freeze-dried moments

Things to Be Thankful For

2012-01-11T19:20:00.002-06:00

* Reassuring Conversations (with very, very specific people)
* Yoga
* Sleep

Now, back to taking stock of this semester.

Link-Love: Design, Arts, Crafts, Magic

2012-01-03T17:56:00.000-06:00

Jumbo Jibbles is awesomeness and attractiveness. She's done me a gorgeous pair of ear-rings, some wonderful tiny robots, which haven't yet been unpack in my new apt. And she's done other gorgeously delicate sculptures and fun life-size veggies. Basically, she's awesome.

As is Hands Occupied.
I've been looking for knitting projects*. And through a wonderful friend, I got a few tips from Heidi at Hands Occupied on where to start. (No, I don't really think my childhood knitting-summers count. Although, if the knowledge surprisingly sprung back into life, I wouldn't complain.)
I plan on checking out the local yarn store soon. But until then, I'm trying out some basic patterns that I found. More on this, later.

*I've been looking for entirely non-school related things to do (for a bunch of reasons, including complete boredom with intellectual snobbery).

Things I've missed in the last Six Months

2011-12-19T23:53:00.001-06:00

Since moving into this new life in Cornfield Town, a lot has changed. And as much as I'm pro-change, there are things that I miss very dearly. And since we're at this list-making time of the year, here's a list of things (and people, and moments) that I miss very dearly:

16. Short-drive access to decent restaurants that can seat more than twenty people
15. The quaint town-square and its farmer's markets
14. Impromptu Lunches with Her at Petra Cafe
13. The Dickson Street Bookstore
12. Iron Horse Coffee Company
11. Kimpel's asbetos-filled halls (who knew?)
10. My own office space - yegods, old large wooden desk, I miss you.

9. Being able to breathe without the neighbours hearing me

8. Vaulted ceilings (and while I'm at it, in-house washer-dryer systems)

7. Living in a place where pets don't defecate on my doorstep

6. Long, pointless walks

5. Following Galactic Suburbia

4. Writing
3. Reading (yes, ironically)
2. Reading Science Fiction, specifically

And most of all, I miss

1. Having the time to do things for myself without guilt

Clearly, this semester here has been incredibly frustrating, and I'm not even counting the academic stuff yet.*

* Okay, clearly this is not a gratefulness post. And to compensate, I admit that this move has had a couple of saving graces. I've met a few wonderful people here - people that warm my heart. And I've found a awe-bloody-some yoga studio.

Paper #3

2011-12-17T12:43:00.002-06:00

A very imperfect 80% done. I have 2 pages more of writing to do and then, I'm calling it a wrap.
And more and more I'm wondering if grad school is for me, right now.

Paper 3

2011-12-15T19:53:00.000-06:00

I'm a woeful 3% into my last paper for this semester. And yes, it is due tomorrow. Horrors.

But, you have to read / see this:

InSouth Africa, they have a phrase called Ubuntu. Ubuntu comes out of aphilosophy that says, the only way for me to be human is for you to reflect myhumanity back at me. But if you're like me, my humanity is more like a window.I don't really see it, I don't pay attention to it until there's, you know,like a bug that's dead on the window. Then suddenly I see it, and usually, it'snever good. It's usually when I'm cussing in traffic at someone who is tryingto drive their car and drink coffee and send emails and make notes. So whatUbuntu really says is that there is no way for us to be human without otherpeople. It's really very simple, but really very complicated. (TED Talk ChrisAbani Muses on Humanity)

See the Talk here

The Youtube version is here:

Ten Years, Who knew?

2011-12-14T19:33:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, I get nostalgic for my younger wisdom. And in those moments, I go looking for answers in my own older writings (oh, come on, allow me my occasional, somewhat narcissistic indulgences).

While doing that a few moment ago, I realized that I've been pouring my heart out to the interwebs for ten years to the date (well, give one day).

Ten years.
Phew. A whole decade.
This means, I've known some of my dearest friends for a decade (where - in a move that brings me closer to reading tarot for a living, yeah, C? - I give thanks to the universe.)

My first post was about how much I disliked the college I was in.
Strike that. It was actually a somewhat childish commemoration of a fun moment amidst the usual dreariness of the place.

A lot has changed since that post.
But, it turns out, that on one front, I'm re-visiting old ghosts, transformed my time.
I'm still in school (okay, I call college, "school" now). And I find myself feeling surprisingly the same way about where I am.
Shrug.
We'll see. We'll see.

And now, onto the next

2011-12-14T09:11:00.001-06:00

Okay, I've plodded through paper 2 and I'm almost done with turning it in.
Later today, onto paper 3.
Sigh.

Still on Paper #2

2011-12-13T12:56:00.002-06:00

80% done. It's late. But hell, it's 80% done.

Paper #2

2011-12-12T19:22:00.001-06:00

I have - two hours to write 75% of this paper. Such horror.

One down, two to go

2011-12-11T18:56:00.001-06:00

Okay, I'm done with one paper. And I've never been less interested, more disappointed or more relieved. Bleh.

End-of-Semester-Writing

2011-12-06T20:35:00.001-06:00

I'm writing my full-length first paper for this semester. After much procrastination and many tears, I have three thousand words down. They are horribly imperfect words, but, hell - its 60% of the total word count.
I feel like one of my own freshmen working through a word count and through page limits. But, so it is.

Design

2011-11-22T22:30:00.001-06:00

More and more, these days
I think of the time
we've wasted nay, I've wasted
i can think of no real reason
why i did
why didn't I read the signs?
maybe if I did,
This design would not be imcomplete.

Link-Love

2011-11-22T20:06:00.001-06:00

Daisy has been writing again. She's awesome and you have to follow her. (Yes, I know, I say this about everyone that I link here. But hey, it means something. Okay? Okay.)

Read her, read her.

Preserves

2011-11-20T22:24:00.001-06:00

Quietly,
I stow away memories,
like ripe mangoes,
for later consumption.
I dissect them,
into manageable-bite size pieces.
And soak them
in a tangy, sweet-sour preserve,
in air-tight containers,
so they remain untainted
by the vagaries of time
and oxygen.
I push the jar
into a dark corner
Just for nights like this one,
Where my mind,
carefully drags the jar out,
For my wine-soaked tongue
to bite into a soft, juicy piece.

2011-11-16T10:19:00.001-06:00

I walk around and let the cold air nip at my face.
Something tells me this might be withdrawal from you.
The same thing warns me that I had better get used to it.

Giving Thanks

2011-11-13T14:41:00.001-06:00

I've been meaning, for a fortnight now, to do a post giving thanks (of the non-bird-killing-variety). Recently, my life has turned into a vast and mapless wonderland. And especially during weeks like this one (it's nearing the end-of the semester, people), any sense of gratitude I have is beaten to death by its natural predators (plagues of self-doubt, uncertainty and painful neighbors).

But today, I'm thankful for old friends. Especially for this old friend - for his patience, wit, humor and persistent wonderfulness. Without you, I might still have made it through the terrible times, but I'd be in significantly worse shape. And certainly, without you, my life would be a lot less fun, a lot less engaging.

It would have fewer birds, less Ogden Nash and no Richard Armour or Peter Sellers.

Without you, my mind would not know The Old Man and Mr. Smith.

And I would have grown up without knowing this gem:

I would also know a lot less dirty jokes and terrible puns and pick up lines than I do now.

In other words, I'm thankful for you this holiday season.
And so this holiday season, here's to being friends for a long, long time.

Pain

2011-11-10T00:01:00.005-06:00

I touch my wound
As I lie in bed breathing
Because I have to remember the hurt
As a way of avoiding the pain.

2011-11-09T23:55:00.000-06:00

What does it mean,
To have weird vampire dreams
and wake up restless, heavy
To be blown away by gusts of wind
And be thankful for thr fleeting sense of tangible mutability
Only to walk through dank corridors
(much too warm)
Into white labs
Into conversations of eighteen-year olds
about weird dreams of drunk parents and siblings and frat parties
And werewolf virility?

Healing

2011-10-31T07:06:00.003-05:00

Sometimes,
A healing is a slow fire,
Around the skewer of your being.
And when you burn to ash,
The wound burns with you.

On Resnais' "Night and Fog"

2011-10-25T18:24:00.002-05:00

"As long as there is language, there is the tiniest spark of humanity; a work of the imagination, an address to another, a new meaning given to an old idea, a sign of an active intelligence, an act of compassion, a capacity to dream - all of these affirm the sacred inviolability of human life."
(Sandy Flitterman-Lewis, Terror and Memory in Alan Resnais's Night and Fog)

Another Monday

2011-10-24T06:33:00.000-05:00

Still on the same prayers - energy, balance and the sense to know myself.
And for you, world, I wish the same.

2011-10-22T19:01:00.002-05:00

"I don't have abilities. I have acts of desperation which land me in occupations I couldn't care less about."

(From Kamila Shamsie's, Broken Verses)

Making Peace

2011-10-19T19:43:00.003-05:00

I'm trying
really hard
(and being surprised that this is not as painful as I thought it would be)
to make peace
with the idea
that I'm not
as young
as I used to be.
And that
this
does not mean
I'm old.

2011-10-19T19:36:00.002-05:00

I say you need to go see: http://xhelseamikael.tumblr.com - because she's very fun.

My quieting moment has arrived and I need to go soak it in now.

Giving Thanks

2011-10-17T06:48:00.000-05:00

Despite being warned that in thanking (or was it over-thanking?) I weaken myself, I open this week with gratitude.
I'm blown away,
And terribly uncertain,
And restless
But 'neath it all, I'm still okay
(and quietly, very very quietly watching for a rustle, some sound, or scent of the change to come).

2011-10-16T17:47:00.002-05:00

You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach in moments of heightened intuition?
I'm there.
And all because I just realized exactly how far I need to run.
I should be cussing at things around me, but I'm still, surprisingly, oh-oh-kay.

Dreams, running

2011-10-16T11:31:00.000-05:00

I was going to say something
about forgetting
to dream.
And then I read this, from Sita - which is quite different from everything I was going to say. But, it is beautiful. And you must go read it.

On a somewhat related note,
I'm seized again
By the impulse
to run.

Also, while I'm on the fence about How I met your mother, I think I quite like the Kevin / Robin development. Sappy, eh?

Reflections, briefly

2011-10-15T19:37:00.003-05:00

I've been reading posts from over seven years ago (when I wrote as another person, elsewhere on the web-world). And I think back to me today. In some ways, I worry for me - I worry that somewhere in me, there is a tendency to great intensity and that I am going to, to borrow a phrase, "die a wistful death".

But, I've had enough of that intensity. I'm tired of this notion quiet acceptance of what one of the Witches calls a sense of helplessness in the face of intense love. And at this point, I absolutely refuse to die wistfully.
Deep breath.

Homework beckons. More, soon.

2011-10-13T12:22:00.001-05:00

Kis, Kis ko batayeinge judaii ka sabab ham

I get the sense that I've been talking too much.
Mostly, this is a way of dispensing this crazy energy high that I'm on.
But, it is beginning to hollow me out.
Time for some silence, yeah?

Love, Actually

2011-10-12T07:55:00.002-05:00

2011-10-10T08:45:00.003-05:00

Am I to become profligate as if I were a blonde?
Or religious as if I were French?

Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more
adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on
that interminable list!), but one of these days there’ll be
nothing left with which to venture forth.

Why should I share you? Why don’t you get rid of someone
else for a change?
I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless

l o v e

(Frank O Hara - Meditations in an Emergency)

2011-10-10T08:08:00.001-05:00

Like a greedy little child
I hog minutes,
With sticky fingers

But,
I'm wise.

I'm merely going to

stash them away in my pockets

And relish each one.

For a long, long time.

A prayer

2011-10-10T07:58:00.000-05:00

Today,
I pray for
me.

Today, I pray
for agility
for the ability to find my strength, my groundedness
for soul sustenance
and the wisdom that I can't go back
but I can go on.

Today, I pray
for an inner compass
that tunes me in
to my detachment
and for the auxiliary cable
to connect to my practice and my passion.

Today,
I pray for the impossible.
And for the first time in months,
I know that's alright.

Confessions, Revelations

2011-10-09T16:17:00.001-05:00

This weekend, I'm making peace with the idea that I can be cheesy, wistful, nostalgic, young, (did I mention cheesy?), hopefully cynical and secretive.

This weekend, I'm making peace with me.

And you, in the meanwhile, should go watch Sinatra

It's a morning for poetry

2011-10-08T09:10:00.002-05:00

With a flick of that pointed blade
Artfully
You scrape a gentle cut
on my soul
And I bleed
Ether.

Quietly

2011-10-08T08:58:00.002-05:00

In these moments
- these,
not-quite-Niles-and-Daphne moments,
these seveteen-year-old moments,
these adult moments,
that are over a decade old -
in these moments,
where you tell me,
(we've) earned it.
I feel like a child,
with a gold star on her homework.
But more.
I feel
gratitude.
And send silent thanks
into the atmosphere.

Three degrees to the left

2011-10-07T11:02:00.002-05:00

On a whim, the questions I'm asking are different
The world seems to have shifted
Not by a lot,
Just three degrees to the left
Of the non-center
I'm not far enough that I can tell
Whether this is further towards the center
(oh, perfect balance)
Or farther away from it
But for now,
It is not where I was
And that'll do.

Today's post, wait for it.... more poetree

2011-10-02T14:37:00.002-05:00

From the Writer's Almanac

A Child's Wedding Song
by Glyn Maxwell

Thumb and finger make a ring

              to see the future through.
I can see the world through it
              only the world and you,
only the world and you alone.
              If I should break this ring,
where will I find you in the world
              though I find everything?
"A Child's Wedding Song" by Glyn Maxwell, from One Thousand Nights and Counting: Selected Poems. © Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

2011-09-30T20:18:00.001-05:00

"The ways we think are literally mapped onto our brain, apparently" she said, playing with the half-crushed cigarette packet, "a dear friend told me that just yesterday"

"May I?"

"Sure," she said, extending the packet to him, flipping the top open "I'm trying to resist, but someone needs to before these are crushed beyond all belief".

He noticed that she used words to fill up any potential silences.

"Thanks."

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm... not who I used to be. I... I was young and stable once. Sensible and stable. Head on one's shoulders. The kind of girl people voted into class monitor positions." She exhaled the smoke inelgantly as she spoke. "I used to turn heads. And I used to have silence. I knew what I wanted. I was more self-assured. And I could get things. And people ... well, people noticed me."

She looked at him, somewhat guiltily. He showed no sign of being moved. Or of talking.

"Well, no. Not really, I don't know that that's the thing. I used to be home." she said "And then, I foolishly worried that I was just home."

She exhaled, through the nose this time. "And now," she continued "I'm just well, another place."

He looked at her creaseless brow and puffy eyes. He watched the wind whip her unkempt ponytail around and then stubbed out his cigarette.

And now, the poem that started it all

2011-09-28T19:27:00.000-05:00

I've been thirsty for poems since, on the Atumnal Equinox, I had this poem read out to me. Mark Strand's The Night, The Porch

To stare at nothing is to learn by heart
What all of us will be swept into, and baring oneself
To the wind is feeling the ungraspable somewhere close by.
Trees can sway or be still. Day or night can be what they wish.
What we desire, more than a season or weather, is the comfort
Of being strangers, at least to ourselves. This is the crux
Of the matter. Even now we seem to be waiting for something
Whose appearance would be its vanishing--the sound, say,
Of a few leaves falling, or just one leaf, or less.
There is no end to what we can learn. The book out there
Tells as much, and was never written with us in mind.

Another Poem

2011-09-28T11:57:00.000-05:00

C.S., a.k.a. one of the Witches delighted me with this wonderful poem Oatmeal by Galway Kinnell - Poetry Archive:

I eat oatmeal for breakfast.
I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it.
I eat it alone.
I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.
Its consistency is such that is better for your mental health
if somebody eats it with you.
That is why I often think up an imaginary companion to have
breakfast with.
Possibly it is even worse to eat oatmeal with an imaginary
companion.
Nevertheless, yesterday morning, I ate my oatmeal porridge,
as he called it with John Keats.

Keats said I was absolutely right to invite him:
due to its glutinous texture, gluey lumpishness, hint of slime,
and unsual willingness to disintigrate, oatmeal should
not be eaten alone.
He said that in his opinion, however, it is perfectly OK to eat
it with an imaginary companion, and that he himself had
enjoyed memorable porridges with Edmund Spenser and John
Milton.
Even if eating oatmeal with an imaginary companion is not as
wholesome as Keats claims, still, you can learn something
from it.
Yesterday morning, for instance, Keats told me about writing the
"Ode to a Nightingale."
He had a heck of a time finishing it those were his words "Oi 'ad
a 'eck of a toime," he said, more or less, speaking through
his porridge.
He wrote it quickly, on scraps of paper, which he then stuck in his
pocket,
but when he got home he couldn't figure out the order of the stanzas,
and he and a friend spread the papers on a table, and they
made some sense of them, but he isn't sure to this day if
they got it right.
An entire stanza may have slipped into the lining of his jacket
through a hole in his pocket.
He still wonders about the occasional sense of drift between stanzas,
and the way here and there a line will go into the
configuration of a Moslem at prayer, then raise itself up
and peer about, and then lay \ itself down slightly off the mark,
causing the poem to move forward with a reckless, shining wobble.
He said someone told him that later in life Wordsworth heard about
the scraps of paper on the table, and tried shuffling some
stanzas of his own, but only made matters worse.
I would not have known any of this but for my reluctance to eat oatmeal
alone.
When breakfast was over, John recited "To Autumn."
He recited it slowly, with much feeling, and he articulated the words
lovingly, and his odd accent sounded sweet.
He didn't offer the story of writing "To Autumn," I doubt if there
is much of one.
But he did say the sight of a just-harvested oat field go thim started
on it, and two of the lines, "For Summer has o'er-brimmed their
clammy cells" and "Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours,"
came to him while eating oatmeal alone.
I can see him drawing a spoon through the stuff, gazing into the glimmering
furrows, muttering.
Maybe there is no sublime; only the shining of the amnion's tatters.
For supper tonight I am going to have a baked potato left over from lunch.
I am aware that a leftover baked potato is damp, slippery, and simultaneaously
gummy and crumbly, and therefore I'm going to invite Patrick Kavanagh
to join me.

Copyright
from Selected Poems (Bloodaxe, 2001), copyright © Galway Kinnell 2001, used by permission of the author and Bloodaxe Books Ltd.

The poem for change

2011-09-26T05:29:00.000-05:00

Sita, over at head start fed my soul with this poem by Pablo Neruda:

What hope to consider, what pure foreboding,
what definitive kiss to bury the heart,
to submit to the origins of homelessness and intelligence,
smooth and sure over the eternally troubled waters?
What vital, speedy wings of a new dream angel
to install on my sleeping shoulders for perpetual security,
in such a way that the path through the stars of death
be a violent flight begun many days and months and centuries ago?
Suppose the natural weakness of suspicious, anxious creatures
all of a sudden seeks permanence in time and limits on earth,
suppose the accumulated age and fatigues implacably
spread like the lunar wave of a just-created ocean
over lands and shorelines tormentedly deserted.
Oh, let what I am keep on existing and ceasing to exist,
and let my obedience align itself with such iron conditions
that the quaking of deaths and of births doesn’t shake
the deep place I want to reserve for myself eternally.
Let me, then, be what I am, wherever and in whatever weather,
rooted and certain and ardent witness,
carefully, unstoppably, destroying and saving himself
openly engaged in his original obligation.

And I leave you with this, dear folk who remain reading, as I take off to read for class.

Affections,
FD

More on the changing season

2011-09-24T12:10:00.000-05:00

As the season changes (and nipping cold, unseasonal rain and allergies announce themselves), I find myself looking for poems: something that will resonate with this whole sense-of-change moment that I'm experiencing right now.

Suggestions?

Spring, this Fall

2011-09-22T20:34:00.002-05:00

Everything here is still very new.
I've not settled into any kind of a routine. There's much more work and readings than hours in a day.
And amidst everything, tricky situations from the last few months continue to linger.

But then, there are also delightfully cold mornings, a rickety table at a local coffee house, a few people to talk to. There's yoga, music and reading. And there is the idea that I am not in this alone.
And while I continue to be skeptical of taking on the new and unknown (and, consequently, of saying things like: 'Bring It On, Semester!'), for these things, I am very grateful.
And for now, this is enough.

Frasier's in the Building - Edited

2011-09-12T19:19:00.003-05:00

I've been lamenting (offline) about coping with a new place (Whine). I don't know anyone here (Whine). I'm not being disciplined enough (Whine). I'm not able to get into the routine (More Whine). My life's turned into a fucking mess (Whine).
So much that friends from other parts of the world (looking at you, Scratchpost), have started to wonder if I'm on the brink of some life-threatening (life-harming) disaster.

But, enough now. Here's to being back. Here's to stopping the Whine and starting the doing.

New, new, new

2011-08-26T23:43:00.000-05:00

Being thrown into these new situations, I'm finding out things about myself as a person that seem entirely like revelations. And now, the question is 'Who am I as an academic?'

Sap

2011-08-10T22:58:00.000-05:00

Aside from a few posts, my blog seems to have turned into heartbreak central. What a disaster! I'm going to take (another) short hiatus. I'll be back when I can write about things other than pain.

2011-08-09T22:33:00.000-05:00

In a long and reassuring conversation last week, my dear friend Daisy and I talked about grief and support and about how Mr. D stepped back and gave her all the space she needed over the last year. Right now, I'm praying for that kind of strength and the ability to let go. Given recent events (you know, those ones about which I'm so vocal and yet so damned deliberately obscure), I find myself plagued by doubt. I find myself questioning everything. It feels like trying to a stable spot on shifting ground.

I'm tired and unsure.

Right now, I'm praying for patience, direction and strength. And it looks like that's going to be my prayer for a long, long time.

Anxiety

2011-08-02T17:41:00.000-05:00

At this point, I'm wondering what I've led myself into. How is it possible to have and lack direction all at once?
And where the hell does this road lead?

Butterflies

2011-07-21T10:10:00.000-05:00

I have several critical things lined up for the next week or so. Things that require me to be all here.
And yet, I find that I'm stumbling on one, *very personal*, issue (that, as you've noticed dear reader) has been the source of so much grief and anguish here lately.

It has (thank you, *je m'en fou* attitude) been pushed a little into the background. But its still here, dammit!
Like that little peddle in the shoe. So. Bloody. Irritating.

2011-07-11T11:29:00.000-05:00

This whole whispers from the universe thing is getting a little repetitive. But okay, universe. In case you're reading my blog, I get it. I get it. The moment, not tomorrow.
I have issues with that logic, but I GET IT.

Limbo land

2011-07-10T12:21:00.000-05:00

On one hand, I'm moving towards the word count goal. But the closer I get to the end, the harder it gets to cross the gap. With a thousand words to go, I've hit saturation point, I think and I can't bring myself to write those last few words.
But then, that's the story of my life right now. On All Counts.
With everything, I'm near the end but not nearly close enough.

A very personal* blog post

2011-07-05T08:18:00.000-05:00

From this moment on (you, dear reader, must forgive the very nineties song reference), I'm going with 'fuck this'.
In more polite language, that would be "Let it Go", I think.

I've been thinking in the past month, among other things, about being, about emotional investments, about faith, about the way things don't quite turn out the way you expect them to. But, also about how finally, only the end of the world is the end of the world.

So maybe there won't be marriage,
Maybe there won't be sex,
But by god there will be dancing.

Fuck. Everything. Else.

*(Why so public if it is such a personal note then, you ask? Well, because one has to start somewhere, no? And I've decided that this is the next best thing to screaming atop a building.)

A very short post

2011-06-24T07:24:00.000-05:00

This year,
I was lost
and now, I'm found.

Midnight Madness

2011-06-23T13:11:00.008-05:00

What a pity,
that now (at this age, but mostly despite where I am)
I'm still waiting breathlessly by the phone.
Sometimes I think I've been patient,
(Although you might not see it)
but that's almost at an end.
And although now's not the time,
it will be soon, I tell myself
and once that happens, I'll leave, I say.
But who am I kidding, I probably won't.
Because, I'm kind of hopeless that way.

Another Post, More Updates

2011-06-23T07:43:00.003-05:00

If you, like a.b., have fallen off the wagon, there's good news. The wagon has stopped and you can jump right on board. (I'm doing just that; although, I'm not going to get to read anything off my list until this Saturday / Sunday.)

But, in other news, my writing meter is back ticking again. Slowly.
And powered by much delish coffee brewed by the lil sibling (are you reading this?)

Oh, and thanks to Girl Scholar, Ph.D, I now use Evernote.

(For those of you wondering, the emergency still is. And so, petitions for good vibes, wishes, prayers are still open.)

Of Mice and Men

2011-06-22T06:38:00.000-05:00

Aight - so, this summer has been a washout.
Of everything I had lined up - zilch has worked out. I still have a thesis to write. I still have comps to take. And I'm on the other side of the globe from access to a decent library.

On the plus side, I'm (kinda, sorta) around now. I have * some * access to the internet (mostly to email, sometimes to Blogger). And while the boy grapples with the emergency, I'm trying to plot some kind of return to normalcy.

I get back to summer reading today - and I just got done with the Iron Council. How are y'all faring, then?

Book Club and the Disappearing Act

2011-06-10T08:58:00.000-05:00

Due to a family emergency, I've fallen woefully behind on posting and reading.
For this, I apologize. Unfortunately, I can't promise regular posts for a little while longer.

In the meanwhile, however, we have a fantastic set of Book Club posts:
1) Simbly Bored's list of non-fic reading is here
2) R.D. is now reading Old Man and the Sea - her post on C. S. Lewis is here
3) Eileen's wonderful "(Not) So Crafty Book Review" - which also totally qualifies for the book club post
and
4) A.B.'s post on "The Wind Done Gone" and I know she's reading a bunch of other wonderful stuff, which you should look out for!

In my absence, Simbly Bored has agreed to take on hosting the book club. But, if you wonderful folks - posting and / or reading - want to take turns, please, please do. And please keep me posted so I can link accordingly.

Happy Reading, folks! And keep me in your thoughts. I'll try and come back as soon as I can!

Invitation: Summer Book-Club-On-A-Blog

2011-05-26T19:48:00.002-05:00

Aight. In the spirit of the blogathon, I'm inviting you to a summer e-book club.
I have a book list to get through by the end of June (for exams etc.). And you've (at least hopefully) got the summer on your hands, yes? So, I'm thinking, why not squeeze some blogability out of this, eh?

So here's what I'm proposing:

Come up with a list of books that you want to read by June 30, 2011. The list could be as short or as long as you'd like. Those books gathering dust on that shelf there? You want to put those on your list. The ones you're already reading? Perfect, throw them on there too. And feel free to pull from my booklist on the sidebar.
The goal is to write one post a week about the book / books that you have read during the week. If you haven't finished a book before your post it due, that's cool beans!, post anyway - talk about your thoughts on the book so far.
Ping me so I put you on the blog list again.

What's game? Short Stories, Novellas, Novelettes, Novels, Plays, Poetry, Graphic Novels, Comics. But not magazines; no, really. Not.

Simbly Bored and RD have said they're game. As has Usha.
A.B, Eileen join me?

And anyone else who wants to get on board with this, comment below or mail me and I'll put you on the list!

Cooking

2011-05-14T21:15:00.000-05:00

I've not cooked in a whole goram month (can you tell I'm re-watching Firefly).

I'm grading papers, sure - but I finally decided that I want to cook. Really cook, paying attention to the things I'm making instead of just tossing a whole bunch of things together or pulling things out of packets.
So, today - I'm making Laadi pav - a hot slab of bread.
Here's the recipe and I'll post pictures as soon as I have some.

Round-up

2011-05-13T20:27:00.003-05:00

Aight. I'm done with my semester as a student. Papers turned in. Desk cleared and books returned to the library.
Now, all that's left is some pesky grading and I can officially tie the bow on this.
And that means, yes, more time for my thesis. Phew.

Halfway

2011-05-09T22:36:00.000-05:00

I've decided to be less ambitious on this paper - toning my goal from 7500 to 6000.
Also, at exactly 3000 words, I'm calling it a night.
Since this paper is due tomorrow - All I'm asking you cosmos, is for a hell-free morning so that I can finish the rest of this paper.

Mourning

2011-05-09T00:41:00.000-05:00

I mourn
The death of a younger self.
She's
No longer a part of me
And I blame you both for killing her
And I blame me
For letting her die.
On the threshold of 28
I mourn the death of the-twenty-year-old me
In greater pain and anguish
Than I can ever explain
Or you can ever understand

Captain's Log Stardate: 852011

2011-05-08T17:24:00.000-05:00

Hells, yeah! I now have a draft of the first chapter of my thesis.
I still have another 4 chapters to go. And, I'm highly dissatisfied with the quality of the paper that I've sent off to advisor. Therefore unsurprisingly, I feel absolutely no sense of relief.

Of course, this lack of relief also has to do with the fact that I have another 25 page paper on historical fiction due in a day. I have about 8 pages of that written. *shakes head sadly*. Back to the grindstone. But not before I go stuff face with food of some sort.
Ugh.

Little Train

2011-05-06T19:30:00.000-05:00

So close. I'm so damn close to turning in my first thesis chapter. But it is taking me forever to bridge that gap between 3000 words and 5000 words. What's more, I have one more 5000 word paper to write, two exams to give out and grade before the semester ends.
With less to do, this semester has officially been worse than the last.

Also, totally unhelpful is state of mind and the significant other's state of mind.
If all works, we move soon and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that that will make all the difference.
On verra.

2011-05-03T12:54:00.001-05:00

Self,
Find a way of pulling yourself together.
Now,
as ever,
is a bad, bad time.

Belize in my ear.

2011-05-02T22:15:00.002-05:00

Yes, again. And I'm taking Belize's advice, girlfriend and staying focused on work.
Why won't it get done already!

2011-04-30T15:14:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to A.B. and Dr. J - here's to new things, movement and progress.

On a separate note, among the more appalling things my students have said recently are: "Gallimard should be aware of the sin that is homosexuality", "Song made Gallimard gay" and "Obviously Song is a homosexual because only a homosexual would cross-dress". And I didn't shoot myself or them.

And now, notice that I have a new writing meter on the side. Chapter 1 of thesis, due Wednesday. So exciting and so damned scary all in one.

I'm putting handkerchief here to "catch my place" until I come back to talk about 1) thesis 2) moving 3) women and things femme-nistic and 4) Indian womanity. For now, blog folks, be well and ping, ping, ping.

2011-04-29T15:01:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking of her and her and wish them both luck and progress and much 'onward-ho!'

Right now, I'm off to be Freeze-Dried, Grading Devil.

Belize

2011-04-26T18:41:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was, rather unfortunately, another breakdown day.
I hadn't planned for it (which is to say, I did not expect it at all) and like all unplanned things, it came at a wonderfully awkward time: in the middle of a thesis-related meeting with one of my committee members. Such Joy.

At my irrational best, in moments of searing pain and helplessness, I feel like this is retribution.

For being mean to the Priest (ahem). Or for something else I've done.

But, anyway, I ranted.
And The Kindly Professor patiently heard me out.

I felt like I was 16 again.

Witch 1 will know what I mean when I say, it was like being in LBI, being 16 and clueless, being heartbroken and naive.

And then said to me, "Belize would say ..." I love that he quoted Kushner's "Angels in America".
And I'm grateful universe for people like said Kindly Prof, and Ms. Z and the Witches.

2011-04-26T17:51:00.002-05:00

Increasingly, I find myself wondering if this is the end of the road. Either way, I need a sign and a prayer.

Night-outer

2011-04-19T07:16:00.001-05:00

So. Wiped. Out.
Have completely lost ability to pull straight all-nighters to finish work.
This in turn leaves me with half a paper, when a full draft is due later today.
So mis-managed. Sigh.
Also, one student yesterday said to me, "if people are ill and don't have money, they deserve to die."
Ick.

Work and an update

2011-04-15T19:30:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I'm only at 84-ish% of my goal, but I've sent in my revised prospectus. I have yet to hear back from el Professori. In other news, I have less time than I thought to defend said thesis (committee members schedule clashes etc.), which means I have less time than I thought to write the damn thing.
Oh wells.

Mz. Z defended her thesis earlier this week - a huge whoopee for her!

I have been thinking about race, gender, draconian laws, Anna Hazare and Irom Sharmila. More on that soon.

Dissolve

2011-04-11T13:42:00.000-05:00

Today,
I'm filled with a tender aching,
a longing,
the kind where I miss you
consistently
continuously
until the feeling hollows out
my insides
and all I want
is to call out to you
hold you
and fall asleep.

2011-04-07T23:05:00.001-05:00

I could actually do with some fantastic, flattering attention. Sometime around now.

Tralfamadorian or Perfect Logic

2011-04-05T20:11:00.001-05:00

People are flawed. People can also be funny. Jokes can be funny. Therefore, People are Jokes. People are still flawed.

Blazer to Ripped-Sleeved T

2011-04-02T22:19:00.000-05:00

Oh-kay. The Fellas in Blue won!
I admit, I didn't watch any other match of the season - but I had to follow this one. And after a slight plumetting of the heart when we was two wickets down at, what, 31? We WON.

And so much has changed. Apparently, we've gone from Blazer-and-white-sweater-wearing, composed, contained peoples (atleast going by the pictures)

To, well, this:

And this:

But, *shrug*. The Cup came back after 28 years.

Everyone deserves a little dousing in champagne, no?

And for a fantastic column on Why Cricket Matters, see Wright Thompson's column on ESPN.

After all, as @cgawker tweeted a few hours ago:

"for one day we all stopped trying to kill each other to support our team. i would die for you."

As would I, folks. As would I.

Half-life

2011-04-01T21:08:00.001-05:00

Sometimes,
I only tell you
Half the truth.
A half-truth.
Because I'm afraid.
That the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth,
will be a giant, tangible wedge
between us.
Sure, I know.
I know. I know.
That maybe it is, even now
even this minute.
But it can't hurt us
you and me
if it is
(and remains)
invisible.

An Odd, Odd day

2011-04-01T19:40:00.003-05:00

I'm having one of the oddest days that I have had in a long, long time.
(And not in a ooh-look-chocolate-people kind of way.)

Today has been full of dropping hot coffee, knocking over a glass of hot water, headaches, losing my wallet, and running out of gas, bad feedback on thesis work, and dealing with drunk students (okay, a drunk student, but several terribly prepared ones).

But oddly enough, it has also been a day of finding much affection and random acts of ordinary kindness: like free coffee (a friend was buying me coffee and when the barista heard of my wallet loss, he was kind enough to make me a free drink and threw in a pastry) and the timely rescue by another friend who lent me money to buy gas to get home (thanks, Miz Z.). Eventually, I also found my wallet (by far the most unexpected of today's weirdnesses). Anywho, I'm incredibly grateful for all of this.

Sure, I still have to deal with the unexpectedly bad feedback about my own work.
And with that whole issue of the passive-aggressive, v. entitled and mildly drunk freshman.
But, for the moment, I'm sending out a great whopping thanks for some very reasonably-sized mercies.

Dear Heartbreak

2011-03-30T23:04:00.001-05:00

Now is really not a good time.

Love,
FD

Rant, also much self-paavam-ing

2011-03-30T22:29:00.000-05:00

Long ago, elsewhere, I said to someone that I didn't have the time to be ill.
I'm in that position, again.

I have a presentation, which I'm still working on and have to get done in the next hour or so.
(Because until a few minutes before my presentation tomorrow, I'm in conferences with students about an argumentative synthesis.)
My idea for a paper was just shot down (albeit gently) by a prof whom I respect (and adore beyond belief).
And, I'm all fluey and can't seem to keep any food down (aha! the real reason for my indulgent, ranting post).
On the plus side, I'm able to keep down barrels of coffee and chocolate. That's something, right?

More Rebecca Black

2011-03-29T22:58:00.000-05:00

Based on her post, I'm revisiting my recent post on Rebecca Black to say a couple of things:

One) I agree with Prabha, Australo and my dear sibling that it is a catchy tune. (Much in the same way as "Tum To Teharey Pardesi" or Michael Buble's version of "I'm feeling good" neither of which I like very much.)

Two) Sure, she is thirteen and the song gives that away. But really, yes, stop being trolls, ~~people~~ Trolls.

But finally, I also stand by the idea that the song is terrible. And woe is the internet.
There. That's it.

Bye, Bye Break. Hello Craziness.

2011-03-27T21:50:00.000-05:00

And like that, a whole week flew by.
Although neither was nearly enough, I'm reasonably pleased with the work and chillaxing I got into the mix. (Where's my medal now?)

But here's Spring Semester Part Deux which, if I'm not super careful, will kick my ass.
So, wish me luck, folkses. I'll be around, more than you think.

Songs, Race and How to Kill An Appetite

2011-03-25T12:09:00.000-05:00

So. I was going to post a couple of things, again: about race here.

One is the Ching Chong Ting Tong Asians in the Library Song - which is simply the most reasonable response to an ignorant rant that I have seen, ever.

Another, the funny Aziz Ansari:

"I was doing an interview once and the guy said, you must be psyched by all this Slumdog Millionaire stuff. And I was like, umm... Yeah! I am! I have no idea why, though, as I had NOTHING to do with that movie! It's just that some people who kinda look like me are in it, and everyone loved it and it won some Oscars and stuff. And then I was like, whoa whoa whoa – are white people just psyched ALL THE TIME? It's like, Back to the Future – that's us! Godfather – that's us! Jaws – that's us! Every fucking movie BUT Slumdog Millionaire and Boyz n the Hood is us!"

Got this off: Sepia Mutiny's post on Comic Quota and desi stand-up

(Yes, I am considering adding the "I'm all about the Brown, y'all" tag line to my title, soon.)

But in the meanwhile, browsing through Cab. Merlignon's recent posts, I came across the Heart Attack Grill which has successfully put me off food for the rest of the day. Even this morning's toast and Marie Biscuits are threating to re-appear. Urgh! (I'm not even going to comment at this point on the outrightly chauvinistic theme. Double Urgh!)

Earbleed

2011-03-24T22:01:00.001-05:00

Speaking to Australo earlier today, I finally heard:

(and suddenly, the still from a.b.'s blog makes sense)

But, Oh deary, deary me!
Alright, it is a ridiculous song. But I'm not as cut up about it as several others seem.
(My first thoughts were: is this a pre-kindergarten educational vid? Until the street-cred rapping comes in.)

The things that made me really laugh out loud were these twitter comments:

@RyanBogas21 - Breaking news: According to Rebecca Black tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterwards!
@RKingPan - What is this Rebecca Black song? Earbleed!
@ericjhagen - Thank you Rebecca Black, for ruining my ears every time I hear the word "Friday"
@itsaaronrogers - I noticed that Rebecca Black is now trending.#prayforjapan isn't despite the fact that Japan is facing the threat of a nuclear meltdown.
@jenhartry - which songwriter is responsible for Rebecca Black's 'Friday'? You should be ashamed of yourself!!!

And that's from here, btw

Restful day, a.k.a. freaking out

2011-03-23T19:49:00.000-05:00

So, for the first time this spring break, I took the day off. I stayed home, did next to nothing, watched TV and skimmed over some stuff that I thought I'd be reading. I also got some grading done.

But now, at the end of the day - ohmibluebellingblasters!
I've realized, quite suddenly I have a thesis to complete in the next two months. And I haven't a plan on how to do it. I don't have a thesis schedule, my prospectus is not yet done and alongside getting this done, I need to teach, do a conference and prepare for comps.
(Shallow, panicked breathing here). Awright. I'm going just a little bit bonkers thinking of this.
I hadn't planned to end my day thus, all panicky and with the crazy. But here it is.

Need. Deep. Breaths.

Home. Also Syria, Revolutions

2011-03-23T08:53:00.003-05:00

More than one person I know has, in the last year or so, decided to go back home.
And at least one other person I've heard of is making plans to return.
I don't have to answer that question just this very minute, but I wonder about my identity and what home might be. When I think I want to go home these days, I'm thinking apartment in Arkansas. But with the same certainity, I know that this will change. Things always do.

The other thing that has been making me think of the idea of "home" is the Arab Spring.
I'm amazed by the passion and pride with which I've heard colleagues and friends talk about home and the revolution. I'm moved by their courage and force, by their unrelenting struggle (often even with themselves) to take a stand about the way things have been moving in Tunis and Egypt and the effect that these movements are having on Libya, Syria, Bahrain, Yemen. And I'm most affected, I think, by the kind of conviction about home - and the comfortable identity and belonging which comes with it - that propel and support these stances.

Strangely enough, I'm not uncomfortable about my own ambiguity (about what home is or what i am). I'm quite enjoying the floating around in the ether for the moment. And that's why Gustavo Perez Firmat's verse from in "Dedication" (although it is only tangentially related to the rest of my post) hangs on my wall:

"The fact that I
am writing to you
in English already falsifies what I
wanted to tell you.

My subject:
how to explain to you
that I
don't belong to English
though I belong nowhere else,
if not here
in English (102)"

(I pulled this text off another article which references it). But I really have Aniket to thank for it.

I hate iPhone /iPod Autocorrect

2011-03-22T22:47:00.000-05:00

which insists on converting all my "he'll"s to "hell"s.
Grr. Argh.

Apparently, I'm not the only one via: The Huff Post

In which we talk about Outsourced, Race, Culture and Asians

2011-03-22T22:20:00.004-05:00

Pavani on Sepia Mutiny brought up the NBC sitcom, Outsourced asking (among other things) if Lizardi's article changed your mind about the show.

And what with the recent obnoxiousnesses about Asians, I've been thinking about my answer to this question.

First, a disclaimer. I haven't watched Outsourced since the first few (five, maybe six) episodes. Everything I say here is based only on these few episodes.

At the time, I remember thinking it was vastly better than the eponymous film* but the jokes, the style, the plying of the Indian stereotype were way too vaudevillian (I was going to bring up a comparison to Shahrukh Khan's terrible, terrible minstrel-show-portrayal of African-Americans but that's a post for a different day.)**

I can't bring myself to return to the show (although it is somewhat funny, I guess) - because I don't find it funny. And no, Lizardi's article did not change my mind. At All.

Although I buy into her justification of needing to use "character types" to derive humor, I find this whole race-bashing-in-the-disguise-of-humor very, um, unappealing. Even if there are five South Asian characters on the show telling stories that often come straight from (their) personal experiences (LAT).

And as for the speculation that "perhaps they (non-fans of the show) don't believe (South Asians) should make fun of themselves" - well, I'm South Asian, I've worked in an offshore set up and I don't think I'm fairly capable of making fun of myself***. Why then am I so uncomfortable with the show?

I'm going with the reasoning of the wise and wonderful a.b. with whom I had this conversation earlier today. The show presents the white American male as the norm and the South Asians, inevitably, as The Other - different, ridiculous, funny. Given that Tandon Lizardi is American, and that the show is an American show, this is inevitable - I get that.

(And I'm actually not that angry with this show.)
But it is this Othering that bothers the bludgeons out of me.

I feel like I've said this a gazillion times before: I don't want to be seen as a cultural stereotype, an educational experience, an oddity, an Other. (And with my brown skin, I have enough trouble fending this off, thank you very much.) I don't need a show like Outsourced adding to, what Lizardi "consider(s) to be Indian stereotypes: doctors, engineers, spelling bee champs, Kwik-E-Mart owners".

And I haven't watched the show recently, but going by Lizardi's article, why is she saying "the characters in "Outsourced" care about each other and learn from one another"?

(Daisy, I know you watch and like the show. So I'm hoping you're reading this and will answer these questions)

Okay, more specifically, why does she follow it up with examples of Todd ~~rescuing~~ positively influencing Indian people who are bound by culture tighter than Kate Winslet's corset in the Titanic? Besides learning about fabricated, exaggerated, grotesquely simplified Indian Culture, what exactly is Todd learning from the other characters?

In a recent class conversation with M. Butterfly****, one of my better students referred to the entire phenomenon of outsourcing as "those jobs being given off to those people". And the rhetoric itself is not problematic, it is the reasoning behind the rhetoric, the unsaid ("given", "those") Othering that makes me anxious. I'm worried, I guess, that the show has the potential to undermine all our class-conversations about race and culture and David Henry Hwang in subtle, insidious ways.

That said, meaning is always a process of negotiation. (The Indian student in my class, for instance, does not find the show offensive in any way.) And maybe the lady worrieth too much.

*Shrug*. I'm with Tandon Lizardi's notion that there is the possibility of a more cohesive diversity. I just don't think exaggerating random, stereotypical "quirks" is the way to it.

* Really Ayesha Dharker, I want to know what made you accept the role.
** Admittedly, Shah Rukh Khan's incredible ignorance and crassness makes me throw up. It is, in so many ways, MUCH worse. Maybe Shahrukh Khan can write for Outsourced?
*** The sibling will agree that I'm no longer that person, yeah?
**** Which my students are handling brilliantly!

Footnote: Another reaction to the UCLA video

Spring Break

2011-03-20T09:43:00.000-05:00

Or During Which We Hope To Actually Get Some Work Done

Talent, talent

2011-03-05T18:39:00.000-06:00

I'm in love with a.b.'s remake of a Louisa dress and Eileen's blue fairweather one.
Sigh, you talented women.

On my list of things to do, eventually is to learn to sew. But further up on the list are grading student papers (again) and writing a thesis prospectus.

Also, the letter is here! I'm in.

Stun-gun

2011-03-05T11:50:00.000-06:00

Aight, since I've been griping so about admissions and what not, it is only fair that j'annonce mine good newses here as well, no?
So, an acceptance!
Whee!

With four rejections (including a wait-list-turned-rejection) and two non-committal responses, this looks like my only acceptance this season. But, hells yeah!
I'm not complaining.
I don't have the official letter yet (keeping fingers crossed here).
And the logistics (since I'm trailing spouse etc.) are going to be a gigantic pain.

But, acceptance, y'all!

Welcoming aboard

2011-03-01T22:00:00.003-06:00

The delightful J.E.T.T.

On an entirely different note, my first official rejection is in. Sorrow, but only mild. As W#2 says, "You only need one admission".

Day 28: And so it is

2011-02-28T21:13:00.001-06:00

The end of a month - of twenty eight days of one post a day.
Cheating, token-posting, not posting at all, and multi-posting, we've reached the end of a whole month.

This has been restorative, exciting and painful all at once.
It has been an exorcism, a pillow, a salve, an astringent (that's as far as the metaphor will stretch).

And now for the sappy, but inevitable notes of gratitude:
To Ruthie, who agreed to go this way with me and kept up her end of the bargain - much love. You, my dear, are a calming influence.

In the same breath, to Miss Linz, for the coffee and for also being such a calming presence.

To the sibling, who lurks - I love you, even if your computer was on the fritz.
To DMenon, who tried - you're a rockstar for pushing through and getting through training.

To S.B. who despite school, frozen pipes, and exams, has posted consistently (what! only one toke post?), recruited Cab. Merlignon, tagged me and kept conversations going. I haven't forgotten the last tag, by the way - there's a post coming up there.

To A.B., among the most beautiful people I know, your creativity makes my day. Thank you for the conversations, for the lunches with the vile cheesy chips, for jumping on the blog-wagon midway and sticking with it, through snow and earthquakes. Your double posting days made up for the missed ones.

To The Phoenix a fantastic dancer, and a dear friend: for invoking Buffy, for reminding me to fight off my demons, for sharing Twilight Zone. I'm glad we took that midnight walk.

To Moses Jo, who has fallen off the wagon on account of distractions not the least of which is a wedding. Congratulations.

To TG, who doesn't know that this place exists, but is nonetheless a part of me.

To Professori, who is reading, yes? You are an adorable, adorable man (even if you're always lurking). Thank you for appearing quite out of the blue and for hanging around. Even if you have predicted my inevitable death-by-wistfulness.

And finally, to Witch #1 and Witch #2, I owe a very special thanks.
You are impossible to tag since you have both resisted my feminine wiles to get you to blog.
But here's to you both, for being around across timezones, across continents. For listening to me bawl my heart out. For keeping me through the crazy. It hasn't quite passed yet, but knowing you'll be around helps.

So long, blogathon, and thanks for all the fish.
Regular broadcasting resumes tomorrow.

P.S.: I know I promised gifts - I'm working on them.

Day 27: One day to go.

2011-02-27T10:49:00.000-06:00

We're almost through 28 days. Would you believe it?
Today, it's cleaning and working out why dystopias and satire work together.

Day 26: Purple Smoke.

2011-02-26T19:57:00.000-06:00

In the last two days, I've slept better (knock on wood) than I have in the last three months.
The delight only hampered by the fact that I have to finish a 20 page presentation in the next day or so.
Yes, this is a token post.
But, like a.b. said recently: I've double posted a-plenty.

Day 25: They're writing songs of love

2011-02-25T22:47:00.001-06:00

So far, three of seven schools have sent out their admits, but not for me. (Clearly, I'm the next George Gershwin, people.)

I ran to a dear, dear prof to rant about this wait.
The adorable prof: "Well, wait until the end of March. And if there's still nothing...."
Me: "I can come running in, throw myself on your couch and bawl?"
The adorable prof: (Guffawning). Yes, you may. But it won't come to that.

All positivist things aside, all it takes is one admit. All I'm asking for is four. That's it.

Anywhoo, this apparently is the long, dark teatime of the soul, not to be confused with Teatime.

Day 24: I'm it. Grading. Voices in my head.

2011-02-24T21:20:00.001-06:00

So, Simbly Bored has tagged me to do a post. I want to, unfortunately, it won't be today. Simply Bored this might put me out of the running for the blog thing, but I'm going to make that post anyway.

In the meanwhile, as I wait to grade three weeks worth of student exercises, there are voices in my head. And since I'm swamped and dead beat (from staying up most of the night - thank you, insomnia), you get to hear them too:
Outer Voice: I'm shedding hair like a boa constrictor.
Inner Voice: A boa constrictor has hair?
Outer Voice: I don't know. But it has skin, no?
Inner Voice: Wait, what?! Your hair is like a boa constrictor's skin?

Q.E.D - I have to sleep now.
I'm going to crawl meself into bed and hope that the sleepiness sticks.
I'll see you with my posts (there are many, I assures you), tomorrow. Yawn!

Day 23: Tv9 and the stupidity that is Telugu Media

2011-02-23T21:41:00.002-06:00

I've been distracted from my much awaited chardonnay by this:
TV9 apparently has done a highly homophobic segment on gay culture in Hyderabad:
http://gaysifamily.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/TV9_GayCulture_hydbd_english.pdf

Really, TV9? Homophobia?
First of all, grow up.
Secondly, STOP IT!

Day 23: Chardonnay.

2011-02-23T21:17:00.002-06:00

So, the class on irony went over better in one section than in the other. Quand même, I have another trick up my sleeve - and I'll let you know how that happens after Friday.

***
On another note, today has been a reasonably productive day, yes?
I have 8 out of twenty items on my to-do list checked off.
That's an improvement over yesterday (sort of).
I even got some yoga into the mix.

For the rest of the evening, I'm going to have a quinoa dinner with a pretty glass of chardonnay and then go to bed.

But first, a celebration and then a minor epiphany about a question that has been on my mind: what's the point of literature (and humanities departments)? I propose that we need literature to humanize us. We need humanities and languages departments not for the practicality of teaching people to write and read; but possibly more importantly, to remind us that the Holocaust, the Trail of tears and the Babri Masjid were real things. To remind us that these events are more than history, they are lived experience.
To remind us that everything is illuminated with the light of the past.
We need literature and a study of literature as a way out of apathy.
Because literature can what with all due respect, science and mathematics cannot.