Parts-n-Pieces

RBOC: Punched in the Gut Edition

All I can muster are random bullets.  Events of the day have left me feeling as if I had been punched in the gut.  So, these are things I'd write more about if I had any energy: 

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• This summer cold just sucks.  I feel like crap.  Note to employees everywhere:  stay home if you are sick.  Do not infect your coworkers.  Step away from the office.

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• My mother's remains arrived today . . . . 15 months after her death . . .  . Since she had been so sick (of self-inflicted causes), we thought that willing her body to the local medical school would be the best course . . . that others might learn something from her and from what her body endured.  They learned quite a bit, apparently.  Or that's what the man at the "cell biology lab" told me this morning.  I had to go get the remains, sign for them, and bring them home.  Sister drama keeps us from doing anything with them today (which was my wish), but tomorrow night, we'll scatter them in a place that was important to my mother . . . a place near where my father is buried.
• This just reminds me that both my parents are deceased.
• Retrieving those remains has been, well, creepy.  Not creepy in a creepy sense, but creepy in a deeply sad (and kinda creepy) way.   I feel bad that it creeps me out some.
• I don't know what pronoun to use when describing them (the remains), or her (my mother), or it (the box the ashes are in).
• The box is small, actually.  But it's quite heavy for someone who was so small when she died.

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• The Bundle leaves for LA in six days (next Sunday).  At dinner tonight, I thought about her move and started to cry.  She laughed at me.
• I talked a big talk a few weeks ago when I wrote that I'd be reinventing myself after her departure.  I'll probably just crawl up in a ball and moan.  As the day of her move approaches, I feel my stomach tighten.  I'm not sure I'll know what to do with myself when she's gone . . . except curl up in a big ball and moan.
• Maybe the first week or so she's gone, that'll be a good time to go on a mini vacation somewhere . . . somewhere I've never been with her . . . start to form solo memories.
• Anybody up for a houseguest for, say, oh, the next 20 years?  (just kidding)

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Being caught between those two people -- my mother and my daughter -- is such an odd place to be.  For them both to be leaving this week (both literally). . . we'll it's hard.  Just hard.  I never realized how much I defined myself by my daughter ("I'm proud to be her mother!") or how I defined myself in spite of my mother ("I chose a different path in life.")   Those defining anchors are gone (or almost gone).  I don't know what to do.

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Wow.  What a downer of a blog post.  I'm sorry.  I'll strive to write something a bit more uplifting later in the week.  You can, however, check the Twitter updates . . . as I update there several times a day . . . and they are generally more positive.  I'm mean, really:  how negative and depressing can one be in 140 characters?

Random Bullets (after the AP Reading)

The AP Reading was (again) an interesting experience, but I am worn out from it.  There are terrific educators there, and now that I've finished my third year, I have begun to know some folks, so I also know who to avoid (those negative teacher-types).   But all that said, I'm tired.  So a few random bullets today:

• At one of the airports I've been to recently, the skycap's name was "Marvelous Lee."  Truly.  That was the name on his name badge.  I told him what a great name he had.  He thanked me.  Then put my luggage on the wrong plane ... at least he did it marvelously.

• I let go of a trapeze the other day, but the second trapeze isn't coming my way as I thought it would.  At least not for a while.   So very disappointing and discouraging.  (Bootcampers know what this means.)

• I had drinks and food (amazing scallops and calamari) then a very long walk with this blogger last week.  It's so great to meet bloggers face-to-face, and this one is so fun and smart.

• I love it when other bloggers ask me about the Bundle. 

• Speaking of the Bundle:  she's out of town at a national convention for her field.  She'll be back about four days before she moves out of state. 

• Maybe that's why (along with the fatigue and the missed second trapeze) I'm feeling so discouraged.  Maybe.

• I changed my blog header today.

• And with that:  I've got nothing else to say.

RBOC: AP Reading Edition

I'm surrounded by words all day long.  Truly.  All. Day. Long.  And most of those words, well, they are perfectly fine words and all, but they are not strung together very well because they were produced by 16-year old high school students under some tough conditions, so I produce random bullets.

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• Florida is gorgeous.  The beach is gorgeous, that is.  I don't care about the rest of the place.  I want to live on the beach and be a beach bum.  Get a metal detector and look for treasure.  Drink beer.  Play in the waves.  Listen to beach music.  Drink more beer.  I'd be so happy.  I could get a Ph.D. in beach bum-ology.
• There are some wonderful people here at this reading.  By this third year, I've come to know some folks, and it's a "same time next year" sort of thing.  We pick up where we left off last summer.  Kinda nice.  Although.  There is a "Same Time Next Year" thing that goes on here, but that's not what I meant. 
• Seeing a bunch of middle-aged English teachers/professors frolicking in the ocean is pretty damn funny.  Pics tomorrow.
• I am always surprised at the kinds of high school teachers I meet here.  Some are just terrific, and I'm sure they are wonderful teachers.  There are others, however.  I do hope that those horribly racist and classist comments they make are just because they are tired and their defenses are down.  Truly. 
• I'm planning to write more about this at a later date, but it's important to remember (for me to remember, at least) that when I'm surrounded by so many teachers, to stay away from the negative ones.  Stay out of the Teachers' Lounge. 
• I'm still wishing that dissertation would just write itself.  I'd let it hang out on the beach with me and everything.
• Because the sunrise here is so very gorgeous, I took some wonderful photos the last few mornings.
• Walking on the beach at 6:00 a.m. is pretty damn sweet.  Too bad my knee still hurts.  I'd try running.  Walking is good, though.
• I have a great roommate who doesn't mind that I turn the air conditioning down to about 67 at night.  I'm lucky.

RBOC: Trying to get caught up edition

For several days, I have thought about things I wanted to write about in this space, but there hasn't been time.  Instead, a quick list of bullets -- some of which will be explored later this week in longer blog posts.

• Project 365(+1):  I'm tired of Project 365, and I think often about quitting.  I completed the project last year, and I'm half-way through the project for this year.  To date, that's 516 days of posting photographs on line.  But as any of you who are also engaged in this work know, it's more than "just" 516 photos.  I've easily taken four times that amount . . . I just post a photo each day that has a specific argument (or it's one that I particularly like).  I don't just take one photo a day and post that one photo.  Time and thought go into these photographs.  I think about quitting though as it's a whole lotta work.  Yes, it's work.  That is, I think about quitting this project until I see the photographs from the last five days.   These photographs are not technically great photos, but they show significance of space and time.  Our world is filled with these moments, these differences, the happenings.  While I'm tired, I will continue to document my little corner of the world.

• Trapeze Artists and Life Changes:  The last time I was thinking about a significant life change, a friend told me to think about trapeze artists.  The trapeze artist, he said, has to be willing to let go of the trapeze she's on in order to catch the next one coming her way.  In other words, she can't hold on to one while waiting on the other.  She has to be willing to free fall for a few seconds before that next trapeze comes to her.  How scary that thought was at the time.  How scary it is again today.  Yet, I'm willing to let go of the trapeze to catch the next one, to catch that next segment of my life.   I'm ready today.

• The Dissertation:  I'm frustrated with lack of feedback.  I'm not sure if they (the committee) are just letting me skate on through (by not offering suggestions for change), if they really don't think my work needs much revision (ha!), or if they are just not interested.

• Female Referees and Sexism:  This will be a longer post as it's something I've been thinking about for months, but there is a significant reason that there are not many female referees:  Sexism.

• The Bundle:  This will also be a longer post in a few days (I'm still processing info), but we traveled to the next state over last week and found her a place to live, met her colleagues, and just took a look at the town.  She's moving there the end of June.  This new town is very different from what she has experienced here.  For me, this is a very very very good thing.   For her, she's not so sure.  She has, though, been spoiled to think that all universities have beautiful landscaping, carpeted classroom floors, new furniture, a mega-chain-store bookstore that sells Starbucks coffee . . .    There is much more to this, but she's about to experience a culture change . . . and she needs to know that the majority of folks in the world do not drive the nicest cars, wear the most current fashions, or have housekeepers.  

Random Bullets of Anxiety (end of semester edition)

Move right along if you have no interest in the personal.  Really.

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Sometimes I wish I had an anonymous blog that had a readership who commented.  Really.

• I've got stuff to say that I can't say here.

Sometimes I wish that my email messages were responded to.  Really.

• I've been waiting for days.  And days.  And days.  Yes, we're all busy.  I get that.  [This is not directed to any one in particular, but a bunch of people particularly.]

Sometimes I wish I could get the dissertation chapters read and commented on.  Really.

• It's been months.  They are not that bad.  Really.  I've seen worse. [This is not directed to any one person in particular, but to a bunch of people particularly.]

Sometimes I just look at certain people and see the stupid-ass crap they do and I wonder what planet they came from.  Really.

• Not gonna touch this one ... at least not here.

Sometimes I feel such frustration at those who always have to win and who don't allow room for others (the people or their ideas).  Really.

• This seems so prevalent -- youth sports, adult sports, politics, listservs, "colleagues," -- this is a very big world.  I'm pretty sure there's room for everyone.

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What might be causing all this anxiety, you might wonder?

Soccer, Springsteen, Coaches, Conferences-- it's another random bullet list!

Fatigue and a little too much to do keep me from writing longer posts.  Oh well.  Random bullets work just fine.

• Today I wanted to-- seriously and with great force-- eject a coach from an under-6 youth soccer game.  He's a jerk of the biggest sort.    Unfortunately, one can't be ejected from a game for just being a jerk.  But if I had a child playing on his team, I'd be complaining to anyone who'd listen in this youth league.  Seriously.  It's guys like this who give youth sport coaches a bad rap.  Hell, this is the kind of guy who give men a bad rap.  Oh, you want an example of his jerkiness?  Yesterday I refereed his team's game, and at the end of each game-- every game-- I shake the hands of coaches and tell them "good game, coach!"  Without fail I do this.  It's a demonstration of good sporting behavior for the children who are watching what the adults do and how they behave.  I move to Coach JerkFace and extend my hand, and I say "good game."  He is talking with his assistant coach.  He extends his hand to me and shakes, but he doesn't look at me nor does he stop his conversation.  Jerk. 
• When mentioning to several close friends that I'm heading to New Orleans in a few days, I'm met with surprising responses.  "Oh, you'll just hate it!"  or  "You know," in a staged whisper, "those people are so dirty.  You'll hate it."   From another in a another staged whisper, "it's so dangerous with those people.  I'm worried for you."  These are from professional women:  a dental hygienist for a county hospital, a musician, a sales person at my local Bath and Body Works.  My friends do not know me at all.  At all.
• I've been to dozens of conferences, but I've really never been as excited about one as this one.  (The AAHE conference in Chicago was pretty sweet, though.)  I cannot wait to set food in New Orleans.  So many things I want to see.  So many people I want to meet.  So many things I want to learn.
• Bruce Springsteen visits Dallas in two weeks, and I'm there. 
• At the soccer fields today I saw Bob.  Bob is as big a Springsteen fan as I am.  We are both excited about the upcoming show.  We see each other and start saying "Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce."  I suppose you'd have to be there.  It's funny.
• Of course I was wearing my black Springsteen concert t-shirt from 2000 under my referee uniform.  Of course.  He was wearing one of his concert t-shirts, too.
• We have to find joy wherever we can.

There has been little dissertation writing lately as I'm waiting on some feedback, but as I write other things-- fun and interesting things with fun and interesting people-- I listen to a random, random 10:

1. "Favorite Year," Dixie Chicks
2. "Save Room," John Legend
3. "Colored Spade," from the Hair Soundtrack
4. "The One I Love," R.E.M.
5. "She," Elvis Costello
6. "Twisted," Santana
7. "All the Young Dudes," Mott the Hoople
8. "Join the Parade," Marc Cohen
9. "Too Drunk (to remember)," Carlene Carter
10. "Sympathize," Amos Lee

March Madness, Stanley Fish, New Orleans, and Paparazzi: It must be Random Bullets!

• The following sound bite was just on the local, late-night sports station:  "Do you want to play here?" the local university football coach screamed at a player, "then don't hit like that."  I wonder what would happen if I spoke to a student in that manner:  "You want to study here?  Then don't write like that."    I probably wouldn't have a job very long.
• Stanley Fish has a blog (through the New York Times).  (Who knew?)  And he has about the best response to the Obama / Rev. Jeremiah Wright debacle:  "We're responsible for our own words -- not anyone else's."  You go, Stanley!  See the entire article here.
• We are down to the NCAA's Sweet 16.  I wonder, within all the excitement surrounding these basketball games, if anyone is thinking about classes for these collegiate basketball players.  You know, the reason they are enrolled in school?  Just sayin'.....
• I am 32 for 48 in my NCAA Tournament bracket.   Not too bad.  But yes, that might seem like a contradiction.  Even though I'm concerned about the students' academic preparedness, I do appreciate their athleticism.  And I love basketball.
• I own a Bill Walton bobblehead (from when Walton was with Portland).
• Starting to plan the schedule for New Orleans.  Anyone want to get together?  Blogger meet ups?  Send an email or leave word in comments below.
• I'll be doing some live blogging of a few session for the "Teaching Basic Writing" listserv/blog  (hosted by McGraw/Hill) . . . along with this über cool person.  If you can't make the sessions, check out the blog for session highlights.
• I recently took some good photographs of Forest Whittaker  . . . I wonder if that qualifies me as a member of the paparazzi . . . I'll be in New Orleans . . . I could stalk take photos of B**d P**t and A******a J***e.  Just sayin'.....
• I do want to spend some time photographing the city, or more accurately, the inhabitants of the city.

ETA:  Names obscured (sort of) in the bullet above.  I was getting a ton o'hits from people looking for info on the pair.    Actually, this is quite scary.  I only posted this last night about midnight, and today at 10:30 in the morning, I've had over 100 hits with those two people listed as the search terms.  I wouldn't want to be either of them.

Random Bullets (Wednesday Edition)

RBOC Wednesday-- a mixture of good things, random things, disappointing things.  It's RBOC!

• Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of my mother's death.  In the mail today was a card from the hospice where she died.  Nice folks.  Their sympathy and their cards have been appreciated, 3-month, 6-month, 9-month, one-year anniversary cards.
• It's hard to imagine that it's been a year.
• Grief is an odd thing, really, and people react so differently as they work through it.  I wonder if tomorrow will be a hard day.
• My younger sister got married the day after Valentine's day.  She didn't tell anyone . . . not even her children.  Oh, and this marriage?  Her seventh.  Grief.  Good grief.
• Lots of books in the mail this week.  A recommendation from a friend:  Basketball and Philosophy:  Thinking Outside the Paint, and some books I might use in a class next year, something about writing for the web, web 2.0, that is:  Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing without Organizations, Blogging  Heroes, and Facebook: The Missing Manual. 
• The "special" class I taught?  The course that's the foundation of my dissertation?  I'm not teaching it again next year.
• On Sunday, it was 75 degrees.  On Monday, it snowed.  Tuesday and today, maybe 60 degrees.  Tomorrow?  It should snow again, 29 degrees.  Did someone forget, this is Texas, in March? 
• I wonder if 40 pages in dissertation's Appendices are too many.  Probably.  The entire thing is too long.  I spent the afternoon reformatting all those files to fit within the margins of the dissertation template . . . then I made those new files into .pdf files.   Everything looks so neat and clean.  Organized.  So different than real life.
• Spoke with a friend/informant today who reminded me of the ugly side of my dissertation topic.  Ugly.  Really.  Really ugly.  Deplorable human beings, he said.
• NCAA President, Myles Brand is visiting my campus in a few weeks.  Should be interesting.
• I took the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel-- the beautiful Ginger-- to the groomer's a few days ago and she was so clean and soft.  We'd been home about 20 minutes, and she poked her head into the fireplace and got soot on her face, on the white fur.  Soot that won't wash off.  Lovely.
• New Orleans.  Three weeks away.  Can't wait.

Good Things, Random Things, and some Music to Not Travel By

It's a mixed bag, good things and random bullets.  You get to decide:

• Having a Roadside Assistance Plan on my cell phone.  It's expensive until I need it.
• The tow truck driver, Robert, only had about three teeth and a phlegm-filled cough.
• He told me a bizarre story-- after he saw my camera-- about how he took photos of the Challenger explosion and donated those pics to NASA . . . he also had photos of the tornado that hit downtown Fort Worth about 7 years ago, but he had to move from his home "very quickly," and his landlord destroyed them.
• Income tax refund arrived on Friday.  In time to buy a new set of tires and an intense auto detail.  Whohoo!
• My car looks almost new, and the leather is so shiny and soft.
• Youth soccer begins this weekend:  I referee four games Saturday and two on Sunday.  I'm hoping my knee will be OK ... I'm hoping even more than there are new parents out there this season.
• I should have won an Oscar.  Really.  My acting skills are (cough) amazing.
• My new cell phone allowed me to answer email this morning as I waited for the tow truck.  I'm such a multitasker.
• I edited a dissertation chapter at the car wash . . . and took a boatload of pictures as I thought about Springsteen's song about working in a car wash.  I don't know if my multitasking during this time produced effective edits to the chapter, though. 
• I did get rockin' pics of dogs, dogs at the car wash.  Oh, and the white stretch limo.   I guess somebody has to wash the limos.  Might as well be the Cityview car wash . . . they do have framed pictures of Miss Americas on the walls.
• Bought ticket for New Orleans.  Can't wait .... the mother ships calls only once a year.
• Looking forward to meeting lots of über cool folks while there....
• Looking forward to a photo excursion..., er, sessions that concern photography in NO.  Yea, that's it.

Stranded on the Side of the Road Music:

• "As Long as I Can Be With You," Patti Scialfa
• "She," Elvis Costello
• "While We Wait," Jack Johnson
• "It's Not," Aimee Mann
• "Dance Without Sleeping," Melissa Ethridge
• "Dirty World," The Traveling Wilburys
• "I've Got a Feeling," The Beatles
• "The March of the Black Queen," Queen
• "Right Hand Man," Joan Osborne
• "Walking Through Midnight," Southside Johnny
• "Looking for Elvis," Patti Scialfa

What?  I waited for two hours....

• "To Try for the Sun," Lindsay Buckingham
• "Radio Nowhere," Springsteen
• "Ships Don't Disappear in the Night," 10cc
• "Turn off the Lights," Teddy Pendergrast
• "Embraceable You," Charlie Parker
• "Between a Laugh and a Tear," John Mellencamp
• "Truth," Amos Lee
• "Tupelo Honey," Van Morrison
• "Exhuming McCarthy," R.E.M.
• "Where Did My Baby Go?" John Legend
• "Smooth," Santana

Tomorrow, back to something sort of remotely academic.  And some pics.  Lots of pics.

RBOC: First Day of Finals Edition

I've got nothin' . . . no brain cells, no nothin'.  So, RBOC:

• It's cold, but not nearly as cold as it is in Oklahoma.  We have cold weather, and I have a fireplace.  They have ice storms and no electricity.
• A day care owner in this area was convicted of neglecting a child in a hot van last summer and that child died . . . she then moved the child's body to make it look like he died at a playground.  She was given 24 months in prison for her crime.  Michael Vick got 23 months behind bars for organizing dog fights and the torture and killing of dogs.  Something doesn't seem quite right about these sentences.
• Winter sustenance for me:  fire in the fireplace, vegetable soup, rum and coke, a blanket, and Christmas lights.
• Today I finally wrote for the dissertation.  It's been weeks since I've spent any time with it.  Today, I spent almost all day.  No wonder I'm so tired.  It's amazing how difficult it is to write when surrounded by bad novice writing all day.
• It's December, and it's time for osoji, end of the year cleaning and purification.  I love this time of the year, and it's stuck with me all this time.  Instead of spring cleaning, the major cleaning in Japan is done at the end of the year.  The new year begins, then, with all the dust, dirt, and grime of the previous year gone.  It's a fresh start, literally and figuratively.  For a bunch of reasons, this has been a hard year, and I'm ready to lose the dirt and grime, and move on.
• So sleepy.  Must go to bed now.

RBOC: Last Day of Classes Edition

Classes ended for me today, and I can't cheer loudly enough.  Really.  This has been the most difficult semester in a very long time.  Don't know why.  Just has.  In honor of the last day of classes, RBOC:

• The power went out in this part of town tonight, and it was out for about an hour.  Luckily, I had started a fire an hour or so before the outage, and the firelight gave me light to see by.  It's interesting just how dark it is when there is no light anywhere.  Dark.
   
• I thought I could blog like the olden days . . . you know, blog by firelight . . . that is, until I realized that while the notebook  has a battery, the wireless router does not, so no blogging by firelight for me.  I had to wait until the power came back on.

• This semester I taught a Tuesday/Thursday schedule.  Classes ended at 3:30 today. By 4:30, I had received my first email asking me about a final grade . . . and the final exam isn't until next week.

• I should have eaten something a bit more substantial than a bowl of cereal for dinner. I'm hungry.

• Oops. Another email from another student asking about a final grade.  Sigh.

• Classes are over, but I tutor tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday.  All. Day. Long.  I'm exhausted just thinking about it.  Maybe after this week, I can get back to work on the dissertation when I'm not thinking about education, political science, money and banking, spirituality, cognitive psychology, chemistry, accounting, the creative writing, science fiction . . . you get the idea.  It's interesting, but after a day filled with all these disciplines, I have little energy left for student-athletes and their literacy practices.

• I'm going to get a microchip for my dog.

• I have a penchant for saying things like, "I'm going to kick his ass."  Have I ever kicked anyone's ass?  No.  But I threaten it say it all the time.

• The blogging plagiarism case is somewhat settled.  I posted an explanation on the offending blog why "cutting and pasting" another's work (and not giving credit) is wrong . . . I would have made Becky proud.  Most of the folks there were nice about it all . . . sufficiently sorry . . . no harm intended.  But I will wanted to kick someone's ass.

• I want to sleep in late tomorrow . . . . ceiling fan running on high so the room is fairly cool/cold . . . curled up under a couple of blankets.  Wake up, have some breakfast, and write.  Why can't I win the lottery so I could do just that . . .

• A friend gave me a book a few days ago, World War Z:  An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks.  Something fun to read . . . I haven't read fiction is a very long time.  It's fiction (well, "zombies," of course), and it's constructed like Studs Terkel's "Working People" series.  I don't know much about zombies (except those that I send out to fight for me on Facebook), but it should be an interesting read.

Random Observations at Starbucks

The barista calls me "sweetheart," and I hate it when he does it (he's about 19).  But he does it to every woman who walks in the place.  Oh well.

Of the 14 customers here at this moment, 6 are on notebook computers, 5 others are reading, 2 are writing, and 1 person is watching another read.  All are drinking coffee.   All have cell phones on the table next to them (one is talking on his cell phone).  Every table is occupied.  It's quiet.  Music from XM radio is easy to hear. 

Overhead conversation between patron and barista:

Patron:  So, how've you been?
Barista: [sweeping . . . and trying to get on with her work]  Oh.  Good.  You?

Patron:  Just writing . . . keeping on with the writing.
Barista:  Oh.  [continues to sweep]

Patron: What are your four jobs now?
Barista:  [perks up and stops sweeping]  Well, here, the hospital [she's counting the jobs on her fingers], teaching ESL to foreign refugees, and writing for a magazine.

Patron:  Have you heard of "duotrope"? 
Barista:  Huh? 

Patron:  A website that helps you with writing.  [the barista looks confused, so he spells it for her]  D.u.o.t.r.o.p.e.c.o.m.
Barista::  Oh.  [she starts sweeping away from him]

Patron:  Well, let's get together sometime.
Barista:  OK, give me your email before you leave.  And I promise I'll reply to you this time.

Poor guy.  Get the hint, buddy.  But I did look up Duotrope.  Interesting resource for fiction and poetry writers.  I need to see if descant is listed.  It should be.  (I also need to repair that descant website.  How long has that image not loaded?)

The reader-watching woman is now knitting a sweater.  From here it looks lovely.

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Starbucks is-- for me, and at least for some of these people this morning-- a third space.  I initially heard of a third space through Robert Putnam (Bowling Alone), but if Wikipedia is to be believed, Starbucks uses the idea in its own marketing.  Makes sense, I suppose.  I see the same people here all the time . . . None of us really know each other . . . we are nodding acquaintances.  But we are comfortable in this space.  We are alone, together.

I wonder what an ethnographic study -- a photoethnographic study -- would be look like.  Maybe that's something I should consider.

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Edited to Add:  Almost four hours later, and Starbucks is packed.  It's cold and wet outside; I wonder why are people here.  28 people.  Most sitting at tables inside (only three notebooks now).  Not many people reading . . . most are talking and it's loud.  The baristas turn up the XM radio so it can be heard above the voices, making the place ever louder.  All the tables are filled, and some people stand around drinking their coffee and talking, waiting for a table to become free.  Several people are at outside tables, smoking.  Several more are lined up to purchase coffee (I didn't count them).  I didn't recognize it this morning, but I do now:  of the 28 people inside the store, three are non-white (one African-American woman and two Indian [from India] medical school students, they have the other notebook computers).  Of the 28 people, 4 are children under the age of 6 . . . they are screaming and running around the store while their mothers talk about a mutual friend.  (How do I know this?  They are at the table next to mine, and the kids keep [almost] tripping over the power cord to my computer.  I think it's time to go home.)

More Random Questions I Ask Myself

• How do ceiling fan blades collect mounds of dust when they are always in motion?
• If a little red wine is good for your health, is a lot of red wine better?
• How is it that 15-bean soup always sounds good when it's cold?
• What ever happened to Suzi Quatro (Leather Tuscadero)?
• Why is it the more I have to do, the faster I get sick?
• Do I dare hope that it will happen again?
• Do I miss it as much as I thought I did?
• Where did my dissertation mojo go?
• Why is a Lens Baby so hard to use?
• Why is this dog staring at me?
• Who won the football game?
• Will it?

Random Questions

• Will it be OK?
• Can one be too old?
• Will it snow tomorrow?
• Is homicide ever justifiable?
• Does one need a reason to cry?
• Is it possible to overuse a Nikon D50?
• What if there is a tug-o-war over orange juice?
• Would overuse cause the camera to not focus properly?
• Can someone be jailed for the assault of shoppers on "Black Friday"?
• When will I learn that my desire to be forthright is just weird to most people?
• When will I ever learn that most people don't think my brand of humor is funny?
• Was she correct when she said that "being seen" is just as important as "being heard"?

A Few More Random Bullets . . .

• Basketball game was terrific . . . what a difference a year makes.

• When the refs would make a bad call (and they made plenty toward the end of the game), I thought about this guy.

• As I was leaving the game, I saw a bunch o'football players sitting toward the top of the stands.  They called me up.  Lots of hugs.   A few of them still hate me . . . but most of them realize-- after a year and growing up a little-- that I was always on their side and that the grade they got in my class is a grade that deserved.  After they grow up, they like me again . . . what a difference a year makes in the life of a first-year college student.

• I left my camera cable in my bag, under my desk, at work.  I'll upload pics tomorrow, but I got some good action shots.  And a few of the refs.  Unlike this guy, these refs were old and one kept pulling up his pants and huffing.  I'm not judging or anything . . . I wouldn't be able to do what they do, but still.

• Since I'm a referee and I hate (hate, I tell you!) having people yell at me about calls I make, you'd think I'd be a little more empathetic to the basketball referees' experience.  Nah.  It's too much fun to yell at them.  (Oh, my stress is building.  I can tell.)

• One of these days I'll post something about Internet dating . . . [ETA:  and some day I will]. 

• My dog has a serious peanut butter addiction.

• I wonder if I could cash in my retirement, quit my job, and finish the dissertation.  Nah, not such a smart move.  I like the gym membership I get working where I do, and I have access to Division I sports.  Oh, yea, and I like many of the students.

• Maybe over the next three weeks (the end of the semester), I can get back into a groove and write.  Maybe then some of this stress and bitterness will lessen.  Maybe.

Another Random List

Nothing special, just random bullets.

• All these job ads and discussions on listservs about job searches has me freaked out beyond words, and I'm not even on the market this year.   Every now and then I start to feel my age, and this is one of those times.

• A former student interviewed me today about the service-learning courses I've conducted on this campus, all this for a feature article in the student newspaper.  I've not had good luck with the student newspaper.  They never quote me accurately.  Ever.  And they always get my gender wrong.  Always.  You'd think that would be a given . . . that I'm female . . . but it gets changed, and I'm referred to as a "Mr."  At least this interview was via email (so the article might be more accurate) and I know the student, so he should get the gender right.

 

• After my first class today, I dismissed them by saying, "See you Thursday, have a great day!"  One student asked, "Will you see us on Tuesday"?  Huh?  "Uh, yea, of course.  We have class on Tuesday and Thursday."  "But next week is Thanksgiving," he countered, "Will you see us on Tuesday?"   Everyone stopped gathering their materials and stared at me, expectantly.  Campus closes on Wednesday for Thanksgiving break . . . so of course, the students start going home on the Friday before . . .  (OK, I'm be a little facetious).  A little.

• They say (whoever "they" might be) that writing a dissertation is like running a marathon.  In marathon running, when the runner gets to about mile 20, she has a hard time imagining that she'll be able to complete the run.  The analogy is that once one gets to a certain point in the dissertation, the writer will also feel that burnout and think she won't be able to finish.  That dissertation burnout marker, though, should be more toward the end of the project than close to the beginning . . .for me.  I'm so afraid that I won't be able to finish this, that the project is much to big and comprehensive to cover adequately . . . or that I'm just repeating what others have stated before.   A friend of mine today reminded me that teaching and tutoring full time-- particularly at this time of year-- there is no time, really, for other academic writing activities, that I'll get back into a groove in a few weeks.  I hope so.

• Speaking of tutoring:  In the last two days, I've tutoring people writing essays about death and dying (this student returned with a new draft), sex education and teenagers, advertising campaigns, essays on leadership styles, cholesterol monitoring, global warming and the green house effect, Hinduism, a social science experiment about exercise and Facebook (odd, but really kind of interesting).

• Basketball game starts in 45 minutes.  It's kinda nice to walk across the street to the game.  I'll have my camera.  Photos at 11:00.

Random Bullets (A-Z Edition)

A:   Allergies (started up today)
B:   Back pain (has lessened considerably)
C:   Chicken salad (made with red grapes, celery, toasted walnuts)
D:   Dissertation (minimal changes needed to chapter 3)
E:   Ethnography-mini (conducted yesterday at a rest-stop) *
F:   Free frappuchino (from the nephew of a guy I dated twice)
G:   Good things (lists and lists and lists) 
H:   Hope 
I:     iPod (how did I ever live without one?)
J:    John Legend (very nice voice)
K:   Por Que?  (OK, work with me here . . . I got nothing) 
L:    Laundry (it's the weekend)
M:   "Michael Clayton"  (rocks)
N:   Nikon D50 (camera of choice)
O:   Orange peel (in the garbage disposal)
P:   Photography (project 365, photoethnographies) **
Q:   My "maiden" name (really did begin with this letter) ***
R:   Rum and (diet)Coke ('nuff said)
S:    Soccer referee (recertification tomorrow night)
T:   Time change (I hate it; it gets dark much too early)
U:   Umbrellas (there are 8 of them in the trunk of my car)
V:   Vacuumed (the house today . . . twice)
W:  Weather (has been nice lately)
X:   Massage last week (it doesn't start with "X"? here it does)
Y:   "You Can't Go Back" (a nice song by Patti Scialfa)
Z:   Zippers (yes, some of my clothes have them) 

*      More to come on this

**     I think I'll start another blog . . .
       one devoted to photoethnographies

***    When I was in high school, classmates would tease me
        that I would grow up to be a country and western singing
        star . . . this assertion based solely on my name
        (first, middle, last).  Really.  It was a horrible time of my
        life.  I'll probably have nightmares tonight because I
        have relived this here.

Random Bullets of Sleeplessness

• It's midnight and I'm wide awake . . . with restless leg syndrome . . . and a need to rearrange living room furniture.  (for those who know . . .this ain't a good sign)
• Chris sent some terrific feedback on my dissertation's first case study earlier today, and this terrific feedback has reminded me of Deborah Brandt and her ideas of expected literacy, accumulated literacy, and literacy sponsors. . . . those ideas, naturally (yes, naturally), lead me to the idea that literacy fails when there is separation and division in relationships (Eli Goldblatt) . . . sorry, it's an associational thing.
• I have a need to dance . . .
• I skip through more songs than I listen to on the iPod.  I wonder if that shortens the iPod's life.
• I'm digging Springsteen's new album . . . Magic.
• He's not coming to Dallas (or anywhere in the vicinity), at least for this leg of the tour.  What a drag.
• It's raining for the first time in months . . . maybe the sound of rain and thunder will lull me to sleep.
• It's freaking me out a little, but each time I walk through the house and notice a digital clock, it says: 11:11.  This has been happening for several days.
• Some guard dog my dog would make:  she barks and pees when she hears thunder . . . because she thinks there is someone knocking on the door . . .  and someone will pet her.
• Interestingly, my students have significant blog posts due on Sunday night before midnight.  They have all week to do them-- yes, seven days.  Guess when 95% of them come in.  11:45 p.m., Sunday night.  I don't know what they'd do if Blogger went down at 11:30.  OK, I know what they'd do.
• Maybe another shower and aroma therapy products will help me sleep.

RBOC: Dissertation Anxiety

I'm having racing thoughts . . . not always a good sign (for me), but there you go.  Stress and anxiety induced.

• It's called a headache.
• I'm sitting at my desk at home . . . looking at a binder of over 200 pages of just random notes and crap collected over the past 18 months (all dissertation related), and I don't know what to do with it all.  So I do nothing.  But look at it.  Open it up.  Look a little more.  Close it.  Scream.
• I didn't work out today and I probably should have (pulled muscle and all) because the physical exertion really did alleviate some of the stress and anxiety.
• I refereed on Sunday with a teenager who stated loudly and clearly -- in front of the soccer players who happened to be 12-year old girls -- that he HATED refereeing girls' games.  I wanted to smack him.*

RBOC: After a long and trying day

• Overall, today wasn't bad . . . it was just difficult.  So, in honor of the difficulty, RBOC:
• Arguing with an 18-year old student -- who thinks he/she is my peer/colleague -- isn't any fun.
• Arguing with this person isn't any fun particularly when she/he does the "z wave" and tells me, "I'm so out of here."
• My hamstrings are sore from running the past few days  . . . I can't seem to stretch enough-- before or after the games, and my muscles are stiff.
• I need to do some research on "critical mass."  I have one in a particular classroom setting and I'm unsure what to do about it.
• Found out today what I'm teaching next semester, and that's actually good news.  Three writing classes-- which is standard for me-- but the courses are new.  That'll be good.
• I have been dreaming of a house I use to live in . . . and I've been dreaming about it for a few weeks now.  Same dream each time.  It freaks me out a bit.
• Springsteen has a new album coming out in a few days, and that means the Springsteen station on Sirius will come back.  If they can have Elvis and Margaritaville, they can have Springsteen.
• I just need to remember, "Bird by Bird."  (Anne Lamott)
• I need a crush.  Or to listen to Southside Johnny's "Slow Dance" album.  "A touch of the hand, a brush of the cheek" sounds quite good right now.  Or something..

RBOC: The Good and the Bad

But really, it's all good.  It's all good.

• Holiday weekend, and I got a lot done on dissertation.
• Can a case study chapter be 77+ pages long (so far)?   Too bad if it can't. This one is.
• Football game was good-- not great, but good.  New players.  First game.  Some nerves.  It'll get better.  It was a win nonetheless.
• City-wide soccer starts again this weekend.  I will referee Saturday (under 6 boys) and Sunday (over 40 women).  It'll be fun(ny).
• Watching random television yesterday, I heard this phrase:  "There is no testimony without a test."  This is my new mantra.

---More below the fold---

RBOC: Mundane Saturday

1. Had lunch with my daughter.
2. Wondered for the millionth time if her ongoing mild depression is my fault.    [the mother's lament]
   • wasn't attentive enough as a mother
   • neglected her for my academic work
   • bought the wrong peanut butter
   • didn't buy her a Hummer when she turned 16
   • divorced her father
   • gave her the gene for mood disorders
   • sent her to public school
   • wasn't strict enough
   • was too strict
   • didn't work enough
   • worked too much, . . .
3. Cleaned the house.
4. Read (very helpful and insightful) comments from dissertation advisor.
5. Edited methodology chapter and revised one case study at Starbucks (this is the "D'Ante" case study)
6. Took impromptu portraits of customers at the 'bucks.
7. Listened to Elvis on Sirius radio.
8. Washed all comforters, blankets, and pillows . . . hung them outside to dry in the heat and the sun.
9. Considered some of the people I met with last week who cannot listen.(*)
10. Considered the "but" in a sentence. [read the comments for contextualizing information]  (*)
11. Remembered the work at the battered women's shelter and how powerful those sessions were (for both the residents of the shelter and for the facilitators). 
12. Reminded myself that I need to do that work again.

(*) I'm working on another post about these very issues.  Stay tuned . . . .