Supposed to be grading

Man, teaching is the best job in the world except when you have to grade. Seriously, I have a very good idea of everyone's abilities and could just give them their grades, but no...I have to sit and grade papers until I want to pull a Gloucester...

--O, Stephen will apologize.
Dante said:
--O, if not, the eagles will come and pull out his eyes.--

Pull out his eyes,
Apologize,
Apologize,
Pull out his eyes.
Apologize,
Pull out his eyes,
Pull out his eyes,
Apologize.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man



And to that asshat who flamed my sister and brother-in-law: fuck you! I know you'll never read this (no one does, which is just fine) but you can just die fart-eater. Ugh; wish I could reach through the computer screen to him!

My Friend Mark...

So I've this friend named Mark. He's very nice if you know him and not so nice if you don't. I mean, he's not rude or anything, he's just kind of a standoffish prick if you're a slob like most people. Do I float my own boat by saying I'm proud of having him as a friend, you bet I do, but he's the type of guy from whom you hear really interesting things. Yesterday evening I got an email with the title:

Bertrand Russell quote
[the following is all that was in the email]

One of the commonest things to do with savings is to lend them to some Government. In view of the fact that the bulk of the public expenditure of most civilized Governments consists in payment for past wars or preparation for future wars, the man who lends his money to a Government is in the same position as the bad men in Shakespeare who hire murderers. The net result of the man's economical habits is to increase the armed forces of the State to which he lends his savings. Obviously it would be better if he spent the money, even if he spent it in drink or gambling.


Now, Mark didn't get points for passing along a quotation the way most people pass along bullshit forwards. Nope. Mark gets points for quoting Bertrand Russell and for being a former military man like myself. This is exactly why we need more than two parties in this nation...there's no way we should have to be simply for or against something...

A lot of the time I like to think I'm like Mark, against stupidity.

Our neighbors...

On one side of our house we have a fantastic family as neighbors. They're kind, conscientious (I mean, if we're not home they'll mow our front yard, as theirs runs into ours), and altogether neighborly. I love this family; their daughters watch our son and we'll go over for a drink on the patio now and then.

On the other side of our house though, it's a different story (as it usually is). They've got beagles that howl outside at all hours of the day and night. Their kids have torn up my front lawn by inviting the entire neighborhood to play football there to the point that it's a muddy sty. And no matter how many times I've asked the kids to stop playing or talked to them about the dogs, there's never any change. Now, I'd like to throw fuel on the fire and say they're brash, ugly people, but that's not realistic. They're just poor neighbors...and one of these days I'm going to figure out what to do about those fuckin' dogs! (Can you tell they're barking right now?) More later...

teaching

so I had a serious fuckin' drain clog yesterday...

I cleaned out tons and tons of asparagus from our garbage disposal and it was a real fuckin' bitch...

...seriously.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to write about, I'm looking for a bit of therapy. In my fantastic, thirteen-year-long relationship with the love of my life and the mother of my child (both, luckily, the same woman!) I've never once strayed...nor will I. But into each life a little rain must fall and I've found that--on occasion--my eyes stray. I wonder if I'm alone in this sometimes, but most of the time I think I'm just like everyone else and that everyone else lives out their daydream fantasies just like I do...as fantasies. The latest?

...*edited by me!*...

I'd write it down, but I know that I'm writing for posterity and therapy, not popularity. Nothing will ever come of it anyway. Fork.

Two Years Later...

Yeah, it's that time again...two years later...:) But that's not why I'm writing. I'm really just writing now because I need to set the record straight. After everything that has happened over the last two years, the comments I left online are no longer true.

• I wrote and defended my prospectus last September. Well, I wrote the thirteenth and final draft of the prospectus, and my advisor liked it! Then, I revised it again...finally, I filled out a ton of paperwork, had to reapply to the department, etc. and defended that bitch.



• Since then, I've written Chapter One and am part way through Chapter Two...I'm not posting any of it here, but I will someday.



• Also, I've successfully spent eight months without a cig. I went absolutely bonkers in the beginning, but have recovered control and returned to my previous, slightly-less-insane self.



• And finally, most importantly, I'm going to be a father...in like, one month. The process has been more fun for me than for Allison, but I still think it's not nearly as bad as people make it out to be. We're excited as all get-out and the baby's going to be damn cute if she takes after her mother.

So what I said before, that's not really how things stand. I thought I'd be stuck in Prospectus-Limbo for the rest of my life, but now I know it was only for about a decade. I'm going to need to come back here more often, but I make no promises...especially since that kid's on the way!

If I'm allowed, and I know I am, since I'm writing this for myself, I'd like to shout-out to Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson, two cooks that have helped me pack on 18 pounds of sympathy weight during Allison's pregnancy and have taught me a few great new recipes.

long time since I wrote to myself

I'm trying not to grade papers right now, so I thought it would be a good time to write. The dissertation is moving (finally) but not today. I've got a deadline, however, which means that I don't have to worry about not getting the stuff done. For some strange reason, I always meet my deadlines (at least when they're for someone else).

More than anything, I thought I'd leave a note about the book that I'm reading right now...The Once and Future King, by T.H.White. Anyway, the note I wanted to leave was that I consider this a book for all people, but for men in particular. There's something so casual and so destructive in White's relation of the love between Lance and Gwen that I'm not sure it's for both sexes. Don't take me the wrong way, but if you feel that different you can message me and we can duke it out. I'll win, I always do. Goulet!

problems with power

So I've been reading and writing; what's new? The writing. I haven't written much on my dissertation for the last eighteen months. What follows is my PhD history (from my point of view). I sped through my coursework and loved it. Literature was always my strength and it was no surprise to me when all sorts of texts opened to my glance. It was exhilarating; during my time at PU I didn't have a computer, half the time I was there I didn't even have a television. I had a one room apartment, full ashtrays, all the reading anyone could want, the drive to succeed that only the young have, and a growing telephone bill. I was broke and I loved it.

But then I moved away; I married the love of my life, moved a few hours away from the University, and tried to continue working on my own. It wasn't easy. After a while (read, a year) I finished a first draft of my prospectus. The research wasn't great, but it wasn't completely shoddy either. This draft, my advisor sent back to me with instructions to cut it in half. Yeah, C. (my advisor) gave me more comments than just to cut it down, but it didn't feel like it. I felt more like I had been deserted.

Eight months later I produced another draft. This prospectus had focus, and I still think it's an honest preview of the dissertation I'm now writing. But I never really received any feedback at all on this draft. Do you know what C. told me? Are you sure you want to write a dissertation? You could do a lot of things with your education; you don't have to teach. What the fuck. Honestly, I took it as he meant it. I drove home, flipped the thing over my shoulder, and didn't think about it for another six months. (Do you see how time flies?)

So, I'm finally writing again. Another year passed during which I filled another research notebook full of random data. I've stored some great ideas, followed lots of thoughts, and read more than I had planned. But none of these things helps one write a dissertation. Finally, I came to the conclusion that I simply must write. I'm not a Nazi about it, but I enjoy it again. Finally.

I still need to talk to C. about my project. If he's willing to help I'll have a great time finishing the damnable thing; if he won't help me I'll farm the paper out to the first graduate school that will take most of my credits and transfer, paper in hand.

Let's hope that's not how it goes.

this guy's a freakin maniac

My friend pdr sent me this link in an email. The video's of a guy that not only has great taste in music, but he's a phenomenal athlete as well. Oh, if playing with balls in front of other people isn't quite to your taste, you ought to try this link about time travel. Peace, love, and charity.

weakened from the weekend

I've got some questions that I'm mulling over, and as I'm writing to myself, I thought I should try to record them.

1. Why is my vision of the world fairly optimistic when every novel, movie, and work of art that I appreciate is actually drawn from real life (a.k.a. slit-your-wrists depressing)? I mean, I can see the value of comedy, but I still labor under the academic's stereotype that a decent novel end unhappily. I'm oversimplifying, I know. Think of it this way: if Malamud's The Natural ended like Disneyfied film version, wouldn't you feel as though the moral of the story were missing? Ok, I'm smart. I know it. I just answered my own question.
2. While working on my dissertation, when do I show and when tell? My response as a sometime composition instructor is that I should know the answer because I've examined my audience. But my advisor is my primary audience and I haven't spoken to him for at least a year...so I don't know. Of course, I'm also my own audience and I don't seem to like anything I write any more. I suppose I should go back to writing sonnets for Allison, at least then I knew who I was writing to.
3. What should I do about Guy? He was my best friend for years. We helped each other through some difficult times. Grew up. Grew apart. Kept in touch. Yada, yada. Anyway, he pulled the Fadeout. He missed my thirtieth birthday party; I never followed up either. I suppose that constitutes a double fadeout; whatever the cause though, he's been moving on with his social life in the past year and I never realized that it bothered me until I didn't get invited a party that he was throwing in the city. (Yes, I'm shallow. I've always admitted it though, so I've got that going for me...and I'll freely admit it now: I don't think I cared about losing Guy's friendship until I realized it would actually have some sort of manifestation in the real, physical world.) So; what should I do about him? I'll try to think of it more later; that's worked for the last year or so.

One of my many sisters...it runs in the family