Time, she is a-racing. Not only can I not tell you when the last time I blogged was (And, during NaBloPoMo, no less!) I can't even hardly believe the date. Its mid-November. Thanksgiving is next week (right?) And, then its the end of the semester. Life races by and you don't even notice sometimes.
I have to go stick my nose back in a book (after I remind my upstairs neighbor about the noise agreement we have.)
My computer contracted a virus yesterday that blocks me from booting up in safe mode, so I have not been able to get rid of it.
Also, its been randomly turning itself off. I may have actually killed this machine. And, I only really needed it to work for 6 more weeks. Life just took an unpleasant turn.
So, I don't always get a lot done when I study with the TV on because I get sucked into yelling a Fox News or cheering on the Phillies or looking things up about pulsars and quasars on the internet after watching a special on The History Channel.
I justify this by telling myself where you never know where you'll find inspiration. Or, what you'll learn. Like, the Milky Way is on a collision course with the Andromeda Galaxy. Or, that pulsars hum. Well, really its that they put out radio waves which come straight through space and dust and time.
47 Tucanae has 22 pulsars. Its like a celestial choir.
Finally making the right decision.
And, what's even better? Feeling like you might be able to enjoy that right decision. Maybe. Someday.
So, I have come into the possession of a bicycle and have decided that since I do not live all that far from campus I should start riding my new (to me) bicycle to school. (Its nice that school has started so that I'm not just on campus tooling around the library coming up with things for myself to do or read. Although, I did really enjoy my Summer of Proust.)
The day before school started, I went out and bought my school supplies, which this year included a helmet, lock, and pump so that I could inflate my tires to the proper pressure. (I would also like to acquire a basket, so that I could stop carrying the old backpack I've had since undergrad and instead carry, full-time, my new fancy-pants school bag I got when I was back in Iowa. I'm still on the look out for a nice one.) And, then when I got home from work I took myself for a little ride. And, while I was riding, it occurred to me that I probably haven't ridden a bike (that wasn't stationary) since I lived outside of Kansas City. (For those of you at home keeping score, that's eleventy-thousand years because I am Methuselah.) Lucky for me, "its like riding a bike" is an adage for a reason.
Monday, I had to be on campus by 9, so I left around 8:15 because I didn't know exactly how long it would take and I was shocked at how quickly it took me to get on campus. I also became aware of a hill that I previously had been unaware of. (Nothing like the Pentacrest, for the Iowa City folks out there, but enough for this little fatty to being huffing and puffing after it.) Tuesday, I went in early to get myself situated. It was great. I biked 3 of the 5 days (the other two days I didn't because of assorted off-campus errands that needed to be run prior to my appearance on campus.)
Did I mention it was great?
So, I took myself on a little recreational bike ride this evening. It was also great. I explored the little residential neighborhood behind my complex. It was nice. And, it reminded me of this book I read awhile back. is a book about an overweight guy who keeps to himself who, after a family tragedy, ends up riding his bike across the country to identify his sister's body. I enjoyed it.
You'd never know I had shit to do.
This is my new favorite website. True story, bitches.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you my madlib:
Wrath opened the door to the sound of metal. Tohr and Rhage were listening to Jonatha Brooke again. 'What is this fuckwit?' Wrath demanded.
'Homeskillet, my brother, it's just Jonatha Brooke's new album, Yellow Honey.'
Just then Fritz came in. With a tray laden with charming Saucony pants.
'Bloody, Fritz!' cried Rhage. 'These are fucking dashing!'
Vishous came in, dagger drawn. 'The lessers are back. I caught Mr. X picking a civilian vampire. With a cat.'
'Time to pucker. Smoothly.' said Wrath.
'Whatever,' said Rhage. 'I don't care as long as I get to smack some sexy footprints.'
Go forth, and madlib for yourselves!
It appears I haven't updated in awhile. And, do you know what is sad about that? Its not that I've not thought about it. I have at least four things (reviews, mostly) written out long hand floating about my place, just waiting to be typed up. That's right. I've done the hard part and now I'm just too lazy to actually sit down, turn on my computer, open up a browser window, long into movabletype, and type up the things to post.
In my defense, I've recently watched:
Also, I've read Cormac McCarthy's The Road, finished Swann's Way and Reader's Block by David Markson, and The Strain by Guillermo del Toro. Oh, and, I've made headway on Consciousness Explained. So, I've been keeping busy and most of the "busy" hasn't bee panicking about the fast approaching school year.
I was told today by a gay man who got a peek inside my purse while I was looking for something that my purse was disgustingly organized. And, it is. One wonders why I can't apply this ability to organize a bag on the rest of my life.
On an unrelated note, I want another tattoo. They say that they're a little like Lay's Potato chips, you can't get just one.
My cat is a bit of a mouser. Or, he would be if I lived some place where there was an infestation of mice. As it is, he has to make do with the occasional mosquito that zooms in after me when I come in from the street or the spider that thinks my place is where she should set up her place. Because he is so good at this, when he pounces on something I usually cheer him on. I feel its good for his morale, knowing that I value his contribution to our living arrangement.
Last night, he hopped up onto the bed and started purring which is usually a sign that I do not yet get to sleep because someone has not gotten his requisite number of belly rubs. He came into my line of vision and normally he flops over and closes his eyes and just relaxes. This time, however, he immediately went into a crouch and then he launched himself at my pillow.
Of course, I didn't know what to do. Should I sit up? Would that be helpful? What if my movement is what allows the bug to escape? What if it escapes and its a mosquito and I get the West Nile virus because I didn't just stay still and let Cooper kill it? So, I did what I normally do. I cheered him on! "Go on, Cooper! Kill it! Good boy!" And, then I felt a pull on my hair and immediately sat bolt upright and properly freaked out. "Oh God! Its in my hair! Its in my hair! What is it?!?! Gahhh!!" And, I look at Cooper, who is watching me quizzically but intently and I realize there was no bug. Cooper wasn't hunting, he was playing. With my hair.
Quiero hablar español más.
So, I'm reading this book, Discover Your Inner Economist by Tyler Cowen. Chapter four is called "Possess All the Great Art Ever Made. I enjoyed the first three chapters, which talked about things like incentives and how to use them to control the world and, just in general what economists do. Chapter four, among other things, has some great suggestions for how to make museum going experiences more rewarding. (Also, it reminded me a little of How Proust Can Change Your Life, so the rest of the book could be awful, but I'm still going to say that I like it.)
One of Cowen's suggestions include letting go of any pretense you may have about how much you love high culture and how knowledgeable you are about it. This one was pretty easy. I like museum going, and have been known to drag loved ones through galeries of little interest to them but I still know very little about the things at which I like to look. I know that Cher was right in Clueless about Monet paintings up close, the Islamic art wonderfully geometrical, and that even if there is no rope around the sphynx, you are not allowed to touch its marble magnificence.
Another of the suggestions was to plan a robbery, (hypothetically speaking). In this museum game, in each room, you assess each painting and then decide, if you were to take one painting from this room, which one would you take and why. So, you are making sell-centered value judgments, but you are also working on assessing what is good about each painting and what you like. My sister and I decided that we would stroll the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We had a pretty good afternoon.
Some of the our picks were just because they would be challenges (and, also, of course, because they were awesome.) The Sphynx and a column in the Egyptian room would be impossible to pull off. However, this is a good game because of the discussion that generates.
Beth really enjoyed a tapestry depicting Troy in the Medieval rooms. We had a nice chat about the crossbow because of this tapestry. In the 19th-early 20th rooms we had a discussion about how not every painting by a master can be a masterpiece. In that same room, I found a painting by Vuillard that I'm looking for a print of as it would be perfect over my couch. There was a painting in the European room (and, for once, we weren't taking notes) so we can't tell you who its by or even what its name was, of a woman in blue that had a look on her face that said, "Seriously? You're going to paint me now? Seriously."
Some of my favorite pieces were a stained glass column and a bronze statue that I believe was called "The Vine" in the American room. It amazes me how well motion can be captured in bronze. I also enjoyed the papyrus in the Egyptian rooms and the reconstruction of a chariot on the mezzanine of the Roman room.
There is an exhibition on the Model as a muse, which featured music by Nirvana. We had a moment of cognitive disonance, listening to grunge while looking at high fashion. And, we wondered, "Is Kurt Cobain rolling in his grave?"
Currently, there is also a retrospective of Francis Bacon. These rooms were well worth it, if only for comments of the other museum goers. I find it hard to look at a lot of Francis Bacon's work because its creepy. So, the entire room of paintings that were studies after Velasquez was pretty much my limit. Francis Bacon could have set dressed every Nine Inch Nails video made before the Fragile.
After Francis Bacon, we took in some other modern art. It was nice to end with a little Balthus and Mattisse. Although, the creepiness probably ended our Thomas Crown affair. There are no museums on the menu for the rest of the trip, but we will be seeing a taping of the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. This is a more-than-acceptable substitute.
I've been thinking a lot lately about health and finances. These are the perfect things to think about if you'd like to put yourself in a perpetual state of panic. Honestly, and its going to be hard to believe this if you spend any time with me ever at all, but I do not particularly enjoy living in constant panic. And, yet, I find myself contemplating these two, huge scary-ass things.
I have come to the following conclusions:
1. Thank the gods that I have put together some seriously long reading lists for the summer and I can't devote myself entirely to finding solutions to any possible health/financial crisis that may pop up in the next five years.
2. I think I may give myself a bike for my upcoming birthday.
Conclusion number 2, I've decided, is particularly brilliant. Since the only places I seem to actually go are homes of friends (or the drive in), school, the grocery store, and work and I can bike to all of those places but work (and the drive in) I could get a fair amount of exercise into my life. Additionally, all of this biking would cut down on the amount of car usage, which would mean I'd be spending less money on gas. Plus, I'd be forced to stick to the shopping list when riding to the store because whatever I bought I'd have to carry home. I could also use my bike to explore the beautiful countryside. As it turns out, Western New York is pretty sweet. Its not the Amber-waves-of-grain beauty of the high plains, but there is a lot of green and I am pretty close to some large and well known lakes. There is a rub, though. I know nothing about bikes. Yes, there are a number of them listed for sale on Craig's list and they seem to be reasonably priced, but how do I know they aren't priced so because people are looking to unload them on suckers? Also, I don't think I've ridden a bike since I was 16? At least not one that wasn't a stationary bike in a gym. I suppose that cliche is a cliche for a reason, though.
I am finished with the coursework for this semester (I don't know if any of it was any good, but I'm done with it and that's what matters!) My second semester as a PhD student is done and dusted. Earlier today, I was feeling a little like a Rock Star. I'd finished everything. I'd printed the last of it out and was all ready to go hand it in. I'd showered and my hair was up in a twist with pencils sticking out of it. I put on some makeup. Really, a rock star. Or, at least as close to a Rock Star as a PhD student can get.
So, I pack everything up and head to campus, I go to submit the last of my final papers and as I'm reaching to put them into my Professor's mailbox I have this feeling I've done something terribly, terribly wrong. I stop. I think about it. I look over everything again and it hits me. I'm about it hand something in that doesn't have my name on it anywhere. A title. A date. No name. Great. So, I have to run back down to the library and hop on a computer so that I can print out a new title page so that the work can correctly be identified as mine. That pretty much killed the Rock Star vibe.
In celebration of being done, I'm going to a Lab Party tonight. It should be pretty fun.
But, the best news of all: Now that I'm done with the semester, I can reacquaint myself with Booklist '09. I started The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber in January. I have no good excuse for why I am just now getting back to it. Maybe all that Sookie Stackhouse nonsense I read? Or, maybe it was trying to keep up with the reading in three seminars and two labs? I don't know. What I do know is that it is really cleverly written in the first person and my bookmark indicates I only got about 31 pages into it. I think I'm just going to start over. I'm very excited about it.
Also, Happy Mercury Retrograde!
This lovely tree diagramming a sentence that means "Elizabeth read a lot in Welsh." is brought you by these lovely people. I won't tell you the embarrassing story that involves someone telling me about the site, I'll just sum it up in the sentence: I just did a lot of stupid things all in the same PDF file.
So, I'm sitting in my friend's fiance's Grandmother's house in Clinton, New York, reading my weekly installment of Yr Wythnos (The Week), the BBC's cylchlythyr cymraeg (Welsh Newsletter) written for a myfyrwyr (student) such as myself. The first article was about guidelines for farmers, more or less, and by its title, the second article is about the railway. I won't get to read it until later because I have to go get ready for church.
All I can think is, this is an interesting turn my life has taken.
In case you aren't on this list of people I left hysterical voicemails, don't follow my twitter and/or aren't friends with me on Facebook, Kingsley is missing.
It was a freak accident.
I had the windows open because, for a misty day, it was relatively nice. So, the cats were playing with each other and sitting in the windows and playing on me while I read and sitting in the windows. At one point King was in one window and Coop was in the other and the window King was in decided it had had enough "open" and wanted to close. So, it did. On King. Who ended up smooshed between the window and the screen. Of course, she FREAKED OUT (wouldn't you?) and before I could get to her she busted through the back of the screen and fell out of the window and is now frightened and most likely sitting up on the engine in one of my neighbor's cars.
We saw her a couple of times yesterday, once up under the hood of the car. We tried to grab her but she was too quick. Bugger. So, she's still out there. I left some food out for her and she did eat some (Ya, I measured it and checked.) So, I put the food out at 7 ish, and watched the bowl until I went to school at 8:15. The owner of the car that she had been under sent me a text at 9 saying she popped her hood and King wasn't there. So, sometime between when I left at 8:15 and when my neighbor left at 9, King crawled out from under the car, helped herself to some food (which is good, because she only had breakfast yesterday) and then hid someplace else, that from what I can tell isn't inside my apartment, although the screened window was still open so she could have let herself back in. So,to recap, I'm not at all sure as to where she is now. Maybe I'll go check and see if she's gone back to under the gazebo where she was born, but I just don't see her going that far because she was so scared when we saw her.
Many people have been very supportive and helpful in this process of finding, calming her down and bringing her home. In particular, Carise, who hung out with me after it got too dark to look, brought me a snack because she knew I'd skipped lunch in the search for Kingsley and who helped put up posters. I guess this is the last time I name an anything after Action star and all around Action Hero Steve McQueen. (In case you didn't know, King is actually Kingsley McQueen. Although, after this, I may just start calling her McQueen.) Adding a little strangeness to this (or perhaps, in an effort to keep my sanity), I keep making these little connections that are like, "Oh, this is going to be funny...when I have my cat back."
I have three examples. The first is the title of this post, which is a line from Michael Frayn's Noises Off (That link is to a DVD copy of the film they made of it a while back. Hilarious. It comes highly recommended.) This might be wishful thinking, because in the scene Roger Tramplemain says, "and a YOUNG WOMAN is MISSING" and Vicki comes busting in through a door and is no longer missing. (So, I guess I'm secretly hoping my cat will come swanning out of the closet and say, "Look! I'm here! Did you miss me?")
For example number two, we turn to the heavens. Venus is in retrograde and today is the day that it is, I think its called, in inferior conjunction with the sun and it will drop from the evening sky and reappear as the morning star (and actually cross the face of the sun.) Because it drops from the sky it has this "eclipse-like" energy (if you're into astrology) which means that it can trigger breakdowns or breakthroughs. Get it? Break through? As in King literally broke through the screen and now is out in the world. The universe is great, right?
The last example I have occurred while I was making my "MISSING CAT" posters. I felt a little like Henry Rollins from Shock and Awe when he talks about the burglar that tried to break into his house and his friend started chasing the guy and he called the cops and was like, "Okay, the guy in black. First name: Mike. Answers to: Mike." I felt like putting that on the poster. First name: Kingsley. Answers to: Kingsley. She's not a stray! She's belongs somewhere!
I keep telling myself, this will all be hilarious someday. Hopefully this day, just at a later hour. So, there's a little insight into my brain and how it works. I apparently deal with the inevitable tragedy brought about by simply existing by finding the absurd and hilarious stuff about it. I suppose this isn't really new information, especially if you've known me awhile, but there you go. Right now Cooper and I are holding vigil, keeping are eyes and are noses peeled and I've occasionally gone on little walks of the area shaping Octopodi, King's favorite toy. I'm trying not to have a breakdown myself and keep positive about things. I think I'm keeping it together pretty well. I might make myself lunch and then go on another little walk looking for my fur baby.
So, please wish me luck/keep us in your thoughts/pray for us. We're a new little family, but I think all three entities would agree that we are a little family regardless of our newness and so this is very distressing for all of us.
Augusta Ada King (nee Byron), Countess of Lovelace as born December 10, 1819. She was the only legitimate child of George Gordon Byron, the 6th Baron Byron. She married William King, the 8th Baron King and the 1st earl of Lovelace in 1838. (Which made her the Right Honorable Countess of Lovelace.) She died in 1852 at the age of 36 of uterine cancer.
Now, why is all of this important?
Its important because those who know who she is (and I didn't until about a month ago) she is known as the "first programmer" as she wrote programs for the analytical machine that Charles Babbage had not yet built.
How awesome is that?
I was mildly aware that weather was taking place whilst I slept. Not because of the weather, but because the weather scared my cats. There is really nothing quite like taking a kitten to the chest while you are sleeping (even if said kitten is only around six pounds.)
I didn't look at the clock, so I can't say for sure what time it was, but Cooper pounced on me, stuck his little kitty face in mine and mewed his distress at the swirling winds. I thought, "Well, the weather channel did say we might get some snow," rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. However, kitten distress trumps sleep. I rolled over, Cooper followed me and again stuck his little face in mine and mewed his distress. His sister then climbed on top of my shoulder and joined him. Aren't they lucky that they are indoor cats now and that they weren't out in the elements? Everyone was comforted and eventually they calmed down and we all went back to sleep.
This morning, while I was puttering around my kitchen making coffee, I noticed that we had lost power. So, I guess its a good thing I didn't look at the clock as I wouldn't have seen the time anyway.
So, I got up this morning and cozied down to do a little reading on quantifiers and logic. After I had some breakfast, I figured it was time to address the issue that has been hanging over my head since Tuesday: my inability to connect to the wireless in my own house. Monday I turned off my computer and went to bed. Tuesday I turned on my computer and found myself unable to connect to anything in any sort of meaningful way (I kept getting "limited or no connectivity due to inability to establish IP address messages.) So, I did everything that I could think of to do (again). I did everything another helpful graduate student suggested I do. I called the internet people. I called the wireless people. And, I ended up having to go someplace where there was wireless I could access so that I could update my drivers. That someplace ended up being school, which was in the cards for today anyway.
It would seem that in addition to this wireless problem, I also have a LAN problem. Goody. One wonders how long I have had this other problem and not known about it. There is a silver lining to this snow cloud, though. It was time to change my password on the wireless anyway, and thanks to this little snafu, I've been reminded to do so. All of this has, of course, cut into my reading time, which means I may never get to bed tonight. But, sleep is for the weak, right?
In other news, it is once again snowing in Buffalo and it is currently a balmy 21 degrees Fahrenheit (-6 C, if that's a measurement you can understand.) And, the snow is perfect winter sport snow. Snow Angels. Cross Country skiing. Snow shoeing. If I did any of those things (or, perhaps, if I had time for any of those things) I would be one happy little bunny. Instead, I'm one shivery little bunny. But, such is the way of things.
You may remember that the kittens both spent their first moments in my apartment in the bath tub.
I'm the sort of person who loves her bathtub. Few things in this are as outstanding as being able to relax in a warm bubble bath (using the end of the bath stuff I have from Lush, necessitating a trip to either London or NYC...), sipping some wine (or maybe some tea) while listening to some music ( or maybe reading a book). That's just top shelf relaxation.
And, I guess I've only showered since I've had the kittens. I filled the bathtub and they were fascinated. I sat in the bath while they stood there and just stared at me (I think they were wondering why anyone would intentionally sit in a pool of water.) And, then I got out of the tub and started draining it.
I wish I had photographed this next bit, because this is where it got ridiculous. Kingsley put two paws on the lip of tub and watched. Then, Cooper did, too. Water fascinates them. (True story. They like watching water stream out of the shower, too.) However, this wasn't close enough for Cooper. He wanted to look a little closer. He put all four paws up on the lip. Which was wet, as I had just taken a bath. So, he slipped a little. He tried to dig his claws in and catch his balance.
Cooper briefly hugged the lip of the tub before sliding into it. Of course, once he knew there was no stopping his descent, he made into a leap so only his paws got wet.
"This note was a promise to all Men..."
One wonders where we stand on that promise today.
I arrived back in Buffalo, a week ago today, yowling kittens in tow. In the past week we have:
With the beginning of the semester comes the requisite promises to the Gods that I will do things in exchange for their help in not failing, i.e. new semester resolutions. (I suppose we could call them new year resolutions on a lunar year, but that's not really the case, because I do this every semester.) I suspect I will post about that later tonight.
And, now I am off to buy books and have coffee with a friend to catch up.
Happy Thanksgiving from the Dram Shop on 9th Street in Brooklyn!
Brain: Pinky, Are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Pinky: Yes, but how will we get the Spice Girls into the Paella?
This is where I am right now. I have been having *the worst* focus problems. While, it has been awful, it has at least been entertaining.
For example, today I was reading about one of the many ways one can go about classifying/describing/theorizing semantic information. (There are many, don't look so surprised.) And, I kept getting to the end of a paragraph and having to go back to the beginning because I would get to the bottom and realize that I hadn't absorbed one iota of information about semantic theory because while I was reading I was really thinking about tacos.
Yes, tacos. (Which is a shame, because I'm not sure there are any good Mexican restaurants in town.)
This has been going on for some time now and its starting to be a worry. How is one supposed to write a book review or classify Dutch vowels when one is constantly being distracted like a magpie by a gum wrapper?
So, Tuesday I get up and go to school and its frighteningly cold. It would have been unfair, but hey, this is Buffalo and it is nearly November. While I was walking in the cold and the damp with some of my fellow students from one building to another we saw the first snowflake dance from the grey October sky to the ground.
Great.
I took an inventory of cold weather clothes when I got home and realized the following: I have no hats, gloves or scarves. Somehow, all of those things got left in Iowa.
Good thing I'm a knitter who just finished spinning the wool for my very own (although not in those colors) Jayne Cobb's big damn hat. *Sigh* Good thing its nearly November and I'm nearing the end of my first semester as a PhD student.
I figured the easiest thing that could be sorted out was the scarf. So, yesterday after Semantics I collected my friend Lena and we were off to the A.C. Moore (which is no Hobby Lobby) to look for yarn. I picked a skein of Patons Bohemian in Wandering Wines. (Its name is much better in French: Vins Errant. I'm using my 10 mm (US 15) sized needles, hoping that I'll just tear through it. I very well may. I also might have to go back to the store and pick up another skein.
I also picked up a couple of skeins of their new stretch sock yarn. I don't have a problem. I can quit any time I want.
Yesterday morning, I get up, shower, enjoy a yummy breakfast of Penguin Puffs and coffee, looked over my Semantics homework, packed my lunch and the headed to school.
There's something special about my car. It would seem, if you don't disengage the alarm, even if you key into it and put the key in the ignition and turn it, you can't start the car. Knowing this, you can imagine my dismay when I parked, got my stuff out the pack and hit the button and nothing happened.
I hit it again.
Nothing happened. I smacked it against the back of my hand which sometimes helps and I hit it again.
Nothing happened.
Then, something happened. The car had been idle long enough that it set the alarm itself. Fuck. Only one thing to do now, lock it with the key and worry about it after Semantic Typology and Syntax. So, that's what I did.
Now, this was not without pretext. As I've said, sometimes its helpful to smack against the back of my hand. But, I thought it was just temperamental. And, the light was coming on when you pushed buttons, indicating that the battery wasn't, at least, all the way dead.
After class, I went out to the car to try to get into it. I set the alarm off. Twice. Fuck. So, I walked back out of the parking lot, thinking I could take the bus to the student housing nearest me and then walk to my place, pick up my spare keys and walk back. Walking back I came across Dora. Thank Goddess for Dora. She offered to drive me to my place and bring me back to campus. So, we walked. And, talked about Halloween (she invited me to her Halloween party, which is awesome, because I think this year only classicists will understand/appreciate my costume.) But, first, you troll the drug and electronic stores on campus to see if they have any batteries.
They have many batteries. None of them are the right size.
We get to her car. I get my keys. We get back to campus. Presto, I'm back in my car. Thank Goddess for sister's who remember to return your spare set when they're visiting. So, it has to be the battery, right? And, where do you get new batteries for this sort of thing? Best Buy, right? They install stereos and alarms and things on cars, right?
Not right.
Best Buy has one battery kiosk that advertises all sizes of batteries, including wee ones. But, not the wee size I needed. So, I had to find the radio shack. They did have what I was looking for. So, I took apart the keyless entry remote, replaced the battery and hoped for the best.
It worked. Now, if I could only remember what I did with the pieces I removed so that I could get to the battery.
Remember when I used to do those fun Welsh updates? Ah, those were the good ole days when I only had to worry about which form of the preposition went with which pronoun or which mutation I should be using.
Now, things are much, much more complicated. I have five pages to read on Belgian Dutch vowels before I can return to my before-bed world of Robin McKinley's Sunshine. (Book group has apparently failed to wheedle a selection out of Jess, so until such time as I am informed of a new book, I am having to make do with borrowings from the E...because heaven forbid I go near the The booklist.. )
Just five pages on vowels...and I love sounds. Sounds are so fun and categorical and interesting if not necessarily easy to describe. Five pages and what am I doing? I'm trying to talk myself out of spending sixty bucks on The Breast Cancer Site. Are you familiar with this site? You should be. It is awesome. The breast cancer site has a button that you can click every day. It logs IPs. And, for every click they get, their sponsors donate money to help women who need mammograms get them. And, then they have a store that where they sell many wonderful things (like recycled silk yarn and banana fiber yarn) and the bracelet I'm currently trying to talk myself out of. It is for a good cause. But, its money I should be saving for things like food and rent. But, its a good cause. You see my dilemma.
They are part of a network of sites, including The Literacy Site whose orange bracelet I have long worn. (Open Books, Open Minds, yo.) I recommend that you should check it out.
I've been learning to spin. The idea of it was first brought to my attention by E. One can micromanage a project, getting all the entertainment one's air element would desire...one can pick out the fleece, pick out the dye, wash, card, dye, card, spin, ply and knit a project...all while compulsively feeling fiber.
I bought a drop spindle at the Knox Farm Fiber Festival and what I thought was going to be enough wool to make a pair of socks. I'm not sure at the moment if socks are what is going to come of my first attempt at spinning. It seems a little lumpy and inconsistent (read: designer) to make for a comfy pair of socks.
However, it may just make a nice Jayne Cobb Hat. (Although, not in those colors. I was intending to make socks, remember.)
I didn't buy the fleece, I bought roving, which is wool that is all cleaned and combed in the same direction and set to spin. I have this fantastic navy cashgora roving (its a kind of goat. I know this, not only because I looked it up, but because there was a picture of a goat on the bundle.) Previously, I had been spinning this fantastic shetland wool that was naturally grey and white.
My reward for being a good little worker bee yesterday was ending the evening by watching a couple more episodes of Spooks. Not only did I get to enjoy fantastic spy drama, but I also made it half way through the cashgora, which means I'm getting closer to learning how to knit a hat!
It is Yom Kippur and I do not have class tomorrow. I had a fabulous plan for this evening. After Speech Perception Lab and UB Knitters, I was off to the grocery store to get a frozen pizza, some mozzarella, and some mushrooms. I was going to tart up the pizza (with the mushrooms and mozzarella) more myself a glass of wine and watch me some Spooks. (Its on Netflix under MI-5). But, I can't just buy one meal whilst at the shop. I have to get meals for at least three days. So, I did. And, when I grabbed the bags out of the car, the bag with the eggs in it slid out of my hand and introduced itself to the ground.
Swell.
Now, this really isn't that big a deal. I bought the eggs so that I could use the leftover mushrooms to make a tasty egg omelette. I just wasn't planning on doing it tonight. Or, doing it on a nine-egg scale. That's right, I bought a dozen eggs and had to cook three-quarters of them tonight because they were already broken inside their lovely little insulated case.
The good news, I suppose, is that I got to watch the Spooks episode from the first season with Hugh Laurie in it.
So, my sister is up from Brooklyn. We've had two exciting days of fun. Yesterday, we went to the Aquarium in Niagara and then we had lunch in Canada overlooking the Falls. It was very nice.
Friday, after I'd picked her up from the airport and we'd settled in, we decided that we should go to see a movie. And, I had a moment of genius. We looked up the local drive-ins to see what was playing. We packed a little snack bag and we headed out to the theater.
Drive-ins are excellent. You get to sit in the car. You can MST3K a film if its awful and the only people that can hear you are friends. Also, this drive-in shows double features. So, for more or less the cost of one film at the theater near my house, we got to see two movies. We saw Eagle Eye and The Dark Knight. But, that's not what I want to talk about.
I have a well-documented topic-maintenance problem. I work really hard on it. Its just that its really easy to "magpie" me by showing me a shiny quarter and then we're talking about cheeseburgers or Rome or what kind of dye you should use when you dye the Shetland fleece you just bought instead of talking about who's turn it is to do the dishes. It is worse than that, though. I do it to myself. As it turns out, I made mad connections in my head so you say, "Ground hog" and the neural network that activated in my head includes animals and Bill Murray and romaine lettuce and the lettuce reminds me of something you said forty-five minutes earlier so instead of going with the "animal" or "Bill Murray" I go with lettuce.
I have always been thus.
On the way to the Drive-in, we were listening to a mix CD. On the CD was Warren Zevon's Werewolves of London. Beth and I sing along. And, then she says, "You know, this song makes me think of you." Qua? Beth? What? "Ya, well, I saw a werewolf walking down the street with a Chinese menu in his hand....He'll rip your lungs out, I'd like to meet his tailor...His hair was perfect." Apparently, Zevon's lyrics remind her of my inability to follow the normal chain of thought. I'm told this was a compliment. Now, when I hear the song, I have to giggle.
That is right, today is the Indian National Holiday, Gandhi Jayanti. And, you should celebrate because Gandhi was an awesome man who had some really neat ideas. Also, he worked up Winston Churchill with such regularity that it is said that Churchill called him the "Stick Insect" and once even asked while Gandhi was on hunger strike, "Is the Stick Insect dead yet?" (That's right, I deal in hearsay and gossip. What can I say? I'm not a historian, I'm an Apprentice Linguist.)
Now, that's saying something since Mr. Churchill is the archetypal (British) Statesman. (And would obviously never stoop to such levels of uncouthness unless really, really bothered.)
Some suggestions for things to do:
1. Read some Gandhi. (Hind Swaraj, My Experiments in Truth, Any number of his letters or speeches.)
2. Be civilly disobedient. Host a sit-in protesting something that is ridiculously abhorrent that should no longer exist. Or, stop going to work for that reason.
3. Experiment in Truth yourself. I'm not really sure what this one means. Perhaps, you could come up with an empirical question based on the notion of "truth" and then conduct experiments to test the validity of the notion based on your question.
4. Create your own Homespun garment. Or, just spin. As a way to encourage more economic independence and to further upset the British machine by not purchasing British textiles, Gandhi started a homespun movement, even spinning himself. There are many a picture of Gandhi (and Nehru and much of the Congress Party) in Homespun attire.
5. Eat a bacon cheeseburger. Okay, this is absolutely inappropriate. It is fun, nonetheless.
It occurs to me that in the next twenty-four hours my apartment will once again be clean. (Not that its dirty right now, its just messy.) If I am going to do general tidying, its really not that much more effort to break out the vacuum, the swiffer and the other various cleaning implements, solutions and accessories and give the place a good once over. Why will it be clean? Because my sister will be here this weekend!
That's right, I get to see my awesome sister and you do not (unless you will also be here this weekend, as in, you already live in town.)
Some of the things that may (or may not) be on the agenda for the weekend:
-Going to see the huge-ass waterfall in my backyard.
-Having Scottish Egg and British Film Night.
-Wine-Country visiting
-Fruit Picking
-General Good-time having.
Now, I could get just a little further in my reading of Daniel Dennett's The Intentional Stance, but I've been pretty busy today, so instead I'm going to drink some tea, do some drop spinning (more on this to come) and watch a film (Thank you, NetFlix for providing me with a revolving door of entertainment for a small, monthly fee.)
Today I pretended like I was a ballet dancer. Sadly, this is not something that is new, it just happens that today I am going to admit that I do it. Most days when I pretend I am a ballerina, I do so be listening to a lot of great classical music while I swan around cleaning or cooking or enjoying a study break. I took ballet classes as a child and I do still remember some steps. I will make up little combinations like sweep, sweep, portibra, changement, changement and repeat.
In order to fuel my ballerina-centric lunacy, in August I bought the New York City Ballet Complete Workout. And, I've been doing the first three sections and calling it quits. (In my defense, I also own Bollywood Burn so I've gotten used to the notion that I only have to workout for fifteen minutes as that DVD is divided up into three fifteen minute workouts.) Not so today. Today, I was reading abstracts and attempting to work on my project proposal for Introduction to Cognitive Science and I was having incredible focus problems. I made a deal with myself, if I was just going to dick around and not get any work done, I would have to dick around in a way that would be somewhat productive.
I made it to section seven of the first ballet DVD. The section after you work on your abs. The section in which you work your thighs and butt through a series of moves that involve not letting your legs touch the floor. Someday, Someday soon, I will have the strength, patience and coordination to make it through the end of this section. Today was not that day. Today, my thighs and butt are already screaming at me. While I do consider this a triumph (now I want nothing more than to sit and read abstracts...and maybe knit.) I am not sure I will feel that way in the morning.
I'm in a competitive Knit Along on Ravelry and a new pattern came out on Thursday. This was perfect timing for me because, even though this means that I'm a whole sock behind the rest of the knit along I had just finished a project and so was in perfect position to cast on.
So, I frogged a scarf that I found when I unpacked my boxes of books (it had some unintentional increases and decreases in places it shouldn't have them) and I sat down to try to make some progress on this new pair while watching the glorious Michael Weston pretend to be a weakling with asthma. The pattern was inspired by The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe and I was very excited about it.
Sadly, I could not get the cast on ( for which I found a online tutorial) using my double pointed needles. I finally gave up, frogged that, too, and decided I would take this opportunity to investigate a Michaels that is near an awesome mall not far from my house (but further than the Michaels at the Mall just practically down the street from my house.)
When I reached my reading threshold for Friday afternoon, I put myself in the car and headed out that way. I wandered around the Michaels (which had a better yarn selection than the one near my house) and filled my basket with some lovely Bernat yarn in some pretty, pretty colors that was on sale! Excellent. I also picked myself up a pair of circular needles that were the same size so that I could make the Turkish cast on work.
I wandered around for a while, looking at their Halloween decor and just enjoying being alive in the Autumn in Buffalo as a first year PhD student ( one has to enjoy such moments as this is only time I will ever be a first year PhD student...or, at least I hope this is the only time I will ever be a first year PhD student.) and then I made my up to the counter. There was one register opened and then the customer service desk. I was in line behind an adorable gay couple buying a floating ghost. The woman at customer service finished up what she was doing and said she could help whoever was next, I deferred to the couple, but they told me to go ahead.
The woman started scanning my yarn and said, "Wow, those are down to a dollar now?" And, we had a nice little chat about yarn and needlecraft. She gave me the total and as I was about to swipe my card, she said, "Wait a minute, I don't work tomorrow." She reached into her apron and pulled out a friends and family coupon. Apparently, it was friends and family weekend and she had them to give discounts to her people. But, she gave it to me! I was shocked. That was so kind.
So, I'm thinking that I may, when I'm done with these socks, pop back over to Michaels (pick up some more yarn) and give her the socks. Unless I chicken out because that's a little weird.
Kohl's had a two day sale. And, I've been without a blender. I was just going to buy a twenty dollar blender at Wal-Mart, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to take a look. So, I was wandering through the store and I found a blender. But, not just a blender...a twelve speed blender with an extra attachment so that you can use the motor to run a food processor.
Have you ever tried to make squash soup without a food processor? Its a pain. Also, you can make salsa without all that chopping and hummus. I love hummus.
I took the blender out for a spin tonight. I used the last of the fruit salad that I made earlier in the week with a little milk and a little vanilla ice cream. It was delicious. And, purple. (It had the end of the blueberries in it.)
Every now and then, reasonable and learned grownups forget about the food pyramid and/or the food groups and feed themselves like they would have if they had been in charge of dinner at the age of five.
I have an example.
Tonight, my friend E and I took a break from studying and went to Aldi. Now, there is a secret to shopping at Aldi. You can't go with a list. You have to go with fuzzy categories of things that you need/want. Like, "Meat for two or three meals" or "fresh fruit for lunches." If you go with a list that reads "two apples, one ripe pear, six ounces of Orange Roughy", you will be disappointed. That is just the way it is.
So, we went to Aldi with the fuzzy category of "something to have to eat for dinner" (and, I needed some sort of hard, crumbly, preferably low fat cheese). And, what did we get? A bag a stir-fry vegetables (not bad),grapes (pretty good), macaroni and cheese (not bad, but also not good), a box of scalloped potato mix (again, not bad but not good), and some oatmeal craisin walnut cookie dough. While any combination of these things probably would make a lovely meal, it was probably unwise to eat them together. But, we did eat them together. We had a grape course, followed by a pasta course, followed by a potato course and rounded off by a cookie course.
While there is part of me that is tsk-tsking about having pasta and a potato in the same meal, my inner five-year old is happy as a kitten with a new ball of yarn. And, I have to tell you, it is hard to complain about life when your inner child is that happy.
Last year, I participated in NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) and this year they have done something different. For every month, in order to encourage people to post to their blogs, they have suggested topics for every month. For the most part they haven't been things that I have been interested in or it hasn't been feasible for me to post. (I'll admit it, sometimes I'm just lazy.)
For this month, the good people at NaBloPoMo have suggested two things. The first is to write about things that make you laugh. This is an excellent suggestion but it was nowhere near as intriguing as the second option for this month. The second option is "five dollar lunch". They suggest that you spend five dollars on lunch for the first twenty-one days of the month and then blog about what you've been spending your money on. Five dollars doesn't go as far you it used to, but there are a number of places that have been offering five dollar deals (must notably places like Subway and Quiznos. Or perhaps, those are just the places that I have heard commercials for.)
Here is the problem: I am on a budget. And, spending thirty-five dollars of my food budget on just lunch is more than I'm willing to spare. Or rather, more than I'm willing to spend. I'm going to be telling you about the creative and wonderful things that I'm putting together for under two dollars and forty cents. This is going to be interesting.
So, I'm sitting down after dinner to turn a few rounds on my sock before settling in to see how much reading I can get done while watching Serena Williams and Rafael Nadal make tennis look easy and there is just something wrong with the sock.
First off, I have to have cast on one too many stitches, so there is an irregularity in the pattern at the end. Secondly, they just look enormous. At first, this is normal. When you cast on sixty-four stitches in the round, I have discovered that I feel like I've done something wrong for the first twenty rounds or so because it seems huge and amorphous. This is because at the beginning it doesn't have a shape; you are making the shape. Eventually, you settle into the rhythm of the pattern and it settles into its shape and everything goes smoothly.
But, this just wasn't happening with my Wasp Woman sock. Instead of settling into a familiar sock-y shape, it seemed to be growing. So, I counted the number of stitches I'd cast on again. Then, I counted them once more for verification. If its not the stitches, I reasoned, because I had just verified that I had the correct number of stitches (plus the goofy one messing up the pattern) and it wasn't the gauge because my knitting is tight and consistent (since this is my fourth sock since moving to Buffalo, it should be pretty consistent by now.) It had to be the yarn. So, I grabbed the sleeve and I looked at it again.
100% cotton. Check.
4-Ply. So far, good.
Worsted Weight. .........
Oh, I'm an idiot. In my haste to find a color that I liked and that would be appropriate, I picked up a whole ton of cotton yarn that I'm not going to be able to use for its intended purpose. Gah. (Unless I decide to start knitting socks for giants.) No wonder it seemed so stiff and so bulky while I was casting on!
The good news is, I believe there is something further down in my Ravelry queue that I can make in Wasp Woman yellow instead of lime green.
I have three days of school under my belt. I am watching the first round of the US Open, (currently, Andy Roddick is two sets and five games up on Fabrice "The Magician" Santoro) and I am knitting up a wasp woman sock. I am not particularly happy with how its coming so far. The yarn I bought (I went through the Yarndex and picked something different from what was recommended) is an all-cotton yarn and normally I like that for socks. So far, they are a little stiff and there is not a lot of give. But, I am not trying to focus on it because Autumn is arriving. And, I couldn't be more excited about it.
Something that I enjoyed about Iowa was Autumn. You would get up for your morning classes and get to watch the mist rise up off of the river. That is lovely, in addition to the changing of the leaves and the crisp, cool air and all the wonderful fruits and vegetables that come into season. The past few years I've been remembering Iowa Autumn while trudging through the constant drizzle of Cardiff. (Not that I'm complaining now, nor was I complaining then.) I am really looking forward to experiencing the Fall in another part of the World.
I had such a good time last weekend being a domestic goddess, that I have decided that there may need to be more of that in my future.
Although, maybe instead of baking, I would branch out into the world of jam making. I like toast and jam, so this seems completely reasonable. Also, I was pretty sure that you can't make just one jar of jam, you have to make some multiple (that will most likely be larger than the amount of jam I consume in a year.) I had all these thoughts while knitting a pair of socks.
A pair of socks that I've recently decided would be a perfect gift for someone. You know what also makes a good gift? A jar of jam. Its true. You can look it up.
While I was making pie, I found this fantastic website PickYourOwn.Org. It has the blueberry pie recipe that I used and a number of other awesome resources like where to find pick your own farms in your area and a number of recipes. So, of course they have canning instructions. I've been reading about the process all morning and I'm more than sure that it is within my realm of capabilities. However, it doesn't seem like a one day project.
So, I think I might do the prepping today and then tomorrow I will do the jam making. I'm pretty excited about the prospect of it.
I'm sitting at my kitchen table, drinking Pomegranate Cherry Crystal Light and finishing off the only blueberry scone I didn't freeze. And, I'm thinking, "They could have used more blueberries." And, "I shouldn't have worked the dough as much as I did." But, given that they came from a Weight Watchers recipe for two point scones. I think they came out pretty well. And, I'm sure that come November when I'm defrosting them for a quick breakfast before I jet off to class, I won't have any complaints. (Plus, the thought of eating a scone that was at one time frozen that isn't going to make me itch with some crazy allergic reaction pleases me to no end.)
I have noticed the last couple of days that I've had a number of Bridget Jones moments. For example, the title of this entry. I find that I've been making statements, typically about myself, without including the subject. (Which wouldn't be odd, except that English isn't a pro-drop language.) Now, if I were speaking to myself in Spanish...things would be different. I've also had a number of moments similar to Bridget's "This is Bridget Jones for Sit Up Britain, Searching for Tuna." Only in my case, its more like, "My name is Kate, and I approve this scone."
Yesterday saw the accomplishment of the following things:
1. I eyeballed the amount of blueberries and decided I could in fact make three more recipes from them.
2. Went to the store and procured the odds and ends that I didn't have to complete these three recipes. (You know, important things like baking powder and buttermilk.)
3. Blueberry Buckle. My Blueberry Buckle didn't actually buckle like it was supposed to. It rose. Significantly. I think maybe my pan was a little too small. But, the bit that I snuck tasted pretty good so I'm not complaining about that, either.
Doesn't that look tasty?
4. Blueberry Scones. A dozen of them.
Mmm...Scones.
5. Blueberry Muffins. These guys came from another Weight Watchers recipe. While I'm not really a big fan of the Weight Watchers program, Weight Watchers dieters have a knack for creating tasty, low-fat, high fiber recipes. (I have a lot of respect for the whole point system. And, I can see where it would be helpful. I just seem to go better when I eat a lot of vegetables as opposed to counting a lot of points.)
There were a dozen of these bad boys as well.
Yummy.
6. Since having a house full of baked goods isn't necessarily good for the waist line (even if two of the recipes were diet recipes) I decided most of the goodness needed to go in the freezer. Not really trusting my quart sized ziploc bags to be seriously freezer proof, I followed a suggestion from my Mother and wrapped everything in foil. The blueberry buckle was easy. The muffins and scones were more of a challenge. In the end, I decided to wrap each piece individually (thus making the easier to thaw one at a time). I also tossed some of the blueberries I had left into the freezer as well. It'll be nice, come December, to have a little taste of summer (even if they are a little squishy.) Besides, frozen berries make the best smoothies.
7. After everything was cleaned and sorted, I finished knitting a pair of socks I'm making for my Father. I had intended to do a bit of the Knitting Olympics this year, even if it wasn't going on officially anywhere else (Which isn't true, Ravelry has been holding the Ravelympics.) So, the plan was I cast on during the opening ceremony, I knit while I watch the games, and I'm done by the closing ceremonies. That didn't quite work out. But, I have been knitting while I've been watching everything from rowing and boxing to Jamaica sweeping the 100m finals last night. Now, these socks that I started in December ( I know! Eep.) for my Father are done!
8. My night didn't stop there. As if all that wasn't enough, I cast on a brand new sock once I was finished. I haven't knit a pair of socks for myself in over a year now. I have decided its time. Plus, this is giving me a chance to check out the patterns in a book I found at Barnes and Noble. Simple 1-2-3 Knitting has a lot of really cute things in it. The sort of things you make and give away to people you love. I'm knitting the "ribby sock" out of it. It took a few rounds to sort out what I was doing (I hardly had to back up at all. Although, I did try to knit needle four as if it were needle one once.)
And, that's where it ends. I was pretty tired at that point, and can you blame me?
So, I live near the The Niagara Wine Trail. I know this because I've driven past the "Niagara Wine Trail Begins Here" sign at least one hundred times since Monday.
I figured, I should see what its all about. Apparently, you can purchase their "vino visa passport" and with it you get a wine tasting at all of the vineyards on the trail.
I went to the first one today. The Warm Lake Estate Vineyard and Winery was Wine Spectator's highest rated Pinot Noir in New York State in 2007. The wine tasting consisted of five wines all made from the pinot grape. The two Estate wines (which were nice and smooth and a little sweet and a little spicy. I'm thinking the bottle I bought needs to be served with a lovely steak.), one I think was called "Mountain Road", (I should have taken better notes.) This one I didn't like as much, it had a huge black peppery kick at the end which I didn't care for. And, then the last two were their Glacé Noir. The first one was way too sweet for me. Although, apparently it is fantastic when mixed with pomegranate juice and chocolate martini mix. The last one was a mistake. It was meant to be the Glacé Noir, but instead ended up being more like a pinot brandy. It was fantastic.
From there I did a little exploring. I got lost for a minute on the way to where I planned to have lunch. I finally gave up looking for it and decided to go to the next place where food was served (that wasn't a fast food chain.) The next place I drove past was a bar and grill next to a take out sub place. I didn't feel like eating in my car, so I walked into the bar and grill.
Let me rephrase that. I walked into the BAR and grill. At this point, I just had to go with it. Yup, I had lunch down the bar from the two guys who had decided that Happy Hour started at 2 pm.
Then, I found Lake Ontario. Which isn't hard because it is huge.
But that's not where the excitement started. The excitement started after I breezed past the second vineyard I was planning on visiting. Looking for a place to turn around I found Russell's U Pick Blueberries. Russell gave me a bucket and let me wander through his twelve acres of blueberries.
When I first arrived here in Buffalo, we went to the grocery store and the first thing I saw was a huge flat of blueberries (that I had to be talked out of.) And, for the past week I've been thinking about going back to the store and buying blueberries and doing a lot of baking. Right now, I have four and quarter pounds of blueberries chilling in my fridge. Tomorrow, I'm going to make a pie from scratch. And, then maybe some blueberry buckle. Goodness, I couldn't be happier.
After that, I stopped at a fruit farm and bought some super cheap fresh veg (and a pint of apricots!). And, I drove past some orchards that I'm hoping are "U Pick" apple orchards once apples are in season. I think Western New York and I are going to be very good friends.
So, we get in the cars at ridiculous o'clock in the morning and we start the long process of driving from Iowa to Upstate New York. The bulk of my belongings are stuffed into the back of the car I'm buying from my sister (one that hopefully won't get stuck in the Buffalo snow) and into the back of my Mother's car.
It is around seven o'clock in the morning and we're making good time. I am listening to a CD of music made popular whilst I was living in the UK, singing along and enjoying the early part of the drive. Dream Catch Me by Newton Faulkner comes on the CD and I belt it out (because everyone is Diana Ross in their car.)
As we begin to go cross the Mississippi in Illinois, I have this thought: I'm leaving Iowa. And, this time it actually feels real. I'm leaving home and going someplace where I'm expected to be on the top of my game and act like an adult. I'm going some place where I not only have a room of my own, but a whole one bedroom flat of my own. Of course, I lose it. I'm singing and crying and driving across this immense bridge over a slightly swollen Mississippi.
But, then I have to laugh. As I'm having this immense, "I'm leaving" moment on the road to Buffalo, I'm being passed by a Good Ol' Boy in a rusty Ford pickup truck doing upwards of 80 miles an hour (on a bridge) with a confederate flag in back window. "Yup," I think, "I won't miss that in New York."
In preparation for moving to Buffalo so that I can begin work on my PhD, I have had the opportunity to go through a number of things that were in storage while I was in Wales.
It has been a bizarre and amazing experience.
Among the things that I have found have been a number of journals. As it turns out, I'm an obsessive journal writer, both online and out in the world. What is interesting about being an obsessive journaler is that you can see the development of an idea.
In 2001 while I was studying abroad, I had the opportunity to audit this class on Women and Gender in Indian Society. I didn't take it for credit, although I should have because I really would have enjoyed the research I would have done for it (things you realize in hindsight.) Part of the coursework involved a trip to visit an women's group in the area surrounding our city. It was a profound experience for me. It occurred to me that while Feminism in America seemed to make the statement, " I can do what you can do." Feminism in India seemed to say something completely different. It seemed to say, "What I am doing here has value." This women's group in the hills had gotten a large number of men in the village to stop drinking and bring home more of their paychecks so that stuff could get done around the house and in the village. They had also put together a small fund that they were using to send children to school. I thought that was amazing. I still do.
If there is anything that I've remembered from the past three weeks of tai chi classes, it is this: Standing still is incredibly hard. Remembering what comes after the Sun style repulse monkey or after Golden rooster stands on one leg in the 48 combined form? These things are a cake walk compared to standing still for anything longer than a minute. Who knew that you'd have to put the most work into the simple things?
My parents do not believe that it is necessary that I sleep. In the middle of closing four nights in a row before switching to opening, My Mother called me twice before ten a.m.
This morning, before 10, my Father brought me a cup of coffee. He was surprised to find me still asleep. The coffee does smell nice, though.
24 Hours in car, Still friends.
Every time I've gone to phone my boyfriend this week, I've been confused by the time. That is because on March 9th, last Sunday, we sprang forward an hour. Now, if my lovely lived down the road that wouldn't be such a big deal. But, he lives in Europe where they have all adopted the European standard "Summer Time Period" which doesn't go into effect until the end of them month.
I know this because I googled it. That's a pretty good article, by the way. Its a little frustrating, but only because of that Federal Law passed in 2005 that allegedly saves energy. (Unless, of course, it continues being wintry whether we've sprung forward or it.) I suppose it may do the trick places where lighting is only used when there are no lights outside. But, I don't work in such a place.
Its been rather difficult adjusting to the difference in our time difference. However, I comforted by the fact that at the end of March when I'm used to there being a difference in the difference it will go back to being what it was and there will be no difference at all.
(This picture is from here. It was too lovely to not include it.)
Dydd Sant Dewi Hapus! Today is the Feast of Saint David, the same saint David who is the patron Saint of Wales. Apparently, one is meant to dress up in traditional Welshwear, according to this blog I found. This clever chap has a few suggestions of what else can be done today aside from donning costumes.
The one thing about this day I've always wondered is... if he is Saint David, why is it Sant Dewi and Not Sant Dafydd?
I don't know if you've heard this story, but a long, long time ago back in Ireland, Saint Patrick (who was just Patrick then) and Saint Bridget (who was just Bridget) were walking down a country road. Whilst they walked, they had a chat. Bridget said to Patrick, "You know, a lot of young girls come to me for counsel and they've been asking recently what they should do when they've fallen in love and they really want to ask a man to marry them. As you know, Patrick, A girl asking a fellow to marry her just isn't the done thing."
Patrick thought about it for a minute and said, "Bridget, you're right. Its not the done thing. So, what if we designated a day when it would be the other way around. A day when it would be the done thing for a girl to ask her fellow to marry her."
"That's a lovely idea, Patrick. Which day should we designate?" Bridget asked. Patrick already had an idea in his head.
"We should designate February 29th as that day," He said. "So, let the girls know, as its coming up soon."
"But, that only comes around once every four years, Patrick!" Bridget exclaimed. Patrick gave it some more thought.
"Well, how about this," He said, "A girl can ask her fellow to marry her on February 29th, it will be the done thing, and if he says no on that day, she can claim a forfeit."
Later in the week, when February 29th rolled around, Patrick was surprised to see Bridget walking up towards his house. He met her in the garden and they chatted amiably for awhile until she said, "Patrick, may I ask you a question?"
He said, "Sure."
"I wanted to know if you'd marry me," She asked. Patrick was dumbstruck. He opened and closed his mouth like a gold fish for a minute.
Then he replied, "I would love to, Bridget, but my vows to God. I can't."
Bridget smiled wily. "Fair Enough," She said, "As my forfeit, I'd like a new dress."
You know when you do something so completely stupid that you want to hide under the covers? Or, you forget something small but that is part of something bigger and more important and your jaw just drops and you are so flabbergasted that you are at a loss of exactly how to proceed. This happens to me frequently; I am constantly doing or saying things that are stupid and embarrassing and make me flabbergasted.
Most recently this flabbergasting has taken place because it would appear I forgot to enlcose a piece of paper when applying to one of the graduate programs I applied to. So, I now have to email my this piece of paper on place so that it can then be emailed some place else. Its awful.
However, because I am once again living at my parents house so when I do something stupid I can talk to my Dad. Dad's have a way of making things feel a little better. Although, I still feel like an idiot. Now, I'm just an idiot who has someone to talk to.
This is the kind of snow they call powder. The snow that is falling now. It is small and looks innocuous. Its little flakes for the moment before they melt into your fingertip. In the morning while the cat was in vet hospital, I watched the wind drive it down at an angle out near the neighbor's fence. Closer to the house, it swirled leisurely to the ground. The house acts as a wind break until a gust pulls the recently fallen snow back up into the air making it seem as if I live inside a snow globe and someone has just given the world a shake.
This is the snow that snakes across the road in the wind. The snow that causes white outs when the wind reaches higher speeds. In spite of this, when work calls I take the shift they offer me. I bundle up and head out into the cold, driving slowly and arriving a little later than planned. . An hour before I do to return home Dad calls to tell my the cat is home from the vet hospital. Its just her arthritis acting up; she will be okay.
There is something sadly wrong with my kitty. Mittens has some arthritis, which isn't that unusual given that she is a pretty old cat (she's 20). But, she's losing her mobility. She was fine yesterday, but whilst we were watching Roy Jones, Jr. and Felix Trinidad she started walking funny like she was feeling stiff and then this morning and all day today she's been avoiding using her right hind leg. My Dad just had to help her across the kitchen because she got almost to her water bowl and then she fell. She is going in to see the vet tomorrow. I am very worried. She's a very good kitty and she's still quite healthy. She keeps herself clean and she still has an apetite, but if she can't walk by herself she has a very serious problem.
We think she may have injured herself jumping down from the sofa. I hope that's the only problem and that she'll be okay. She's a very wonderful cat.
It is nice being home. It is nice to be able to watch my Mom's favorite tv shows with my Mom. It is nice to be able to curl up and knit or read around the 20 year old cat. It is nice to wake up to a note from my Dad asking if I have time to do the dishes and another from My Mom asking me to run to the store. Its fun to make the cat lunch (she's a spoiled little 20 year old cat that gets ground beef. ) Its also fun to play scrabble over a wireless network that I've set up because the people my Dad paid to set it up were morons (or at least incapable of communication with their clients) whilst drinking coffee and watching the snow fall.
Its nice to go through the tea stash that I worked so hard to build (and that has clearly been added to whilst I was gone). It is nice to have some of the lemon-flavored green roibos with my Mom and then after she's gone to bed have Millenium mint with my Dad.
And, snow. Lots and lots of snow. And, ice. I'm not as fond of the ice.
It is also nice to go on sale-hunting shopping trips. There is nothing like a January sales shopping trip. Especially now that all of my American PhD applications are out of the way.
Dubious is a good word. According to the dictionary it means, "marked by or occasioning doubt." It can also mean, "of doubtful quality or propriety." Questionable.
I find the banking industry to be dubious. I recently had occasion to look at my online bank statement from which I discovered that while I had asked them to deposit money some place they had put it some place else and were currently in the process of charging me each time they moved the money to where I told them to put it in the first place from where they decided, in all their wisdom and glory, it obviously needed to be. I'm pretty pissed about this, and will no doubt be headed back to the bank to point out there error and ask for my money back (I don't expect to get it back) but for now I'm feeling pretty relieved. There was a moment when I thought the money was just completely gone and that I'd have to take all my little deposit slips in and show them that they had swindled me out of loot. Not loads of loot, but loot nonetheless. It makes me want to switch banks, but is there a bank out there where this sort of fuck up wouldn't occur?
Blwyddyn Newydd Dda, my good friend! It is January 2nd in the town of C'ville. I have the day off and I've gotten most of my errands run already this morning. There's healthy food in the fridge. I have pomegranate and blackcurrant juice, tea and cold medicine. I also have this year's booklist all prepped and ready to go.
This year's list I am expecting to add to as the time goes on. For the first part of the year, if I go by the list, I'm going to be reading or rereading a lot of kids books. I have the remaining Lemony Snicket books on my list as well as Harry Potter and the Wrinkle in Time Quintet. But, its not all children's books. The list also contains Marcel Proust's Swann's Way, a book on Social Semiotics, a book on Critical reading, and two Bill Bryson books. There is also a book on the Twysogion. Well, its actually just about Welsh history during the time period when the Prince of Wales was actually Welsh. I'm very excited about this year's list. So excited, in fact, that I have just finished reading one of the books! The Wide Window.
For what feels like the first time since I've been back in the country, the sun is out. We had an ice storm a few days ago, so the trees that were made crystaline and delicate with ice are now dripping their diamonds all over the pavement. It sounds a lot prettier than it is. All the snow is becoming slushy and in some places its beginning to mix with the dirt so its also a little swampy. Even with the ice slowly dripping off the trees, they still look shiny and alive.
So, due to a lack of uniforms of various sizes at work, they've had to order me a uniform. Now, its tends not to matter since I'll only be working there for about another two weeks except that this means that I'm having to wear the same black pants every time I work. Since I tend to work in five day stretches and then have a "weekend", this means these pants are getting washed then worn then washed then worn and on and on world without end.
Amen.
This may be a bit of a TMI. This wouldn't be too bad, except I appear to have developed some sort of sensitivity to either the detergent I've been using or the poly-cotton blend of the pants. I have developed a rash. It is killing me. I'm dying to scratch something.
But, so far I've been able to resist and have not scratched. (Except for a little absent-mindedly while I was looking for the British equivalent of Aveeno's oatmeal bath. While it does appear that Aveeno is in the UK, it doesn't appear that they sell their bath additives here. Although it does appear they sell a shower oil. And, the chemist at the shop down the street looked puzzled when I asked her if there was anything else I could put in the bath that might be like it and help stop the itching. So, instead I now have a bottle of calamine lotion chilling in the fridge. And, I figure if I can get it to stop itching, I have some very nice, super hydrating lotion I may try on it (although, maybe not. Last night I used some aloe vera gel on it and I thought I was going to die.)
I couldn't bear to put on my work clothes today. It almost made me cry. So, I called in sick. Instead, I've been organizing bits and bobs that need to go into the mail and lounging around the house panstless and covered in calamine.
So, last night while I was slaughtering a Chinese pumpkin the door bell rang. This was only a small surprise as it was Hallowe'en and there are children in the neighborhood. I had prepared for this possibility by buying a bag of fun size milky way bars. I grabbed my keys and unlocked the door. I was greeted by a small clown and a small skeleton, each no more than four feet tall who yelled, "Trick or Treat!" I gave them their treats and sent them on their way. When I closed the door I realized that this was the first time I've had trick or treaters someplace that wasn't my parents house. This was exciting.
All in all, I had only about fifteen kids stop by the house. There were more skeletons and clowns, a frankenstein, a pirate, some vampires and a little pumpkin or two. There was also a witch or three and a ballerina. But, my favorite costume all night was a little devil. A girl, maybe around 2 years old had on a sequined red dress and a long tail. She had shiny white horns attached to a little hat that was just a little too big for her head. It kept slipping in front of her eyes. She held her candy pail with both hands and leaned back so she can see out the bottom of her hat. Her Mom pulled the hat back out of her face and she looked at me, wide-eyed not sure what to say. I put a piece of candy in her pail and she shouted, "Thank you!". It was the cutest thing.
Meanwhile, the pumpkin slaughtering was messy but the soup has turned out alright. I still have half the pumpkin left. I think I'm going to use it to make some pumpkin bread that I'm going to top with a cream cheese/powdered sugar glaze. I love baking this time of year. There are just so many good things that you can make.
That if I have been unkind or snarky or unpleasant recently that I am sorry. My life recently hasn't been the best, but if I have unjustly taken my anger and frustration out on anyone, I would like to apologize for my behavior.
If that seems unusual or makes you wonder what's up, I've just had some time to take stock of things and I wanted to get that out of the way so that I could move forward.
And, speaking of moving forward, I started recording the stuff for Curiosities, Episode 3: The Inchoate Ramblings of an absent-minded girl. I have one more section that I may get to later today but more likely won't get to until tomorrow, and then I'll slap it together and put it up. In the episode I talk about Children's books, and in particular Madeleine L'Engle and the job/no job situation and looking at the world with new eyes. I also have some ideas for exciting new content for this page. So, please stop back in and check stuff out.
My computer has been broken, hence the lack of posting and podcasting. Everything should be good to go again when I get home from work tonight, so expect new material.
Hooray!
The AC adapter (is that right? AC?) has decided to throw in the towel and call it quits. Do you believe that? So, the reason why there has been no communication and no podcast this week is because the battery is now dead on my computer and I have no way to recharge it.
I am in negotiations with Dell about remedying this situation. (When I say negotiations, really what I mean is that I am waiting for them to call me back.)
I may attempt to put the show together using John's computer and then upload it onto the internet via internet cafe. We shall see.
In other news, I have finally returned to work after my...we'll call it a vacation.... granted to me thanks to Her Majesty's Customs and Revenues and a certain furniture store's policies. I am pleased everything has worked out and that I am back in the world again and out of the house. This couldn't have happened at a better time as I am running out of yarn.
Also, this week I am going to be hosting my friend Melissa on her whirlwind trip to Cardiff (and Bath). I am so very excited about having a guest! Yes.
The other day I went out in search of some fruit and veg to compliment the things I had to eat in the house. I picked up a bunch of grapes and thought it was settled but before I went to pay for the grapes, I gave the stand a walk through, just make sure there wasn't anything I missed (I was having noodles, and sometimes you find random things that would be great with noodles.) And, before I got to the gigantic eggplants in the back I noticed them....Lychees. Now, I've had lychee juice boxes and lychee flavored smoothies and ice cream, but I've never had a fresh lychee. So, I picked up about six of them and went straight to the counter to pay so I could rush home and try them.
A lychee looks a like a gigantic raspberry in armor. They are red and bumpy and hard. The skin almost feels like a crust surrounding the precious fruit inside. When I picked them up, they felt like fresh fruit should feel, fruit yet soft. And, they smelled divine.
A Lychee smells how I would imagine a jungle would smell, floral and humid. Its the sort of smell that when you inhale, you can feel it on your skin. Like humidity, its almost like a pressure but its not opressive. Its tense and mysterious. Of course, I was hooked on the smell.
After I returned home from my impulse fruit shopping, I had to google the lychee because having never eaten a fresh one before, I didn't know how to eat it. I found this entry on WikiHow. It was the first return on the Google search "How do you eat lychees?" I followed the step-by-step instructions. I peeled it. It mentions eating the white/grey fruit. I found this description to be unappetizing. My mind immediately jumped to Halloween parties as a child where Mothers turned out the lights and passed around peeled grapes telling you that you were feeling a bowl full of eyeballs. Now, I understand that this description might put you off the lychee eating, but please don't be put off. The experience is nothing like those childhood parties that make you dread people saying, "Hey, feel this." The lychee is a disconcerting white-ish color but its texture is much firmer than that of a peeled grape.
Since "peeled grape" was the first thing that came to mind when reading about it, I assumed that the experience of peeling it would be similar. I was expecting sticky. It wasn't. Peeling a lychee was similar to peeling an orange, if I had tried I probably could have gotten the skin to come off in one piece. It also reminded me of shelling a peanut with the skin really acting as a protective armor around the fruit. Once you peel it and seed it, all of that milky white flesh is yours.
I say all of that as if there was a lot of flesh in each lychee, but there wasn't. They are bigger than most berries but smaller than an apple. I could probably hold two lychees in one hand and keep a good grip on them. I ate the six of them that I bought on consecutive days, two or so a day. And, the taste. Oh, the taste.
Considering that the smell had me busy constructing mental images of myself relaxing under the high canopy of a lush jungle, fanning myself in the midday heat, I couldn't wait to actually try the fresh fruit. The taste was less intense than the smell. The lychee is juicy. Its flavor was first fruity and then the floral hit. The end of the taste was intense, as if the fruit had condensed down to a floral powder, which I found surprising since the smell of it made me think of humidity. The texture of the fruit was firm with a strong fibre feel to it without being stringy. The feel of it was very self contained, like you really had to bite it because it couldn't be relied upon to fall apart in your mouth. Deliciousorganics.com describes the lychee as "sweet" and "exotic tasting". It also recommends that you eat it right as you peel it so that the fruit does not dry out. I peeled them and didn't eat them right away on the last day I had them, and I didn't find that they dried out. However, I did find that the fruit on the last day wasn't white or grey, but more the color your clothes come out when a red sock inflitrates the whites wash and the bleeds. Of the fruit, this pinkish one was the juiciest. When I bit into it, I got a huge gush of yummy, lychee flavor.
If you see lychee at your veg stand or in your supermarket, I highly recommend that you pick some up. They are tasty and excitingly exotic.
So, I am hoping that I will be able to get my very first podcast up this weekend! I am thinking that, as a trial run I may put up a short story, read by me.
Thank you to Beth for letting me know that my link worked.
Hooray!
On Tuesday I went to my appointment with Cardiff's National Insurance Number Team. The point of the exercise was to fill out paperwork and to prove to them that I am who I am and that I have the right to work in the UK. National Insurance is something like America's Social Security in that you need a number, and you are issued with a number and they use it to appropriately tax people. Fun.
Now, the important thing to remember in all of this was that I had to prove that I was me. You must remember this, or none of what follows will seem wonderous.
(Did you get the Dickens reference in the last two paragraphs?)
Anyway, I took all my pieces of paper to the office and actually had a nice chat whilst filling out paperwork with the guy who was in charge of my paperwork for the day. I then came home and made Beef Stroganoff and chilled with my boyfriend who had the day off.
That was Tuesday.
Wednesday rolls around and I wake up and putter around and eventually check my email to discover a message from my Dad saying that I need to call the credit card company; its urgent. Now, this has happened before. Every now and again, my transactions get flagged and I have to call and say, yes, I did that. Yes, I did this. So, I sat down and picked up the phone and gave them a bell. And, they gave me a list of ENORMOUS transactions in places like Coventry.
I said to the man, "Whoa! I can tell you exactly where that card has been used. I can even tell you the Post Codes of the places it has been used because I keep track of these things."
The man said to me, "Are you sure? Because the card as been swiped and things have been signed for."
I said, "I don't know how that's possible as I didn't use it at those places and I'm looking right at the card."
Great. Apparently someone has been having a good time pretending to me. It would seem that they had cloned my card and also managed to get my pin number (! How the hell did that happen!?!) The banks in Britain have all gone to "chip and pin" cards that you always use a pin number for and that you tend not to swipe and sign for. (Note: I am not saying this is a better system, as there are problems with it as well.) So, the man went through the procedure of what I could do and thankfully the bank is insured for it, but it means paperwork and destroying my card and getting a new one. Which is always lots of fun. So, I had to call a different number and go back through the transactions. Fun.
Now, I find this whole thing funny. I didn't find it so yesterday. I spent most of yesterday positively distraught, sitting by myself in whichever room of the house didn't have other people in it. Later in the evening, I calmed down a bit and got out my knitting. I put on a few podcasts, including one I just found this summer called Cast On. Yes, it is a knitting podcast. It is more about knitting culture than about knitting in particular. While the host, Brenda Dayne did talk about socks and various projects, she also talked about other things.
Two things came from this: 1. I was reminded that I want to try my hand at podcasting. And, so this morning I have been looking into that possibility and trying to sort out the logistical stuff associated with that. Its actually been fun. 2. A visit to the Cast On website brought to the site of one of the podcast's sponsors: Tactile Travel. They set up tours in Italy around the textile industry. So, you and a group of knitting friends can visit the home of Italian wool production and eat loads of excellent Northern Italian food and drink some great wine.
And, I got to thinking.... I know knitters. I know knitters who know knitters. So, I toss this idea out to my seven readers: Is anyone interested in going on a Knitting holiday? Leave a comment, and we could discuss the possibility.
I am sitting here, in the front room of the house that I rent with Boyfriend and Housemate, waiting for it to be the right time for me to call my Parents.
We like to pre-arrange times for phone calls, so that, if possible everyone can be present. If it works out, no one has to get up early or stay up too late. Days like today, lazy sunday afternoons when one doesn't do much anyway are highlighted by these phone calls.
The waiting was fine, until about half an hour ago, when Housemate and her boyfriend woke up and came downstairs. Its not that they bother me, its that I was enjoying the peace and quiet. Last night, after a wedding that lasted well into the night we went with Housemate and her boyfriend to a Rock Club where we met up with other wedding guests and I was reminded of two things:
1. I'm over going to clubs and being drunk and being surrounded by other similarly intoxicated people
2. Anais Nin once said, "We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
That is, more than likely a paraphrase.
And, those two things are related.
I think I'm angry all the time. I think that I'm also frequently bored. I even think that I'm resentful of this anger and this boredom. I think I'm resentful of doing the same things over and over again with people whom I don't really get and who don't share my life view or any desire to move forward with their lives.
Not that I want to condemn people who are happy with how their lives are and who wish to maintain them as they are. What I'm meaning to do is to say that I am the sort of person who wants to make plans and move forward and learn new things and explore. And, I don't want to always be angry. I don't want to be bored. I want to be focused. I want to be thorough. I want to be engaged and interested. I want to be able to ask questions and toss out ideas and I want to be able to discuss things.
I want to be able to make plans and move forward.
The wedding was wonderful. It was such a nice day. It was so good to be around vibrant and happy people that I care for very much and to celebrate the union of a Friend with his Love.
Today, I feel good. I've been having all sorts of weird dreams, many of them very Harry Potter-esque. I'm thinking of starting a dream journal. (And, I have the perfect blank book to do it in, given to me by a very good friend of mine before I moved here in the first place.) The problem with starting a dream journal is, that to really get the jump on writing things down, you have to wake up and really write them down instead of trying to hold on to the dream, squeezing your eyes shut and pretending to not be awake.
Although the sun has not, in fact, come out today, I feel like it has. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Starting next week, I will be working at a furniture store. An international furniture. One that shall remain nameless, but I'm sure it won't take you long to guess. I aced the interview. I walked out of it yesterday knowing they were going to offer me the job. Some of my answers were so good that they made part of the interview question set (that they have to ask every potential new hire) redundant. Clearly, you don't get to be a lead at the bookstore by not learning a thing or two about how to organize yourself, your time and other people.
I was thinking on the bus ride home about how Academia and Retail aren't that different. (Although, I bet Academia is cringing at the comparison.) The whole point of retail is to sell things. To put them in the right place, in the right package in order to attract the customers' eyes and to shift units. One of the many things one does in Academia is to appropriately package ideas, put them in the right place, express them in the right way in order to convince other Academics of the veracity of their claims (or, at the very least, to convince them of the rigorousness of their methodology.) They both require that you get really good at a particular skill set. And, while those skill sets definitely have their difference (I've never once been asked to count back change in the classroom) the skill sets do overlap in some ways. Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that I'm not completely wasting my time. Or, maybe I'm on to something.
But, that's not the only reason I feel like the sun has come out.
John's and my friend Gav has found a kitten. There has been some discussion about whether or not we are allowed to have pets in the house. But, Gav called up today and asked," Did you say you wanted a cat?" Why, yes. I answered. "Because, we've got this kitten that's been hanging out the back now for three days and no one has come looking for it. So, if you want it..."
Now, I obviously have to get the input of a number of people before I take the little beast off of Gavin's hands. But, I have to go pay the rent today and since I do that by walking over to my landlord's house, I'm going to ask him what he thinks. Also, I'm going to have to ask John and Housemate what they think as well.
Even if it doesn't work out, today is still a good day.
Since we've moved again, I've been unpacking and I've decided there are a few things I need to re-read this summer. So, I have started with How Proust Can Change Your Life.
I was also thinking of restarting Swann's Way, you know, for those moments in-between the re-readings.
The back garden of the house was finished this weekend, and I have been left with a number of plants (including a grape vine) to take care of. It is very exciting to be out and playing in the dirt and weeding around things. I have a lovely little spot to grow herbs now.
I need a cup of coffee. And, to go sit in the garden. I'm so excited that I get to do these things!
Languages may be a skill set that you can be taught in a classroom. They may have phonological systems and phonetic sets and grammar. They may contain a series of tenses that have endings that you have to memorize.
But, that's not what they are.
I took myself for a walk this afternoon, and while I did it I was thinking about languages. About how they are joint efforts. They are community experiences. They are tools that we use to express our thoughts and feelings. Things we use to ask for stuff. They are a way that we express ourselves, how we identify with others or how we alienate others. And, all this takes place in contexts created by the language and by the situations and by us as individuals. We create communities. I was thinking about being little and how then communitites were provided for you. There were the kids in the neighborhood and school. There was church and choir and bible study and Girl Scouts and dance class. I think its amazing (considering how many people don't like church or school) that when we grow up we make an effort to create communities of our own. How cool is that? Sometimes, we even create communities so that we can speak something that we're not even sure how to speak.
I think the interview went well. I sat down and the Professor said that it was going to get hot in the room and I said, "Guess I'm literally in the hot seat then." and everyone laughed and we talked for about half an hour about all kinds of things. Of course, since then, I've had a lot of time to think about how I could have answered things better but I'm trying not to dwell on it and make myself more nervous. I really hope I get this; I think it would be incredibly rewarding to have an opportunity to study how people build and work together on things.
I have an interview next week for a scholarship I have applied for at Cardiff University.
Hooray!
Also, sorry for the lack of blogging. My computer has malfunctioned. I will hopefully fix it shortly.
So, place names aren't always translated in Welsh. I don't know, I think they figure with places you don't talk about very often you don't need a name for. Or, maybe its that they figure the places were already named once, why bother with a second name. The obvious examples of this are places like Iowa. I know what you're thinking, what sort of Welsh speaker would being talking about Iowa? Well, an American Welsh speaker. Duh. However, this is not true of New York whose name is actually just translated into Welsh: Efrog Newydd. I like this. But, I like it not because New York actually has its own name, but rather because New York is named after (old) York which is the seat of the County York, or as we'd say it Yorkshire. Why is this interesting? Well, I will tell you. Its interesting because the Welsh have a word for "shire", sir. And, in most cases when you talk about a "shire", you use sir. Except for Yorkshire, in which case you use swydd. Which means "office". I do go on, but I only point this out because I think it is interesting.
I am here in the States. I made it here safely. I have eaten a sandwich that, all kidding aside, I think involved three quarters of a cow in the form of corned beef. Amazing. ( I didn't ask for a sandwich made of nearly a whole cow, I just asked for a sandwich. The prices seemed a little extortionate, but after they handed me a sandwich, I knew why.) Hopefully, my Mother, Sister and Aunts will also make it here safely and we will have a wondeful time frolicking through Efrog Newydd and the surrounding areas.
Huzzah!
My friend Dan from the International Crossroads Community once said to me, "Eel tastes like sunshine." I found this to be intriquing which meant, I just had to try eel. The first time I had it, I was with my Mom and her friend Annie at the Japanese restaurant in Coralville, IA.
And, Dan was not wrong. Eel tastes like sunshine. Its an apt description. It tastes like sunshine in that it is light and fresh and it makes you happy, like the first rays of sunshine or the first sunny day of Spring.
Because of this every time I have the opportunity to eat it, I do. Today I met my friend Georgia for lunch at a Japanese restaurant in Cardiff. A Japanese restaurant that serves sushi and had Unagi on the menu. I have to say that I have been in the best mood all day. I attribute this to having ingested sunshine.
So, last night I left John at a club in town without a ride home because he wouldn't dance with me. At least, that's what he keeps telling people.
While it is true that I left and it is also likely true that he did not have any money on him, I did tell him I was going and I did offer him cab money four times if he wasn't going to come. However, he likes be the victim and says that I didn't do those things.
He also says he bends over backwards to make me happy. Whatever that means.
He got a ride with one of Gavin's friends and then spent the rest of the night coming in and yelling at me and then leaving. He apparently walked to his friend Jigger's where he was eventually asked to leave because other people wanted to sleep. He came back and yelled some more. I told him that I was done talking to him for the evening and that if he wanted to discuss the incident some more he would have to wait until morning. He told me to fuck off and continued to rant at me. Around seven in the morning he went to his parents house. He came back and ranted some more, this time adding that is parents were appalled and disappointed. I told him once again that if he wanted to discuss the incident, he would have to wait until we had both gotten some sleep.
I have a searing headache because instead of leaving when I wanted to leave we had another two drinks. And, I don't care if I'm being selfish or if I'm a bitch or if I'm two faced or evil. I offered him two ways home, he could have come home with me or he could have taken cab fare from me but, and I don't remember what he said but it must have been inappropriate since I left him at the club (with my jacket because he had to coat check numbers... by the way, he didn't get my jacket for me on his way out...he ended up with Gavin's jacket and he's done nothing but moan about that in between telling me I'm a fucking bitch and that he is a much better person than I am.) He went to the pub about an hour ago, but not before telling me to fuck off a few more times.
So, I don't know what I'm going to do now. I mean, I could just come home and move back in with my parents. I could keep trying to get a job. I don't really want this to be how my time in Wales ends. There is a studentship that I was thinking about applying for; its sociolinguistics and Welsh and would be about Urban learners and would be very interesting. I am a good fit for it and I would get to work with Nik Coupland which would be awesome.
I didn't leave because he wouldn't dance with me, although that certainly brought everything into focus for me. Everything is about him. He is always, "me, me, me" and, apparently, he didn't want to dance. its always, "can you lend me a tenner?" or, "we'll do this next Wednesday" and then Wednesday rolls around and I'm all excited about our plans and he says at the last minute, "I don't feel like it. We'll do it another time." Or, "Why don't you dress up for me" or "why haven't you joined a gym you said you were going to join a gym." or "why aren't you happy I just want you to be happy." or, my favorite, "what are we having for dinner?" followed immediately by, "I don't like that." when I make suggestions or a million other little things that he says out loud on top of the unspoken shit like, "can you make up the rent because I'm (still) unemployed and will be a bit short."
Want to make me happy? Dance with me for three minutes, that's all it would have taken. How is that so hard? Dance with me to a song that I haven't heard since last summer...and the last time I heard it friends of mine were playing it. Like that would have just ruined everything and his world would have come crashing down around him.
Tomorrow is my last Welsh class. Fory mae e'n dosbarth cymraeg olaf. I'm a little sad about it. But, if you've been following (and recently, missing) my Welsh updates, have no fear. My arholiad cymraeg is on May 11th and due to spotty attendance the last month or so, I have a lot of reviewing (Welsh English speakers read: revising) to do to prepare for the exam. So, This Week in Welsh will probably be even better, if not more frequent than before.
Huzzah.
I have also just booked tickets to spend a fortnight in the States. Since I've not been home in something like seven months, I'm ridiculously excited about it. Ridiculously. Now, I hate to be that arrogant person that seems all high and mighty and act like "just everyone wants to see me!" but, if you read this, and you want to hang out if you could email me and let me know when you will be free from April 22nd until May 2nd so that I can come up with a tentative plan. A fortnight goes awful fast and I don't want to miss anyone.
I want to wake up in the morning and feel good about myself. I want to begin my day with peace and joy. I want to be happy. I want to see the beauty in the world around me and rejoice that I have the opportunity to take part in the world.
I don't want to skulk back to my parent's house feeling like a failure.
I want a job and to continue studying and to have friends that I see all the time and not just occasionally. I want to feel like I can speak my mind anywhere and everywhere and not fear reprisal or that petty self-obsessed people in my vicinity will attempt to "get even" with me for simply having my own opinion and for disagreeing with them.
I am tired of asking people over and over again to call me by my name. I am tired of being told, "Well, you shouldn't have pissed me off" as if I have control over the emotional responses of the people around me.
I want to be treated with respect. I want to be loved and cared for.
I'm having some problems right now; I'm not sure how to solve them.
Welcome to the countdown, people. Its moments like this when you have to wonder...What do I do with all my time when I'm obviously not spending it doing any of the things that I say are meaningful to me or that I enjoy.
My Research Proposal...nowhere near done. When is it due? Friday. The good news is that it is being submitted electronically.
My Apartment...nowhere near clean. Dishes need to be done. Laundry needs to be sorted. Floors need to be mopped. Its a general state of chaos, really.
My boyfriend...asleep on the sofa. Which is unfortunate because I need to ask him a question about...
Train tickets...not bought. I should have bought them a week ago. Now, I want to stay within a certain price range and while I'm okay leaving for London at 5 in the morning in order to be there before Beth gets there and to not have to rush from London Paddington out to Heathrow I don't know how someone else who is accompanying me to London will feel. The other option at this time is to have fifteen minutes to get from Paddington to terminal three. I don't think that's enough and I really don't want to keep her waiting. (Although, I do suppose that it will take her some time to get through immigration and customs. I don't know. Obviously, there will be discussion when someone wakes up.)
My sister...still due to arrive on Friday morning. She's really the silver lining to the cloud hanging over my head.
I think I need to get back to meditating and practicing tai chi because I do not have the calm or the composure I used to have. And, I'm also losing my planning skills. I blame this on the Welsh (except Dawn, who is fantastic and is always where she says she'll be when she says she'll be there) for constantly disrupting my ability to make plans by being infuriatingly indecisive. Or, maybe its just my Welshman. (Don't tell him I called him that.)
So, that's what I'm up to. A lot of last minute running around. (Or, sitting down and typing as the case may be.)
In nine days, my sister will be here. She is coming for just a week, but what an action packed week it is going to be. It will start when I pick her up at Heathrow. We are then going to bum around London for the day before heading back to the comfort of my flat in Wales where we will prepare for Wales-England/St. Patrick's Day. We are planning on seeing the Roman Baths in Bath and we may go to the Dylan Thomas museum in London. It is hard to sit still being this excited about something. I sent her a tentative plan via email today and she responded saying it sounded great. I am so excited! My sister is going to be here! Of course, I still have to clean the flat and finish up the stuff I am going to send to Leeds. Speaking of which...
While I was walking to school today, I had a brilliant idea about my methodology that will add a whole new layer to what I plan on studying and will take my PhD a giant step beyond what I was doing with my Masters. I don't want to say here, but I'm very excited about the possibility of it.
Hooray.
Its Sunday afternoon. It should surprise no one that it is drizzling outside the window. I am a little disappointed by it because I thought it might be nice to go for a walk this afternoon. My boyfriend is snoring softly on the sofa; this is what Sundays are for. I am a little anxious and a little restless and a little annoyed at the rain. But, my current dilemma is not the rain or even the fact that I could really use a shower. It is what to have for lunch. I have to eat and then I have to go back to reading and writing because I have proposals due. I want to continue studying. I need to continue studying. I'm having trouble writing anything that is anywhere near the realm of "acceptable proposal".
Oh, and we're planning to watch Hot Fuzz again this evening, so I have a limited amount of time to do this eating and writing in. (In addition to the already limited time of my looming March 16th deadline. Sucker's got to be in the mail before I pick Beth up at the airport.)
I think my problem writing has very little to do with a lack of ideas or even a desire to do it. I think its a problem with visualization. I'm having trouble seeing my future.
I am not a crackpot nor am I a psychic. Stop looking at me like I'm some weirdo.
I am a person who likes to have goals. Well, its a little more than just "likes". I thrive on not just having things to do but goals to work towards, something in the future, some point that I can stop at and say, "See, look. Good Job! I told you that it was possible!" Even little things like 10 pounds or a photography project or a word count. And, maybe this is a bad thing because it kind of discourages one from paying attention to the moment, but whatever. I often find my goals to be what reminds me to savor and not squander the time I have. And, this should surprise no one coming from a photographer but I'm very good at visualizing things. Creating an image in my mind to correspond with an idea is something I like doing and something I find helpful. This process of visualization is something that just hasn't been happening lately. Its a problem. I feel stuck. What's more, I feel trapped like I'm wallowing in a present without direction or hope of escape. You'd imagine this sort of existential dilemma is not fun. You'd be right. So, I've been trying, in between working on things like having lunch with Georgia and looking for a job (I have the phone number of the guy who runs the fruit and veg stand near my house. He's looking for part-time help. I will keep you posted.) and, of course, breaking out last year's coursework so that I can right a proposal in pristine "Just like Alison taught us" form I've been trying to address the reasons for this creative block. And, I'm hoping that will help because I really need it to.
I am still around. I've been having computer problems. And, I know that I missed a few deadlines, one of the 15th and one day. But, in lieu of actually posting, I'm going to tell you about one of my new features!
At the risk of sounding like that Bud Light Commercial that saluted the "Real Men of Genius", I am calling the first recurring feature (for lack of a better name) "Pure Genius". (If you can think of a better title, let me know.) For those of you who don't remember (or who aren't American and weren't...exposed to the ad campaign) the "Real Men of Genius" ads were a series of ads saluting the inventors of ridiculous things. They looked something like this:
Unlike the "Real Men of Genius" ads, my intention is not to take the piss out of things, but rather to highlight some of my favorite things about being alive. I feel like I'm constantly surrounded by negativity. Every time I turn on the news, the stories are always about who has been hurt and who has stolen from whom and what city is currently host to a new group of victims from some cataclysm or tragedy. And, it is important to know these things, to know what is going on in the world. But, the negativity doesn't stop with the news. You can walk into a bar and see the weight of the world and desperation on people's faces. Actually, you can just walk down the street and see that. Or, you can walk into a store and see clerks being harassed by self-important customers or customers putting up with frustrated and touchy clerks. Plus, its easy to think you can't do something and to get down on yourself. Its easy to look at a magazine and think that you'll never be pretty enough or sit in a class and think that you aren't smart enough and all of this just creates energy that is out there in the universe.
Well, I want to put something else out into the universe. Something that is based on my gratitude for the million and one things that are around and that I sometimes take for granted but are really very cool. This feature will cover many things from food to animals to objects to ideas and people. I am very excited about it!
John and I have been together a year. A year and a week, actually. And, last week on our Anniversary, we went out to the recently redecorated The Royal George pub. Of course, that night both John and I were stricken with the flu. We both spent the majority of the next two days in bed. I, however, had to spend the time half in bed and half working on my presentation for my interview on Tuesday.
So, Monday it occurs to me that I have nothing I want to wear. So, I somehow manage to motivate myself to the shops. Every vendor with a little cart or a clipboard manage to block my feverish path. It was incredibly annoying. It took me a good ten minutes to extract myself from a particularly clingy Hare Krishna. I think he was just excited to have met someone who was willing to donate a quid to the meals and wheels he was collecting for and who wasn't rude to him. On the way back to the bus after picking out a new sweater and some other things on sale, one of the local spas had girls out selling discounted spa days. As tempting as it was, did I mention I was feverish? I made my way home. and back to bed.
Tuesday morning, I got up and the new copy of powerpoint I had installed on my computer didn't work. On top of that, it was incredibly slow. Around 11:30, I decided I would just save the handout I had created to my data stick, and go to the internet cafe to print it out. A half hour later, and I'm at the internet cafe. I stick my data stick into the computer...nothing. So, I try the other port. First, it tells me a new USB device has been attached to the machine. Then, it tells me that the device is faulty and that I should unhook it and try it again. So, I do that. I get the same message. Only, the message doesn't just say that I should unhook it and try it again, it also says that if I have already seen this message then I have faulty hardware and I should contact the manufacturer. Panic, absolute panic. The good news is, I have what is more or less an extra hardcopy of my Thesis (which was what I presented at the interview) with me. Good thing I thought to bring that, eh? So, from memory, I recreated the entire handout. This process took about an hour and a half. So, now its 1:30. I have an interview in Swansea which is an hour train ride away with trains that leave in the 20s and the 50s. My interview is at 4:15 I call a taxi, and but it doesn't get me the station until after 2. I buy a return ticket and notice the train that was supposed to leave at 1:56 or 1:47 or whatever is still listed on the board. And, lucky me its still waiting at the platform, too. I hop on the train, and find myself a seat and it leaves around 2:15. We pull into Swansea about an hour before my interview. My glands are still swollen and huge and I've done nothing but swallow saliva all day, you know how when you have swollen glands and a really sore throat all you want to do is swallow? (Sorry for the over-share.) Anyway, My stomach absolutely aches and a manage to force down about a quarter of an egg mayo sandwich before getting into the taxi queue. Swansea is actually a lovely city and the University is across from the sea. I would like to go back and visit, the city at least, as a tourist because it did seem really nice. I got to the University about a half hour early. I simply waited in the main departmental office and looked over my notes. The interview was with someone from personnel, two people from the government bodies that the project would be working with and the academic that would be running the show. I gave my presentation. The academic seemed really interested and excited about it. I answered some questions. I don't think I did very well. They wanted to know if I had access to a car in order to get to the more remote areas that I would be asked to work in. I told them (and this is true) that I'm not legally allowed to drive in this country. I think that was a bit of an unfair question anyway because it wasn't in the job description. I then came home and made some spaghetti and felt like a tool who had failed at a job interview. I went to bed early.
Since then, I've done some reading and some cartoon watching and a whole lot of sleeping. I'm still not better. started coughing two days ago and John's Mom dropped in some cough medicine this morning. Although, my right tonsil has finally stopped swelling my left one is still inflamed. Its annoying. John is better, at least.
I have a job interview next Tuesday. I have to make a ten minute presentation on a piece of research I have recently completed (my dissertation would be an obvious choice.) I am thinking that I will do a power point presentation. Any advice or suggestions?
OH MY GOD!
So, I actually sat down and wrote things out that I wanted to resolve to so or change in the New Year before the end of the Old Year. But, a new addiction to X-Box and my continual computer problems have ...contrived to? colluded against? impeded my abilities to seriously log in (and be in a writing mood) and post these. 2007 is going to be an awesome year, oh, yes. But, its not enough to just make resolutions, one has to actually do something with them in order of them to be of any worth.
My roommate in India, a woman named Lisa, once told me that the difference between a resolution or a dream or an idea and a goal is that a goal is something that you have defined and then set a way to measure its achievement. One might resolve to lose weight, but it is not a goal until one sits down and says:
I would like to lost a stone (12 pounds) by March 1st.
Now, I'm not one that really likes to structure things in relation to time, for some reason I just find that to be too restrictive, somehow it always hits my internal panic button and panic tends to make the quality of the work to go down. (I prefer to set a goal and then come up with ways to accomplish them and then as long as I stick with the tasks I have set myself, then I will be happy with my accomplish whenever it comes to fruition.) So, this is what I plan to do. I am going back on the South Beach Diet, heading straight into phase one with its lack of simple carbohydrates and plethora of veg. I am also going to do two laps around the park outside of my house everyday. However, I understand that the rest of the world tends to operate on time restrictions (deadlines), and I am aware that time can be a very powerful motivator.
But, weight is not the only thing that I would like to work on in the New Year. I've been resting on my laurals in the past six months or so, and I want to give my laurels a rest and press on and be the interesting, thoughtful human being again. How do I propose to do this? Well, with my next two goals, of course.
On this blog, I have the semi-regular features of my reviews of things and This Week in Welsh. In addition to keeping these up, I plan on adding two new features this year. I have yet to finalize these features, so I won't give you any details yet, but I can tell you to expect them On January 15th and January 30th. (Teaser: At least one of them will involve language in some way. Excited? I know I am.)
The second way I'm intending to let my laurels rest is by getting back to my "Classic" education by picking up where I left off on my list of Books I'd Like To Read. I'm intending to start with what I have in my flat and the book for January is Lady Chatterly's Lover.
My last resolution should come as no surprise, and that is to work on getting funding for a PhD. I have decided that, if I can't find funding that I will just have to take out a loan. But, that is hopefully the last ditch effort that won't have to happen. This resolution has been broken down into smaller mini-goals, the first of which is "proposal phase." I have not been happy with what I have written so far, but I think I'm on a roll now. I've given myself a deadline of January 17th for having my proposal finished.
I'm very excited about my goals and I look forward to seeing how they work out and how my life takes shape. I hope that you, too, are excited about the prospect of this new Year!
And, it shouldn't surprise anyone that it is "Virus". It looks like I may just have to go back to the beginning and reinstall windows on my computer. Its not so much that I have a virus now as that my computer frequently decides if and when it wants to restart itself. The above image is representative of me being tormented by the process of figuring out what is wrong and fixing it.
Oh, and I have, more or less, lost my job tutoring because of this new and exciting quirk of my computer. Hooray, me!
That is a visual representation of how I feel about the virus that is currently infecting my hard drive and fucking up my life. A virus that was downloaded by the boys along with a file that was supposed to help fix the Love Monkey's computer, but in the end was not only virused up to fuck but also did not contain the right information.
This has been going on since Tuesday and hopefully today it will stop. With luck, I will indeed take that ax blade and imbed it into the skull of the trojan that keeps restarting my computer at inopportune times and I will slay it. I will be covered in the blood and guts of glorious victory and I won't have had to put my fist through anything that exists outside of cyberspace.
This incredibly irritating occurence has meant that I have missed two tutoring sessions this week. Apparently, I have angered the Father of one of my students (because I thought I had it sorted and then my computer crashed an hour before class and I asked if I could cancel class to hopefully get things sorted out.) He shouldn't complain, though. His son's lesson yesterday was ten minutes longer than it had to be (although, again I was late signing on because my computer, once again, restarted itself.)
The plus side of this is that my BIOS has been updated and my registry has been cleaned. I have updated my security and I now have a new spyware program that will hopefully help in keeping things running smoothly. I will not say that it is fixed, or even that I am hopeful that it will be fixed soon. But, rather, I will say that I do carry the axe of "Get Out, You Varmit" and that I will use i t on anything cheeky enough to fuck up the smooth sailing that used to be my sweet little machine.
And, in the end, I will succeed!
I have a deep and abiding love cranberries. I absolutely adore them. And, this is cranberry time of year. I am so happy. Of course, my first task during cranberry season was to make cranberry orange relish for Thanksgiving. I had to use frozen cranberries, but it still worked out fine.
Then, I was at the store and I came across fresh cranberries. FRESH CRANBERRIES! Well, I had to buy them. Then, I had to do something with them. So, I bought a few pears and figured that I would boil the lot with a little bit of sugar and make a sort of cranberry pear sauce. So, I did. I like to think of this as a "compote", but I don't know if it quite qualifies.
But, do you know what cranberry pear compote/sauce is good with? Homemade trifle.
I've never made trifle before, but it didn't seem to be too difficult. Some jello, some custard a few lady fingers, some freshly whipped cream and the fruit sauce. Oh, yes. Its lovely, I do declare.
I think I may have mispelled Tywydd.
How's the weather? One might say. And, one might answer: dreadful. Its pissing down and have you seen those gale force winds? Not to mention the thunder. When do we ever hear thunder? Its mad, I tell you. I got up at 6:30 this morning and I listened to the wind and I listened to the rain and I thought, " I am feeling so much better than I did yesterday. I bet if I tried to speak my voice would be well on the mend. I don't have near the amount of sinus pressure as I did before. I don't feel feverish. I'm feeling quite good, actually." Then, came the thunder. And, a gust of wind. Which was followed by another and then another and the another for the next hour and I found myself thinking, "I have to wakl to school. I have to walk to school and then if it is raining I will have to sit in my class soaking wet and probably shivering until the end of class at which point I will have to walk home. Will that be good for me?"
I do not doubt that the walking would be good for me. Instead I am concerned by the hour and a half of sitting in wet clothing shivering. And, while thinking of the shivering, I suddenly lose my will to get up and move about out in the world. I want to stay where it is warm and dry.
So, I do. And, for the first time in a long time I do not feel a tinge of guilt for my decision not to leave the house. Of course, I will probably leave the house at some point today. There is a video that needs to be taken back into the video shop and I was thinking about making a pie. Of course, I have been thinking about making a pie for ages now, so that probably won't happen tonight. What will probably happen is that I will sit down and begin to read something and then I will be distracted by something else and on and on this will go until the evening is over and it is time to go to bed.
But, for now, I will sit here and listen to the wind and work on cleaning the apartment and tutor and maybe make lunch after I am done tutoring. We shall see.
Brain: Hey, Sinus Cavity, would you mind not leaning so much this way, I'm feeling a little pressure back here.
Sinus Cavity: THE MUCUOUS IS EVERYWHERE! OH MY GOD I AM COVERED IN IT! THIS IS SO GROSS. ARGHH! I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW FREAKING....I MEAN, GOD! YUCK! WHERE DOES THIS STUFF COME FROM?!?!
Brain: Okay, I can see you're having issues today, I'll just talk to nasal passages and maybe the eustachion tubes, that's fine. Don't stress, neon green's a good color for you.
::Brain backs away slowly::
Hey, nose. You couldn't see fit to, I don't know, blow or something and release some of the pressure up here, could you? We're feeling a little cramped.
Nose: No. Has vista ese mierda? No voy a tocarlo. Nuh-uh. Prefiero besar la culo de su Mama.
Brain: You are so foul-mouthed, I mean really. Where did you learn that? And, worthless, I could have the hand meet you with a tissue and the lungs to give you an extra push, its not like you would actually have to do any work.
Nose: No Tengo que trabajo, porque soy muy bonita. Mira mis anillos. Y tu? Que haces? huh? piensas? Pfft. Puedo pensar si quiero.
Brain: Fuck off. I can speak like, six languages and balance a check book. Like a care if you're pierced.
Nose: No puedes contar "Welsh". solamenta siete ciento miles hablan ese lenguaje. Hay mas gente vota en sus eleciones por Reina de prom. Los Welsh piensa que su lengua cuenta, pero nadie no cuida que ellos piensan. Tambien, ellos no printan sus proprio dinero, usan el dinero de Inglaterra. Jodales. Si El Vaticano printa su proprio dinero, entonces los Welsh pueden printarlo tambien. Peredores.
Brain: Whoa, harsh. You know you live in Wales, right. You're going to get yourself broken with an attitude like that. And, I wouldn't hold the Vatican up as your shiny example of what a nation should be...they claim a dead language as one of their official tongues, remember. Oh, ya and have so much stolen knowledge from the past millenia that if we really want to learn anything new about the Ancient Greeks or Romans instead of finding new archeological sites, we should like, storm the Vatican.
Eustatichion Tubes: Parliano di il Vaticano? Il Papa e stano un Nazi, no?
Brain: Eusti! Ciao! Indeed, AND the Pope was a Nazi.
Nose: No me importa si el Papa es un maricon que prefiere ninos, No hablaba del Papa, hablaba de la Welsh.
Brain: Oh, I heard you, I just didn't care.
Nose: Tambien, no estoy hablando con ese wue los Eustachion Tubes. ::To the Eustachion Tubes:: Chingate, pendejo.
Eustachion Tubes: Mi vuoi bene, lo admiti.
Nose: Dije, "Chingate."
Eustachion Tubes: ::blows kisses at the nose::
Brain: I can see this is going nowhere. Tonsils, how are you?
Tonsils: Confused. Is that proper Spanish or is someone being an asshat?
Brain: Someone is being an asshat.
Nose: Puedo oirte!
Eustachion Tubes: ti Ascolto.
Tonsils: I'm sure that's not what you've meant to say. The two of you. I'm mean really. Oh, by the way, we're swollen and someone should really take a look at the state of the throat.
Tongue: Ich Habe Einen Kleinen Problemo Avec Diese Religione. ::Tongue Giggles::
Brain: Thank you, Tongue, but I'm not sure this is the time for humor.
Skull: Mae pen tost gyda fi. ::cries::
Nose: Eso no es un lenguaje!
Brain: Skull, I know, sweetie, I'm working on it. NOSE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST GO BLOW YOURSELF!
Nose: Pero mas gente habla Klingon!
Throat: Oh, that ii it. Nose, Eustachion Tubes, Brain, EVERYONE! Are you listening?! I demand that I, in my swollen state that I not have to listen to this bickering anymore! I demand Painkillers and a decongestant! And Juice! And, if that goes well perhaps some soup. And a film in which there is a smart, funny, independent woman that frequently sticks her foot in her mouth.
Brain: So, you want to watch Bridget Jones?
Throat: Or Emma, if you don't mind.
Brain: I think we might be able to swing it.
Its that time of year again. The time of year where the television is full of ads scored with children's choirs singing carols and store windows are full of displays and window decals with penguins dancing with wrapped packages. Which for me, as an American, means Thanksgiving! Last year, I held a Thanksgiving feast for my housemates and a few of the other masters' students and it was a huge success. This year, my friend Anne-Marie and I decided to co-host the event. It became a magical refuge that felt very much like home.
When you prepare for Thanksgiving, anywhere you have it, you have to start with a menu and a guest list. Thanksgiving is a holiday that celebrates being thankful for what you have and that to us meant inviting our friends here in Wales. When all was said and done we'd invited around twenty people. Which brings us to the menu. If you have twenty people coming over for dinner to celebrate a holiday none of them have ever celebrated before, you want to have as much tradition on the table as possible. We started with the centerpiece, Anne-Marie's boyfriend Eamonn has a bigger house than either of us have and he offered us the space; he also offered to take on the bird which was a whopping 19.4 pounds. Which left Anne-Marie and I to faff about the side dishes. The line in the dishes ended up resembling a wonky mason-dixon line with Anne-Marie making such dishes as Mach Choux and cornbread dressing and me filling in with the green bean casserole, cranberry relish and what came to be known as "Yankee stuffing" (It was a lovely apple and sausage affair.) To this mix there was also added sweet potato casserole, squash casserole, sugar snap peas, mashed potatoes and some really spectacular homemade gravy. And, of course, we had pie for dessert. I made a chocolate pecan pie and Anne-Marie provided mini-pumpkin (ish) pies (they were actually butternut squash), key lime pie, and a cherry cheese pie.
But, long before we could ever get to the end product that was the actual and awesome meal, we had to begin by navigating the grocery store.
Most American recipes are full of helpful descriptions of amounts like, "half stick of butter" or "one can carnation sweetened condensed milk". Which, unfortunately do not translate because butter does not always come and sticks and can sizes vary with country. On top of this, there is the added bonus of many staples of traditional American food just not being available places that are not America. Things like, dark corn syrup and French's fried onions. So, you make do.
Instead of just using a can of sweetened condensed milk, Anne-Marie weighed out what she thought was the appropriate measurement. This made for a slightly soupy cherry cheese pie. Instead of using crunchy onions, I used pickled pearl onions and cheese and onion potato chips. This gave the green bean casserole a slightly vinegar taste.
But, the hardest one to deal with was the corn syrup, because in order to make pecan pie you need something that is equal to taste and texture as dark corn syrup. In the end, I settled for black treacle. This had the color of tar with the consistency of corn syrup and a slight flavor or molasses. The pie turned out fine in the end. I left the last slice with one of Eamonn's housemates. When I asked if he wanted it, his face lit up.
The feast raged until well past 11, and then it strolled along merrily until 1:30 in the morning. Worn out, John and I took a cab with our leftovers back to our flat where we snuggled on the sofa and watched a documentary on symbolism. I ended up going to bed around 3 o'clock.
Thanksgiving is one of those traditions that I used to look at with skepticism. It was so close to Christmas, why did we bother? On top of that, when we're told the whole story of the pilgrims which makes you secretly wonder if it should be named something like, as Sarah suggests, "Happy National Kill the Natives in the Name of Colonialism Day". But, regardless of how I used to feel, I am now grateful for this tradition that has given me the opportunity to pause and appreciate all that I have, and to share that bounty with people that I have made my life brighter since I have moved so far from home.
Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. There is no logical reason for this. I do not dress up for Halloween. I do not do anything in particular to celebrate it. Its mostly that I like this time of year. School is underway (and, being a huge nerd that is very important to me.) The leaves are changing. There is a crispness to the air and the hint of snow to come (or, at least there was prior to moving to Cardiff.) And, all kinds of excellent fruits and vegetables are in season. User groups are taking time out to exchange pumpkin recipes, there are caramel apples in the farmer's market. It is a spectacular time of year where it feels like things are coming to fruition. I just love autumn, I suppose, and Halloween is a celebration firmly rooted in the middle of it.
Yesterday afternoon, whilst I have been looking for jobs and seriously jonesing for a bit of home, I received an email from my Father mentioning that he and my Mother would be dressing up for Halloween at their respective jobs. My mother wears the same thing every year: she dresses in all black and wears a pointy witch's hat. I do not know what my Father will be wearing this year (as he didn't tell me, he is going to send me a picture when he is all dressed up), but I have an image in my head of him dressed up as a Christopher Lee-style Dracula. The Halloween celebrating of my parents does not stop there, though. For, you see, they have a cat.
We have had Mittens since she was a kitten and since I was seven or eight. That is not the best picture of her as it was taken with a mobile phone, but you get the point. Mittens is a venerable, old kitty who spends her days lying about the house, asking to go outside, playing with bits of string, and talking my Mother into giving bits of chicken or fish. However, this year Mittens will also be dressing up for Halloween. Under normal circumstances, I do not approve of dressing up your pets. Poor little fur babies already have on a coat, what do they need a hat and gloves for? And, as for how Mittens actually feels about being dressed up, well, just check out the look on her face.
I am not quite sure what she is supposed to be. I think it might be a bat. Or, perhaps even a dog. The only thing I can say about this photo, other than it made me smile, is that it looks like Mittens has put on a little weight. Although, it could just be the way the costume is tied around her neck.
There are two ways of counting in Welsh. The newer system is based on ten and an older system that is based on twenty. You know, when you are singing an English translation of a Catalan Christmas Carol and you sing, "On December five and twenty" Or you're doing a bit of research on American history and read, "It was four score and seven years ago." Its that sort of thing. And, while the older system is on its way out in most daily actitivies, such as counting above twenty-nine, it is still very much entrenched in something all of us do at least once a day: tell the time.
So, to begin with, one needs to be able to count to twelve, which is simple enough: un (een), dau (dai), tri (tree), pedwar (pedwahr), pump (pimp), chewch (ch*ech), saith, wyth (oith), naw (now), deg (deig), un ar ddeg (een ahr dd**eig), deuddeg (deiddeg).
How cool is that, being able to count to twelve in Welsh?
Continuing on, for "after" or "past" you say "wedi" (wehdee). To say "to", you say "i" (ee).
"chawrter" (chahrter) means "quarter" and "hanner" (hahner) means half. So, to say quarter past 2 you say, "chawrter wedi dau". If you want to say half past eleven, you say, "hanner wedi un ar ddeg." (or, "hanner awr wedi un ar ddeg." in which "awr" which sounds like "hour" means, surprisingly "hour."). All of this is the cake walk. Its when you want to say twenty after, or twenty-five to, or what have you that things get hairy.
You see, in the ten system, you'd just say dau ddeg for twenty. Simple, two tens. In the old system, you say, ugain (eegain). Got it? un ar hugain, dau ar hugain, tri ar hugain...and up and onwards. Except when you are telling time. Then, before you said, "ar" (I know, your inner pirate is dying to tell time now) you say, "munud" (minid).
So, if someone asks you, "Faint o'r gloch ydy hi? (vaint or gloch yhdee hee?) And your watch is telling you 2:40, you would answer, "Mae hi'n hugain munud i tri" (my heen heegain minid ee tree). Its twenty minutes to three. Or, if it was 4:21 you would say, "Mae hi'n un munud ar hugain wedi bedwar."
Okay, so maybe time isn't all that bad.
Oh, one more thing, in the older system, everything up to 15 follows the pattern of "un ar ddeg" (except deuddeg). After fifteen, pymtheg, you add pymtheg instead of deg, so seventeen is "dau ar pymtheg". Think of it as roman numerals.
Well, then. You're set and ready to go with time.
This afternoon the meditation centre that has been running a meditation class I've been attending went out and did some publicity to advertise the classes that are coming up. I had no plans for the afternoon, so they picked me up at the community centre and we drove into town.
Now, because Cardiff is in Wales, and Wales has a tendency to be rainy this was interesting. While I was in an organic cafe off of Queen Street (which smelled divine) the sky opened up and threw down buckets of water onto the City Centre. I darted out of the cafe to meet Neal, the meditation teacher, as people were shrieking and running for cover, as if Godzilla or some other equally scary gigantic monster were bearing down on them. It was just a little rain. Well, it was just a lot of rain. A lot of cold rain. We popped into an arcade and politely asked some more people if we could put posters up in their windows. It was a mostly successful day.
I saw a poster about this time last year and thought about going to classes. I speculate that it was this memory of the poster that inspired me to have a look online to see if they were still running classes. Well, that and the fact that and a friend of mine back home has recently started meditation and has found that it has been well worth her while.
I find the idea of volunteer publicity people to be quite interesting. Word-of-mouth seems to count for quite a lot. I know I find that when someone I trust recommends something to me, I am generally willing to give it a try. And, as for things online, I myself have gotten advance copies of CDs and DVDs in order to review them for BlogCritics. (I suppose, ethically, there may not be much difference between getting something from a publicist and being in the employ of a record label or some other corporation. It is possible that I am just a shill. However, I would like to, at this point, argue that the difference is that I am not paid for the reviews, nor am I paid for kind words. I review something because I have been given a copy of it. And, given that I'm a blogger and have been for some time, its not really much effort on my part as I would probably have written about most of the things I've written about anyway.) Its big business, publicizing things. Its big business that has come to the internet in a big way. And, you don't have to take my word for it, you just have to go to a site like rojo where you'll find stories about corporation created blogs or you can find plenty of reading material out there about the (as the article l just linked called it) "Trojan Horse" that online community sites have become. Its things like this that make me feel dirty. No one likes feeling like someone (or something) has taken advantage of them. If you were way into Lonelygirl15 and then you found out that Bree is not actually Bree but instead an actress named Jessica Rose, I'd feel a little taken for a ride. Wasn't that part of the problem people had with The Blair Witch Project? This is something I want to give some thought to, as part of my ethical ponderings.
I believe the world is not something that can be commodified and marketed, or at least that shouldn't be. Obviously,I'm in the minority on this one. What is the difference between companies publicizing things through sites like MySpace or blogs run by PR firms and me wandering around the City of Cardiff in order to spread the word about meditation classes?
I suppose the best place for me to start would be the difference expressed in the language. "Spreading the word" is a phrase that tends to be used to describe a process of dissemination of information meant for the betterment, enjoyment and safety of those around you. You spread the word about a great band you've heard or a film you've seen. The phrase is also used in religious settings such as, "The disciples set out to spread the word about Jesus." So, "spreading the word" (and, I would say "word of mouth") has this connotation of something being one trusted individual to another trusted individual. It has a sense of a goal that involves sharing something with you instead of having a goal of sharing something with as many people as possible.
To create a fake blog because or YouTube page because someone is paying you to is to take that trust that is implicit in the frame of "word of mouth" and "spreading the word" and to exploit it. Blogs are good publicity because they are virtual word of mouth. They are anonymous people chatting up and about what they do and do not like. Its like a bunch of people talking about things they like in a bar, only with a wider audience. This makes them a gold mine. However, to not dislcose that something is run by people that are paid by a company is disingenuous. But, then the goals of business, particularly under the doctrine of free-enterprise have little to gain from being open and honest.
So, it would seem that one's motivation may be just as important as what one does or says. Which is interesting, seeing as there is a long-standing debate about whether you get into heaven based on your deeds or your beliefs. I don't know if this has brought me any closer to figuring out what a "moral" is or what "ethics" are, but maybe it has. At the very least, its given me more stuff to consider. And, that's always a good thing.
So, we got up around 8:30 this morning. Which is sleeping in for us. I read a little, John watched the extras on the X-men 3 DVD. John went back to bed. I read some more. I think I fell asleep again. I'm getting up the energy to go out and take some pictures. John has gone to the pub because Wales is playing Slovakia today in the Euro 2008 qualifiers. Before he left he tried to talk me into taking the disposable camera instead of my real camera out and then the last thing he said to me on the way out of the door was, "Don't get mugged." I think he was a little upset that I wouldn't take his advice. However, I did not spend all that money on a digital camera to use a disposable camera. (Which I have just to take to bars.)
It feels like a Sunday and not like a Saturday. I have Welsh vocabulary to learn. Among the words I have on flash cards are such exciting things as "porridge" and the color "black". "Black" as a word in Welsh amuses me because its spelled "du" which is said "dee". Its great. The whole language is great. Thumbs up to Welsh.
I've been having a lot of really weird and very vivid dreams about such things as the Peace Corps, spiders, and castles filled with books. Its been a very tense week because the dreams have been effecting how I've been sleeping which has made me bitchy.
Coming up (hopefully) this weekend, I will post a This Week in Welsh and a music review of Mewithoutyou's new CD. So, stay tuned and such.
Cardiff is supposed to be host to gale force winds, I hear. Not first hand, of course because weather reports are for chumps. I'd much rather wish I had my umbrella with me than actually have my umbrella with me.
I received two emails today my CV. One from someone I sent it to and one from someone who saw it on Monster.com. I feel these are good signs. I will hopefully going in for at least one interview next week. It is hard to think of Cardiff as home right now, because I don't often get to see my friends and I'm not in school anymore. Also, I think its hard because my lovely boy has lived her for so long that he knows everyone. We joined the video shop today and while we were walking home we saw three people he knew. Of course, he's introduced me to them so I know them, too. Its just hard sometimes to think of them as "our friends" when they were "his friends" for so long before I even existed here in this city.
I have some hope, though. There is a weekly Welsh conversation drinking hour run by one of the teachers at a pub not far from here on Wednesdays. Which is perfect as my lovely has a night class on Wednesdays. I'm thinking about going. Also, there are meditation classes just down the road on Tuesdays starting next Tuesday and I'm definitely thinking about that. A friend of mine has recently been taking meditation back home and has met with much success. It has rekindled my interest and has got me to dig through my books and pull out the ones I have here on meditation.
I know it takes awhile to get settled and that I will adjust to the changes in my life. But, its still a lot of getting used to.
While it would seem that language, like life, is very simply divided up into past, present and future anyone that has taken a language class will tell you that it is not that simple. If you studied Spanish you remember being bogged down with whether or not to use the pretérito or the imperfecto in the past or if you were an Italian student whether to use the passato prossimo or the passato remoto. Many hours have been spent looking at and memorizing whether things are perfect or imperfect or progressive. And, it can be confusing. Very, very confusing. Theses differences are known as aspect, which is a linguistic concept that specifies how time is related to an event being discussed. Wikipedia says that aspect, "defines the temporal flow (or lack thereof) in the described event or state." Aspect is typically considered to be part of the verb.
Why did you need to know that? Well, you didn't really. But, this M.A. isn't doing anything else for me right now, so it might as well bore you with not necessarily useful information about language.
Welsh, not surprisingly, has different past tenses that mark "temporal flow". We have started to learn the past, starting with the tense that marks completed actions in the past. This was once described to me (by Señora Kaalberg back when I was studying Spanish) as the "boom" tense. It happened. Boom! It is now over and done. And, in teaching us this, our teachers have started with two verbs. (Arguably, the two most useful verbs in any language.) "Be" and "Go".
To say "I was (over. done with. finished) in the class" you say, "Bues i yn y dosbarth." And, "bues i" is pronounced as if you were talking about Bovine spongiform encephalopathy or BSE. So, "BSE un uh dosbarth." And, it goes on like. Buest ti yn y dosbarth (you were in the class), Buodd hi yn y dosbarth (she was in the class), Buodd e yn y dosbarth (he was in the class), buoch chi yn y dosbarth (You (formal)/y'all were in the class), Buon ni yn y dosbarth (we were in the class) and Buon nhw yn y dosbarth (they were in the class). or the shop (siop), or in the library (llfrygell). Wicked, eh?
To say "went" is similar and pretty easy. "I" and "You" follow the same pattern, "Es i'r siop" and "Est ti'r swyddfa (said: soyddvuh. means: office). And, for the rest you have "aeth" (or aethon or aethoch) which is said like "ice" if you had a lisp. So, "We went to the restaurant," is "Aethon ni yn y dy bwyd" (said: aethon nee un uh dee boid).
This week in Welsh has been brought to you by the linguistic concept of Aspect (which, if you would like to read more my former Professors Paula Kempchinsky and Roumyana Slabakova have published a book on it. I've not read it, but I learned a lot from taking classes from both of them so I feel its only fair that I recommend something of theirs.) Hwyl Fawr!
The Welsh word for wine is "Gwin" (said: gween). As we have learned in week 1, if you like wine, and would like to tell people this, you'd say, "Dw i'n hoffi gwin coch." ("coch" is said, like "Kahch", with that nice German "ch "sound at the end.) You'll want to remember that later.
In 2004, when I was in Europe with Beth and E we played a game. The rules of the game were thus: When you mishear someone, you give them a puzzled look and then repeat what you think you heard them say. For example, while we were in Barcelona, I said, "I think this side street connects to our alley way." But, E heard, "Does this kid's salad contemplate the literati?" You can see why it is an amusing game. I still like to play it. Earlier today John said to me, "I think I have collected some more bugs." At least, that is what I thought he said. What had actually come out of his mouth was, "Could you hand me the cotton wool buds."
The first week of Welsh class, we spent a lot of time telling each other the two or three things we knew how to say in Welsh that we liked. One of my classmates didn't come to class on Thursday. We turned up at the Humanities building at the same time and I waited for her while she chained up her bike. As we walked into the building together she said, "What did I miss yesterday? I just couldn't manage getting up yesterday morning. I went out with some friends on Wednesday night and just had too much green cock." A puzzled look crossed my face. My first thought was, "Wow. That is really open of her." It was immediately followed by the thought, "This is too early in the morning to be talking about sex toys with a stranger." Then she stopped walking and said, "No. That can't be right. Greeno cock? Gwin coch?" Realization dawned on me.
"Ah," I said. "That's competely understandable. Gwin has that way of creeping up on you." I was very grateful that I hadn't decided, in that moment, to play the game.
I have recently learned a new word. Although it looks like two words, we're going to pretend that it is only one. We're going to think of it as a string or a compound because both of these words work together to describe one single entity out in the world. There is much evidence to suggest that the basis of language is actually phraseological and not based on single words. I may have already told you that. I may be off on a tangent now. Oops.
The word is : Unol Daleithiau. I know what you're thinking, "But that isn't in English." I know, its Welsh. But, this will hopefully all make sense in a minute. If you wanted to say something like, "I'm from the States," this is a good word to know. You say: "Dw i'n dod o yr Unol Daleithiau." This is something I never would have said before I moved here. And, not just because it is in Welsh.
I'm sure this a rant I've been on before, but its one that I think is powerful and interesting. It is interesting how people describe themselves because it is indicative of how they see themselves. It is also indicative about how people in the immediate vicinity see them. Its not all internal; its not immutable. And, that to me is what makes it interesting.
I would have never identified myself as being, "from the States" before moving here for a number of reasons. First off, I've lived most of my life in the States. So, saying you're from there while you're still there is a bit redundant. Yes, honey. We know. Which state? Often more importantly, What city or township do you call home? Also, how often do you hear anyone say that when there are other ways to say it that are, I don't know, less phraseological and more succint like "I'm from America." or even, "I'm American."? Well, this might have to do with the cringe factor of being called "American". And, that just makes things so much more interesting.
I suppose at this point I should say something about how there is nothing wrong with being American. The United States is a lovely country full of helpful, charming people. Its an exciting democratic republic where occasionally portions of the population turn up at polls and allegedly elect the leadership and help to set and drive policy. I love my homeland. And, I miss it. But, these things aren't the point at the moment.
I personally shy away from the term "American" because it references the continent. I am not the citizen of a continent, but of a country on a continent. While this is a pointless distinction, it is one that I make nonetheless. I also shy away from the term "American" because in the past five years, at least inside the U.S., it has come to be used with much frequency by a certain subsection of the population and to describe that subsection. You know, "True Americans" . The people who are "real patriots". The ones that support the government 100% and had bumper stickers on the vehicles that said things like, "First Iraq, then Chirac." The ones thar are willing to give up a little bit of freedom and are okay with legislation like the Patriot Act that was voted on without reports from the House or Senate and with very little debate. (Which, by the way, is Congress not doing its job. We elect to pass effective legislation, which they aren't doing if they are hastily voting on things without conference reports or debate.) The ones that inspire music like Green Day's American Idiot. When I think about what home means to me and when I think that for most people, my home is America, I shudder to think that I am classed with these people.
Outside of the States, "American" doesn't necessarily have the political connontations that it may have at home. People who don't live in the States don't necessarily know about the bumper stickers or individual pieces of legislation. Although, they do know about our elections, which seem to get crazier and less verifiable every time they occur. My point is, that the further from the States you get, the more "American" seems to be a geographical marker first, and a political marker second. And, that is sometimes hard to reconcile with the notions built in your head from life inside the nation. And, that's where language as a marker of identity and language as a tool of communication don't gel. Do I say what will me the most accessible to my audience or do I say what I feel is more descriptive and truer representation of what I am? And, there isn't a one-size-fits-all answer. It depends on the situation. It depends how well you're planning on getting to know the other speakers. It depends on your mood. It depends on a bunch of hard to pin down, non-linguistic factors. And, it goes both ways. In Welsh, I say I'm from the states, mostly because it is hard to say I will master it! But, in English I'm from the States. Or, I'm from Iowa City, Iowa. Or, even just Iowa. Sometimes, I'm even just from a city about three hours west of Chicago.
I am having the worst week of my adult life.
I don't even want to talk about the nightmare that was taking my dissertation to the binder.
If I had contacted the centre about things a week ago, I would be t.a. ing this fall, but I didn't get around to it so they've already filled all the positions so I won't be. Because I'm an idiot. I suppose the good news is there will probably be a position for me in the Spring. that is, if the government doesn't throw me out. Oh, and if they don't decide I'm a fucking moron after reading my dissertation.
My Welsh class has been cancelled due to insufficient numbers. So, now I'm taking a lesser class that is everyday at 8 in the morning until the end of March.
I have put all this work into a stupid paper that, at the end of the day, is only 45 pages long and that, I was thinking about it this morning that I'm actually a little embarrased and ashamed of it. It could be so much better. I could have done an amazing, incredible job. But, I didn't. I have *hopefully* done a passable job. I spent all this time and money and worry and heartache to create this thing that I'm not even proud of. Which makes me feel like an even bigger idiot.
Okay. I have to walk in the rain all the way to fucking Gabalfa to pick up my fucking dissertation to turn around and walk back up and turn it in.
So, I sat down after lunch ready to get set and add hopefully at least a thousand words to my thesis. Its a little after three and I have added maybe fifty words to my thesis. I am not too terribly worried about this because this is not entirely my fault. As I was sitting down someone buzzed at the door. Obviously, I went to see who it was and found it to be John's mom. I invited her in. When they talked for forty-five minutes about John's health and money and family and how the world works. When he signed the lease and I realized that we lived around the corner from his parents and across from the park that his mother takes the dog for a walk in I was a little worried that my life would turn into an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. Well, not a little worried. A Lot worried because refuse to live in a piece-of-shit unfunny sitcom about a doofus with a squeaky voice. But, my life has remained very much Raymond-free. I can't think of a TV reference...maybe Queer of Folk (if only!) without the gay people as I have made zero queer friends in Cardiff (how did that happen?)
Then, I got a little worried about my visa and spent an hour or so on the Home Office's website. I think I should be okay. I'm not going to worry about it. After that I emailed the Welsh Language Centre and because I am a student I get a 50% discount on my Welsh class. How awesome is that? Its way awesome. You can admit it.
Its nice having John's mom pop in occasionally. Yesterday she stopped by as well, but with the dog. Jack is a maniac. A Fuzzy little maniac. Well, he's not little, but you get the point. His mom and I also talked about some of John's mates. It was nice to have a little gossip session. Anne-Marie is moving today and I was thinking about popping over and seeing if she needs a little help. I don't know, we'll see if I get anything done in the near future. And, by that in the next half an hour. I left her a comment on her blog to offer my services and she fired me an email saying that if I was up for it, I could come take pictures of the hilarity that should be the move. She's been trying to use up all the food in her cupboard in order to not move it, so a couple days ago she made cookies. Which makes complete sense. When I moved I pretty much just had tea and peanut butter in my cupboard.
Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen. Not only is The Nightmare before Christmas getting another theatrical release (this I have no problem with) and is now complete with 3-D effects but the soundtrack will be available as a double disc. The first disc will contain the original Danny Elfman music and the second disc will have covers of the Elfman tunes done by such bands as Panic! at the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Marilyn Manson, She Wants Revenge and Fiona Apple. Now, this could be interesting or it could be sheer and utter crap. I'm leaning towards crap.
More crap. More utter crap. I'm okay with people changing and growing and branching out to do different things. But, do it first in the privacy of your own recording studio. (Especially, if this is an option because you have your own recording studio.) Stop subjecting the world to your half-baked notions of what could be interesting or your lame attempts at sticking with the zeitgeist and being all hip and fresh. Actually, This applies to Madonna as well. Hey lady, with your limber disco dancing and continuing to draw the ire of the world's religions. Hey! You're stretchy! But you're music sucks, so stop "reinventing" yourself and, I don't know, have some tea.
I spent about two hours today sifting through recordings to make sure I had notes on all of my "discourse markers" which included, I kid you not, more than sixty occurences of the phrase "you know". As is common with such things, once you've heard one you've more or less heard them all. Of these more than sixty occurences, well over half of them have the exact same phonological output, which is just fancy talk for I listened to the same thing over and over and over again. I wish this would mean that I was thousands of words closer to my word limit. It does not. I still have a long way to go.
Although he was recently released, we held an Afghani man who needed a walker to leave the prison without charging him with a crime or even telling him why he was there. Apparently, the captive whose name is Haji Nasrat Khan is at least 71, although that's just an estimate because he himself didn't even know his exact age. I know that old people tend to be the last bastion of old school hatred and hellfire religion, but its my experience that what they do with that hatred and religion is sit around and make their kids and grandkids uncomfortable and angry by constantly nosing in on what they're doing and then telling them they're wrong and they'll burn for it. They are, in general, not the sort of people you find making explosives in airplane lavatories. Given that, I wonder what sort of intelligence value the man had for the military that they felt the need to keep him captive. To quote the recently released Khan, "How could I be an enemy combatant if I was not able to stand up?"
Well, that's it. I'm going back to listen to more formulaic sequences and to hopefully nibble away at my word count.
I can't believe I only have two weeks. And, then after that. What? What am I going to do? What am I going to do with the rest of my life? Fuck. What? What? What? What? What happened to my fucking plans? And, why have an inordinate number of people in the last two weeks told me that I'm talented and that I need to not waste my talent. I am taking my thesis in to be bound on the 11th. It occurred to me today that on the fifth years anniversary of the towers falling I was going to handing over my dissertation to a publisher of sorts. I'm freaking out about all of this hardcore. Man.
Now, some photos from taken from my camera phone at the festival this weekend.
this is Bez from Happy Mondays.
Echo and the Bunnymen are onstage in this shot. Its hard to tell.
And, that is De La Soul. The guy whose face you can't see because of the glare is John's mate Glyn.
And this is De La Soul right before John made me ask them for a photo. I mean, a photo with them and me. More on all of this later.
I am sitting on the couch, although I am about to get up and go get another liter of water. I had a touch of food poisoning last night and ended up puking and it was gross. Of course, John and I had had a little argument earlier in the evening and John had gone to talk to a friend of his and when he came back he brought me a burger from our favorite burger joint as a truce. I obviously wasn't at all prepared to eat it. I've mostly kept food down today, but I've hardly done any work, which is similar to the this weekend when the wedding and preparing for and recovering from it sort of kept me from the keys. Now, I'm here and I just can't do it.
Oh, and I had to cancel a meeting with my advisor because of my sickness today.
I have to get stuff into writing before my rescheduled meeting on Thursday. I have stuff written in pencil. I may go sit at a coffee shop for awhile tomorrow and get more written in pencil because staring at the computer screen is starting to strain my eyes.
I can't wait for this flipping thing to be over.
Oh, my. I have so much work to do.
So, the wedding is beautiful. The bride's dress laced up the back and was strapless and had a nice train (that she told me later she had to keep people off of all night.) And, I got to meet more of John's friends.
The evening started by walking to the pub to have a drink with the other people we thought we were going to the wedding with. As it turns out, they all decided that they'd rather get drunk instead of going to the wedding. (Which, I thought was both lame and cheap of them, but that's a rant for another time.) So, John and I (who were dressed up nice and were looking quite sharp) left after he and his friends Sparko and Michael had an interesting discussion about film. (Also, I got to hear about Sparko's trip to Thailand as I've not seen him since he's been back.) We flagged down a cab and the taxi drive sped off. He kept asking us if we knew where it was. So, we told him. It was an the Llanishen Golf Club which is in Lisvane (which is right near Llanishen village.) So, it was a basically in the Suburbs. The driver didn't know where it was. So, he had to call in and ask. Then, he lost his signal on his cell phone and instead of using his cabby radio he just moved the taxi up the road a bit and waited for his mate to call back. Finally, he got some directions and we went along. We stopped and asked a kid walking down the street. Who pointed us up a hill. Then, he pulled into a pub and asked a guy leaving the pub. He pointed us further up the hill and then told us to turn right, which we did. We finally found the golf club and the cabby knocked a our fare down for getting us lost.
The Brits seem to have a thing for karaoke at weddings. So, in between the band (which played a lot of soul music that was great for dancing and there was always people on the dance floor.) We chatted. I got to meet John's friends Sian, Gemma, and Lydia. I also got to meet Gemma's brother David who is also studying at Cardiff Uni. (He's working on a business degree, though.) We stayed out until almost 1 in the morning before calling a cab and heading for home.
Needless to say (because we had been at a wedding) that we were a little tipsy so John made us a frozen pizza and we watched some of the Original Star Trek series before heading to bed somewhere around three. I took loads of photos with a disposable camera which I will take to get developed tomorrow. But, I did manage to get one shot of us with the digital camera looking sharp before we put on our pjs.
Don't we look nice?
I just tried to call my father three times and for some reason I couldn't get through. This makes me no end of irritated.
We, for the third time in a month, will be heading out a wedding. The first two were sort of sprung on us or at least on me. The first one John's friend Andrew got the date wrong on. So, a week earlier than we expected we ended up in driving out to the Suburb of Barry and celebrating Kenny and Tiffany at the weirdest wedding I've ever been to. (We were kissed and were asked not to.) Then, John got the date confused and we ended up going to a wedding two days earlier than expected. But, this one I've actually seen the invite on. In fact, I have it here in my lap. We are invited to an evening reception at the Llanishen Golf Club. This means I had to buy a dress.
Of course, its the end of the season so things were on sale. I found not one dress, but two. And, I got a new black skirt for...are you ready for it? A fiver. This makes me happy. Oh, and I got a new pair of pants with lots of pockets. I love pockets. They're amazing. And, black. Its very exciting. Then I bought John a shirt to go with his suit. They didn't have any I liked, they all sucked. I did what I could, hopefully John'll like it. His knee still hurts, so I also picked him up a new knee band thingee. This one has thermal packs that you can put in it. His friend/boss Brian recommended it. My poor baby is falling apart.
Hee. Even though I should be working I'm watching Serenity again. This is, surprisingly only the second time I have seen it. I know, shocking. SHOCKING! Anyway, I'm actually pretty excited about the wedding. Obviously, I'll post pictures later.
The British have a quaint custom known as the "TV licence". Back in the day, before Sky and digital and telly being beamed into your house, back when the BBC made large strides to appear to be something run by the government for the benefit of the people you had to licence your TV in order to generate revenue in order to continue creating BBC programming. Now, with the BBC beaming its fare all over the world (and collecting ad revenue from it) and with cable companies providing people with crazy numbers of channels, I really wonder if the licencing is still necessary. But necessary or not, it is still in place, which means that we need a TV licence in our new place.
So, yesterday was my friend Georgia's birthday. Even though I have a shit ton of work to do, (as does everythng else) we all went out. We went downtown and met at are pub called Central Bar. John and I walked in, looked around, didn't see anyone we knew and then I went to sit down and checked my phone and noticed I had a missed call. It was Anne Marie who then immediately turned up and said everyone was upstairs. John came over when he saw us and immediately said, "There's an upstairs?" Well, yes. We all reconvened upstairs, which we pretty much had to our lonesome, which was nice. Dawn was there and Steffi turned up with her new guy friend Alex. Then, the birthday girl turned up and we all started to drink. Pints were had....pitchers of cocktails were had. A good time was had by all.
Georgia, Brian, John and me took a cab back home and we got out a little early and bought a late night snack. Then, because neither of us were tired we watched Midnight Run. Which is SO FUNNY if you haven't seen it. Robert DeNiro plays an ex-cop turned bounty hunter employed to bring Charles Grodin in. Everyone kicks off, another bounty hunter is brought in, the FBI are on the trail, the mob boss (who has history with Robert DeNiro's character) is has put a hit out on Grodin. They're on planes, trains, buses, their own two feet. Its amazing. Top that off with a perfect Danny Elfman soundtrack this comedy is a classic. Huzzah
First off, I taking suggestions for what to call this that doesn't sound as stupid as "TV Sharing Time".
Show: Star Trek
Season:1
Episode:Court Martial
My Love and I have a thing for well-written tv and films. We like to laugh. We like to be moved. He likes to go on about camera angle and shots and editing (as he should because film’s his game). On our first date we ended up back on my sofa, staring at my computer screen (because I don’t own a TV) watching the first episode of Invader Zim. I love Invader Zim. And, that episode fantastically sets up on main character Zim and his need to invade with such fantastic lines as, “Invader’s blood flows in my veins like radioactive rubber pants!” Yes, the rest of the series will be like this. Over our nearly eight months together we have shared our infectious love of stuff with each other. This will be a small series that will hit the highlights of the things we share.
So, John's boss (who is also a friend of his) was supposed to call on Sunday night and tell him where to be to paint yesterday morning. John tried calling him Sunday, yesterday and five minutes ago and he's gotten no answer. So, John's not working. I'm trying to not think that this is going to be a problem. But, I can't help but wonder.
It started raining again the other day, we'd gotten about two weeks off. And, let me tell you, those two weeks were fantastic. I spent most of them inside working on my dissertation, but I could see outside and they were still marvelous. Its hard going two weeks without rain, it makes me worry about the crops. But, all the plants around us seem to be okay so I suppose I shouldn't worry.
The sun just popped out from behind a cloud. Oh, now its gone away again. Today its really windy but as I plan I sitting on the couch just working on my dissertation I'm not particularly worried about the weather. I might go out later to buy a potato peeler, but then I might not. John's mother has gone on holiday to his sister's house and has left her husband here in Cardiff to fend for himself. So, we're going to make John's dad dinner tonight. We're thinking maybe sausages and mash (hence the need for a potato peeler).
I don't know quite how taxes work here in the UK, but I do know that they have a council tax. Apparently where we live the council tax is about 800 pounds sterling a year. Now, I think thats a lot of money to fork out for property tax on property I don't own. But, people keep telling me that its not property tax.
As a student, I don't have to pay, which is lovely. However, I won't be a student forever and not having a job it gives me one more thing to worry about money-wise. Anyway, the guy from the Cardiff council came along today to let us know that we would probably be owing money shortly. Apparently the flat has been empty since April, so he wanted to know when we moved in. So, I got to go through the whole thing. We've had the flat since June 9th, but I didn't move my stuff in until the 26th and then we went on holiday, so technically, we've only really been living in the flat for a week. (And, what a week its been!) Apparently, because I'm a student, John is going to get a discount and because we moved in after the start of the year, we'll also be getting a pro-rated council tax bill.
To be honest, I only answered the buzz because I was hoping the cable was three days early. Clearly, I was wrong.
Moving is stressful. I heard somewhere that it was on the top ten list of stressful things that one does in one's life and so I went out in search of support for this on the internet. Not finding what I was looking for (preferably something involving research that listed ten stressors) I found this (and this) that agrees with me that folklore says moving is stressing. None of that really matters except that I find myself in an incredibly stressed out place right now having just moved and gone on vacation, and so its nice that someone agrees with me that I have a reason to feel a little stressed. (and, not even a vacation really. More like taking my fiancee home to meet everyone, which is less a vacation than a scramble to see people and to keep my introverted sweetie from freaking out about all the people suddenly interested in every aspect of his life.) As part of my moving tasks, I had to switch my internet service over to my new place.
Now, I don't mind saying that utilities and services such as internet and phone are things, in general, that I think are run rather stupidly in Britain. Really, its just the billing I have a problem with. For starters, because I refuse to give them my bank details, I am paying an extra couple of pounds a month as some sort of billing processing fee. They won't just set up my account to automatically bill to my credit card (which would be the most convenient thing for me). Maybe I'm just a dumbass and I haven't figured out how to do this yet. However, daft as I may be, none of the times I have called to pay my bill over the phone have they offered to set anything up for me. Regardless of this, I find myself stuck with the company I am currently buying internet off of because a. I have a contract that runs through October, and b. because the flat that John and I moved into is already wired for the company I have an account with. This, I suppose, I should be grateful for. I'm not particularly overjoyed. On top of this, because the flat is wired with this cable company, the landlord didn't feel it was necessary to put an aerial on the roof, so at the moment we don't even get the local stations. John had a portable aerial, and we tried that for awhile, but someone had to hold it, standing on one foot facing north and humming god save the queen in order to get a fuzzy picture. So, it seems, that not only do we need to change over my internet, we also need to upgrade the package so that we can get the basic channels.
After having spent half an hour on hold with them, I finally listened to the inane, pre-recorded chatter on the line I realized that I could be doing this moving house crap online. So, I went back into the house (I had previously been using a payphone) to make the arrangements. Now, I figure since we're getting cable and we already have internet, that I want a landline as well. I know what you're thinking, why go to the trouble and added expense of adding a phone to the mess? Simple, it seems with the tv packages offered by the stupid company I have my internet from, I have to rent a phone line from them anyway in order to get tv and mobile phones and VoIP calling doesn't always give you great reception. (As a matter of fact, there are places in Cardiff, in particular in my flat where I don't get cell phone reception at all. Oh, and for some reason Skype is echo-y 9 times out of 10 when I call home). I could go on, but why bother? The point is, I'm going to have another, more reliable way of making and getting international phone calls and that makes me happy as I miss the pants off of everyone back home.
So, I go through all the trouble of picking out packages and filling out forms and at the very end of it, the first time I fill out everything my request is rejected by the website because of the installation date. Well, I think, at least I know what I want when I fill out the forms again. I pick a new date and they say that they'll "take care of the rest" and, of course, to have a good move! Which just makes me want to roll my eyes. This company, in the 9 months or so I've been using their services, hasn't been particularly helpful. Oh well, we'll see how the rest of this goes. I just hope I picked the right packages and that I won't be paying through the nose for the services they're going to be giving me.
The guy who was sitting behind me in the computer lab got half way to the door before he remembered his disk in the disk drive. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is that sort of day. Its the sort of day when the sun is shining and the birds and singing and you really want to be elsewhere. Its the sort of day in which you plagiarize the paper you are working on in order to find a subject line.
Here is my question, boys and girls. how can you get over 3,000 words into to something that has a 4,000 word limit and not manage to include ANY "illustrative" examples?
So, I am writing a paper for my class on discourse and social interaction, which I keep calling in my head strategic interaction. I have been having a number of problems with the essay, most of them stemming from my overwhelming desire to write a good paper, something that I am proud of, something that I won't think about as embarrassing when I write this professor a letter after term is over to request letters of reference for the phD programs I am applying to. There is, of course, the added pressure that this is the only thing on which I will be graded for the class. For this paper, I am discussing the work of two sociologists and one linguist and, more or less, how applicable their concepts are to the field of discourse. The paper is supposed to be critical and here's the thing with that... people in the field tend not to be critical of the guys I'm writing on because, as my professor recenly said in a meeting with him, we're just so excited to apply the concepts and see them work. So, anyway, I'm trying to be critical and I'm writing my paper and so far, this monstrosity that isn't supposed to be more than 4,000 words is just under 3,000 and contains no illustrative examples. When I first started writing the paper, I collected a small data sample (about fifteen minutes in length) of John and I playing the children's game Guess Who?. I thought I could analyse the text showing how they would be analysed if I were coming at it from the three different approaches of the three different guys, but now I think that's just too much work. And, as has been pointed out to me, illustrative examples are meant to just clarify your point. They don't have to be ground breaking, they just have to support your argument.
A good example of what I mean by illustrative examples can be seen running through the work of Erving Goffman (for example, in Frame Analysis) Goffman is a freaking master of coming up with the anecdote to prove his point (in Frame Analysis he seems to draw heavily from newspaper articles). And, since is topic is the organization of experience, it is in fact quite exciting when you have examples of how experience that are organization in a Goffmanian way. So, I'm thinking now about using Invader Zim to make my many points. (My essay, at this point, is essentially about the organization of research aims and how they effect the methodology you use to investigate them.)
At this point, I'm thinking about throwing in the towel for a bit and walking home. I've been working on this more or less since 9:45 this morning and its almost 4 in the afternoon now. Although, I would like to get through to the bottom of this draft (I'm on draft 6) before I move locations. I can't decide if I'm being stubborn of systematic. bah.
John, I want to say when he was 12 or 13, was hit in the head with a brick. I don't remember the details of what he told me happened, exactly (and actually, now that I think about it he probably doesn't remember them either). Apparently, he and his friends were messing around and some how this brick-hitting happened. His friends thought he was dead, but he wasn't and they took him to the hospital and when people asked him what happened he said he fell. Now, the truth is, one of his mates was responsible for the brick-hitting. John said that when people asked him about what had happened he thought about his friend's parents and how good they had been to him. He didn't want to see them hurt by anything bad happening to their son, so he said he fell.
Now, for some reason, the truth of the situation came out, as it always does in big situations like this, and his mate's parents made his mate go and apologize for all the trouble he had caused. John's parents had only heard John's story so when his mate turned up to apologize to them for hurting their son they were perplexed. If I remember correctly, John then got into trouble for lying.
I was thinking about this while I was walking home today. You know how random stuff just pops into your head. I was listening to The Barenaked Ladies If I had $1,000,000 and singing along while I walked down the street. Its weird how stuff can just pop into your head sometimes. So, I texted John a line from the song, "If I had $1,000,000, I would buy you a monkey". When I see him later, I'm going to ask him if he knows where its from. Then, if he doesn't, I'm going to play it for him.
In an interesting role reversal (John has asked me to marry him on three separate occasions), on Sunday evening I asked John to marry me. In other news, I am moving into his house soon. The contract begins at the end of June, which may very well coincide with when my lease is up... I'm a little confused about that.
Daffodils are the national flower of Wales. This is a picture of one my mother bought me while she was here. (You are all welcome to come and visit, you know.)
Okay, back to the salt mines I go.
SO...I've been thinking. And, the more I think about it, the more I think that for what I want to do my PhD on, I don't think that this is the best university for me because the phonology professor is retiring. That would make this less than ideal for me because I'd have someone who wasn't interested in phonology supervising my PhD that would be primarily on phonology. See what I saying? Anyway, I think that I should be looking at other programs in other places.
In other news, my internet is back on after a week of it being turned off because I finally, just now, received a notice that the payment I sent in MARCH was not accepted. (What about the payment I sent in April, you ask? Don't. I spoke to someone on the phone and got really snippy with the poor guy.) Bills here are fucking, fucking, fucking ridiculous. They want you to always have a direct debit set up and to encourage this, they have a SURCHARGE on all other forms of fucking payment. Do you fucking believe that? Its 2 quid now, but on 1 June, its going up to 4 quid.
Also, there's something wrong with my iPod. I am going to try and fix it now.
In a little more than half an hour I am going to a lecture given by Deborah Cameron ( she wrote Working with Spoken Discourse. I'm pretty stoked about it. I will update you later on how it goes and what she talks about.
WeeHee!
But, first, coffee.
Okay, massive update time:
1. There is a studentship available through the department. It is in conjunction with <a href="http://www.intune.it">intune</a> which is funded by the EU. Intune is looking at European Citizenship and the EU and how these things are created, understood, etc. The requirements include a. having completed the masters in Language and Communication Research b. speaking more than one European language c. having an eu topic. Here's the thing: This is the department's studentship and my friend Steffi is applying for it. Steffi already has a masters, speaks English and German (because she is German) and has an interesting sociolinguistic topic that has to do with European citizenship. So, I'm going to apply, but don't hold your breath because I won' be getting it.
2. I am just so tired of thinking about everything in relationship to my future. The future this, the future that...its beginning to get to the point where I don't even enjoy what's going on anymore because everything is just dripping with so much anxiety.
3. John's housemates offered to pay part of my rent so it would be cheap for us to stay in the house instead of moving into our own flat without them, thus saving the two of them the trouble of having to make other arrangements. They have been told that there will be MURDER if anyone skanks my food. This is to say that I am moving into John's house at the end of my lease. (Well, I'll probably move my stuff in before that, but you know... officially, it'll be at the end of my lease...although, unofficially, I may have my own set of keys this weekend.)
4. John and I are thinking about coming to America for a visit over the 4th of July. I figure during this time I can help move my shit out of Beth's apartment and I can do something about my shit at my parents house.
5. The plan is still to stay in the UK until my visa is up. If I am going to be taking another year off I might as well stay with John (whom I love...doesn't that sound weird?) and work as opposed to move home and be miserable at b&n and work.
6. Anne-Marie has suggested that I just look for jobs around the university. I think sometime next week I am going to go to the job shop. I would like something for the summer but perhaps I could parlay it into something a bit more long term and maybe I could end up back here for my PhD anyway.
7. I was looking at PhD programs in the states the other day and did you know that University of Buffalo has a language and cognition PhD program? F, do you know/have you heard anything about linguistics at your fair uni?
8. For some reason the internet people think I haven't paid my bill so, I don't seem to have internet in my house right now. its annoying.
9. I think I need to do some yoga, or meditate or something because I am way freaked out about things. Although, John bought me a copy of the Great Escape, so I have some good Steve to watch (well,I had good Steve anyway because I had the magnificent 7)
10. Okay, I have to post the news and get rolling. I have work to do and I would like to go to the chip shop. I have some ranch dressing (thank you, Beth!) that I would like to have on chips and cheese. Oooh, such decadence!
I have a feeling I just misspelled all of those words. I can't decide if I feel incredibly stressed out...or just pissed off at myself for not being a harder worker. I've not had a bad day. Actually, I've had a pretty good day. I received an email from the professor in charge of the studentship I am working on an application for. She said that there is no citizenship restriction but has indicated that it will be an advantage to speak more than one European language. So, I have to stop being afraid and just suck it up and own up to the fact that I do, in fact, speak Spanish and Italian and stop denying my abilities. Also, for some reason I'm having trouble checking my university email. its pissing me off.
I supposed to be meeting Anne-Marie in 15 minutes. We are going to be study buddies and hopefully encourage each other out of great periods of sloth into healthy periods of enquiry and endeavour. Does that sound optimistic, because it is. My phone is flashing incessantly at me and I need to brush my teeth.
John and I talked about going on holiday together. We talked about visiting America. There's one problem with that...plane tickets are so expensive and being an apprentice painter and decorator he's not rolling in the cash. He seems to think he'll be able to save up enough money for a ticket, but the longer he has the better he'll be at it. He got really quiet as we were talking about this. Depending on how things go in the next three weeks I may not want to go until September. But, I may have to go in July. We'll see what happens.
In other news, I'm thinking of putting together a PhD proposal that looks at the formulaic language used to sell European citizenship to the British by the government and other interesting parties. The project would take a look at multiple modes of media and compare the amount of formulaicity used and the type of language used in general. I'll have to get more specific than that but I just thought of that last night while John and I were talking.
Everything's up in the air right now...you can imagine how I feel about that.
Its possible I may have gotten things sorted. You should be able to get to this page from my index page now. Or, at least I hope you can. Who the fuck knows now. In the last two hours I've monkeyed around with this, turned on the heat so I could use to radiator to try my clothes, and gotten a little bit closer to having everything cleaned and packed. I want to have the cleaning and the packing done before John turns up after work.
Oh, I also watched a little Corpse Bride while I was cleaning. Now, I'm thinking I might put in Batman Begins or something while I finish things up.
