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.
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Self-Pity Chant

Broke; currently homeless; going no where, professionally.

Yup.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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...


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Try This on for Size

Are you doing everything you can do?

Test your Eco-Foot Print.
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*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.
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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!
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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 ---
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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.
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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.
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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!
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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.
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Blogging for Dollars (and Knowledge, too, of course)

Today, I plan on starting a blog for my research job, to make it easier to collect data on the significance of food in the Jewish tradition. Mainly, my ethnographic work will actually take place at Jewish community functions, but we are also branching out into email surveys and blog responses. If you consider yourself “religiously Jewish” (in whatever way that seems to fit), drop me a line and you too can be included in this very worthwhile project.

The cool thing is that this will be my first paid blogging activity… too bad I can’t parlay that into a full time gig, eh?

Other than that, work is fairly straight forward right now. SSHRC and OGS proposals are semi-done in some form of draft and submitted to my Advisor, so they may be some measure closer to completion (unless I am wrong and they are complete garbage, which is always slightly possible). And research and outlining for my Vancouver conference paper is underway with new urgency (i.e. I now have less than two weeks to make sure I do not look like a jackass in front of a crowd).

To tell the truth, I almost emailed to cancel my conference in a moment of panic yesterday, but what the hell would my SSHRC application be without this little beginning to my academic career?

So, yes… I press on. Always onwards and upwards, folks.

Even if all I feel like doing is sleeping.
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The Other Shoe?

So now, amidst all the work I have to do, and the stress of my personal limbo, I can most definitely feel a cold coming on. Sore throat, burning sinuses, the whole gambit. A series of ten sneezes upon waking up cannot be a good sign.

The most bizarre new symptom of my sinus hell has to be the way that everything is starting to smell like processed meat products to me. And if you don’t think that showers that have the distinct aroma of Puritan canned meat spread, or a reservoir stinking of hotdogs with mustard, is a gross thought, then you aren’t a vegetarian, clearly.

So, yes… Go ahead, cosmos. Make it all worse. I thank you for it. I really, really do.
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STRESS!

Oh where, oh where, could my student loan be? Oh where, oh where, has it gone?

Yes, folks, I am yet again waiting for my loan papers, which are, yet again, a bit late. This is not abnormal, nor is it completely the fault of the loan people, as I was a bit late myself submitting the papers. However, this year I have immediate need of it, as apartment hunting is not much use without the two months’ rent checks to back it up.

So everything is backing up on itself. Need loan, to get apartment. Need apartment to get utilities set up and address changes done. Need those done so I can finish a million and one tasks that suddenly need my mailing address. (But have no real mailing address right now, except for the department.) Aside from this, I still have my grant proposals to finish, transcripts to get my hands on, a million banking tasks to complete, a paper to prepare and present, and RA duties to somehow fulfill in the meantime, including, it seems, some left over work from last summer.

And, today, I call my mum to break the news, and possibly bum a loan if they can swing it.

Yes, I love being 28 and being possessed of no emergency savings. It really makes one feel like a real, live human being, no? And all of those people who assume that I am somehow taking an “easy route” for still being in school, rather than working in some cubicle jungle for AT&T, can seriously kiss my ass. No, not just kiss. Lick and polish, folks, because I am truly suffering for my life choices right now, in the form of complete and utter dependence on other cubicle jungle inmates for my loan forms. Got that?

So, basically, my life is a series of “Check Loan Status” frustrations and stomach pains.

Now do you see why I can’t really update this thing?
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Something Fun for a Change

Obi Wan at his best.

Enjoy!
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I am the Cancer Boy of Relationships

I have not been terribly forthcoming about several things of note going on in my life right now, but I think I can shed some light, by way of preface to today’s complaint.

John (my partner of 10 years) and I have, after a great deal of soul-searching, ended our run. (I refuse to say “broken up” as that sounds like it involves returning a letterman’s jacket or something.) In any case, we have made it final and official, and we are both still in a mourning phase of sorts, while trying to retain our friendship. I will be moving in a month, if I can swing the money for rent/deposit, etc., but it will go ahead in some fashion.

So that is all the news that is fit to print currently.

Now, the fun begins… telling mutual friends, colleagues, and professors, as well as family members.

No doubt some of you are reading this and hearing it for the first time. Don’t be offended to be “the last to know.” My mum doesn’t even know yet – there is plenty of time for that particular joy soon enough, and if she had email I would gladly just “bulk notify” her. In truth, it is almost easier to send out wide proclamations, as I am finding the process a horror renewed with each individual sit-down talk.

Why?

Because of what I now start to think of as the "I’ve just told you that I have just broken up with my partner and/or been diagnosed with cancer" look. Pity surrounds me, and it is horrible. The best response so far, from my Advisor, was “It happens; don’t let it get you down.” That is a fine response. The worse: “OMG, that must hurt… cry if you need to; I’m here. Go ahead. Cry!” (That person seemed to expect me actually to just cry on command… Clearly they know me well, eh?)

So, now word is firing off madly in all directions. And now John and I (we happen to be members of the same University Department, btw… fun, fun, fun) are subject to “Cancer Boy” looks. These range from “Such a brave little trooper,” to “It isn’t contagious, is it???” People stare and then look away. I almost want to set my hair on fire, just to see if they could sustain a gaze.

I do thank everyone for what I assume are words of well-wishing and condolence. I would say, “let’s go for coffee,” but since everyone in the world suddenly wants to take me for coffee, I am not sure my bladder would survive more invites. Perhaps if I sobbed as much as everyone here expected me to, it would be more comfortable. However, as an emotionally-constipated (or at least forcefully determined) Maritimer, I just can’t do that.

So… that’s my update. Let it spread forth… and then don’t mention it back to me, ok?
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Signs and Wonders

Last night, while mulling over matters of personal distress, my mind was vacillating back and forth a million times, and I could literally feel my heart skipping. Then, for some unknown reason, I looked down. There, in the dark, on the nature trail, sat a folded American bill. I picked it up, and smoothed it out.

It is an American two dollar bill. There is Jefferson staring back at me, and the party on the back, signing the Declaration of Independence.

I don’t know why, but this means something, and I can’t help but feel better because of it. Who sent it to me? What strength were they trying to pass on?

It may not seem like much, but right now I need whatever I can get.
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Track

Grant proposals. Paper for conference. Reading, reading, reading.

Do what I have to do.

Those are the goals here, folks.

Keep on track.
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Atonement

All the best for the High Holy Season.

Wishing you all a meaningful Yom Kippur.
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