Like September Blue, I'm having my VIVA soon. Very soon (under a fortnight, in fact). And I'm worried.
I mean, my supervisor did not read the final version of all the chapters. I'm not even sure if he read the final version of any of the chapters. The thesis was finished in a hurry - so hurried that I actually don't know what my conclusion says.
I do know that the thesis has some items missing from the bibliography. And a page of abbreviations missing from the front. And I have barely opened it since I submitted it. I dread to think what little cringe-worthy gems of stupidity I'll find when I actually read it.
And that, I think, is why I have spent most of today saying I'm going to do some work, but not actually doing any. That could be why I'm here, posting, now. My family is watching Christmas present DVDs in the living room, because that's what you do in the Christmas holidays. But I am not, because I have work to do, and to watch DVDs is to deliberately not work.
To sit next to one's thesis, blogging and worrying, well.... it's not work, but it's closer than animated movies...
Thursday 27 December 2007
Tuesday 18 December 2007
To the previous owner...
Dear Previous Owner of my New Flat,
Everyone leaves loose ends when they move house. It's almost inevitable. Things we forget to do / change / arrange. I am aware, also, that the speed of the move, which was down to the necessity of me moving in quickly, will not have helped in tidying these up before you left. Nevertheless, many of these could have been dealt with by now, by informing various organisations and offices of your new address (which, although I have asked for it in order to forward your mail, you choose not to give to me).
So, I have telephoned the TV Licensing people to explain to them that I do have a TV licence, and that you moved out, so they need not send anyone to the flat to interview the 'legal occupier' under caution regarding their failure to pay for a license, or respond to their letters.
I have telephoned the Debt Collection Agency, who sent you a postcard informing you of their intention to visit, to cancel their appointment to see you.
I spoke to the lady from the Magistrates' Court who came to the door looking for you, and explained that you do not live at the flat anymore, and I have no forwarding address. I then telephoned her after she left a card explaining that it is in your interests to contact her, a week later. She clearly did not believe me the first time when I told her you were not here. I have just received a further call from the same lady, and directed her to the Estate Agent, so that they can put her in contact with you.
Although I tried to set up a landline telephone from which I could have made these calls, I can't, because when you left, you did not cancel your account. They cannot let me take over the line (unless I also want to take over your bill) until they get in contact with you so that you can tell them to close your account. Thus, I can have no telephone or Internet connection at home, until you see fit to tidy up these loose ends.
I am beginning to understand why you do not want me to have your new address....
Everyone leaves loose ends when they move house. It's almost inevitable. Things we forget to do / change / arrange. I am aware, also, that the speed of the move, which was down to the necessity of me moving in quickly, will not have helped in tidying these up before you left. Nevertheless, many of these could have been dealt with by now, by informing various organisations and offices of your new address (which, although I have asked for it in order to forward your mail, you choose not to give to me).
So, I have telephoned the TV Licensing people to explain to them that I do have a TV licence, and that you moved out, so they need not send anyone to the flat to interview the 'legal occupier' under caution regarding their failure to pay for a license, or respond to their letters.
I have telephoned the Debt Collection Agency, who sent you a postcard informing you of their intention to visit, to cancel their appointment to see you.
I spoke to the lady from the Magistrates' Court who came to the door looking for you, and explained that you do not live at the flat anymore, and I have no forwarding address. I then telephoned her after she left a card explaining that it is in your interests to contact her, a week later. She clearly did not believe me the first time when I told her you were not here. I have just received a further call from the same lady, and directed her to the Estate Agent, so that they can put her in contact with you.
Although I tried to set up a landline telephone from which I could have made these calls, I can't, because when you left, you did not cancel your account. They cannot let me take over the line (unless I also want to take over your bill) until they get in contact with you so that you can tell them to close your account. Thus, I can have no telephone or Internet connection at home, until you see fit to tidy up these loose ends.
I am beginning to understand why you do not want me to have your new address....
Monday 17 December 2007
Also...
I've visited this site a few times since I saw it at Lawmummy a while ago. If you have 5 minutes to spare, this is a great place to go. You get to expand your vocabulary and help fight against world hunger. Not a bad way to spend your time.
Unless you're supposed to be working.
But still, it's a good cause...
Unless you're supposed to be working.
But still, it's a good cause...
Update 3
Well, it seems Argos got their act together and my bed arrived this morning. It's in pieces - Supermum and Creates Beautiful Paintings (who is also very handy with power tools) are coming to visit this afternoon to put it together for me. I might actually wake up in the same place I went to sleep tomorrow (see post below). Hurray!
Wednesday 12 December 2007
Bed-hopping
Here is the back-story: I am awaiting the delivery of a storage bed for the new flat. The flat is small, and any storage space will be much appreciated. This bed will solve a variety of storage issues. Although Argos claim in the catalogue that delivery usually takes up to 14 days, my bed, they tell me by letter 2 weeks after the order, will not arrive until mid to late January. They are taking full advantage of the usually and much less notice of the up to parts of their claim, I think. Anyway, I'm not impressed.
In the meantime, I am still sleeping on an airbed on the floor. It's fairly comfortable, but feels very temporary, and does not solve any of my storage problems. But the most interesting thing about sleeping on this airbed is that every morning I wake up and the bed is two or three inches closer to the wall than I went to sleep.
Not so much bed-hopping, as bed shuffling, I guess...
In the meantime, I am still sleeping on an airbed on the floor. It's fairly comfortable, but feels very temporary, and does not solve any of my storage problems. But the most interesting thing about sleeping on this airbed is that every morning I wake up and the bed is two or three inches closer to the wall than I went to sleep.
Not so much bed-hopping, as bed shuffling, I guess...
Monday 10 December 2007
Unusual tutorial activities
Last week, I was knitting in a Theory tutorial. Yes, knitting. Not metaphorically, but actually, really, with needles and wool.
This is the set up, as I arrive at my 5th out of 6 theory classes this week, one of the earlier ones was described in the previous post):
Female student: What are you doing over there?
Male student: Knitting [and he was]
Female student: Why? [my thoughts exactly]
Male student: Well, it's feminism this week, so I'm subverting stereotypes.
Me: Very good, Student with Welsh Name, carry on!
Male student: Actually, I've got a problem - look, that bit's gone all loopy, have I dropped some stitches?
Me: Looks like it.
Male student: How would I fix it?
I explain how I would fix it.
Male student: Could you fix it for me?
I point out that this might in some ways re-institute stereotypes, and I also suggest we should get on with the class - other students are extremely amused by this interchange, but aren't learning much (other than how I would fix the dropped stitches). He doesn't object, and we turn to feminist theories. Shortly afterwards I set them some tasks to work on, without me, in small groups.
Me: Student with Welsh Name, would you like me to fix your knitting whilst you're group-working?
Male Student: Yes, please!
Goodness knows what the Head of Department whose office is across the courtyard and whose window looks in on my tutorial room will think if he looks over at this point. Some time elapses, and I give the knitting back to the student.
Male student: It's fixed! how did you do that without undoing it all?
I'm tempted to say 'By Magic', but the truth is that, on closer inspection, there really wasn't anything wrong with it - he'd just pulled some of the stitches by sticking his needle through it in an odd place. I just knitted a row or two and then gave it back.
Theory. It isn't all dull, or such hard work as the previous post suggests. Thank you to Student with Welsh Name for making me smile so much this week, both in your lively attempt to subvert stereotypes, and in having faith in my knitting skills.
This is the set up, as I arrive at my 5th out of 6 theory classes this week, one of the earlier ones was described in the previous post):
Female student: What are you doing over there?
Male student: Knitting [and he was]
Female student: Why? [my thoughts exactly]
Male student: Well, it's feminism this week, so I'm subverting stereotypes.
Me: Very good, Student with Welsh Name, carry on!
Male student: Actually, I've got a problem - look, that bit's gone all loopy, have I dropped some stitches?
Me: Looks like it.
Male student: How would I fix it?
I explain how I would fix it.
Male student: Could you fix it for me?
I point out that this might in some ways re-institute stereotypes, and I also suggest we should get on with the class - other students are extremely amused by this interchange, but aren't learning much (other than how I would fix the dropped stitches). He doesn't object, and we turn to feminist theories. Shortly afterwards I set them some tasks to work on, without me, in small groups.
Me: Student with Welsh Name, would you like me to fix your knitting whilst you're group-working?
Male Student: Yes, please!
Goodness knows what the Head of Department whose office is across the courtyard and whose window looks in on my tutorial room will think if he looks over at this point. Some time elapses, and I give the knitting back to the student.
Male student: It's fixed! how did you do that without undoing it all?
I'm tempted to say 'By Magic', but the truth is that, on closer inspection, there really wasn't anything wrong with it - he'd just pulled some of the stitches by sticking his needle through it in an odd place. I just knitted a row or two and then gave it back.
Theory. It isn't all dull, or such hard work as the previous post suggests. Thank you to Student with Welsh Name for making me smile so much this week, both in your lively attempt to subvert stereotypes, and in having faith in my knitting skills.
Wednesday 5 December 2007
This will not happen again...
I have previously had classes when there have been a few students who haven't done any of the reading. And, I think, this gets increasingly common as we go through the term / semester. We are now in the penultimate week of term, so I expect a few excuses, essays due, etc. etc. And I am used to "speaking to" the odd student who is a persistent offender in such matters. But I was not prepared for today's class...
What do you do when no one in the class has done the reading? Yes, you read that right. No one. They had been set 3 relatively short chapters on feminist theory to read this week. And not only had they not read all of them, but they, collectively as a tutorial group, had read the sum total of nothing in preparation for the class.
I played my usual card in similar situations (most often to do with them not bringing the texts with them): "What do you expect me to do for the next 50 minutes when you haven't done any reading?". This is not a rhetorical question. They suggest taking a stab at passages from the reading anyway, and with this I struggled on for half an hour, pointing at bits in the texts, trying to get them to extrapolate. I tried to discuss with them bits of the lecture, that some of them claimed to have attended, but they could only repeat their notes without any sort of engagement and we got no further than my additions, explanations and examples.
And then I realised that I was working far too hard for this class who had done no work, and I left them, after having them repeat after me "This will not happen again."
We'll see...
What do you do when no one in the class has done the reading? Yes, you read that right. No one. They had been set 3 relatively short chapters on feminist theory to read this week. And not only had they not read all of them, but they, collectively as a tutorial group, had read the sum total of nothing in preparation for the class.
I played my usual card in similar situations (most often to do with them not bringing the texts with them): "What do you expect me to do for the next 50 minutes when you haven't done any reading?". This is not a rhetorical question. They suggest taking a stab at passages from the reading anyway, and with this I struggled on for half an hour, pointing at bits in the texts, trying to get them to extrapolate. I tried to discuss with them bits of the lecture, that some of them claimed to have attended, but they could only repeat their notes without any sort of engagement and we got no further than my additions, explanations and examples.
And then I realised that I was working far too hard for this class who had done no work, and I left them, after having them repeat after me "This will not happen again."
We'll see...
Monday 3 December 2007
Quiet lawyers...
I have been teaching The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde this term. A group of my students took a dislike to the lawyer, Mr Utterson. Here is, amongst other things, a description of him:
"A fortnight later, by excellent good fortune, the doctor gave one of his pleasant dinners to some five or six old cronies, all intelligent reputable men, and all judges of good wine; and Mr Utterson so contrived that he remained behind after the others had departed. This was no new arrangement, but a thing that had befallen many scores of times. Where Utterson was liked, he was liked well. Hosts loved to detain the dry lawyer, when the lighthearted and the loose-tongued had already their foot on the threshold; they liked to sit awhile in his unobtrusive company, practising for solitude, sobering their minds in the man's rich silence, after the expense and strain of gaiety."
(text taken from bibliomania)
He sounds like quite a nice man to me...
"A fortnight later, by excellent good fortune, the doctor gave one of his pleasant dinners to some five or six old cronies, all intelligent reputable men, and all judges of good wine; and Mr Utterson so contrived that he remained behind after the others had departed. This was no new arrangement, but a thing that had befallen many scores of times. Where Utterson was liked, he was liked well. Hosts loved to detain the dry lawyer, when the lighthearted and the loose-tongued had already their foot on the threshold; they liked to sit awhile in his unobtrusive company, practising for solitude, sobering their minds in the man's rich silence, after the expense and strain of gaiety."
(text taken from bibliomania)
He sounds like quite a nice man to me...
Wednesday 28 November 2007
Reasons technology sucks
Based on the events of the last few days...
1. It makes your students think you are available to answer their questions 24/7. They then email you again to check you got their first email if you don't reply within one working day. This is always at their convenience – they can ask me questions without leaving their houses, but expect me to always be at my office desk.
2. It means we don’t get as much personal, hand written mail as we might otherwise (thank you to Italian Speaker for the card)
3. It lets you stay up until the early hours of the morning (we’re talking well into ‘tomorrow’) to finish a lecture, and then, when you’re onto the final section, and you’re quite pleased with what you’ve got and you (as you’ve been doing all night) go to hit save, it not only does not save, but corrupts your file. You possibly lose 5500words of lecture (3000 of them written during the night), and in its place you get a series of boxes and oriental characters. This would not have happened with a pen and paper. Although coffee accidents are always a potential hazard in that medium.
4. It tells you there is a problem with the save. You breathe a sigh of relief, and hurriedly tell it to save this as something else so that the previous save will still exist, and you’ll only lose a small amount of work. It lets you think you’ve been clever to do this. Then it denies all knowledge of there ever being a file by the previous name. You then have no sleep and no shiny lecture to show for it. I don’t mind being sleepless when there’s a point to it, but …
1. It makes your students think you are available to answer their questions 24/7. They then email you again to check you got their first email if you don't reply within one working day. This is always at their convenience – they can ask me questions without leaving their houses, but expect me to always be at my office desk.
2. It means we don’t get as much personal, hand written mail as we might otherwise (thank you to Italian Speaker for the card)
3. It lets you stay up until the early hours of the morning (we’re talking well into ‘tomorrow’) to finish a lecture, and then, when you’re onto the final section, and you’re quite pleased with what you’ve got and you (as you’ve been doing all night) go to hit save, it not only does not save, but corrupts your file. You possibly lose 5500words of lecture (3000 of them written during the night), and in its place you get a series of boxes and oriental characters. This would not have happened with a pen and paper. Although coffee accidents are always a potential hazard in that medium.
4. It tells you there is a problem with the save. You breathe a sigh of relief, and hurriedly tell it to save this as something else so that the previous save will still exist, and you’ll only lose a small amount of work. It lets you think you’ve been clever to do this. Then it denies all knowledge of there ever being a file by the previous name. You then have no sleep and no shiny lecture to show for it. I don’t mind being sleepless when there’s a point to it, but …
Monday 19 November 2007
Key Rings
My students were discussing The Merchant of Venice today, and the symbolic or material value of the rings given by brides to husbands (or husbands to be) in the play. One group was very amused by the bawdy joke about rings at the end of the play, one student felt that for Shylock there was only monetary value to the ring Leah gave him, whilst other students (and I) disagreed.
But, all this talk of rings reminded me - I got my office keyring stuck on my left hand ring finger the other day.
Do you think someone somewhere is trying to tell me something?
But, all this talk of rings reminded me - I got my office keyring stuck on my left hand ring finger the other day.
Do you think someone somewhere is trying to tell me something?
Wednesday 14 November 2007
SuperMum
Yesterday was SuperMum's birthday. I did say there would be a separate post for this and, a little belatedly, here it is!
I thought that around her birthday it would be nice to give you some idea of why she's SuperMum. I can't list all the reasons, but here are just a few of them:
1. Love. SuperMum has endless amounts of it. For me, for my Sister, for all our extended family, and various pets. And it extends and extends. I can't count, or even remember, how many of my friends she has 'adopted', and continued to support emotionally (and financially). I met one of them yesterday, who says he hasn't been around many other people near whom he's felt so able to just be himself.
2. Generosity. Emotionally and financially, if she has it she will give it to you. Even at significant cost to herself. This also applies to her time. No matter how busy she is, she will make time for you. This generosity is both a wonderful and a terrible thing. Don't forget to show yourself the same generosity sometimes, SuperMum!
3. Patience. I don't suppose after 1 & 2 it will surprise you that she is in a caring profession, but both in a professional and private capacity, she always has more patience than anyone could reasonably ask of her. And, often, more than we unreasonably ask of her.
4. Professionalism. SuperMum's job requires her to deal with people who behave badly, and in a professional way. And some professionals who are unprofessional. And no matter how much she wants to do otherwise, she deals with them reasonably, calmly, with patience and above all with professionalism.
5. Strength. No matter what is thrown at her - and she's had more than her share of difficulties, professional and personal - she keeps going. And she does it with an abundance of 1, 2, 3 & 4 above. I don't know how, but she does.
I hope I show some of these qualities too, and if I do, then it's down to her.
Thank you for being a wonderful Mum.
Happy Birthday.
I thought that around her birthday it would be nice to give you some idea of why she's SuperMum. I can't list all the reasons, but here are just a few of them:
1. Love. SuperMum has endless amounts of it. For me, for my Sister, for all our extended family, and various pets. And it extends and extends. I can't count, or even remember, how many of my friends she has 'adopted', and continued to support emotionally (and financially). I met one of them yesterday, who says he hasn't been around many other people near whom he's felt so able to just be himself.
2. Generosity. Emotionally and financially, if she has it she will give it to you. Even at significant cost to herself. This also applies to her time. No matter how busy she is, she will make time for you. This generosity is both a wonderful and a terrible thing. Don't forget to show yourself the same generosity sometimes, SuperMum!
3. Patience. I don't suppose after 1 & 2 it will surprise you that she is in a caring profession, but both in a professional and private capacity, she always has more patience than anyone could reasonably ask of her. And, often, more than we unreasonably ask of her.
4. Professionalism. SuperMum's job requires her to deal with people who behave badly, and in a professional way. And some professionals who are unprofessional. And no matter how much she wants to do otherwise, she deals with them reasonably, calmly, with patience and above all with professionalism.
5. Strength. No matter what is thrown at her - and she's had more than her share of difficulties, professional and personal - she keeps going. And she does it with an abundance of 1, 2, 3 & 4 above. I don't know how, but she does.
I hope I show some of these qualities too, and if I do, then it's down to her.
Thank you for being a wonderful Mum.
Happy Birthday.
Wednesday 7 November 2007
Birthday wishes
Just a quick post today to say:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
to my friends - Amy, whose birthday is today, BF and KP, whose birthdays are also this week, and September Blue's dad, Emily H, and Tomorrow's Doctor whose birthdays are next week. (Don't worry Mum, I haven't forgotten you - you get a post of your own later!)
Have a wonderful time. I'm sure BF will make cake for those of you in Beautiful Scottish City That I Miss. Eat some for me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
to my friends - Amy, whose birthday is today, BF and KP, whose birthdays are also this week, and September Blue's dad, Emily H, and Tomorrow's Doctor whose birthdays are next week. (Don't worry Mum, I haven't forgotten you - you get a post of your own later!)
Have a wonderful time. I'm sure BF will make cake for those of you in Beautiful Scottish City That I Miss. Eat some for me.
Monday 5 November 2007
Update 2: Good news
Good news! Papers signed on the new flat. Should have keys by the end of the week. Hurrah!(Thank you, SuperMum.)
Will keep you upto date with developments. I now have to think about buying furniture. Is it strange that that's an exciting prospect?
Will keep you upto date with developments. I now have to think about buying furniture. Is it strange that that's an exciting prospect?
Karma?
Well, I'm still not moved into my new flat, although everyone is doing their very, very best to speed up the process. Shouldn't be long now!
Meanwhile, I've been staying in a B&B during the week, and a hotel when the B&B was full. The hotel was more convenient in many ways - a place to get food in the evening, a desk in the bedroom (have you ever tried to read a Norton Anthology of any kind without an armchair, or a table?), a bigger bathroom, and a wider breakfast choice - and although it wasn't as friendly as the B&B, I decided to stay there again this week. I booked through the same website as last time, although I seem to have been charged very slightly more this time (and it is more than the B&B either way), but for all of the conveniences list above, I didn't mind that too much. Until I got there.
The room was of a much poorer quality this time - much smaller, darker, noisier, tiny, tiny bathroom (see point above about previous bathroom convenience) with peeling wallpaper. Nice. That's several of the reasons to choose this over the friendly B&B blown, isn't it?
That will teach me.
My SuperMum - who very kindly brought me over here - asked at reception if they would change the room. After a little debate they did, and the one I have been moved to is better. Nowhere near as good as last time, but better.
I wonder if they do this to all guests. Draw them in with shiny rooms with big bathrooms (with doors that close, and showers over baths rather than little cubicles), make them think it's value for money, and then, when they've recommended it to others and re-booked, put them in the tiny room with peeling wallpaper and the TV with the dodgy aerial that can only show one channel at a time.
Well, the replacement is not quite so yucky. TV works, and there is an overhead light, and more than a foot square to turn around in. And if it weren't worse than the last room they gave me, more expensive than the very nice B&B, and more expensive than the last time I stayed here, I guess I wouldn't mind it so much. Still, I won't be booking in to this hotel again unless it's an emergency, I won't be ticking the value for money back on the feedback sheet and I certainly won't be recommending it anymore. It's a small stand, but I'm taking it.
That will teach them.
Meanwhile, I've been staying in a B&B during the week, and a hotel when the B&B was full. The hotel was more convenient in many ways - a place to get food in the evening, a desk in the bedroom (have you ever tried to read a Norton Anthology of any kind without an armchair, or a table?), a bigger bathroom, and a wider breakfast choice - and although it wasn't as friendly as the B&B, I decided to stay there again this week. I booked through the same website as last time, although I seem to have been charged very slightly more this time (and it is more than the B&B either way), but for all of the conveniences list above, I didn't mind that too much. Until I got there.
The room was of a much poorer quality this time - much smaller, darker, noisier, tiny, tiny bathroom (see point above about previous bathroom convenience) with peeling wallpaper. Nice. That's several of the reasons to choose this over the friendly B&B blown, isn't it?
That will teach me.
My SuperMum - who very kindly brought me over here - asked at reception if they would change the room. After a little debate they did, and the one I have been moved to is better. Nowhere near as good as last time, but better.
I wonder if they do this to all guests. Draw them in with shiny rooms with big bathrooms (with doors that close, and showers over baths rather than little cubicles), make them think it's value for money, and then, when they've recommended it to others and re-booked, put them in the tiny room with peeling wallpaper and the TV with the dodgy aerial that can only show one channel at a time.
Well, the replacement is not quite so yucky. TV works, and there is an overhead light, and more than a foot square to turn around in. And if it weren't worse than the last room they gave me, more expensive than the very nice B&B, and more expensive than the last time I stayed here, I guess I wouldn't mind it so much. Still, I won't be booking in to this hotel again unless it's an emergency, I won't be ticking the value for money back on the feedback sheet and I certainly won't be recommending it anymore. It's a small stand, but I'm taking it.
That will teach them.
Wednesday 31 October 2007
Power of Pens
Yesterday, I had the most terrifying experience of my academic life thus far.
No, it was not my VIVA. I think that even that may seem like a stroll in the park in comparison with yesterday's experience.
I was teaching Deconstruction with Derrida's "Differance".
The essay itself is very difficult to read. Although the ideas in it are interesting, and potentially mind-blowingly radical / useful for literary criticism, the argument meanders from philosopher to philosopher assuming a knowledge of much philosophy / theory that I just do not have (and nor do my students, although - and here's the thing - they expect me to know).
The lecture, immediately before the class, was very interesting on deconstruction, but ran out of time before we got to 'differance'. So, It's all on me when we get to the seminar. And, to be honest, I'm not sure I know.
The seminar went OK, although it could have gone much better. I think we all (students and tutor) left the room dejected. That moment where you see the light go on in a student's face never happened, and I feel I failed.
Determined for this not to happen again, today I take a board marker to the seminar. If I draw pictures, use arrows, do diagrams, it has to be clearer. We're dealing with some very abstract stuff, maybe if I pin it down in ink on a board it will make all clear (impossible by the implications of 'differance', and I take some comfort in this).
By magic, with pen in hand, I suddenly feel that I know what I'm talking about. And the seminar goes well. Lights go on. Students take over the discussion themselves, arguing, making points and counterpoints and debating the relevance of all this to English literary criticism, to English literature. I leave today's classes not only feeling not dejected, and not a failure, but confident (which 'is', Derrida would argue, automatically inclusive of 'not a failure').
What a difference a pen makes.
No, it was not my VIVA. I think that even that may seem like a stroll in the park in comparison with yesterday's experience.
I was teaching Deconstruction with Derrida's "Differance".
The essay itself is very difficult to read. Although the ideas in it are interesting, and potentially mind-blowingly radical / useful for literary criticism, the argument meanders from philosopher to philosopher assuming a knowledge of much philosophy / theory that I just do not have (and nor do my students, although - and here's the thing - they expect me to know).
The lecture, immediately before the class, was very interesting on deconstruction, but ran out of time before we got to 'differance'. So, It's all on me when we get to the seminar. And, to be honest, I'm not sure I know.
The seminar went OK, although it could have gone much better. I think we all (students and tutor) left the room dejected. That moment where you see the light go on in a student's face never happened, and I feel I failed.
Determined for this not to happen again, today I take a board marker to the seminar. If I draw pictures, use arrows, do diagrams, it has to be clearer. We're dealing with some very abstract stuff, maybe if I pin it down in ink on a board it will make all clear (impossible by the implications of 'differance', and I take some comfort in this).
By magic, with pen in hand, I suddenly feel that I know what I'm talking about. And the seminar goes well. Lights go on. Students take over the discussion themselves, arguing, making points and counterpoints and debating the relevance of all this to English literary criticism, to English literature. I leave today's classes not only feeling not dejected, and not a failure, but confident (which 'is', Derrida would argue, automatically inclusive of 'not a failure').
What a difference a pen makes.
Tuesday 23 October 2007
Fast food...
I have come across something I think everyone should know about. If you're just finishing your PhD, if you've just started a new job, if you have a very busy schedule and are away from home most of the day, if you just fancy a relatively healthy snack on the go...
In the campus shops here I have discovered - Take Away Cereal.
Really. The good people at Kelloggs have come up with little pots of cereal, with plastic fold-up spoon and little carton of milk which are all in a handy sized pack that you can carry around with you. It is cereal 'to go', it says. And I think it's wonderful! Why has no one thought of this before???
Now, I'm not suggesting that this should be an alternative to everyday 'pour your cereal into a bowl and add milk' (or not, as your preference dictates) cereal eating habits. And I'm not lazy enough to be glad about this because it is a very good way of avoiding a lot of my dirty dishes (and I'm hoping it's all made from recyclable packaging so that I don't have to feel too guilty about the extra rubbish). But, as a snack, while I have to stay late at my desk, or as an alternative to the cheese sandwich with which vegetarians who have not brought their own lunch are always presented in shops - even in different varieties, it's still cheese - cereal 'to go' is my new favourite food. The only problem is, the cereal portions just aren't quite big enough...
In the campus shops here I have discovered - Take Away Cereal.
Really. The good people at Kelloggs have come up with little pots of cereal, with plastic fold-up spoon and little carton of milk which are all in a handy sized pack that you can carry around with you. It is cereal 'to go', it says. And I think it's wonderful! Why has no one thought of this before???
Now, I'm not suggesting that this should be an alternative to everyday 'pour your cereal into a bowl and add milk' (or not, as your preference dictates) cereal eating habits. And I'm not lazy enough to be glad about this because it is a very good way of avoiding a lot of my dirty dishes (and I'm hoping it's all made from recyclable packaging so that I don't have to feel too guilty about the extra rubbish). But, as a snack, while I have to stay late at my desk, or as an alternative to the cheese sandwich with which vegetarians who have not brought their own lunch are always presented in shops - even in different varieties, it's still cheese - cereal 'to go' is my new favourite food. The only problem is, the cereal portions just aren't quite big enough...
Monday 15 October 2007
What do we do when we do literary criticism?
This is a question I pose (borrowed from the lecture) to my class of second year Theory students. It is their first tutorial on the course, and with me. 'Look for meanings in texts' said one student; 'see what the author was trying to say' says another.
'Is there any point to what we do?' my next question. In effect, I am asking my students whether there is any value to my career choice. I know this is dangerous territory. I also know, I say confidently, that they must think there is some value to what we do, or they wouldn't be taking a module in English Studies. I say this to them too. They all look like rabbits caught in headlights. And we haven't even started on the heavy Theory part yet.
I say to them, 'One morning having breakfast at the B&B, I started chatting to a lady who, when she found out that I lecture / tutor on literature at university, said she doesn't like literary criticism, it spoils the book. Does she have a point?' Again, dangerous territory. But I find, with relief, most of my students disagree with her. We 'get more out of texts by studying them' says one. 'How?' I ask, and they come up with a variety of options, including one which allows me to expound the virtues of such a course as this which offers a variety of 'ways in' to thinking about texts. Good. It saves me trying to make this seem like a natural, spontaneous announcement. They've given me a 'way in' rather than me just telling them that this is good for them (which I do actually believe, despite my own avoidance of Theory with a capital T in my own writing and research).
Those who agree with the Breakfast Lady say 'you spend too much time thinking about a book, and you can't follow or enjoy the story'. This seems strange to me. I'm not sure I distinguish any longer between reading and 'Reading'. Possibly for undergraduate students, though, the two actions are very different. Yes, sometimes I work harder at it -in my own research / writing, and when I'm reading texts for teaching, but can we actually switch off our critical approaches when we read 'for fun'? Do we not notice repeated images, patriarchal discourse or colonial language, for example, unless we're actively looking? I'm not sure it's possible to turn these awarenesses off, anymore.
So, are my students and the Breakfast Lady right? Is this a disadvantage? I don't think the pleasure of reading, of being told a story, has left me because I accidentally do lit. crit. as I read. Do you?
'Is there any point to what we do?' my next question. In effect, I am asking my students whether there is any value to my career choice. I know this is dangerous territory. I also know, I say confidently, that they must think there is some value to what we do, or they wouldn't be taking a module in English Studies. I say this to them too. They all look like rabbits caught in headlights. And we haven't even started on the heavy Theory part yet.
I say to them, 'One morning having breakfast at the B&B, I started chatting to a lady who, when she found out that I lecture / tutor on literature at university, said she doesn't like literary criticism, it spoils the book. Does she have a point?' Again, dangerous territory. But I find, with relief, most of my students disagree with her. We 'get more out of texts by studying them' says one. 'How?' I ask, and they come up with a variety of options, including one which allows me to expound the virtues of such a course as this which offers a variety of 'ways in' to thinking about texts. Good. It saves me trying to make this seem like a natural, spontaneous announcement. They've given me a 'way in' rather than me just telling them that this is good for them (which I do actually believe, despite my own avoidance of Theory with a capital T in my own writing and research).
Those who agree with the Breakfast Lady say 'you spend too much time thinking about a book, and you can't follow or enjoy the story'. This seems strange to me. I'm not sure I distinguish any longer between reading and 'Reading'. Possibly for undergraduate students, though, the two actions are very different. Yes, sometimes I work harder at it -in my own research / writing, and when I'm reading texts for teaching, but can we actually switch off our critical approaches when we read 'for fun'? Do we not notice repeated images, patriarchal discourse or colonial language, for example, unless we're actively looking? I'm not sure it's possible to turn these awarenesses off, anymore.
So, are my students and the Breakfast Lady right? Is this a disadvantage? I don't think the pleasure of reading, of being told a story, has left me because I accidentally do lit. crit. as I read. Do you?
Wednesday 10 October 2007
Update 1
Hello! Long time no blogging from me. But, to be fair, I have been a little busy! I have found somewhere to live, although can't move in to it yet, so am staying in a lovely Bed and Breakfast for the days of the week that I have to be on campus, and with my mum for the rest of the time. I have been to a wedding - Congratulations to the bride and groom - and I have started my new job. As it was introductory week, I didn't have too much prep to do, but I have to write a lecture for a week on Monday, and there is, of course, much more reading to do for the seminars from now on.
Learning my students' names - something I pride myself on - is going to be tricky this year. I have 12 tutorial groups, mostly in the same 2 rooms, so I'm afraid they are all merging into one at the moment. I'm sure as the personalities of the individuals and the groups emerge I'll find it easier to separate them and remember students' names, but it may take me longer than the usual week to learn names this time. Sorry!
Everyone I've met here seems to be very friendly and supportive. And although I'm missing my friends in the beautiful Scottish City where I used to live very much indeed, moving onwards and upwards is what I need to do. As much as it would be very comfortable, you can't stay a postgrad student in the place you know well for ever. And to be honest, who would want to?
Learning my students' names - something I pride myself on - is going to be tricky this year. I have 12 tutorial groups, mostly in the same 2 rooms, so I'm afraid they are all merging into one at the moment. I'm sure as the personalities of the individuals and the groups emerge I'll find it easier to separate them and remember students' names, but it may take me longer than the usual week to learn names this time. Sorry!
Everyone I've met here seems to be very friendly and supportive. And although I'm missing my friends in the beautiful Scottish City where I used to live very much indeed, moving onwards and upwards is what I need to do. As much as it would be very comfortable, you can't stay a postgrad student in the place you know well for ever. And to be honest, who would want to?
Wednesday 19 September 2007
Joy and sadness
Yesterday I had a job interview - my first one, for an academic post (a teaching assistantship). I'm very, very excited to say I got the job, and start next month!
Two hours after receiving the call offering me that job, my Father phoned to tell me the arrangements for my Nan's funeral on Monday.
My joy over the new job too is mixed with a tinge of sadness. Little Dog and I will have to move away from the City I love, that has been home for me for nine years. Away from my friends, whom I will leave here with a great deal of reluctance. We will keep in touch, but it won't be the same.
My new job, though, is much closer to my family. It will be easier to see them, much more often, which has to be a good thing! I miss them, whilst I'm here.
Joy and sadness in a balance. Strange how the world works.
Two hours after receiving the call offering me that job, my Father phoned to tell me the arrangements for my Nan's funeral on Monday.
My joy over the new job too is mixed with a tinge of sadness. Little Dog and I will have to move away from the City I love, that has been home for me for nine years. Away from my friends, whom I will leave here with a great deal of reluctance. We will keep in touch, but it won't be the same.
My new job, though, is much closer to my family. It will be easier to see them, much more often, which has to be a good thing! I miss them, whilst I'm here.
Joy and sadness in a balance. Strange how the world works.
Tuesday 11 September 2007
Size matters
That's size matters, rather than size matters - I don't want to comment on the latter.
I went to visit my family this weekend, and while I was there my jeans split. Not in a 'I have finally put on so much weight that I split the seams' way, more in a 'I spend so much time sitting down that I have worn through the bottom' sort of way. All my jeans when they split do it in the same place. I must do a lot of sitting / wriggling on that side! Well, that's my excuse. And I'm sticking to it.
So, in a state of emergency, we went jeans shopping at the outlet village, where the jeans shop happened to have a buy two get a third pair free offer on. Fabulous. Even better - my mum offered to treat me to them, so I got three pairs of jeans for the price of none. Hurrah! (and thank you, mum!)
I got two pairs the same, and a pair that I really liked. In fact, I liked them so much that I didn't even say no, I won't try on a size bigger than I would usually go to (I was already on the bigger size than I like to think I am and they wouldn't fit). Bought the bigger pair.
Then we went to another shop, and bought a fourth pair. By this point, I was really fed up of trying on, so we just got them in my usual size, and decided to return them if they wouldn't fit. I got them home and put them on, and they fitted perfectly.
So, within a matter of 2hours, maybe less, I got 4 pairs of jeans: one size 10, two size 12 and a size 14 (which is a little tight). Maybe this is to do with the jeans' country of origin? Perhaps. But if I can comfortably wear three different sizes within 2 hours, then does the size on the label really matter? If you wear what's comfortable, and what you look good in, then the rest is just numbers, isn't it?
And as an aside - I'd like to reiterate what I said in a comment on ThePhDLitChick's site - men, if I can see your boxers over the top of your jeans, then your jeans are too big. If the crotch of your trousers is tying your knees together, then your trousers are too big. (Not trendy. Not cool. Too big). And to the man I followed up the stairs from the bus stop on campus this morning: you need to sort this out quickly; the view from behind is not pleasant.
I went to visit my family this weekend, and while I was there my jeans split. Not in a 'I have finally put on so much weight that I split the seams' way, more in a 'I spend so much time sitting down that I have worn through the bottom' sort of way. All my jeans when they split do it in the same place. I must do a lot of sitting / wriggling on that side! Well, that's my excuse. And I'm sticking to it.
So, in a state of emergency, we went jeans shopping at the outlet village, where the jeans shop happened to have a buy two get a third pair free offer on. Fabulous. Even better - my mum offered to treat me to them, so I got three pairs of jeans for the price of none. Hurrah! (and thank you, mum!)
I got two pairs the same, and a pair that I really liked. In fact, I liked them so much that I didn't even say no, I won't try on a size bigger than I would usually go to (I was already on the bigger size than I like to think I am and they wouldn't fit). Bought the bigger pair.
Then we went to another shop, and bought a fourth pair. By this point, I was really fed up of trying on, so we just got them in my usual size, and decided to return them if they wouldn't fit. I got them home and put them on, and they fitted perfectly.
So, within a matter of 2hours, maybe less, I got 4 pairs of jeans: one size 10, two size 12 and a size 14 (which is a little tight). Maybe this is to do with the jeans' country of origin? Perhaps. But if I can comfortably wear three different sizes within 2 hours, then does the size on the label really matter? If you wear what's comfortable, and what you look good in, then the rest is just numbers, isn't it?
And as an aside - I'd like to reiterate what I said in a comment on ThePhDLitChick's site - men, if I can see your boxers over the top of your jeans, then your jeans are too big. If the crotch of your trousers is tying your knees together, then your trousers are too big. (Not trendy. Not cool. Too big). And to the man I followed up the stairs from the bus stop on campus this morning: you need to sort this out quickly; the view from behind is not pleasant.
Tuesday 4 September 2007
relaxing...?
Well, the thesis is in. Submitted. Possibly winging its way to the examiners. Possibly sitting on a shelf at student registry waiting for someone to remember to post it. Either way, it's in. It's too late now. There's nothing I can do about it.
Despite this, my mind keeps drifting onto things I could and should have done about it before I submitted it. Things missing from the bibliography; things I should have introduced / concluded more coherently; ways to go about things that would have made it more interesting, clearer, better. But it's too late now.
I am going away for a for days at the end of the week. A few days with my family during which I don't have to feel guilty about being there and working. Or being there and not working. I am looking forward to that. And, I have to change trains in the city where ThePhDLitChick lives, so we're going to catch up over coffee and brunch too, which will be lovely.
Also, I've started reading a novel. For fun. It's not a high brow literary novel. But it is by a modern author whose writing I enjoy a great deal. A real page turner. And I can read it without guilt. Wow. What a feeling.
This freedom, I fear, will not last long. The university semester is about to begin and I am teaching two different classes. There is much preparation to do. But maybe not today. Not quite yet...
Despite this, my mind keeps drifting onto things I could and should have done about it before I submitted it. Things missing from the bibliography; things I should have introduced / concluded more coherently; ways to go about things that would have made it more interesting, clearer, better. But it's too late now.
I am going away for a for days at the end of the week. A few days with my family during which I don't have to feel guilty about being there and working. Or being there and not working. I am looking forward to that. And, I have to change trains in the city where ThePhDLitChick lives, so we're going to catch up over coffee and brunch too, which will be lovely.
Also, I've started reading a novel. For fun. It's not a high brow literary novel. But it is by a modern author whose writing I enjoy a great deal. A real page turner. And I can read it without guilt. Wow. What a feeling.
This freedom, I fear, will not last long. The university semester is about to begin and I am teaching two different classes. There is much preparation to do. But maybe not today. Not quite yet...
Wednesday 22 August 2007
9 days to go...
Well, the title says it really. I have 9 days until PhD submission day. It's weird, in the earlier stages of PhD writing, you never imagine you'll actually be counting down in days to submission. I wasn't even counting in weeks and then all of a sudden, I'm at days. DAYS.
Wish me luck!
OH, and BIG congratulations to ThePhDLitChick on securing funding for this year. You absolutely deserve it.
Wish me luck!
OH, and BIG congratulations to ThePhDLitChick on securing funding for this year. You absolutely deserve it.
Friday 17 August 2007
In which I could not get my glasses mended...
I went into town this morning. My most comfortable pair of glasses broke on Wednesday and I was taking them to the opticians. I have a second pair, but they aren't so comfortable, and having spent most of yesterday seeing how much of my work I could do without wearing my glasses and finding that the answer was 'not much at all', I decided to go to get the broken ones fixed.
I haven't been into town for a while. Maybe if I went more often it wouldn't distract me so much. I went to Boots the chemist and bought some of my favourite moisturiser (my supply is low, it's Boots own brand and I was in town anyway...), a birthday card for a friend, a protective pouch for my telephone (that they were selling at the card shop and I couldn't help it) and a new pair of flat black comfortable practical shoes.
I hate shoe shopping (it's hard to find shoes that fit my extremely narrow feet and aren't ridiculously highly priced) so when I see a pair that look like they might fit and are within my price-range I have to try them on. And my old pair of practical flat black shoes died some time ago. Anyway, I tried on a few pairs and found a pair that fit. Not elegant, as such, but comfortable and practical and that was the point. And under £20! Bargain.
As for the glasses: nothing they can do - the spring is broken. Need new pair. I did ask them to look at the pair I'm wearing to see if they could make them slightly more comfortable and it seems to have worked - at least for the moment. Fingers crossed.
I haven't been into town for a while. Maybe if I went more often it wouldn't distract me so much. I went to Boots the chemist and bought some of my favourite moisturiser (my supply is low, it's Boots own brand and I was in town anyway...), a birthday card for a friend, a protective pouch for my telephone (that they were selling at the card shop and I couldn't help it) and a new pair of flat black comfortable practical shoes.
I hate shoe shopping (it's hard to find shoes that fit my extremely narrow feet and aren't ridiculously highly priced) so when I see a pair that look like they might fit and are within my price-range I have to try them on. And my old pair of practical flat black shoes died some time ago. Anyway, I tried on a few pairs and found a pair that fit. Not elegant, as such, but comfortable and practical and that was the point. And under £20! Bargain.
As for the glasses: nothing they can do - the spring is broken. Need new pair. I did ask them to look at the pair I'm wearing to see if they could make them slightly more comfortable and it seems to have worked - at least for the moment. Fingers crossed.
Saturday 11 August 2007
Absolute monarchy...
I finally got rid of the chapter I've been working on last night - well, I finished rewriting it (although getting rid of it has been tempting for most of the week!). It's taken far too long, but I'm hoping it was worth the time. To give myself a little break today, but still do something useful, I've been collating my bibliographies of primary texts (at the moment I have separate bibliographies for each chapter but not one for the whole thesis) and making sure it has all of the necessary information for each entry. I was struck by the all-encompassing implications of the title of this text:
Mocket, Richard 1615 God and the King: or a dialogue shewing that our soveraigne Lord King James, being immediate under God within his dominions, doth rightfully claim whatsoever is required by the Oath of Allegeance.
Ah, absolute monarchy. You'd never get away with that these days!
Mocket, Richard 1615 God and the King: or a dialogue shewing that our soveraigne Lord King James, being immediate under God within his dominions, doth rightfully claim whatsoever is required by the Oath of Allegeance.
Ah, absolute monarchy. You'd never get away with that these days!
Wednesday 8 August 2007
Stage directions
I'm falling way behind with revising the drafts of my thesis chapters - hence I am still awake and at my laptop at 3am.
The stage direction on the page of the play I have open next to me reads 'Exeunt omnes Rustici'.
Perhaps it's because it's late/early that this appeals to me. But anything that can make you smile while you're still working at this time in the morning has to be worth sharing!
The stage direction on the page of the play I have open next to me reads 'Exeunt omnes Rustici'.
Perhaps it's because it's late/early that this appeals to me. But anything that can make you smile while you're still working at this time in the morning has to be worth sharing!
Sunday 5 August 2007
One veggie burger and a steak sandwich
After another productive morning at the NLS yesterday, I met The Accountant for lunch. he's not my Accountant (financially or romantically) but he is my 'plus one' for parties, weddings, etc, when I don't have a boyfriend. The Accountant and I go back about nine years now - he was in the same Halls of Residence as me in the first year of our undergrad studies.
There was, briefly, the possibility of romance the first time he was my 'plus one' to a school reunion Ball. We - well, OK, he - decided it wouldn't work out between us. He said he's a bad boyfriend and liked me too much to screw up our friendship by a bad break up. I have my suspicions that he isn't as bad a boyfriend as he claims, and he just uses that as an excuse to maintain his very quiet, 'don't rock the boat' life [of the Will Young song 'If I lose the highs at least I'm spared the lows' sort of life]. But still, as reasons for not dating someone go, that's one of the nicer ones. (But no, to any men reading this, it is not a get out of gaol free card.)
Now The Accountant and I have an imaginary 'line' drawn between us. There's laughing, flirting, mickey-taking (chemistry, in short), but 'the line' is never crossed. Flirting is safe, because nothing will come of it - and we all know that it's important to keep the flirt muscles exercised! And we don't look like we brought a friend to a function because we couldn't get a date; slow dancing isn't awkward (OK, maybe in that respect sometimes we kick sand over 'the line'...).
As a friendship, it's great. As each other's 'plus one' it works. But when I think about it, I guess he's right - we wouldn't work as a couple. We are very different people. Perhaps too different for a long term relationship: I like pets; The Accountant doesn't want the responsibility. I like to be around people; The Accountant doesn't.
Lunch restaurant waitress: Are you ready to order?
Me: Yes, I'd like the veggie burger, please.
The Accountant: And I'll have the steak sandwich.
There was, briefly, the possibility of romance the first time he was my 'plus one' to a school reunion Ball. We - well, OK, he - decided it wouldn't work out between us. He said he's a bad boyfriend and liked me too much to screw up our friendship by a bad break up. I have my suspicions that he isn't as bad a boyfriend as he claims, and he just uses that as an excuse to maintain his very quiet, 'don't rock the boat' life [of the Will Young song 'If I lose the highs at least I'm spared the lows' sort of life]. But still, as reasons for not dating someone go, that's one of the nicer ones. (But no, to any men reading this, it is not a get out of gaol free card.)
Now The Accountant and I have an imaginary 'line' drawn between us. There's laughing, flirting, mickey-taking (chemistry, in short), but 'the line' is never crossed. Flirting is safe, because nothing will come of it - and we all know that it's important to keep the flirt muscles exercised! And we don't look like we brought a friend to a function because we couldn't get a date; slow dancing isn't awkward (OK, maybe in that respect sometimes we kick sand over 'the line'...).
As a friendship, it's great. As each other's 'plus one' it works. But when I think about it, I guess he's right - we wouldn't work as a couple. We are very different people. Perhaps too different for a long term relationship: I like pets; The Accountant doesn't want the responsibility. I like to be around people; The Accountant doesn't.
Lunch restaurant waitress: Are you ready to order?
Me: Yes, I'd like the veggie burger, please.
The Accountant: And I'll have the steak sandwich.
Friday 3 August 2007
You'll thank me later...
Yesterday, I had a very productive day in the National Library of Scotland. It's a wonderful place to work (particularly when it isn't too busy) and it has an amazing atmosphere of scholarship and interest. You can feel the academic vibes...
Sadly the enthusiasm I had for work yesterday when I was finding interesting things to think about is somewhat lost today now I have to get back to my chapter re-writing. I can see it's worth it - what I've done so far is much better than the other draft - but utter panic is now setting in. And we all know, panic is not productive, so I'm trying to keep it at bay with camomile tea.
The most worrying thing I've found about my previous work, though, is how bad my quotations are. I thought I was being careful at the time, but looking at them now, it seems not. Early PhD me did not quote accurately. And now she's wasting a lot of my time because I have to double check everything - I no longer trust her to have done anything right (thus contributing to my panic).
Most final stage PhDs would like to go back and tell our younger PhD selves where we're going with this, to find the focus earlier (although I have enjoyed the journey of finding out exactly what I'm doing, so maybe I wouldn't spoil that for her). I'd like to go back and tell mine, "Do this properly. You may think I'm nagging now, but you will thank me later". So, any early stage researchers reading this - quote carefully and accurately in your drafts. Double check them at the time (I thought I had, so maybe triple check). You may think that I'm nagging now, but you will thank me later...
Sadly the enthusiasm I had for work yesterday when I was finding interesting things to think about is somewhat lost today now I have to get back to my chapter re-writing. I can see it's worth it - what I've done so far is much better than the other draft - but utter panic is now setting in. And we all know, panic is not productive, so I'm trying to keep it at bay with camomile tea.
The most worrying thing I've found about my previous work, though, is how bad my quotations are. I thought I was being careful at the time, but looking at them now, it seems not. Early PhD me did not quote accurately. And now she's wasting a lot of my time because I have to double check everything - I no longer trust her to have done anything right (thus contributing to my panic).
Most final stage PhDs would like to go back and tell our younger PhD selves where we're going with this, to find the focus earlier (although I have enjoyed the journey of finding out exactly what I'm doing, so maybe I wouldn't spoil that for her). I'd like to go back and tell mine, "Do this properly. You may think I'm nagging now, but you will thank me later". So, any early stage researchers reading this - quote carefully and accurately in your drafts. Double check them at the time (I thought I had, so maybe triple check). You may think that I'm nagging now, but you will thank me later...
Wednesday 1 August 2007
Well, it's about time.
Gordon Brown and Nicolas Sarkozy have engineered an agreement at the UN to intervene in Darfur (read the Channel 4 news report here). Surprised that international action has not been taken so far on this, I've sent emails, through Oxfam's campaigns , to the Prime Minister reminding him that something needs to be done about the dreadful conditions for ordinary civilians in that region. It has been too dangerous for aid workers to do anything there, and this new action should make that necessary help available. I'm very glad that Gordon Brown seems to have made this a priority early in his role as PM, and that Oxfam's (and other charities') campaigning seems to be paying off.
There's a very long way to go, but at least it's a step in the right direction.
There's a very long way to go, but at least it's a step in the right direction.
Tuesday 31 July 2007
"When you've got them down on the mat...
... stand on their fingers". This was the instruction Supervisor gave me at our meeting yesterday. I had very politely suggested in a chapter of my thesis that an established critic had misquoted a text and this was what made his argument work.
Supervisor: What you're saying is, he's misrepresented the text to fit his argument, isn't it?
Autumn Song: [hesitantly] Yes, I suppose so.
Supervisor: Well just say that then. When you've got them down on the mat, stand on their fingers. He would do it to you.
Well, yes, I guess he probably would. But still, it makes me slightly uncomfortable to suggest such a thing about those better qualified than myself. Nevertheless, it seems to be true (see, there it is again, a reluctance to make this claim) - it is true - he misquoted, deliberately or not, and for that reason amongst others his interpretation is unsatisfactory and I disagree with his argument. And rather like the world at large, if we all agreed on everything, life would be very dull. Still, in all such situations, I'd suggest rational conversation rather than standing on fingers. That isn't nice.
Supervisor: What you're saying is, he's misrepresented the text to fit his argument, isn't it?
Autumn Song: [hesitantly] Yes, I suppose so.
Supervisor: Well just say that then. When you've got them down on the mat, stand on their fingers. He would do it to you.
Well, yes, I guess he probably would. But still, it makes me slightly uncomfortable to suggest such a thing about those better qualified than myself. Nevertheless, it seems to be true (see, there it is again, a reluctance to make this claim) - it is true - he misquoted, deliberately or not, and for that reason amongst others his interpretation is unsatisfactory and I disagree with his argument. And rather like the world at large, if we all agreed on everything, life would be very dull. Still, in all such situations, I'd suggest rational conversation rather than standing on fingers. That isn't nice.
Wednesday 25 July 2007
Drilling, hammering, banging
Please, I can't take any more drilling. Make it stop.
My (shared) office is surrounded by drilling, hammering, banging and other sounds of building work. The offices across the corridor are having a makeover, as are the offices in the next corridor on the other side. So, if it's not happening on one side, it's happening on the other. Or, if we're really unlucky, it's happening on both. And, to make matters worse, the builders are playing bad music. Loudly. Presumably so they can hear it over the drilling, hammering, banging and other sounds of building work.
I could work at home, but my Not So Crazy Neighbours (who are actually related to Crazy Neighbours who live on the other side) are doing D.I.Y., which means there's drilling, hammering, banging and other sounds of building work there too.
I can't decide if the banging in my head is an echo of the building work, a result of the building work, or a symptom of being in the final stages of my PhD...
My (shared) office is surrounded by drilling, hammering, banging and other sounds of building work. The offices across the corridor are having a makeover, as are the offices in the next corridor on the other side. So, if it's not happening on one side, it's happening on the other. Or, if we're really unlucky, it's happening on both. And, to make matters worse, the builders are playing bad music. Loudly. Presumably so they can hear it over the drilling, hammering, banging and other sounds of building work.
I could work at home, but my Not So Crazy Neighbours (who are actually related to Crazy Neighbours who live on the other side) are doing D.I.Y., which means there's drilling, hammering, banging and other sounds of building work there too.
I can't decide if the banging in my head is an echo of the building work, a result of the building work, or a symptom of being in the final stages of my PhD...
Monday 23 July 2007
Much Ado about Something
On Friday my Aspiring Author friend and I went to an outdoor performance of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. It had been rainy weather all week (although nowhere near as bad as it's raining Down South) but it didn't rain on Friday and we made it through the performance without getting wet. The actors were pleased about that too - they'd been on tour for a number of weeks and this was only their seventh 'dry show'. Aspiring Author and I laid out my burst airbed (useless for sleeping on, but brilliant as a large waterproof outdoor rug) on the mud - despite it being a dry day, the grass was still boggy from the week's rain - and settled down in front of the loch, amongst the fold away chairs and picnic tables of other audience members to watch the performance. (A moment of panic coming back from a trip to the ladies before the performance started when I had lost Aspiring Author in the forest of such chairs and tables that had grown up in the brief time I was away.)
Illyria (the acting company) are very good. We've seen them before and were expecting great things. We weren't let down - although I think I preferred their performance of Comedy of Errors two years ago, maybe because I know Much Ado better and had a clearer idea of what I thought it should be. Occasionally the actor playing Benedick was a little too much Branagh-esque for me, but those moments were few and far between. There was an arresting moment when Don Pedro proposed to Beatrice and she turned him down. I've never thought about this as anything other than comic; Branagh's film version laughs it off immediately. Illyria chose to present it with all the awkwardness turning down a proposal from such an important man would have carried way back when... Leonato's anger when he heard Hero was unchaste was also extremely well done - the actor was very controlled, but gave out all the venom of Renaissance misogyny in the mouth of a let down and publicly embarrassed father.
All of the actors work very hard - there were only five of them playing all the parts, and playing different characters convincingly too. They even worked out ways to have two characters played by the same actor on stage at the same time. Very impressive. With only one woman in the cast taking the role of Beatrice (amongst others - the rest were male parts) the other female roles had to be taken by men, which is authentic for Shakespeare's time, but not often seen these days. They had a very clever matching up of characters whereby the actress playing Beatrice also played Claudio, and the actor playing Benedick also played Hero. I think that brought a new dimension to the play that I hadn't considered before. No one in the cast played fewer than three parts, and some took more than that. The cast also sell their own performance programmes and souvenirs, and mix with the audience at the end of the interval (they're quite fond of sharing your picnic - if you go to one of their performances, and I would recommend them, do take some spare strawberries!).
It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, despite it getting a little chilly and the midges coming out to see what was going on.
I hope Illyria get more dry shows for the rest of the tour. They shouldn't have to work that hard and fight the weather.
Illyria (the acting company) are very good. We've seen them before and were expecting great things. We weren't let down - although I think I preferred their performance of Comedy of Errors two years ago, maybe because I know Much Ado better and had a clearer idea of what I thought it should be. Occasionally the actor playing Benedick was a little too much Branagh-esque for me, but those moments were few and far between. There was an arresting moment when Don Pedro proposed to Beatrice and she turned him down. I've never thought about this as anything other than comic; Branagh's film version laughs it off immediately. Illyria chose to present it with all the awkwardness turning down a proposal from such an important man would have carried way back when... Leonato's anger when he heard Hero was unchaste was also extremely well done - the actor was very controlled, but gave out all the venom of Renaissance misogyny in the mouth of a let down and publicly embarrassed father.
All of the actors work very hard - there were only five of them playing all the parts, and playing different characters convincingly too. They even worked out ways to have two characters played by the same actor on stage at the same time. Very impressive. With only one woman in the cast taking the role of Beatrice (amongst others - the rest were male parts) the other female roles had to be taken by men, which is authentic for Shakespeare's time, but not often seen these days. They had a very clever matching up of characters whereby the actress playing Beatrice also played Claudio, and the actor playing Benedick also played Hero. I think that brought a new dimension to the play that I hadn't considered before. No one in the cast played fewer than three parts, and some took more than that. The cast also sell their own performance programmes and souvenirs, and mix with the audience at the end of the interval (they're quite fond of sharing your picnic - if you go to one of their performances, and I would recommend them, do take some spare strawberries!).
It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, despite it getting a little chilly and the midges coming out to see what was going on.
I hope Illyria get more dry shows for the rest of the tour. They shouldn't have to work that hard and fight the weather.
Monday 16 July 2007
'A baggage for all gamesters'?
Here is a brief passage from Act V of John Ford's The Ladies Triall (1638), a play that I'm currently writing about in my thesis. Martino finds his niece Levidolche with Benatzi, a man that he does not know she has already married (Benatzi is actually her first husband in disguise whom she marries a second time - she has, since first marrying him, been seduced and abandoned by one man and rejected by another, and been staying with her uncle since). Martino lets loose this tirade against her:
Oh thou monster
Thou she-confusion! are you growne so rampant,
That from a privat wanton thou proclaimst thy selfe
A baggage for all gamesters, Lords or Gentlemen,
Strangers, or home-spun yeoman, foot-posts, pages,
Rorers or hangmen, hey day, set up shop,
And then cry a market open, toot, and welcome.
They don't write rants like that these days! Although sometimes, as a fellow Teaching Assistant just pointed out to me, undergraduate essays (critical and creative writing) come frighteningly close...
(Lest you think Ford is the misogynist this quotation might imply, I have to defend him by saying that the play actually attempts to knock down some of the contemporary cultural and social assumptions about gender and sexual misconduct upon which Martino's outburst is based.)
Oh thou monster
Thou she-confusion! are you growne so rampant,
That from a privat wanton thou proclaimst thy selfe
A baggage for all gamesters, Lords or Gentlemen,
Strangers, or home-spun yeoman, foot-posts, pages,
Rorers or hangmen, hey day, set up shop,
And then cry a market open, toot, and welcome.
They don't write rants like that these days! Although sometimes, as a fellow Teaching Assistant just pointed out to me, undergraduate essays (critical and creative writing) come frighteningly close...
(Lest you think Ford is the misogynist this quotation might imply, I have to defend him by saying that the play actually attempts to knock down some of the contemporary cultural and social assumptions about gender and sexual misconduct upon which Martino's outburst is based.)
Wednesday 11 July 2007
Rainy days?
With my faith in the basic, underlying goodness of people sometimes rattled but never lost, it was really nice to see this footage of baseball players helping out groundsmen in trouble covering the field during a sudden storm, over at lawmummy. It shouldn't be unusual or news-worthy, but it probably is, so I'm sharing it with you. Have a lovely day!
Monday 9 July 2007
Admiring the view
I bumped into some friends yesterday whilst walking little dog. They are about to move away from the beautiful place we live (a city that can have you in the countryside in ten minutes) to a city which is , well, a city. Maybe an interesting city, but it is a (fairly large and very urban) city nevertheless. They said they were just out for a walk enjoying the sunshine and they realised that they're going to miss the scenery. They hadn't really noticed it before and taken it for granted, but now they're about to leave they can see what they have here. Another one of my friends quite regularly tells me that they don't notice the scenery either - it takes a visit from their parents who comment on the amazing views from the Castle (walking, this is 5 minutes from my house), to remind them how lucky they are.
I don't understand this at all. I am always aware of the view, the scenery, the history and how lucky I am to live here, of the facts that I can have the convenience of town/city living, manage pretty well without a car or driving licence, and take little dog for a walk well away from the traffic and never be too far from home. I often tell geographically distant family and friends that they should visit here to see the historic places or just to enjoy the scenery.
I guess what I'm saying is, look at the place where you live. If you're lucky enough to like where you live, make sure you appreciate what you've got, while you've got it. It's too late when you have to move away. I already know I'll be sad to leave, whenever that might be.
I don't understand this at all. I am always aware of the view, the scenery, the history and how lucky I am to live here, of the facts that I can have the convenience of town/city living, manage pretty well without a car or driving licence, and take little dog for a walk well away from the traffic and never be too far from home. I often tell geographically distant family and friends that they should visit here to see the historic places or just to enjoy the scenery.
I guess what I'm saying is, look at the place where you live. If you're lucky enough to like where you live, make sure you appreciate what you've got, while you've got it. It's too late when you have to move away. I already know I'll be sad to leave, whenever that might be.
Monday 2 July 2007
Levels of good - 2
I forgot 'quite good' the other day. Any suggestions for where 'quite good' might fit into my list?
(This wasn't Supervisor's overall judgement of the introduction - it was a discussion that didn't involve any of my levels of good. It seems we're working under a different scheme now, and nobody told me what that is...)
(This wasn't Supervisor's overall judgement of the introduction - it was a discussion that didn't involve any of my levels of good. It seems we're working under a different scheme now, and nobody told me what that is...)
Friday 29 June 2007
Levels of good.
Well, it's been nearly a week since my last post so I thought I ought to catch up with the blog.
Got the introduction finished early this week, and I'm meeting Supervisor tomorrow (yes, Saturday - I'd like to say it's because we're dedicated people, and in some ways I suppose it is, but really it's a convenience as Supervisor now teaches elsewhere and we try to have a meeting whenever we're relatively near each other). After such a lot of time and effort, the 5000 words it turned out to be didn't seem like very much. As a friend said though, it's quality, not quantity that counts. Still, when you're so close to something that has taken so long to write, it is very difficult to test the 'quality'. I know when things are bad. I try not to write bad pieces of work. But the level of good, well, that's a mystery.
Supervisor assesses by levels of good. I wonder what I'll hear tomorrow:
1. Excellent (high praise not given out lightly or often)
2. Very good
3. Very good (you know there's a difference between 2 and 3!)
4. Good
5. Good, but...
In fact, the 'but' can go with any of 2-4, and usually does. Often this is disappointing to me. I think, occasionally, I'd like to hear an excellent and leave it at that. But it's a good thing really. Supervisor believes I can do better and pushes me to do it. Whatever I hand in as the final version will be as good as I can make it.
'But' is important. I shouldn't complain.
As long as it isn't a level of bad, I won't be too disappointed.
Got the introduction finished early this week, and I'm meeting Supervisor tomorrow (yes, Saturday - I'd like to say it's because we're dedicated people, and in some ways I suppose it is, but really it's a convenience as Supervisor now teaches elsewhere and we try to have a meeting whenever we're relatively near each other). After such a lot of time and effort, the 5000 words it turned out to be didn't seem like very much. As a friend said though, it's quality, not quantity that counts. Still, when you're so close to something that has taken so long to write, it is very difficult to test the 'quality'. I know when things are bad. I try not to write bad pieces of work. But the level of good, well, that's a mystery.
Supervisor assesses by levels of good. I wonder what I'll hear tomorrow:
1. Excellent (high praise not given out lightly or often)
2. Very good
3. Very good (you know there's a difference between 2 and 3!)
4. Good
5. Good, but...
In fact, the 'but' can go with any of 2-4, and usually does. Often this is disappointing to me. I think, occasionally, I'd like to hear an excellent and leave it at that. But it's a good thing really. Supervisor believes I can do better and pushes me to do it. Whatever I hand in as the final version will be as good as I can make it.
'But' is important. I shouldn't complain.
As long as it isn't a level of bad, I won't be too disappointed.
Saturday 23 June 2007
Quote for today
Not much time today - I'm still working on the introduction which has, since the last post, progressed a little but is now way behind schedule. Supervisor, whose whip-cracking is a constant background noise to me, will not be pleased.
While researching one of my other chapters I came across a description in Conrad Russell's book, Parliaments and English Politics 1621-1629, of the reaction in Parliament when the King did not respond to a parliamentary petition as they had expected that I thought I'd share with you:
"Digges proposed to sit in silence, since they were so miserable they did not know what to do, and Seymour, seconding him, suggested that the silence should be confirmed by order" (1979, p.378).
While researching one of my other chapters I came across a description in Conrad Russell's book, Parliaments and English Politics 1621-1629, of the reaction in Parliament when the King did not respond to a parliamentary petition as they had expected that I thought I'd share with you:
"Digges proposed to sit in silence, since they were so miserable they did not know what to do, and Seymour, seconding him, suggested that the silence should be confirmed by order" (1979, p.378).
I like the way it's written - it almost reads like a novel, doesn't it? It made such an impression on me in the writing style and the description of the Members of Parliament that I've stuck it to the wall over my desk. Perhaps it's because it conveys the mood of the moment so well. Perhaps it's because I see some profound advice here somewhere...
Monday 18 June 2007
Beginnings
I’m trying, at the moment, to write the introduction to my thesis. As is my usual practice with introductions, I’ve left it to the end, so I know what follows it. So, I’m not struggling to say what I plan to do, but I am struggling with the beginning though: how to start; where to start. I don’t want to start with what someone else says around my topic, in case it makes my work look derivative. When I’m reading novels, which I sadly don’t have much time for at the moment (I long for the day after thesis submission day when I can read a novel for fun and without guilt – oh, and re. my last post, I was speaking to a fully fledged academic this weekend, and he assures me this guilt will never go away if I enter academia), I always prefer the ones that start in medias res. I like to be thrown in to an apparently existing story and find out what’s going on. I’ve tried starting with a primary text but my work is historically contextual, and I’m afraid that’s too much in medias res for my introduction – I find myself tied up, unable to move for things which have yet to be said. So, where to start? How to begin with something which has already been said without stealing my own thunder or assuming something yet to be said that I have already written?
I had hoped that having all that follows it worked out would make the beginning easier. Surely it must, somehow, in some way. At least I know where I’m going.
I had hoped that having all that follows it worked out would make the beginning easier. Surely it must, somehow, in some way. At least I know where I’m going.
Thursday 14 June 2007
Indulgences
Indulgences. Interesting things. It's fascinating what different people count as an indulgence. To some it's a bottle of wine or a slice of chocolate cake; to others it's curling up on the sofa to watch a favourite film or read a new, or indeed an old, book. When you're a PhD student (and, I suspect, a fully fledged academic) it's doing anything that isn't research or teaching related. At the beginning of this month I allowed my self the ultimate indulgence for a PhD student in the writing up period: I went on holiday.
I took the holiday I always take at this time of year to indulge what someone in my academic field once described as my 'errant interest in the Brontes'. I went to Haworth for the Bronte Society AGM events. Now, I've been going to these since I was 15, and I always go alone. But I'm never alone for long. The Bronte Society has given me friends - good friends - all over the world, and every year brings new people from new places, all walks of life, and new friendships. We aren't all academics; this year I met a dancer/choreographer and a writer from the States, and old friends include a nurse, an academic, a musician and a joiner. And it's easy to make friends; you see, we always have something to talk about (this year conversation ranged from Bronte biography, through modern poetry, to our favourite TV shows / actors, to Internet dating) - we have a common interest to start things off. You don't have to know all there is to know about the Bronte family and their literature; you don't have to be an academic or an expert. All you need is to be interested and the Society offers you the opportunity to go to Bronte or other literature related places (not just day excursions, but holidays to Ireland, or Brussels, for example), talk about Bronte books / lives, or just plain meet people and chat. Yes, there are academics. Yes, the Society holds academic conferences. But those aren't the most important things; it's not primarily about that.
This is why it saddens me that, after my 13years of AGM events, I am still one of the youngest people there. It didn't surprise me when I was 15, 18, or even 20. But in my late 20s, it worries me. It doesn't matter, to an extent. I don't primarily notice the age of my friends there. But if new, younger members don't join, the Society will eventually be in trouble. And this is more serious than it may sound: The Bronte Society owns the Bronte Parsonage Museum, and if membership shrinks too drastically, we will have to pass it on to a different organisation, and I don't know about you, but I think that would be very sad indeed.
To the left, you'll see a link to the Bronte Parsonage Blog. It has some posts from a variety of members about the recent AGM events. It even has some photographs. If it looks like something you'd enjoy, the Bronte Parsonage Museum website has information on what we do and how to join. Check it out! Indulge your interest...
I took the holiday I always take at this time of year to indulge what someone in my academic field once described as my 'errant interest in the Brontes'. I went to Haworth for the Bronte Society AGM events. Now, I've been going to these since I was 15, and I always go alone. But I'm never alone for long. The Bronte Society has given me friends - good friends - all over the world, and every year brings new people from new places, all walks of life, and new friendships. We aren't all academics; this year I met a dancer/choreographer and a writer from the States, and old friends include a nurse, an academic, a musician and a joiner. And it's easy to make friends; you see, we always have something to talk about (this year conversation ranged from Bronte biography, through modern poetry, to our favourite TV shows / actors, to Internet dating) - we have a common interest to start things off. You don't have to know all there is to know about the Bronte family and their literature; you don't have to be an academic or an expert. All you need is to be interested and the Society offers you the opportunity to go to Bronte or other literature related places (not just day excursions, but holidays to Ireland, or Brussels, for example), talk about Bronte books / lives, or just plain meet people and chat. Yes, there are academics. Yes, the Society holds academic conferences. But those aren't the most important things; it's not primarily about that.
This is why it saddens me that, after my 13years of AGM events, I am still one of the youngest people there. It didn't surprise me when I was 15, 18, or even 20. But in my late 20s, it worries me. It doesn't matter, to an extent. I don't primarily notice the age of my friends there. But if new, younger members don't join, the Society will eventually be in trouble. And this is more serious than it may sound: The Bronte Society owns the Bronte Parsonage Museum, and if membership shrinks too drastically, we will have to pass it on to a different organisation, and I don't know about you, but I think that would be very sad indeed.
To the left, you'll see a link to the Bronte Parsonage Blog. It has some posts from a variety of members about the recent AGM events. It even has some photographs. If it looks like something you'd enjoy, the Bronte Parsonage Museum website has information on what we do and how to join. Check it out! Indulge your interest...
Falling Leaves
Welcome to Falling Leaves.
I'm new to blogging, although several of my friends have well-established, poetic and extemely interesting blogs. I hope mine lives up to their standard!
I'm new to blogging, although several of my friends have well-established, poetic and extemely interesting blogs. I hope mine lives up to their standard!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)