Insert typical Halloween message here.
One of the things that has come along with fatherhood is a reconsideration of how the holidays can work and ought to work. (It is something I have mentioned before.) Since today is a holiday, and it is one I mark, I find myself considering those things once again.
Ms. 8 has a costume; she will, fittingly enough, dress as an octopus. Her step-grandmother and mother made the costume for her, and I have seen her in it (but not yet today); she is remarkably cute, and I do not normally register cute or see it as a good thing. For my daughter, though...
Aside from that, though, I am not thinking any new thoughts. I am rehashing ideas I have already had, and I am not finding in them any more comfort than I did before. I am finding no resolution in them. I can, though, take some comfort in the idea that I am at least not appropriating other cultures in my daughter's costumery (and I will not be costuming myself; I am a bit old and curmudgeonly for such things anymore, and Ms. 8 will not know whether I do or not). While I may be participating in appropriation by engaging even as much as I am (although the argument could be made that I am a participant in the successor cultures to those being appropriated, which would mitigate the error of appropriation), I am at least not making mock of the more overtly and directly oppressed in doing so; if I err, the error is less than it could be. It may not be a thing to celebrate, but there is at least less mourning to attend upon it.
In other news, today was payday, which means that today was also bill-pay day. The pain of the latter cancels out the joy of the former, as it happens. I am caught up on expenses for the month, though; I get to have a car and a house, at least until December begins, and the lights will stay on a little longer. The increasingly autumnal weather, though, will be driving up utility costs soon, however much my wife and I weatherize Sherwood Cottage. (We have a better idea of how to do it this year than last, however, and thankfully.) More work will be in order, I think--if I can find it. (More freelancing will start tomorrow, which will help in the short term, but freelancing is not a thing on which I can depend, even if I have increasingly been doing so.)
Work on finding work and on The Work continues. I sent out applications yesterday and am poised to do another couple today (if I do not get bogged down in other things), and I posted a piece to Travels in Genre and Medievalism yesterday, too. It is a hopeful sign, I think, a reminder that I am still able to do the things I am called to do. If I could find a way to make a bit better a living off of them, though, I would not be averse to it.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thursday, October 30, 2014
20141030.0730
Things continue to return to whatever degree of normalcy they have at Sherwood Cottage. My lovely wife took care of much of the laundry that had accrued around our trip to the Texas Hill Country; while we were able to wash clothes there, we wore clothes during and after doing so, and Ms. 8 goes through her wardrobe rapidly. Too, the linens needed changing. I am slowly getting caught up on the grading that grew up in my absence and since my return, although it continues to swell up, as well; I have one set of exercises to assess from last week, then reports from three classes, a paper from the fourth, and on Monday, I will have papers coming in from the other three again. So I continue to be busy, as I think I have noted on occasion before.
The search for a more permanent position continues, as well. I think I have noted once or twice that, while my current job is not a bad one, it is bounded, and because it is bounded (although re-hiring seems to happen a fair bit), I cannot rest assured of its continuation. I am thus obliged to seek out positions that do offer me something like that assurance, jobs that are not strictly limited by term and which I can therefore expect to continue in for many years so long as I do a decent job or better at them. It is not too much to ask, I think, that after twelve years in college and approaching sixteen in the normal labor force that I would want to find a job to do that I can remain at and do for some time; it is not as if I am asking for a handout, after all.
I am familiar with the litany of responses. "Start your own business," for one, despite the fact that most new businesses fail, and fail spectacularly, in short order (and I cannot risk Ms. 8 for my failure), and despite the fact that I do not have 1) the capital to handle the startup costs involved in starting up a business, 2) the skillset to actually manage business affairs, and 3) enough understanding of people and their needs and desires to find something that I am equipped to do that they want to have done. "Start at the bottom and work your way up" is another, despite the fact that there is almost no possibility of promotion from "the bottom" (when has a fry-cook or a janitor become a fast-food CEO--or even middle management?) and despite the fact that I have already been at the bottom so that a return would be a downward step (if not, perhaps, a large one)--and, again, I am not willing to risk Ms. 8 on such a thing. "You're better off than many" is yet another, and it is true, but does that mean that I ought not to look for more and better? Ought I to be content with the way things are because others are not so fortunate as I have been?
Ought any of us?
The search for a more permanent position continues, as well. I think I have noted once or twice that, while my current job is not a bad one, it is bounded, and because it is bounded (although re-hiring seems to happen a fair bit), I cannot rest assured of its continuation. I am thus obliged to seek out positions that do offer me something like that assurance, jobs that are not strictly limited by term and which I can therefore expect to continue in for many years so long as I do a decent job or better at them. It is not too much to ask, I think, that after twelve years in college and approaching sixteen in the normal labor force that I would want to find a job to do that I can remain at and do for some time; it is not as if I am asking for a handout, after all.
I am familiar with the litany of responses. "Start your own business," for one, despite the fact that most new businesses fail, and fail spectacularly, in short order (and I cannot risk Ms. 8 for my failure), and despite the fact that I do not have 1) the capital to handle the startup costs involved in starting up a business, 2) the skillset to actually manage business affairs, and 3) enough understanding of people and their needs and desires to find something that I am equipped to do that they want to have done. "Start at the bottom and work your way up" is another, despite the fact that there is almost no possibility of promotion from "the bottom" (when has a fry-cook or a janitor become a fast-food CEO--or even middle management?) and despite the fact that I have already been at the bottom so that a return would be a downward step (if not, perhaps, a large one)--and, again, I am not willing to risk Ms. 8 on such a thing. "You're better off than many" is yet another, and it is true, but does that mean that I ought not to look for more and better? Ought I to be content with the way things are because others are not so fortunate as I have been?
Ought any of us?
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
20141029.0713
A year ago, I was musing on the weather at Sherwood Cottage. It seems appropriate to return to the subject now, for it is far more fall-like today than it was then. Then, it was in the 60s and rainy; now, it is in the upper 30s and clear. It may make it into the mid 70s--and it probably will--but that is a far cry from even a couple of days ago, when the temperature was far higher; it seemed that summer relinquished its hold upon this place where cowboys came home to defeat only reluctantly this time around. (If it has indeed let go; it may yet reach out again.) But today seems another day to stay inside and write.
I will not be so fortunate as to focus upon doing so today. Work continues, as it ever does, and the work that pays the bills preempts The Work that does as much as anything short of Ms. 8 to fulfill me; I have my classes to teach today. I already know what lessons I mean to offer, and I know that there will be others presented which I do not intend, for there always are. Still, I would rather plug away at the projects I have taken on than upon marking papers for return (of which I have sets from last week and from this, with another coming in today; I shall at least not want for things to occupy my time). Yet I cannot, not in good conscience. The bills must be paid.
With the end of this month and the beginning of the next approaching, I am considering upcoming events. I have every intention of voting on Tuesday, and I made sure my voter registration was in place so that I can do so. (The card is sitting on my desk even now.) I will not repeat last year's adventure, though; that is not going to happen, as I noted. And I will almost certainly not be doing National Novel Writing Month...again. There are too many other things going on for me to take on another project at the moment, even if it is one in which I am interested. (Someday, dammit.) But I will be working on other things...somehow.
For now, though, those "other things" are the work I do on behalf of my classes and my students. Many are ungrateful, looking askance on my efforts even though they have asked me to conduct them (college is voluntary, and in this part of the world, better-paying work is available than most of what college prepares students to face--if at the potential cost of having arms ripped off by juggernauts of machines). But there are a few who appear to give a damn, who seem actually to have some understanding of what goes into putting things together for them; I have to believe that they are worth the time and energy expended on their behalf. The alternative, of course, is not to be borne.
I will not be so fortunate as to focus upon doing so today. Work continues, as it ever does, and the work that pays the bills preempts The Work that does as much as anything short of Ms. 8 to fulfill me; I have my classes to teach today. I already know what lessons I mean to offer, and I know that there will be others presented which I do not intend, for there always are. Still, I would rather plug away at the projects I have taken on than upon marking papers for return (of which I have sets from last week and from this, with another coming in today; I shall at least not want for things to occupy my time). Yet I cannot, not in good conscience. The bills must be paid.
With the end of this month and the beginning of the next approaching, I am considering upcoming events. I have every intention of voting on Tuesday, and I made sure my voter registration was in place so that I can do so. (The card is sitting on my desk even now.) I will not repeat last year's adventure, though; that is not going to happen, as I noted. And I will almost certainly not be doing National Novel Writing Month...again. There are too many other things going on for me to take on another project at the moment, even if it is one in which I am interested. (Someday, dammit.) But I will be working on other things...somehow.
For now, though, those "other things" are the work I do on behalf of my classes and my students. Many are ungrateful, looking askance on my efforts even though they have asked me to conduct them (college is voluntary, and in this part of the world, better-paying work is available than most of what college prepares students to face--if at the potential cost of having arms ripped off by juggernauts of machines). But there are a few who appear to give a damn, who seem actually to have some understanding of what goes into putting things together for them; I have to believe that they are worth the time and energy expended on their behalf. The alternative, of course, is not to be borne.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
20141028.0716
I am, by training, a specialist in English literature, particularly the literature of the late medieval period (say, 1300-1485 CE). When I contribute to human knowledge and understanding, I do so in that area, typically by looking at how what was written then is read and rewritten now. Yet when I am in the classroom, I am typically not positioned to be able to work with that material; more often than not, I am teaching writing. I have a fair bit of applied knowledge in that regard, certainly, having written much and read far more, but I do not have the kind of theoretical framework I really *ought* to have to do as well with that work as I feel I ought to do. (I read extensively to correct for that, but there is something to be found in formal instruction that I cannot pick up from my independent studies, a sense of security in the knowledge and practice that I have when talking about Arthur but not so much about ways to put words onto pages.)
In recent terms, I have taught a fair bit of technical writing, and it looks very much like I will be doing more of it in the upcoming term. The work is not difficult, really; I teach in a fairly rigorously structured program, and I have enough experience in it to allow me to do passably well in most cases. (It also helps me with my freelance work, and my freelance work helps with it.) And I am able to learn a great many things from the work my students do, which I appreciate. (I have noted something like this, I think.) Even so, it is not what I thought I would be teaching with degrees focused in literature, and it would seem to be a far cry, indeed, from the writings of the late medieval period (except for the occasional combat manual or discussion of tactics, which occasionally come up in my classes as examples for examination). As such, I feel something of a disjunction between what I ought to do and what I ought to do, if that makes any sense.
I have the hope that my broader teaching experience will help me land one of the teaching-heavy positions that is advertised; there are a fair number, and some of them are even full-time continuing spots greatly to be desired. Alternately, I hold out the hope that I may be able to parlay the experience of teaching technical writing into finding work as a technical writer, for I am aware that I may not be able to make a life in academia. I may need to find work elsewhere, and the years I have spent in the classroom may vitiate against my landing a "real" job--unless I can make the argument that between my work in technical writing (in the classroom and in freelancing) and other writing, I have a set of skills that is worth paying for and a body of experience that suits me to jobs in civil service or the private sector. But Shaw's adage is widely held to be true, and the fight against it is not at all an easy one to conduct, despite all efforts...
In recent terms, I have taught a fair bit of technical writing, and it looks very much like I will be doing more of it in the upcoming term. The work is not difficult, really; I teach in a fairly rigorously structured program, and I have enough experience in it to allow me to do passably well in most cases. (It also helps me with my freelance work, and my freelance work helps with it.) And I am able to learn a great many things from the work my students do, which I appreciate. (I have noted something like this, I think.) Even so, it is not what I thought I would be teaching with degrees focused in literature, and it would seem to be a far cry, indeed, from the writings of the late medieval period (except for the occasional combat manual or discussion of tactics, which occasionally come up in my classes as examples for examination). As such, I feel something of a disjunction between what I ought to do and what I ought to do, if that makes any sense.
I have the hope that my broader teaching experience will help me land one of the teaching-heavy positions that is advertised; there are a fair number, and some of them are even full-time continuing spots greatly to be desired. Alternately, I hold out the hope that I may be able to parlay the experience of teaching technical writing into finding work as a technical writer, for I am aware that I may not be able to make a life in academia. I may need to find work elsewhere, and the years I have spent in the classroom may vitiate against my landing a "real" job--unless I can make the argument that between my work in technical writing (in the classroom and in freelancing) and other writing, I have a set of skills that is worth paying for and a body of experience that suits me to jobs in civil service or the private sector. But Shaw's adage is widely held to be true, and the fight against it is not at all an easy one to conduct, despite all efforts...
Monday, October 27, 2014
20141027.0718
A thought has nagged at me for some time.
There is an association of writers and writerly activities such as the study and teaching of language and literature with cat ownership--if "ownership" is the right term to use with pets, generally, and cats in particular. I suffer from it ("suffer" because of the, ahem, "commentaries" they leave). So do many others who write or who are engaged with writing. And I have to wonder why it is so. For cats are notoriously independent and all too uncaring, doing such things as knocking over plates or eating underwear (as happens to one colleague), or pissing on carpets or books (the last particularly grievous to those who, like me, study writing). They do not come when called, they act dismissively in many cases (the three with which I live are somewhat exceptional, as visitors have noted). In short, they treat the writer and scholar as the rest of the world tends to treat the writer and scholar--and the writer and scholar complains of how the rest of the world acts.
Why, then, the association with cats?
I admit that the idea is not terribly well-formed in my mind. Part of me wants to put together a paper, which may or may not be serious, on the depiction of cats in association with writers and scholars; I am sure that there is material to consider. Pangur Bán is one example, certainly, and there are doubtlessly others to examine. That part of me, though, may merely be my scholarly bent coming to the fore; always, I want to do the work of putting together a paper, even though I have many others to which I need to attend already and insufficient time to attend to them all. It makes me something of a caricature of a scholar that with each encounter I think first of "How can I make that a paper?" rather than some other kind of engagement that many would suggest is more fulfilling than the purportedly distant and abstract, rarefied and perhaps reified treatment offered by an academic paper of whatever length. And they may well be right who would say such things.
The point is getting lost.
Perhaps it is the kind of topic that I could suggest to those students in my literature classes who search for topics on which to write, the treatment of cats in association with scholarship. Such a tactic is one I have seen deployed in classes I have taken; one of my own professors flatly admitted to me that he uses one assignment he gives his graduate students as a way to stay current in the scholarship in his field. It is something I do with my own students, albeit with less success, undergraduates being what they are. Still, if I want to tease out what is going on in anything that resembles a prevailing association of writers/scholars and cats, it is a thing I ought to consider. For if and when I see sufficient to support the idea that there *is* an association in popular culture, then I can work to plumb what it means that the association is present. It will help me to understand better, even if I never do write the paper that suggests itself...
There is an association of writers and writerly activities such as the study and teaching of language and literature with cat ownership--if "ownership" is the right term to use with pets, generally, and cats in particular. I suffer from it ("suffer" because of the, ahem, "commentaries" they leave). So do many others who write or who are engaged with writing. And I have to wonder why it is so. For cats are notoriously independent and all too uncaring, doing such things as knocking over plates or eating underwear (as happens to one colleague), or pissing on carpets or books (the last particularly grievous to those who, like me, study writing). They do not come when called, they act dismissively in many cases (the three with which I live are somewhat exceptional, as visitors have noted). In short, they treat the writer and scholar as the rest of the world tends to treat the writer and scholar--and the writer and scholar complains of how the rest of the world acts.
Why, then, the association with cats?
I admit that the idea is not terribly well-formed in my mind. Part of me wants to put together a paper, which may or may not be serious, on the depiction of cats in association with writers and scholars; I am sure that there is material to consider. Pangur Bán is one example, certainly, and there are doubtlessly others to examine. That part of me, though, may merely be my scholarly bent coming to the fore; always, I want to do the work of putting together a paper, even though I have many others to which I need to attend already and insufficient time to attend to them all. It makes me something of a caricature of a scholar that with each encounter I think first of "How can I make that a paper?" rather than some other kind of engagement that many would suggest is more fulfilling than the purportedly distant and abstract, rarefied and perhaps reified treatment offered by an academic paper of whatever length. And they may well be right who would say such things.
The point is getting lost.
Perhaps it is the kind of topic that I could suggest to those students in my literature classes who search for topics on which to write, the treatment of cats in association with scholarship. Such a tactic is one I have seen deployed in classes I have taken; one of my own professors flatly admitted to me that he uses one assignment he gives his graduate students as a way to stay current in the scholarship in his field. It is something I do with my own students, albeit with less success, undergraduates being what they are. Still, if I want to tease out what is going on in anything that resembles a prevailing association of writers/scholars and cats, it is a thing I ought to consider. For if and when I see sufficient to support the idea that there *is* an association in popular culture, then I can work to plumb what it means that the association is present. It will help me to understand better, even if I never do write the paper that suggests itself...
Sunday, October 26, 2014
20141026.0813
Oh, what a joy it is to have woken up in my own bed!
I doubt not that it can be guessed from the brief snippets I have posted in the past few entries, as well as the skipped day, that I have been away. I was, in fact, in the Texas Hill Country to present a paper at the South Central Modern Language Association conference (once again) and to visit family (since I was in the area). It was a good trip; the conference went well, with my paper being received much more favorably than I had anticipated and a colleague and me appointed to leadership positions at the next conference, which will be in Nashville. Seeing the family was also good, although, as noted, Ms. 8 did end up taking some kind of cold (and giving it to her father).
Even so, coming home is always a pleasure for me. Much as I love The Work and my people, I fare better when I am where I ought to be, in that place into which I have extended myself and made part of me, as I have discussed at least once. Knowing where things are without having to look for them and being able to call upon present resources without worry are things I appreciate. And, as I have noted, I construct my home-space as an externalization of myself, so that for me to be away from it is to have my being divided; to return to it is a repatriation of myself to myself, so that I feel more nearly whole. (I say "more nearly" because my wonderful Mrs. and Ms. 8 are both still away, and both of them have a part of me, as well.)
Glad as I am to be back at Sherwood Cottage, though, I realize that there is much for me to do to get things back to how they ought to be. The trip took me away for a week, so I will have much grading to do, beginning soon after I finish posting this piece. There is also freelance work for me to consider, and I am certain there are developments in my L5R RPG activities that will need attention that only I can provide. At the very least, I will not be bored; I have a surfeit of stuff to do. But that is a regular thing, as it happens; there are always many things to do, and rarely does the time suffice to them all. Particularly with a mild head cold...
Still, if I am to make the attempt to do all things for all people, I am better off doing so here in my home than elsewhere. I may not have *all* of what I need for The Work and the other work that supports it, but I have much of it, and I have the comfort in which to work swiftly, well, and long. And that having is not something for which I am ungrateful. Rather the opposite, in fact, is true.
I doubt not that it can be guessed from the brief snippets I have posted in the past few entries, as well as the skipped day, that I have been away. I was, in fact, in the Texas Hill Country to present a paper at the South Central Modern Language Association conference (once again) and to visit family (since I was in the area). It was a good trip; the conference went well, with my paper being received much more favorably than I had anticipated and a colleague and me appointed to leadership positions at the next conference, which will be in Nashville. Seeing the family was also good, although, as noted, Ms. 8 did end up taking some kind of cold (and giving it to her father).
Even so, coming home is always a pleasure for me. Much as I love The Work and my people, I fare better when I am where I ought to be, in that place into which I have extended myself and made part of me, as I have discussed at least once. Knowing where things are without having to look for them and being able to call upon present resources without worry are things I appreciate. And, as I have noted, I construct my home-space as an externalization of myself, so that for me to be away from it is to have my being divided; to return to it is a repatriation of myself to myself, so that I feel more nearly whole. (I say "more nearly" because my wonderful Mrs. and Ms. 8 are both still away, and both of them have a part of me, as well.)
Glad as I am to be back at Sherwood Cottage, though, I realize that there is much for me to do to get things back to how they ought to be. The trip took me away for a week, so I will have much grading to do, beginning soon after I finish posting this piece. There is also freelance work for me to consider, and I am certain there are developments in my L5R RPG activities that will need attention that only I can provide. At the very least, I will not be bored; I have a surfeit of stuff to do. But that is a regular thing, as it happens; there are always many things to do, and rarely does the time suffice to them all. Particularly with a mild head cold...
Still, if I am to make the attempt to do all things for all people, I am better off doing so here in my home than elsewhere. I may not have *all* of what I need for The Work and the other work that supports it, but I have much of it, and I have the comfort in which to work swiftly, well, and long. And that having is not something for which I am ungrateful. Rather the opposite, in fact, is true.
Friday, October 24, 2014
20141024.0846
Classes are canceled ahead of The Big Game
Because the students ought not to be distracted from
What really matters
The staff are still on duty
Professors are away
Gown yielding to town as eleven seek a first down
Diluted gladiatorial combat
More heavily armored
More extravagant
Less skilled
And audiences in the seats about the same
I am away
For another reason
And I find my throat is scratchy and my nose running
Nor am I the only one to find self so
Coincidence?
Because the students ought not to be distracted from
What really matters
The staff are still on duty
Professors are away
Gown yielding to town as eleven seek a first down
Diluted gladiatorial combat
More heavily armored
More extravagant
Less skilled
And audiences in the seats about the same
I am away
For another reason
And I find my throat is scratchy and my nose running
Nor am I the only one to find self so
Coincidence?
Thursday, October 23, 2014
20141023.0626
Ms. 8 did not sleep well last night, waking repeatedly. Some of her waking was due to having a wet diaper, which is rare for her; she usually does not have the problem of being wet in the night. But it does not account for all of her waking; I am unsure of the cause, but the effect is clear enough. I am aware of the interrupted and thus insufficient sleep, and I have no doubt that my wife will be similarly aware. It does not bode well for the day.
Still, things are reasonably good. I have been doing more or less well; such problems as I have been facing are of relatively small scope and so lie within my meager capabilities. The same is true of the annoyances that have presented themselves in my personal life. The world as a whole, of course, is far less pleasantly situated, as it ever has been and likely will continue to be. (I have had the chance to watch news as I rarely do, and what it shows me is hardly happy. But that is to be expected.)
There is not much else to say about things as they stand.
Still, things are reasonably good. I have been doing more or less well; such problems as I have been facing are of relatively small scope and so lie within my meager capabilities. The same is true of the annoyances that have presented themselves in my personal life. The world as a whole, of course, is far less pleasantly situated, as it ever has been and likely will continue to be. (I have had the chance to watch news as I rarely do, and what it shows me is hardly happy. But that is to be expected.)
There is not much else to say about things as they stand.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
20141022.0800
I am in the hills of oak and cedar near the Alamo
But I have not gone again to the Shrine of Texas Liberty
Not yet and likely not soon
Some might say what is there enshrined
Is a corpse of a thing long since slain
But I do not agree
The tomb is empty
The relics are lies
The shreds of the slain saints absent
And they always have been
But I have not gone again to the Shrine of Texas Liberty
Not yet and likely not soon
Some might say what is there enshrined
Is a corpse of a thing long since slain
But I do not agree
The tomb is empty
The relics are lies
The shreds of the slain saints absent
And they always have been
Monday, October 20, 2014
20141020.0420
It is the stoner's time
Although few such people are likely to be awake
Rather, those who see this time
Are likely to be those furthest removed from such people
Those who are not stoned
But might well advocate the stoning of others
Because a book tells them so
Even if they do not really read
I am not such a man
Having had rocks thrown at me
And having smoked the smokes
I turn away from both sensations
And their infliction
Neither does any good.
Although few such people are likely to be awake
Rather, those who see this time
Are likely to be those furthest removed from such people
Those who are not stoned
But might well advocate the stoning of others
Because a book tells them so
Even if they do not really read
I am not such a man
Having had rocks thrown at me
And having smoked the smokes
I turn away from both sensations
And their infliction
Neither does any good.
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