Call for Papers

Wouldn't it be fun to publish something anonymously under the pseudonym "Dr. Bitch"?

This is a call for papers for a special theme issue on “blogging” to be published as a threshold issue in the journal Reconstruction.  The editors of this theme issue are looking for papers/projects/manifestos on the subject of “blogging.” 

Possible topics:
Theorization of the Blogosphere
Blogging Manifesto
Politics and/of Blogging
Aesthetics of Blogs
Activist Blogging
Auto/Biographical Blogs
New Media/Communication Theories and Blogging
New Journalism Blogging
Civil Rights of Bloggers
Global Culture and Blogging
Local Culture and Blogging
Education and Blogging
Gender and Blogging
Race and Blogging
Collective Blogs
Community of Bloggers
Unrealized Potential of Blogging
Critiques of Blogging
Representations of Space/Place on Blogs
Purpose of a Unique Individual/Collective Blog
Audio and Visual Blogs

We are especially interested in the experiences, theories and perspectives of those who actually blog.  Feel free to propose other topics to the editors:

Michael Benton (University of Kentucky; founder of the blog Dialogic; editor at Reconstruction) and Nick Lewis (co-founder of the Progressive Bloggers’ Alliance) 

Send all queries, proposals and manuscripts to mdbento@gmail.com

Deadline for completed essays is June 1st, 2005.

Read below about the journal Reconstruction and threshold special theme issues and their deadlines. The editors expect this issue to fill very quickly due to the importance of this subject.

Reconstruction: Studies in Contemporary Culture (ISSN 1547-4348) is an innovative culture studies journal dedicated to fostering an intellectual community composed of scholars and their audience, granting them all the opportunity and ability to share thoughts and opinions on the most important and influential work in contemporary interdisciplinary studies.

Manuscripts may be written from any number of perspectives, and with any end in mind; possible sites for articulations may focus on the urban, the rural, the natural, the social, local and global “culture,” politics, (auto)biography, medicine, the body, science, texts (music, cinema, literature), media (the internet, television), myth and religion.

Submissions are encouraged from a variety of perspectives, including, but not limited to: geography, cultural studies, folklore, architecture, history, sociology, psychology, communications, anthropology, music, political science, semiotics, theology, art history, queer theory, literary criticism, ecocriticism, criminology, urban planning, gender studies, etc. All theoretical and empirical approaches are welcomed.

Information on the preparation of manuscripts for submission can be found here.

Reconstruction is published quarterly (January, April, July, and October) and is currently indexed in the MLA International Bibliography.

Enter Dialogic
Progressive Blog Alliance

Ey-run-eee

Look. It. Up.

In other news, I am having the time of my short, wintery life at my boyfriend's, where I am lying on the floor looking at the negative space where the wall meets the ceiling, watching my gorgeous boyfriend read some of the things I'm putting on my syllabus (and thereby remembering what it is I love, after all, about my subject), and getting fucked on a regular basis. I'm a bit sore, but I feel better and more relaxed than I have in months. I need more down time.

And on that note, sicky girl is going to go out for a walk and get some light in my system before the sun goes down.

Fuck all y'all white boys

Ooh, which white man should we choose to lead the DNC? We want to win. How can we better appeal to white men? After all, the ladies, like the blacks and the poor folks, don't have anywhere else to go. Anyway, they don't vote anyway. Only boys count. Democratic Leadership Rethinking Abortion. Link via Screed.

You know what? Fuck you motherfuckers. Fuck. You.

NYT obit of Susan Sontag

Also book reviews and a few essays.

It's a pity. She was one of the greats.

Scenes from our holidays: or, I married a geek

The setting: Mr. B's siblings got him the first two seasons of Star Trek on DVD for his 40th bday. We are wrapping presents while pseudonymous kid naps on the couch. The episode we're watching comes to an end.

Mr. B.: Would you just grab the remote and hit "return" and then hit "play" on the next episode?
Me. Where's the remote? Oh, it's right there. (Clicking buttons.)
Mr. B.: Right, and then, hit "play." Thanks. (Pause, followed by goofy-ass grin) Do you know, this is a dream of mine.
Me: ??
Mr. B.: To have my beautiful wife sitting there, and ask her to start the next episode of Star Trek.
Me: (Rolls eyes.)
Mr. B.: I didn't say it was a nice dream. But it is a dream.

Last-minute Xmas gifts

For the person who has everything, or is considering a career as a serial killer:
1. Meat-scented air fresheners
2. Crazy-ass ski masks

Both via Boing Boing

Written on my swanky-ass brand-new 15" Powerbook!

Wowness. We had about a foot of snow last night, and supposedly more tonight, too. 'Twas much fun driving to the dentist's office this morning--I heart my 15-yo Subaru wagon! Slap that baby into 4wd, plow through the snowbanks. Mucho fun. Though actually it's Mr. B. doing the driving, b/c I am a chickenshit (and I know my limits).

Even bitchy I-hate-the-winter me has to admit the snow is kind of pretty and fun. Pseudonymous kid is getting a sled from Santa, so yay snow. And my last few Xmas shopping errands can all be done within walking distance, so life is good.

And then, after Xmas, I am off to visit the boyfriend for New Year's.

So I'll see ya when I see ya. Maybe I'll post salacious details from New Year's, if you're really lucky.

Flu, depression, or paxil?

This can be like those NYT Magazine "Diagnosis" columns.

1. Tired, lethargic.
2. Body aches (then again, I fell down on the ice yesterday)
3. Dry skin (then again, it's winter)
4. Headachey
5. Lack of appetite
6. Dizzy
7. Thirsty, but too lazy to get a glass of water
8. Brain not working so good
9. Sat on floor of bath during shower for about 10 minutes
10. Want to go to bed, but PK still going strong

I have dinner plans tomorrow, which almost certainly means it's the flu. Joy.

Boring blog entry

The ongoing discussion is so interesting, and I want to respond specifically to Mel's readerly/writerly stuff, but I am brain-dead today. Slept 'til after noon. Pseudonymous kid, the darling, got up and dressed himself (in a seasonal guayabera and a pair of multi-colored patchwork fleece pants that he outgrew two years ago, but they're his favorites, such a stunning outfit!), and then got me up to feed him and the cat. I have plunked him in front of a movie. The kid has watched a lot of movies this week, let me tell you.

Yesterday after turning in my grades (hoo-fucking-ray) we went out to McD's for a celebratory lunch, then to the mall to see Santa and see if I could find anything to buy. Our mall sucks ass: even though I was in the mood to spend money, I just could not see buying anything there. So I guess that's good. Pseudonymous kid is so cute about Santa: he gets so very excited about seeing him, and then when we get to the head of the line he won't sit in his lap or even climb into the sleigh (the mall had Santa sitting in a sleigh, for photo purposes); he just stands outside and shakes Santa's hand but won't tell Santa what he wants or say anything but (whisper): "It's nice to meet you," followed by burying his head in my crotch. Too funny. So I told Santa we'd send him a letter, which we'll write some time today, I guess.

The problem is, pseudonymous kid is too smart, and yet he believes in Santa, so he won't tell me what he wants Santa to bring him, because "then it won't be a surprise." !!!! What is a parent to do? Mr. B. has successfully planted the idea that pseudonymous kid needs a new sled, so we're good there. The other thing he says is, and this is so great, what he wants from me and his papa is "chocolate and batteries." No shit. That's what he wants. Oh, and maybe "some new flashlights." You can tell that, despite how many videos he watches, we have no tv reception and so he doesn't see commercials much. Ah, the waning days of his innocence about the wheels of commerce.

Schoolin'

Well, apparently at least some of my readers got the irony of the "where are the men bloggers" post....

What was my point? As Laura pointed out, it was a question of point of view. Feminism 101. As others (ha ha, geddit?) have pointed out, if your world-view is androcentric, then you ask stupid questions like "where are the women?" or, in another era, "what do women want?" And you answer those questions by trotting out a lot of unexamined stupid stereotypes, without recognizing that there are an equal number of stupid stereotypes that would provide exactly the opposite answer.

If your world-view is feminist, then that question doesn't need to be asked. Then it becomes obvious that what the question really means is, "why don't women blog on the things that I, in my wisdom think "count" as academic/political?" Because, see, things like grading, or teaching, or buying books, or the job search, are part of academic life. Hell, sex and kids and housekeeping and bitching about where I live are part of my academic life. If, when someone says, "there are lots of women bloggers" you just reframe the question by saying, "well, yes, but their blogs aren't really academic," then it begs the question--to anyone with half a clue about feminism--of how you are defining academic, and why, and what that means.

The other thing I've been thinking is this. As academics, it is our job--is it not?--to read things and think about them. Not seeing that there is meaning in domesticity, that there is meaning in daily life, that there is meaning and thinking in these silly, diaristic women's blogs, really demonstrates a lack of reading skill.

(This isn't, by the way, an attack on anyone. Really. It's just me bitching about how stupid the question itself is.)

On to more thoughtful stuff:

The other thing though, is this question of irony and intertextuality and what are blogs for? I think I think of my blog as a sort of ongoing work: my imagined ideal reader is roughly familiar with the work as a whole, roughly familiar with the context in which it's written (the blogs I link to and comment on). Obviously, readers who aren't familiar with either of those things, or who are thinking of something else as they read, will miss or even misinterpret the meaning of a specific post, taken in isolation. Maybe (rampant speculation here) this is a distinction between "diaristic" blogs (gendered "feminine," rightly or wrongly) and "wonky" blogs (gendered "masculine"). It seems to me that a lot of news blogs and / or subject-specific research blogs are more like newspapers: you can pick up an issue, read it in isolation, and "get" it. The idea is that the language is supposed to be transparent. My blog, at least, is, I think, more novelisitc than that: it has (I have) a different sense of the formal implications of the periodical nature of blog publication. The time stamps and unfolding nature of the process don't separate each issue into its own distinct piece; rather they signify a kind of linearity, a development over time. The links don't just give me a shorthand way of reprinting stuff I want to comment on (I very seldom do that); instead, they operate sort of like footnotes--suggesting the context in which the thing is written.

Not that I want to get all "intentional fallacy" about it....

Gosh, I miss my husband

I apologize in advance for the domestic nature of this post. I know that domestic posts are narrow and boring, and well beneath my intellectual talents as someone with a Ph.D. I won't blame you, my hypereducated audience, if you think that posts of this nature are beneath your intellectual abilities too, and decide to simply skip this post. But there's a long academic tradition of people thanking their spouses for all their support in the acknowledgements of their books, so please take this in that sense.

You know, I just don't know what I would do without him. I went to take a shower just now, and saw the laundry I'd left hanging over the shower bar two days ago. I'd just completely forgotten about it! My domestic skills are so bad. Anyway, I removed it so that I could shower, and then remembered that when I'd hung it up, I'd put in another load. And it had been sitting downstairs for two days! Now, last time Mr. B. went out of town, I forgot about the laundry and it got moldy. Determined not to fuck up like that again, I went downstairs before my shower and put it in the dryer. Then I thought, since I'm down here, I might as well just put another load on, so I did. Then I went upstairs to take a shower.

But my shower was cold! "Where is the hot water?" I thought. And then I realized, gosh, the washing machine! I mean, really. Who is so silly that they turn the washing machine on just before taking a shower? Only us egghead academic types, all brains-on-sticks. Or maybe it's just because I'm a woman, and illogical or absent-minded or something. Anyway, I went and turned the washing machine off, but it had already used so much hot water that my shower was kind of tepid. Brrr.

And then I got out of the shower and realized, one reason it's so cold is that there's ice on the inside of the window! This is because the inside window (they're double-paned) is open, and I haven't yet gotten around to closing it. I hadn't even noticed that it was icy, though it's been freezing here for several days, and only noticed it this time because pseudonymous kid was scraping the ice off the window with his little plastic playmmobile push broom. Again, my domestic skills are just so sloppy. I hadn't thought to close the window, even though it's cold out! When will my husband the housekeeper come home and save me from myself?

And then I thought, apropos of my last blog entry, about gender roles. Maybe Mr. B. is better than I am at this housekeeping stuff just because he's doing it, maybe if I simply paid more attention I'd be good at it too. And then I realized, wait. Pseudonymous kid is using a broom to scrape the ice. And a tweezers. The broom was part of a firefighter set his godmother gave him: it's a rescue truck with flashing lights, and I guess the push broom is something the rescue firefighters use to sweep up the water or something after they're doing putting out the fire. But you know, it's realy his favorite toy out of the set. So obviously, this housekeeping stuff is innate, not learned! Plus, the tweezers! And then, he wanted to blow dry my hair for me. I mean, when a five-year-old boy wants to blow dry your hair and play with tweezers, you know he's too young to be doing that because he's learned it from society. It's gotta be natural.

Also, what about pseudonymous kid's dinners? He's eaten chicken nuggets every day since Mr. B. left. Yesterday he had cereal for breakfast and I had coffee. Then for lunch we went out to a restaurant. Then for dinner we ate leftovers from the restaurant. I haven't cooked a meal since my husband left. Just goes to show, cooking just doesn't come naturally to me.

And my boyfriend, too. First of all, I have a boyfriend--but Mr. B. doesn't have a girlfriend. So it must be natural for me, as a woman, to stray; therefore, it makes sense that Mr. B. stays home to keep the house. Keeping a good house is his way of making sure that my natural wandering nature still wants to return home. Also, my boyfriend is a really great cook! And his house is so clean! And he has linen and silk sheets on his bed, and down pillows, and house plants, and art on the walls. Just goes to show, it's not just Mr. B.: all men obviously have this natural domestic talent, which must be why pseudonymous kid likes playing with brooms and hairdryers.

So I can't wait 'til my husband comes home and saves me from these petty, boring, domestic details so that I can get back to what I naturally do best: Important Academic Stuff.

You know, like grading exams.

Where are all the male academic bloggers?

Based on the first half of my academic blogroll ("professoriate"; after doing the first half, I got bored w/ counting, but since the thing is sorted alphabetically, I assume that half is pretty representative), slightly over 76% of the academic blogs I link to are women. Now, when I first started out, I linked everyone who linked to me (I still do this, though I check sitemeter v. infrequently, so I may miss some folks). I also collected academic blogs: while I didn't go through the list over at CT and reproduce it, I did make a point of blogrolling every academic blog I came across. Ok, well, except for the one written by the guy who predicted my divorce. Anyway, the point is, I didn't consciously go out of my way to collect women's blogs or to exclude men, but I did go out of my way to collect academic blogs. And yet, more than 2/3rds of the blogs I ended up with are by women.

Why don't men keep academic blogs? Is it that their verbal skills are less developed, so they are less likely to write as a hobby? Is it that their natural hunting instincts make them less interested in forming communities? Is it that their competitive nature means they are less likely to put their thoughts out in a public forum? Is it that their individualism makes them less interested in contributing to public discourse? Is it that their traditional breadwinner status means they won't write unless they are getting paid for it?

I also surveyed my non-academic blogroll. Though there's a little crossover--I suspect some of the folks in "procrastinate" and/or "liberal bias" have advanced degrees/teach somewhere, mostly I've just categorized them according to what I, personally, use them for. I didn't bother with "liberal bias" b/c, again, I got bored, but "procrastinate" is well over 2/3rds women. This supports the idea that it isn't academic men, specifically, but men in general who simply don't care for blogging.

Does anyone have any thoughts on this peculiar phenomenon?

I am so going to buy this

I mean, how could one not? vibrating women's razor. First, b/c it is kind of scary. Second, b/c it is amusing as hell. Third, b/c apparently they plan not to price it more than men's razors, which it is about fucking time. If they really keep to that, I'll forgive them for the old Venus (everyone else has noticed that this thing looks like an old men's girlie toothbrush from the 50s, right?)

Via Boing Boing

I dig my kid, even if he does grow up to be a serial killer

Today I was singing the who song at pseudonymous kid, and he says:

PK: Stop singing that song.
Me: Why? I like it.
PK: No. We must stop Christmas from coming. But how?
Me, laughing: You're the grinch now?
PK, smiling a naughty little smile: Yes!
Me: Oh no! The poor whos!
PK: No, you're the grinch mama.
Me: So I'm on your side?
PK: Yes. And you have to help me.

From there we established that I was "mama grinch" and he was "big grinch" (as opposed to "little grinch," since he's "not little"). Then we had the following suggestions:

* We should make the cat play the dog/reindeer part. (Me: "What do you think she would say?" PK: "She would say, 'meow, meow, this sleigh is too heavy! Make it smaller!" Me, laughing: "Yes, that's exactly what she would say.")
* We should catch the whos.
* We should attach wires to their heads. (?!?!?)
* We should squish them.

And the best idea?

* "We should make them flat! Maybe with a chisel."

Couple new things on the blogroll

Usually I add things to the blogroll silently, but I wanted to draw attention to Nalo Hopkinson, who I found via Scribbling
Woman (who by the way got nominated for Best Book/Literary Blog in a blog prize contest that looks to have some really excellent categories). Not only does Nalo have great recipes on her site (and recently a link to a good new story, free, with request for donations to hurricane relief in the Caribbean), but she also links to Big Mama's Church, a new blog by Ariel Gore of Hipmama fame (not so famous to those of you without kids, maybe, but trust me, Ariel rocks).

Food, good progressive politics, fiction, and pretty pictures. What more could anyone ask for?

Ooh, pretty!

Amazing and beautiful pics using, I presume, some kind of electron microscope. Explore the site--there are also gorgeous, gorgeous underwater photos of coral reefs and fish in the "equipment" section, for instance. I love this kind of thing.

Via pharyngula.

What I did today

No work today. Instead

1. Up most of the night b/c pseudonymous kid wasn't sleeping.

2. Haven't had paxil in 4 days b/c doc did not call in refill. Oddly I feel more anxious, but also more energized w/out it. Wish I had an actual psychiatrist to help me figure out meds, but my health plan is incredibly shitty so GP it is.

3. Pseudonymous kid has tonsillitis.

4. Trip to doc's to diagnose tonsillitis also let me get them to call in the paxil scrip.

5. L-O-N-G (45 minute) wait in car while Mr. B. filled scrips. Me and super cranky sick pseudonymous kid.

6. Out of cigarettes, which oddly seem to taste crappy on paxil anyway, but I still want them. Probably too lazy/tired to go get more tonight.

7. Living room painting, obviously, behind schedule. Mr. B. leaving town day after tomorrow for much-deserved vacation time alone, a kind of bday present for him.

8. Tomorrow is Mr. B's 40th. No money. Got colleagues to babysit, though, which means we can either paint the house or have sex. Which do you think it'll be?

9. Now I am getting an exciting migraine, which for me usually means light flashes and poor vision, but luckily the headache part of these is usually quite mild.

10. The R key on this machine is sticking for some reason. Will make Mr. B. pry it up and dig out the dirt or whatever it is while, I think, I go take a nap.

Not surprising to most of my readers

Interesting entry over atThe Well-Timed Period: the risk of death to men taking Viagra is 6/100,000.

Do y'all remember the young woman, Holly Patterson, who died last year after (from?) taking RU-486? There's been a few recent stories about moves to ban, or at least "clearly" label RU-486 as potentially fatal. Interestingly, I did a little googling to find out what the expected death rate for RU-486 was. With the exception of Women's e-news Daily and a short story by some local tv station somewhere, the google hits on the story all seem to be by conservative or religious publications (check it out). Moreover, not even the article on Patterson in Women's e-News Daily cites the expected fatality rate of RU-486, though I was able to find it in a separate article by that publication that mentions Patterson in passing.

Guess what the expected mortality rate from RU-486 is?

1/200,000.

Twelve times less fatal than Viagra.

Update: Ema corrects the numbers I got from Women's e-news: apparently the associated (not necessarily causal, which I did know) death rate from RU-486 is actually slightly higher than that: 0.8/100,000. This is an estimate, b/c the causality isn't clear.

She also points out that this is slightly less than half the mortality associated with a penicillin shot. Which is 2/100,000.

Worth sitting through the ad for

Salon.com Comics | This Modern World.

Really. Especially if you're a college prof, as so many of you are.

?!?!?

Maybe not quite the
weirdest toy ever, but definitely up there.

Via Thane Plambeck.

Best comment on a student paper, ever

B. nabs it. Scroll down to the end of this (short) entry, though the rest of it's funny, too.

From now on, that's what I'm writing at the bottom of every student paper.

For Becky

Thank you so much! Your package arrived yesterday, and it's absolutely beautiful. You really lifted my spirits :)

What do I want to do when I grow up?

When I was still in graduate school, I told myself I would give the job market a few years. My goal was to find a t-t job in a place I wanted to live.

I found the t-t job. Turns out it's not in a place I really want to live.

So, this year I applied for other jobs, jobs that seemed suitable (t-t) in places I did want to live. It's looking like those jobs won't pan out, though I suppose I could get a late response. But operating on the assumption that, for whatever reason, they weren't that into me, and following my convo. with my therapist earlier this week, I find myself thinking about this.

The period I originally planned to look for a job is over. I have a job, yes, but it isn't one I want to keep. Should I stick it out here for another year and give the market another go? Or should I decide fuck it, quit, and move back "home" this summer? Let's assume, for the sake of simplicity, that "home" is the city I got my Ph.D. in--because it is a city I like, because I have friends there, because I could almost surely find some kind of teaching gig there even if it were just picking up classes at the local community colleges until I figured out what to do next.

Reasons to move this summer: 1. Honest to god, the idea of another winter in this place makes me despair. 2. Pseudonymous kid will start kindergarten next year, and the school system back home is excellent; I was really looking forward to his being in those schools back when the possibility of not getting a job and moving seemed like a realistic one. 3. We have friends who have said we can stay with them for a bit while we're getting settled. 4. It would feel like getting on with my life; I think a big part of my depression is feeling incredibly trapped and powerless to affect my future. 5. When I imagine that decision, I feel an enormous sense of relief.

Reasons to wait another year: 1. Money. We created a pretty big debt hole, I'll get a raise next year, Mr. B. can get a job, we can build more equity in the house (and another year working on the outside--this year we're doing the inside--will enormously add to its resale value). It cost a shitload of money to move here, and the university paid for it; if the moving back costs are on me, I have no idea how we're going to swing it. 2. Fear. It worries me tremendously to think that I might pitch my career overboard after only two years doing it and only one year of looking for another job. On the other hand, of course there is no reason I can't look again next year even if we do move. More on this in the next paragraph. 3. Possibly, I might feel like an enormous loser moving back. I actually think I'd take a perverse satisfaction in going home and saying, "yeah, well, I decided I didn't want to do that"; I tend to enjoy puncturing received truths. But I can't discount the possibility that I'm idealizing the past and will find myself feeling like the loser kid who couldn't let go of her prom queen days and keeps hanging around the high school. 4. Doubt. Maybe I'm just psyching myself out; maybe I'm overreacting to the normal stress of moving across the damn country and starting my career. Maybe if I just suck it up and wait it out it will get better. But, in contrast to my feeling of relief when I imagine moving home, when I entertain this possibility the best I can get (on a good day) is a feeling of, "yeah, I can imagine staying here a year or so, I guess, and looking back on it later as a hard time in my life and a step towards building my career." On a bad day, the thought of it, as I said, makes me feel utterly distraught.

If we move, and I look for a t-t job again next year anyway, I suppose I'm in a slightly disadvantaged position since I won't be holding the title of "assistant professor" while I look. Then again, I might be in a better position if I feel like not finding a job won't be the end of my world, because I am happy where I am anyway. It's not as if I couldn't get another article, maybe even two, out while I have access to my old Ph.D. institution's (vastly superior) library, and I will probably be teaching somewhere, somehow. And I might find that teaching at a c.c. or even looking into teaching high school would appeal to me, and those options would be easier to explore if I were already in the place where I wanted to live.

The thing is, I think I would like to stay in teaching. I like it, and I'm good at it. I actually miss teaching first-year and non-major courses; my current job is "good" enough that I don't have/get to do that often. I enjoy teaching grad students; but if I never taught grad students again, that would be okay too. My research is interesting enough, and if it didn't stress me out with all the stupid tenure worry, I'd like it just fine; but again, if I dropped it, I don't think I'd feel a big hole in my life. I'd like to write something, somehow, somewhere; but I think I might prefer writing (as I prefer teaching) for a more general, less specialist audience. Furthermore, the tenure thing really annoys the crap out of me; it feels incredibly infantalizing to have finished the goddamn degree only to enter into yet *another* probationary period. The job market feels the same way: I have the qualifications, I know what I want, and I'm growing increasingly impatient with the way this career keeps us in these "student" positions where we're constantly worrying about being "good enough" and passing some mysterious set of standards, and all the goddamn power and choice is in the hands of someone else--journal editors, book publishers, the folks on the tenure committee, the mysterious job committee, whatever. It would be damn nice to have a job where I didn't feel like that, and though I'm not under any illusion that other jobs don't also require one to answer to those further along the food chain, it does seem like academia--with my worry that if I quit this job without another elusive and hard-to-land tenure-line position, I'll be essentially sabotaging my career--it does seem like academia is peculiarly fucked-up in not allowing people to shape their own careers according to their own needs.

So, honest to god, if you have any thoughts or ideas that might help me figure this shit out, let me know.

Staggering towards the finish line...

Graduate grades turned in. Individual components of undergrad grades all done--I only need to enter them, go through my email to get the group marks they assigned each other, enter those, and calculate the final grades. Will do that tonight after...

Decorating the tree! Which I promised pseudonymous kid we'd do today. Because we ended up going grocery shopping last night instead. God, I am so exhausted--I was up 'til 2:30 last night and up again at 7 for a pointless meeting this morning. But decorating it will be. The house is a sty, I am feeding myself leftover bean soup for dinner and pseudonymous kid is having: four chicken nuggets, ketchup, a pb&j sandwich, cereal with slices of clementine in it, and a couple of blackberries. Don't ask me, that's what he asked for. And as the working-outside-the-house spouse, it's my god-given right to say, "sure, kid." Dads aren't the only ones who can feed their kids crap for dinner! Embrace the freedom!

But. Once I've eaten, I'll feel better. Then the tree, which thank god is a small one (pseudonymous kid, being sentimental about the Charlie Brown Christmas Special--which upsets him, yet he wants to watch it--insisted we get the smallest tree we could find, which is still a good five feet tall). Then pseudonymous kid is watching a goddamn video while I enter those grades.

And we are sleeping in tomorrow.

Oh christ, pseudonymous kid just dropped his stuffed toy mouse in his milk. That's going to smell nice soon.

Calgon, take me away....

Help.

Why do I do this to myself? I had rec letters to do for a student. Made an appointment for her to pick them up today. Ok, fine, wrote letters, had them ready for her. I also have other letters to do for other students. Am I taking advantage of my momentum to actually do the other letters, which are due next week? Not at the moment. With the immediate deadline of "student coming to pick up letters" off my radar, I am reading blogs.

And, we've been invited to dinner at our former neighbors' new house tonight at 6. Their kid used to play with our kid. They are perfectly nice people, but I don't actually care about them one way or the other, and I really really wish i didn't have to knock off work in order to go sit at their house for two or three hours being cheerful. Ugh.

Then again, maybe I can use that deadline to force myself to do some of these fucking rec letters.

Completely random shit

1. Saw my therapist today: she made a strong case for me just quitting this job at the end of the year and moving home, replacement job or no. Best line: "you won the prize and got the job and now you're taking anti-depressants. Obviously something's wrong, right?"

2. Took pseudonymous kid grocery shopping, which wore. me. right. out.

3. Got an email from an old friend who was told by another old friend about my blogdentity. Cool, but kind of freaky. So far, as far as I can tell, those of you with big mouths are only telling people I'm cool with knowing, but for god's sake, you really ought to at least tell me who you're outing me to. And would it kill you to drop me an email once in a while? (I know, I know, I'm a massive hypocrite, and I shoud email/call you too, especially those of you that have had babies.)

4. Apparently there are more jobs posted in another place I would like to live. Must get up the energy to apply for them. Sigh.

5. Forgot that I had a parent-teacher conference scheduled tonight with pseudonymous kid's teacher. I totally, totally suck.

6. For CW: random comments, suitable for a wide range of student papers.
- Good argument, but you need to provide more supporting evidence.
- I'm not sure what you are arguing here, is it X, or Y?
- You must cite your sources. (This is such a great all-purpose comment, suitable for unresearched papers, plagiarism, or pure bullshit.)
- Wow! Great paper!
- You are kidding. Right? Please tell me you're kidding.

Grading blog part one

Morning spent getting Mr. B. to bus station, donuts w/ PK to celebrate payday (yes, money is that tight). PK read quietly on the couch most of the morning; I read him a book about mice, but failed to take advantage of his self-entertainment and sleepiness to grade until about half an hour after he actuallly fell asleep, after I had put on his favorite album. During my grading, I kept the album on repeat, b/c, like his father, PK sleeps sounder with some kind of noise in the background.

2:16: Started reading grad papers.
2:18: Checked email, responded to profgrrrrl's comment.
2:19: Started grading blog. Back to grading.
2:43: First paper marked... check email. Hmmm, maybe some tea?
2:47: Ok, back to grading.
3:16: Next paper graded. Check email, contemplate cigarette. Exciting, thought-provoking comment from profgrrrrl.
3:22: Couple blog comments, decided to postpone cigarette. Back to grading.
3:25: AARGH. It is so fucking hard to read graduate papers with They Might Be Giants playing in the background...
3:47: Third paper graded. Pseudonymous kid is starting to sound restless. Dang. Four more papers to go, though. Worst case scenario, I can do them tonight. Off now to pee and have a cig outside before I have to put on the mama hat.
3:53: PK still asleep. Instead of continuing grading, I think I'll get some kind of dinner going. TMBG album over just as I finished cigarette, which means he'll probably wake soon, which is good, b/c otherwise he'll never sleep tonight and he has school tomorrow. He'll want to decorate the tree, too, so probably grading will resume after bedtime, unless I manage to squeeze it in while he sits in front of a video later...

This, btw, is how I wrote my dissertation with a baby around. Kids are great for teaching one to live in the moment: when they're occupied (or sleeping), you get shit done b/c you know you won't be able to do it later. Provides a nice incentive not to procrastinate too much.

Am thinking of starting a research blog under my real name, btw, b/c I am thinking about the ways that blogging does sort of help one structure a sense of ongoing work, jot down notes and drafts, and develop ideas. Does anyone have advice for how to convert old Word Perfect files to .pdf? Not sure if WP lets you do that, and whenever I try to save them as .rtfs for opening in Word, which I currently use (as WP has abandoned Mac), it somehow erases all the damn notes.

Do as I say, not as I do

I just left a comment over at Dr. H's and even as I was writing it, I was thinking, "goddamn, you are a hypocrite." Why is it that I can so easily tell someone else, fuck making the thing perfect, send it off to the journal and let them throw it back at you with specific suggestions, rather than wasting your time trying to guess what they'll want from it," but when it comes to my own stuff, I don't do that? Instead, I fret. I hate that. And it's only in the publishing world where I do that: I'm quite happy to teach off the top of my head (and do it frequently, and well, so there). Quite happy to leave the house with only vague directions to where I'm going and figure it out by guessing. Quite happy to improvise in the kitchen: "hm, we have stilton, tortillas, and a pomegranate... ok, holiday quesadillas it is!" Quite happy to babble on my blog, even, so it's not writing per se.

Gah. So annoying. Note to self: "The perfect is the enemy of the goddamnwell good enough." Memorize it.

Now to grade the grad papers (ugh), since pseudonymous kid has fallen asleep on the couch. Ah, naptime...

Bored now

Who wants to do my grading for me? Anyone? Anyone?
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Don't everyone speak at once...

Today's activities

1. Wrote four letters of recommendation.

2. Graded one undergrad paper (hey! The first step is the hardest!)

3. Went to pseudonymous kid's school to help with the "gingerbread" (i.e., graham cracker) house project. I originally volunteered to help with this thinking, of course, that I'd be done with my grading by now, but on the other hand it was a nice break and hey, he's my kid.

4. Finally got a letter of acknowledgment from the second job I'd applied to--which they apparently sent ages ago, god knows why it was so slow. Acknowlegement letter did not make it clear what their timeline is; I'll call at some point and ask.

5. Got a nice email from one of the students I wrote a recommendation for.

added: AND, AND:

6. Wrapped all the cousins' xmas presents ready for shipping tomorrow (quite the task, but if I say so myself I did an awesome job of homemade gift tags and really nice, thoughtful recycled presents including *huge* collections of my old horse books for the two horsey girl cousins); cleaned up the construction zone/living room; helped Mr. B. put all the living room furniture back now that he finished painting (just in time); had a long advisory phone call with a friend who is thinking of moving to the city I did my Ph.D. in, mostly about the school system and housing prices; did a load of laundry. Only smoked four cigs today. Made a much-deserved cup of tea. And now an episode of Buffy, then bed. Undergrad grades are due Friday morning, so thank god, I will finish those papers tomorrow.

A question for the ages

Me, looking out the window: "Don't the trees look cold?"

Pseudonymous kid: "Yes. No. Bepause they don't have mouths, or sweaters. So I don't think they mind." (Thinking a minute longer.) "Plus! They don't have brains! Right?"

Me: "No, they don't have brains."

Pseudonymous kid: "Well then." (Pause.) "Mama, were you just joking, or were you being stupid?"

Retail therapy

OMG, I am such a bad, bad, bad person.

Haircut (very very cute!!), plus styling products to maintain haircut: $100. Ok, fine. That's my discretionary spending for the month of December, I've already figured out lots of very nice recycled toy gifts for the kiddos, Mr. B. and I will be burning CDs or passing along DVDs or something like that for the grownups, if we bother to do anything at all.

But, um, ok. There's a new mall with a new lingerie shop in my little crappy town. I haven't bought new lingerie since I moved here, b/c I am (a) an unusual size, which I will not divulge even on my anonymous blog; (b) extremely picky. If you have nice breasts, goddamnit, you deserve nice bras, not that ill-fitting cheaply-made crap they sell in the mall where they try to talk you into buying the wrong size because they don't stock your size, the idiots. (Aside: women should always buy good-fitting bras, but most women buy bras that are too big in the band and too small in the cup. If your bra strap rides up in back or if you get--shudder--that horrible overspill at the top of the cup that makes you look like you have four boobs when you are wearing a tight shirt, that is the reason. Go to a good bra shop, by which I mean "not Victoria's Secret," and get someone to fit you. And if you have any kind of boobs at all, try on a Wacoal: excellent, excellent, well-made, comfortable, reasonably attractive bras. Yes, they cost more than that goddamn VS crap. We're talking about your tits here: spend the money.)

Where was I? Oh, having not bought bras for a couple of years because there's no place to buy them and I have been too busy to find good lingerie shops in Big City. Well, my boyfriend kind of has a lingerie fetish, so this already bothersome problem has become, of course, quite acute, since I will be spending time with him this month. Anyway, some wonderful woman has opened an independent lingerie shop here, and her ad promised that "we stock your size." So I went to check it out.

And, well, my hat is off to this lovely woman, because yes, she does indeed stock my size. In fact, she stocks the panties that go with some of the bras I already own. And as long as I was piling things on her counter, I also bought myself a corset. With, of course, the matching panties, because really, how could I not?

Damage? $500. On the already racked-up credit card. How I'm going to make the payments I do not know. Mr. B. will kill me.

Only wait. No, come to think of it, he probably won't.

Ooh, this makes me so mad

See Pharyngula and The Well-Timed Period on the latest news about so-called abstinence "education."

I'm with New Kid in having nothing to say other than a slow burn. Does anyone remember The Angriest Dog in the World? That's how I feel. All I can say is, lies and ignorance are not education, and promoting this crap while suppressing actual information is, in a word, evil.