radfrac_archive: (dichotomy)
A bit of my writing will be published in an academic journal. My brief contribution is not a full-on peer-reviewed paper -- only a note. Still, this is a small pleasing thing.

I ought to be working right now, but I'm suffering from the worst brain fag. These last two weeks were a real test of... something. I'm not convinced that I passed.

If it was hard, it means I grew as a person, right? I feel more like I shrank.

Putting a class together -- not just listing readings and sorting slides and assigning assignments, but wrighting it, building something like a continous experience, trying to fit the you know Lego bricks of knowledge one into the other until they make -- whatever they make -- the steampunk Millenium Falcon of Knowledge -- there are so many things I think will fit and then they don't -- unexpected gaps where I needed a fiddly piece I didn't think of until afterwards.

Okay, so, what really happened was that today a student gave me some advice on how to organize the class he's in. This was the same advice another instructor had given me before the class started. I had chosen not to take this advice but to do something else instead. And they were both right -- I should have done it their way.

What is the name for that feeling? Dumb Decision Feeling. I like it not.

{rf}

*Lego Steampunk Millenium Falcon is, of course, actually a thing. Everything is a thing.
radfrac_archive: (Default)
Took the day off work because it's my day off. Despite being my day off, I haven't had it off for two weeks. I've also been in on bits of my Sundays, all to deal with the Project of Doom (bad) and the new hires (good) -- my Coding Team, as I like to think of them. Team Code. The Codery.

At ten o'clock, just as I'm thinking, right, better get to work on... something... having finished hanging the laundry (dryer definitely broken, am down two gold coins to prove it) -- phone rings

[livejournal.com profile] inlandsea answers. Says it's for me.

I told them at work that they could call me today *in an emergency* so my voice was rather wary. "Frac here," I barked.

The low and lovely tones of the graduate adviser, 'twas.

To say.
We            would like

(if we may)

to take you
    on a strange    journey               (HOW STRANGE WAS IT?)

to graduate school AND
(to GRADuate school!)                            (TELL US ABOUT IT JANET)
(to GRADUATE SCHOOL)
    to offer you
       a t.a. ship
(Then a bunch of logistical stuff I can't remember because I was SHOUTING HUZZAH IN MY HEAD)
And If possible, we would like to hear back as soon as--
                                                     "I'LL TAKE IT." I said.

{rf}

to do

Sep. 15th, 2008 05:05 pm
radfrac_archive: (Harold Ross of the New Yorker)

  • Create plausible graduate paper topic to present to dept head (Due THURSDAY) - for bonus points invoke Foucault

  • Research & write paper on... something to do with post-war British youth culture (due Oct uh 9?)

  • Research & write presentation on semiotics of punk (Due Nov uh 3?)

  • Write SSRHC application (Due Nov 6)

  • Convince 2 professors to support SSHRC presentation

  • Write grad school application(s) (Due Jan 15)

  • Convince 3 professors to support grad application(s)

  • Drop dead of brain fag



{rf}

solstice

Jun. 20th, 2008 10:47 pm
radfrac_archive: (Default)
10:24 pm would have been a luminous late twilight if it hadn't been so cloudy. Still, the sky had a smoky radiance, streaked in places with softer blue.

If I'd remembered this was the solstice, I would probably have gone to the beach with L., despite weariness and overcast. I forgot it all day; Google reminded me.

I harried myself out into the street and bought a chocolate-covered pretzel. It seemed right. I ate it while wandering up and down the village, which was populated but subdued -- I suppose everyone is downtown.

It's a warm night, though not as warm as we tend to feel entitled to. These last few days of burning overcast make the solstice a strange day, bright but not ecstatic. The pretzel was a little stale. A black-and-white puppy trundled away from its owner, who was doing something important to his convertible, and I caught the leash and brought the dog back.

This was my first day back at work. Changes are afoot. I am to have an office! I think technically it is also the server room and the place they store the TV set, but I am not complaining. An office! A door! A back people are not constantly walking behind! A proper desk! If only I'd had surgery *years* ago. I am promised an ergonomic chair, though I have to choose it from a catalogue, which adds an element of chance, an almost Vegas air, to the enterprise.

Rented "Kinsey" lately. I liked it very much; I was moved by both Kinsey and Mac. I identify with their combination of academia/bohemia/suburbia.

{rf}

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