radiant fracture

Help me out, here, kids. The feds want to repurpose the SSHRC grants to make them business-oriented.

The SSHRC is the only grant of any size I've found that's available to me as a grad student in English. It already covers all of the social sciences and all of the humanities (the NSERC covers natural sciences and engineering.) Economics is in there as a perfectly respectable segment of the population. It's just not King of All the Money.

Please go here and sign this: SSHRC petition.

If you don't like me, do it for the sociologists. If you don't like them, do it for the historians.

Perhaps you support the study of languages. Theology? Psychology?

Teachers? Maybe you like teachers? Anthropologists? Philosophers? No, me neither. But political scientists. I know you like them. I've seen you at parties.

Really, though, do it for me.

This feels like when we all worked for That Place and they could not understand that not every employee has to be in sales.

{rf}

* I know this isn' exactly the most pressing issue of our time, but it is DEEPLY ANNOYING TO THE SPIRIT.

"No," I said to inlandsea, "I'd better not take ibuprofen at the same time as acetaminophen. It does weird things to me."

(I relate to my painkillers by their full names, not their brand nicknames, because their actions are so different in me. If I need ibuprofen for a tension headache, Tylenol isn't going to help.)

But my head hurt, you see. And I couldn't get comfortable. The acetaminophen cut the fever, but the headache was getting worse. So I waited until I'd finished the last three episodes of ROME, and then I took a loading dose of ibuprofen and lay down to sleep.

Which is how I come to be posting to LJ now. After I finished tearing up and bagging six months of old receipts, rebooking my dropped doctor's appointment, and writing out my new rent cheques for the landlord. I had to make myself get up and Do Things, or it would have been just quietly lying there in my own dread while I explained to myself, over and over again, that the racing heartbeat, asthmatic breathing, and swollen throat were all going to go away as soon as the drugs got out of my system.

And they are, and they are, all manner of things will be well, etc.

[rolls down window, sticks head out] MORON!

Now, even though I am covered in sick-sweat and still breathing like it's Ten Below*, I am going down to the used bookstore in the Village. I need a freaking prezzie, thanks much.

{rf}

*What's more Canadian? "Put on your toque, it's Ten Below!" or "Put on your toque, it's Minus Ten!"