps' Religious Studies: The Making of a Discipline, which I started reading for my doctoral exam prep a month ago (at least), but abandoned due to its uncanny ability to put me to sleep within two pages every single time, is NOW FINISHED. Now I can type up what precious little notes the useless thing has afforded me, and put it far, far behind me... I may throw it into the river, I haven't decided. But, then, the fish don't need that crap, either. Maybe I will just keep it around for an insomnia cure.

Oh well, one down, 30-some left to go.
*

Back to Work

A book a day for a month and a half (with RA work stitched in when necessary and possible), and I may just barely survive this term, and pull it out of the fire.

9 to 5, with an hour (exactly) for lunch, six days a week, right up until January 5th. Time off must only be with good cause. Coffee breaks and email checks, etc., are all regulated. Each day must have a block of progress to show for the time, or there will be hell to pay.

And believe me, my boss (me) is a real b*tch.
*

Internet... I hate You

Firefox ate my blog. %^&%%$@#!*%$#!!!!!!

It is back in some form, but it was an experiment in nerves and a lot of cursing.

I am not even sure that blogging is worthwhile any more, but I will sleep on it before I flip the "delete" switch, just in case it is my temper telling me to pull the plug on this poor thing.

However, despite blood pressure enough to pop my ear drums, I am well, settling in fine, and am now hooked up to the net and open for business... though after tonight's experience, I am not 100% internet is a blessing in any form, and may stick to radio from now on.

Calm Blue Ocean. Calm Blue Ocean. Calm Blue Ocean...
*

Checking In

In the new apartment, but have no internet at home. I am currently in the oddest internet-cafe-slash-shoe-store ever found by human eyes. And that is a very odd sentence.

The new place is great, loan money arrived, and I am well... and work is re-starting on doctoral exam prep, too, so I will survive, after all.

(Thanks to my movers for their help, wheels and cheers.)

Hang in with me, more updates will follow when I can arrange it.

:)

*

Tuesday Report

Well, I have had a very nice weekend here with A&A. They have treated me super-well, and their cat soothed me a great deal by taking pity on me and spending her nights in my room (sweet little feline, that).

This morning is laundry and some last-minute emails and phone calls. This afternoon, I head back to Waterloo to finish the last of my packing and cleaning in the old apartment, and then spend the night with another friend, SL, in the city itself.

Tomorrow, I move.

Moves are long and horrid processes. Wish me luck and good cheer. I will need it, I am sure. Only one more sleep as a refugee (albeit a well-kept and cheerful one). Must keep concentrating on that. Again, I will be in uncertain Internet territory, so don’t worry if communications fail for a bit. I will land on my feet, have no fear.

Oh! It is Hallowe’en, and I forgot all about it until just now. Hope you all enjoy; festivities are not quite top of my mind, but I hope they will be again very soon.
*

Self-Pity Chant

Broke; currently homeless; going no where, professionally.

Yup.
*

Safe and Sound, and Futon Bound

Staying at the A&A b&b for a few days. The service is excellent, and the resident cat is a doll. More packing in the am, and then we play the waiting game for a day or two until life starts again.
*

Friends and Misfortune

The student loan people short changed me, my scratch and win was a scratch and lose, and my cookie is disabled (whatever that means), so these things are not my friends.

But, no matter what happens, I do have a handful of really good friends, who I have just re-discovered. They have helped me a lot this week, and will continue to help me. I do not have to name them, because I hope I have thanked them individually as the week progressed. They should know who they are.

I love you guys.
*

Marching Orders

Well, I haven't actually heard the words "Get out," but something close, so I am packing like a dervish and scrounging for a room. I don't know where I will land until my new place is open, so I may not have comp access with any certainty - don't worry if I don't surface for a while.

Will try to update, but packing, moving, submitting final grant papers, and the like, are all fairly complex, time consuming things, and I may not see my way clear for a while.

Take care, everyone.
*

Up Cheering

Rubble

John is in the hospital, and I am here alone. It is time to start packing up stuff, but time seems both too long and too short to do it all. I am feeling better, but am still easily winded.

October is the cruelest month.
*

Back From the Dead

Well, still alive. Conference did not happen, but a lot of other stuff did.

I was admitted to emergency with flooded lungs and a fever. After a goodly amount of time in respiratory quarantine and after some pretty nerve-wracking chest x-rays and blood tests, it was confirmed that I did not have SARS, pneumonia, or tuberculosis, but, rather, an acute and nasty case of bronchitis, in combination with a lung infection and a cold/flu (I wasn't really listening to the diagnosis). Oxygen and ventilin treatment kept me in the land of the living, but left me still feeling like crap – crap with malfunctioning lungs, that is.

I am starting to feel slightly better, as in I can walk more than a block without passing out, but am still not quite up to fighting condition quite yet. The order of the day: gallons and gallons of liquids, garlic in everything I eat, and a lot of rest under the blankets. Oh, and coughing. Lots of that.
*

Conference? Doubtful.

Off to hospital. Hope for the best*.

*Best = nail gun to temple; nothing fatal; and/or paperwork explaining why I am dropping out on an all-expenses-paid conference engagement.
*

Pass the Chewable Morphine, Please

OK, so that last cold was merely a warm up, and now it almost looks like I have walking pneumonia. Chest aches like I was wearing a rubber corset a hundred times too small, and my breathing just isn’t working right, leaving my brain very short on fresh air. You can only imagine how well the emergency, last-minute, conference prep is going.

I don’t know what to do any more.
*

Shoot Me. Please.

In less than three days, I will have to board a plane for Vancouver, in which city I will have to deliver a paper to a group of critics aiming to shoot it down. Now, IF I actually make it to the airport on time, and IF I can actually make it to Vancouver (which are pretty big ifs, with my traveling skills), there is certainly no guarantee that this thing will work out. The paper is far from gelling, my mind is all over, my energy is scattered, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell it is I am doing. The only thing I want to do right now is sleep and watch Are You Being Served? until life seems less scary.

Shoot me. Just shoot me now. Please.
*

Addresses

Well, the big news around here must be that I GOT THE APARTMENT that I applied for last Friday! This is great news, as it is one less thing to worry about. It is a nice apartment, and suits my needs exactly, so I am pleased. It almost wasn’t to be, as the rental people had misplaced my file at first, but a bit of cajoling later and it was mine!

And I finally got around to ordering my swanky new “PhD Candidate” business cards from the university, all paid for by the department. I know that shouldn't excite me so much, but it really, really does. Now all I have to do is call the phone people, so I can have my brand new telephone number printed on them.

So, everything seems to be running as smoothly as can be expected. Now all I have to worry about this conference in Vancouver (in mere days), packing next week, and moving.

Oh, and money, but, then, isn’t that something of a constant worry?

Oh, Al

This may be true, but not too many folks have made a better living at being white and nerdy...


*

Try This on for Size

Are you doing everything you can do?

Test your Eco-Foot Print.
*

*fantastic*

Today was a tremendous day. The first really great day in a little while, actually. All events and tasks went off really well, and my energy was through the roof. I made contact with all of my favourite people, and kept a few more links in an important chain of communication.

Most of all, I heard some awesome news. The first set of doctoral exams had been up in the air as far as date was concerned. Until today, it was possible that I was to write my first comp exam on the first Friday of December. Now, I find out that it is actually set now for the 5th of January, which suddenly gives me a whole month as cushion. This was the news I really needed to hear, because this means, despite all my personal disruptions and upset, I still have some sort of chance to pass the damn thing, even if it will cramp a few plans for the holidays.

So an extra month to prepare for my exam, leaving adequate room to survive the move and change in routine, not to mention the mental duress! Thank you, Joint Doctoral Committee. I know you didn’t make this decision with me in mind, but you have, in fact, saved my life.
*

A Foul Bauble of Woman’s Vanity

So, seminar went well, even with little preparation, but I now have two bloody socks to contend with, as my new (attractive but deadly) girl shoes have decided to give me blisters unseen since the Boer War trench-foot epidemic. Oy. Why? Why?

So I am resting up in my office until I can force the stumps of raw hamburger that were once my feet back into the iron maidens for the final leg of my trek home.

But, yes, I was a hit, despite the pain-fueled rant desire, and I am feeling cautiously optimistic about the Big Show next week in Vancouver.

Onward and upward!
*

My Feet are Freakishly Small, and I have Crud on my Face

But, then, don’t all good stories start that way?

Off to address a room full of undergrads hungry for advice on how to get into, and succeed at, grad school. I am under-prepared, speechwise, so I have decided to try all defense mechanisms on full blast, including a trial run for my conference war paint.

I don’t wear makeup, ever, really, but I have a need to start looking and acting like a grownup, so there is it. Shaky and unnatural, I have crud all over my eyes, mouth and face. My men’s army boots have been replaced with new girl-shoes that make my feet look strange and childlike, and I smell like vanilla. People, this is not me. I have no idea who this is, but it ain’t me. Makeup was once part of me, the Goth Me and the Drama Student Me… but this mauve and earth tone crap has never been me, and will never be me. Not even Professor Me. Makeup always signals unnatural times.

The last time I wore makeup, I think, was March of 2005. I needed some confidence to teach on, for some reason. That day ended with me being called into to the office of the department head and being told I was rejected for PhD studies. That is a nice memory, and, happily, it comes flooding back to me in all its horrid detail whenever a mascara brush approaches my face. Sweet, indeed.

There is something extra pathetic about a girl crying while wearing makeup. It is a time honoured ritual of getting dolled up only to be dashed, heart and soul. It is a million soiled prom memories, and a hundred really bad job interviews. That is the legacy I have now smeared all over my face, and the pit of my stomach is doing a jig. I can only hope that today, and certainly the conference, breaks the chain of makeup and crying.

So why do I wear it? Well, I happen to look pretty damned good…

Is it worth it? Let’s find out, shall we?

So, break a leg, me… It’s show time!
*

Well…

Less than a week until that conference, and everything is so chaotic and screaming right now I can’t get a thing done. Personal life is a shambles. Have to pause tomorrow for an “Everything you need to know about grad school” PR stunt. Then it is back to work, I hope… Still might not be enough time to pull anything out of my arse worthy of presenting. But I can’t cancel, as I need this on my resume for the SSHRC people, or my grant proposal is dead in the water… and, man, am I hurting for that grant.

It’s one of those days that just grabbing your back-pack and snagging a one-way bus back to Nova Scotia seems like the only option, you know?

So what keeps me here? Masochism? Possibly.
*

Sobibor Revolt

On October 14, 1943, approximately 300 inmates of the Sobibor death camp revolted against their captors and broke for freedom across a landmine field, under a rain of bullets. Reaching the forest their only goal, many did not make it. Due to the efforts of the Sobibor resistance leaders and the courage of the rebels, the camp was shut down, and 50 escaped inmates survived to the end of the war. At least 250,000 Jews were killed at Sobibor before it was closed in 1943.

Remember.

"Those of you who may survive, bear witness,
let the world know what has happened here."
- Aleksander Aronowich Pechersky

Snow!

I am writing to you from fabulous Laurier grad student office space, so I must be brief and unillustrated.

I was wandering around yesterday, apartment hunting, and I was getting crabby and stressed. After an hour or so of walking, I popped in to see a (really great) place, and then, when I came out, low and behold! Snow! The first snow of the season. Many may not be happy to see it, but it was just what I needed. Cool, refreshing, beautiful (insert insinuation that the snow and I have at least three things in common here). Welcome back, snow. I, for one am glad to see you.

Oh, and that great, affordable, available apartment? Put in the application and handed over deposit/first month’s rent checks, and I should know if I get it soon, I think. Believe me, you will hear about it when I do.
*

Apartment Hunting; Loan Busting

That pretty much sums it up. More news after the movie (i.e. after a day's worth of crap).

Wish me luck.
*

Debt, Disaster and Disarmament

Just got back from hearing Jack Layton speak in the (wait for it) Paul Martin Centre here at WLU. He spoke on student debt/ tuition costs, the environment/ global warming, and foreign policy, specifically about the New Arms Race and Afghanistan. All good, important topics, with well-designed points and solid transitions.

(The only issue I had was an unnecessary dig at smokers. I felt like telling him that lung cancer is my only hope of someday escaping my student debt load, but I grinned and bore it. He can’t help it, he’s a health nut speaking to students, so he must pull that “Don’t Smoke, Kids!” stuff. I certainly didn't see any of that at the CUPE Ontario convention a few years ago, so he is clearly bright enough not to bash smoking before a thousand Unionists, so that is wise. Me? I am just trying to keep my nerves from breaking with limited resources and an impending sense of doom. So the class warfare of anti-smoking rhetoric continues... I could have done without that, really.)

Regardless, he was still quite impressive. He made sense, and was clear and articulate; he was as charming and likeable to me as he ever was. I have always admired him, and I consider myself a NDP supporter, so it was nice to be there.

However, I have to say that he did not energize me this time as much as he did when I saw him in Toronto a few years ago.

I didn’t leave feeling like I could change the world. He made me feel that way the last time. Of course, the last time I heard him speak I also shook his hand, so maybe that helped, but still… Oh, Jack, you’re cool, and you have my vote, but I really needed more from you today.

I needed a little of that patented Jack hope.
*

Chaplin Lives!

I am sitting here at my comp wearing my Chaplin moustache from Amanda’s birthday party, and I have no idea why. For some reason it just comforts me. Sometimes, a little silly is all that the doctor ordered, even if you are all by yourself in the room.
*

For Lumper, a Good Dog

“Four Feet”

I have done mostly what men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can't forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.

Day after day, the whole day through--
Wherever my road inclined--
Four-Feet said, 'I am coming with you!'
And trotted along behind.

Now I must go by some other round--
Which I shall never find--
Some where that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.

--- Rudyard Kipling ---
*

Dark Magic

Tonight, I went to see The Illusionist (2006). I had to get out of the apartment, and some friends were kind enough to take me for an airing.

I can’t really describe my personal feelings at seeing this movie, but I am sure you all have had the experience of seeing a film, at a certain point in your life, and having the sudden impression that it was made for you to see just then. This film was that for me – if you have seen it, you may be puzzled over the How and Why of that.

Only a few of you – perhaps only one of you, actually – can really understand that, I think. Just trust me when I say that, right now, it is indescribable for me.

So after being dropped back at the apartment, I decided to take a walk and enjoy the light rain – maybe the last warm rain of the season – and headed towards the reservoir. Dealing with current stress, and processing my life thus far, had left me feeling lonely and sad, and a bit angry in a non-specific sort of way.

However, the film left me feeling powerful and exhilarated despite all that.

I walked, watching my shadow on the slick pavement leading towards the nature trail. I do that when I am feeling low, you see – a childlike flight of whimsy, as I enjoy watching the shadow of my long trench coat turn me from vulnerable student to evil master in the vein of Darth Vader.

(I am certain you all do such strange things in secret, only I am in the mood tonight to actually confess my silly crutch.)

Suddenly, when I had reached the mouth of the trail, very near to where I had found my American two dollar bill a week ago, I heard the sound, coming from behind me, of a car gunning its engines, despite the slick pavement and the hairy sharp curve where the Boulevard veers off to the right from the reservoir area. I watched it pass me, too quickly, and I thought only one word: “Crash.”

Was this a destructive wish, a command, or just a certainty? What ever it was, the car spun, squealed, and did, indeed, crash. Luckily, everyone got out ok, but I was shaken. In truth, I still am shaken.

Was it just the movie that gave me the odd feeling that I somehow caused that car to crash? Or maybe I just knew it would happen, giving the illusion of causation. Was it a guess, a premonition, or just the simple logic of “speed + conditions + geography = accident” that made it so I didn’t even flinch when the car left the road? Why had I been so sure it would happen? Had I already seen it, or did I make it happen in the first place?

Or am I just losing my mind?

Well… no, I think not.

Somewhere, tonight, an answer teases me…

I knew the major principle of life years ago: He who has a Why to live can live with any How.

A person with a developed and recognized Logos can live through anything.

But, tonight, still shaken and still mulling over the meaning of everything of the past few months and years, I have another principle that flirts with me in the mist.

She who has a Reason to Live, has an equal Will to Live; She who has both a Why and a Will to Live, has all the Power in the Universe.

So tell me: Can Logos bend time, space, matter, and energy to the Will? Can all things be submitted to the Will of one who has dared to focus his or her Being on a goal?

Can one even change the weather, and then go so far as to rule over Fate itself?

Perhaps.

But, then, now I really have gone into the realm that only one person out there can understand fully… but one is enough for me right now.

The moral of this tale: Go see The Illusionist, because it is so good it screws with your sense of reality. And do slow down on sharp turns in the rain.

Things are Looking Up

Yes. Quite.

Wish me luck.
*

Clearly, My Call Ain’t All That Important to You, Motherf*ckers.

On hold with loan people, two or three sets of them, through a myriad of transfers (so many I don’t even know where I am any more). Soon, I will be on hold with the bank, and possibly with a couple prospective rental companies and landlords.

Yippee.
*

Thanks Amanda, I Think

My score on The LONG Scientific Personality Test:

**************************************

ENFJ- The Teacher
(You scored 72% I to E, 21% N to S, 38% F to T, and 31% J to P!)

Your type is known as the teacher, or the educating mentor. You also belong to the larger group, called idealists. You tend to bring out the best in other people. You lead without seeming to do so. People are naturally drawn to you. You expect the very best from people which takes the form of enthusiastic encouragement which is so charming that people try their best not to disappoint you. You share your personality type with 3% of the population.

You need to feel a deep and meaningful connection to your romantic partners, and go to great lengths to understand and please your mate. Harmony is vitally important to you, and you often put others' needs before your own. You have a pretty thin skin and are easily hurt. Although you strive for harmony, when your values or ethics are violated, you can be very emotional, confrontational, and even punishing. However, you are very insightful about the underlying cause of conflicts, and an excellent communicator, so you have the tools to bring about a quick and peaceful resolution as long as you can keep control of your facilities. You want to be appreciated for your thoughtfulness and compassion. You need your partner to make a real effort to get to know you. Above all, you need to be able to express your feelings and have them taken seriously.

Your group summary: idealists (NF)
Your type summary: ENFJ

**************************************

Take it!
*

Happy Long Weekend!

Between Thanksgiving in Canada, and Columbus Day down south, that should cover a lot of you.

I won’t say, “Happy Thanksgiving!”, because I don’t really have the energy to think through the various ethical implications of Thanksgiving. If you have things to be thankful for, then go ahead. Have some pumpkin pie, and enjoy the day… just don’t steal anyone’s land, ok?

In any case, a long weekend is always worth celebrating, so enjoy the day, folks.
*