I had a very raw week this week, lots of students who are slowly learning about what it means to be responsible, take care of what matters, etc. Monday was particualerly overwhelming, just listening to the morass of doom and despair. I speak of this casually, but these were all kids with real problems, the kind that put my annoying student to shame. Sure, you hate my class, but you don't have a dying family member, a child in intensive care, or a recent diagnosis of bi-polarism. (Is that a verb? Person diagnosed as bi-polar.)
Anyway, here's another "bummer desk" story. I at least am able to work in my chosen field. I could wish for better pay, more respectful students, a corner office... but I am able to do it. Now, I know, Prince Harry has all sorts of advantages and options comletely unavailable to us mere mortals. It's still got to be rough to carry the DNA of the Diana legacy. By all accounts he desperately wanted to be sent to the war, to do what he has been trained to do, serve as a citizen, and prove his mettle. Instead, an American new source has outed him (that will be on the cover of People next week, I'm sure) and he's back to playing polo or whatever it is that he can do... Makes my life look easy, so I'll stop complaining, at least for now.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7270743.stm
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
soap opera update
OK, now this is getting out of hand. Student mentioned in the previous posts e-mailed me last night at 10:45. AsI am an old person (tm) I was asleep. The question was perfectly valid, but I do not have any sort of alert system for e-mails hooked up. damnit, I've acrued enough debt to qualify for this job (jobs) that I deserve at least seven hours each night.
Said student then e-mailed at 7:00 AM to complain that I had not yet amswered the message from last night. At 7:00 AM, as best I recall, I was indulging in a healthy breakfast of leftovers, and e-mail was not the first (or even fourth) thing on my mind at that moment. "Am I really awake?" definitely took up the first fifteen or sixteen priority slots. "Why aren't you answering me? This is your job!"
A good friend of mine left grad school, despite having a GPA off the charts and all sorts of innovative ideas, because dealing with such situations really did not appeal. Wise choice.
(except that I love my job most of the time... addiction?)
Said student then e-mailed at 7:00 AM to complain that I had not yet amswered the message from last night. At 7:00 AM, as best I recall, I was indulging in a healthy breakfast of leftovers, and e-mail was not the first (or even fourth) thing on my mind at that moment. "Am I really awake?" definitely took up the first fifteen or sixteen priority slots. "Why aren't you answering me? This is your job!"
A good friend of mine left grad school, despite having a GPA off the charts and all sorts of innovative ideas, because dealing with such situations really did not appeal. Wise choice.
(except that I love my job most of the time... addiction?)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
a follow-up
Mariah raised an excellent point in her comments to me, and I wanted to respond.
I am all in favor of students who speak up. I get a huge kick out of the folks who raise the unusual points, or who leap in with a wild guess when no one else is speaking. That makes class more interesting, I hope, for everyone. Hey, I'm human, sometimes I'll have a topic that I've carefully planned out, but the definition and accompanying questions just don't work. Hey, if someone doesn't tell me, I won't know.
It's when a student has obviously not cracked open the textbook in, oh, say, six weeks, not bothered to get the notes for the classes they missed, and expects to be able to jump in... well, then I get annoyed. When the rest of the class gets annoyed with another student, I take that as proof that I'm not truly evil.
Meanwhile, I would just like to report that I have exercised great self-restraint and not eaten all of my Tag-Alongs... yet.
I am all in favor of students who speak up. I get a huge kick out of the folks who raise the unusual points, or who leap in with a wild guess when no one else is speaking. That makes class more interesting, I hope, for everyone. Hey, I'm human, sometimes I'll have a topic that I've carefully planned out, but the definition and accompanying questions just don't work. Hey, if someone doesn't tell me, I won't know.
It's when a student has obviously not cracked open the textbook in, oh, say, six weeks, not bothered to get the notes for the classes they missed, and expects to be able to jump in... well, then I get annoyed. When the rest of the class gets annoyed with another student, I take that as proof that I'm not truly evil.
Meanwhile, I would just like to report that I have exercised great self-restraint and not eaten all of my Tag-Alongs... yet.
Friday, February 15, 2008
teaching thought
I have a student who really really doesn't like me. Everything in every class is to be questioned and found less than adequate. At bottom, the student is uncomfortable with my approach and the questions I raise. I have a sneaky suspicion that this student wold be uncomfortable with any thing different, be it me, be it William Faulkner, be it DNA evidence.
What's fascinating is that this student hasn't yet grasped that their questioning is really starting to annoy the rest of the class. I could care less (really, I mean it) but I do care about the impact the questions have upon the tone of the discussion. At the same time, I love it that the class can debate.
What's fascinating is that this student hasn't yet grasped that their questioning is really starting to annoy the rest of the class. I could care less (really, I mean it) but I do care about the impact the questions have upon the tone of the discussion. At the same time, I love it that the class can debate.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
seasonal musings
So a couple years ago I was thumbing through the Encyclopaedia Britannica because I wanted to know the origins of this Cupid chap who is supposed to be flying around this week. He's Roman, in case you didn't know (I didn't at the time, which is why I was looking him up in the first place). He apparently enjoys archery and he's a menace to our society. Britannica says that his "wounds inspired love or passion in his every victim."
"WOUNDS???" "VICTIM???" He's hunting human prey, for crying out loud! Clearly this guy is a terrorist and needs to be stopped at all costs! We need to ship his wing-ed little ass off to Guantanamo and find out what his real agenda is!
As you may have guessed (if you didn't already know), I find Valentine's Day a disgusting and crass holiday. Even in the days when I had a girlfriend, I still wasn't that fond of it (although I will admit that it was a lot more fun). I don't understand the concept of it, personally. Some poor schlub gets his head lobbed off and I'm supposed to be romantic about it?
"Y'know, honey, we can go out to dinner and a movie anytime. Tonight, why don't we watch someone get martyred?" I don't know about the rest of you, but I certainly get hot just thinking about someone's decapitation. Valentine's Day -- Bah! Humbug!
Which brings me to love itself. Can there be anything as screwed up as this emotion? I find it thoroughly fascinating that while love is the antithesis of hate, it can be just as destructive -- just ask Helen of Troy. Or Shakespeare. Or Leonard Cohen...
The only good thing to come out of it (aside from the continuation of the species, I suppose--which is a diatribe for another time) is what it does to us creatively. Just ask Shakespeare. Or Leonard Cohen...
Our species has created plays, paintings, movies, stories, and, yes, literally thousands of songs according to Rob Fleming (or Rob Gordon if you're a fan of the movie), devoted to love. One could make the argument that the entire entertainment industry was built upon the ideas of love and romance. Hugh Grant alone owes his entire career to it!
This was written by my friend Hagrid - Hagrid is the honorary little brother whom I wish I saw far more often but whom I know I could call at 3 AM for a place to sleep or for bail money. We've been chatting about the holiday season of late and I (with permission) now blatantly post his words, as I thought them most apt to the motivations behind the festivities.
I think that one of the areas where we fall down most readily is in the simple act of telling people whom we love that we love them. Purchasing a box of chocolates or a dozen roses or a three foot long snake with sewn on "be mine" heart (available at my local Kroger) once a year is just not the same.
Apparently teachers get more Valentines each year than spouses get from each other. What does this say about the commercialization of romance?
I hereby call for this to be a week of simply saying,"I love you" - be it to spouses, SOs, siblings, parents, children, pets or even laser printers and coffeepots. Skip the profits and just say it. Then say it again when this week is over.
"WOUNDS???" "VICTIM???" He's hunting human prey, for crying out loud! Clearly this guy is a terrorist and needs to be stopped at all costs! We need to ship his wing-ed little ass off to Guantanamo and find out what his real agenda is!
As you may have guessed (if you didn't already know), I find Valentine's Day a disgusting and crass holiday. Even in the days when I had a girlfriend, I still wasn't that fond of it (although I will admit that it was a lot more fun). I don't understand the concept of it, personally. Some poor schlub gets his head lobbed off and I'm supposed to be romantic about it?
"Y'know, honey, we can go out to dinner and a movie anytime. Tonight, why don't we watch someone get martyred?" I don't know about the rest of you, but I certainly get hot just thinking about someone's decapitation. Valentine's Day -- Bah! Humbug!
Which brings me to love itself. Can there be anything as screwed up as this emotion? I find it thoroughly fascinating that while love is the antithesis of hate, it can be just as destructive -- just ask Helen of Troy. Or Shakespeare. Or Leonard Cohen...
The only good thing to come out of it (aside from the continuation of the species, I suppose--which is a diatribe for another time) is what it does to us creatively. Just ask Shakespeare. Or Leonard Cohen...
Our species has created plays, paintings, movies, stories, and, yes, literally thousands of songs according to Rob Fleming (or Rob Gordon if you're a fan of the movie), devoted to love. One could make the argument that the entire entertainment industry was built upon the ideas of love and romance. Hugh Grant alone owes his entire career to it!
This was written by my friend Hagrid - Hagrid is the honorary little brother whom I wish I saw far more often but whom I know I could call at 3 AM for a place to sleep or for bail money. We've been chatting about the holiday season of late and I (with permission) now blatantly post his words, as I thought them most apt to the motivations behind the festivities.
I think that one of the areas where we fall down most readily is in the simple act of telling people whom we love that we love them. Purchasing a box of chocolates or a dozen roses or a three foot long snake with sewn on "be mine" heart (available at my local Kroger) once a year is just not the same.
Apparently teachers get more Valentines each year than spouses get from each other. What does this say about the commercialization of romance?
I hereby call for this to be a week of simply saying,"I love you" - be it to spouses, SOs, siblings, parents, children, pets or even laser printers and coffeepots. Skip the profits and just say it. Then say it again when this week is over.
Friday, February 08, 2008
dietary query
Whta is it about Fridays in Lent that makes me so crave red meat? I'm a Protestant, for pete's sake.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
post-mortem on Super Tuesday
I am fascinated by all of the conservative talking heads who have announced that if John McCain is the nominee that they will work for Hillary's election. Aren't these the same folks who villified her ten years ago? Accused her of theft, murder, avarice, deceit, cover-up, conspiracy and any number of other foul acts?
This to me smacks of the same tone adopted four years ago by another end of the spectrum - "ohmigod, if Bush wins this election I am moving to Canada." Yeah, and all of you did just that.
Right now I'm just holding my breath for an actual honest to goodness primary election among the Democrats. It would be terrific if my primary vote, cast in May, carried more than symbolic value.
This to me smacks of the same tone adopted four years ago by another end of the spectrum - "ohmigod, if Bush wins this election I am moving to Canada." Yeah, and all of you did just that.
Right now I'm just holding my breath for an actual honest to goodness primary election among the Democrats. It would be terrific if my primary vote, cast in May, carried more than symbolic value.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
edge of memory
Just for historical documentation:
a sudden memory - I was blackmailed into helping out with my high school yearbook (yes, it was blackmail and he's now in the Marines in Iraq, OK?) - one day we got a call from a man whose father was an alum at our school. For whatever reason, he knew nothing of his father as a person, so what we could tell him, based solely upon his father's yearbook entries, was deeply meaningful.
Wow.
a sudden memory - I was blackmailed into helping out with my high school yearbook (yes, it was blackmail and he's now in the Marines in Iraq, OK?) - one day we got a call from a man whose father was an alum at our school. For whatever reason, he knew nothing of his father as a person, so what we could tell him, based solely upon his father's yearbook entries, was deeply meaningful.
Wow.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
40 + 20 -20 = 40
We are fast approaching add/drop deadlines. I have 40 students in one of my classes. I do not flatter myself that it is full because they love me - the class is required and the time is right. The room seats 40, maybe 42 in a tight pinch. I refuse to go above 42... but I am still getting requests from people who drop the name of their adviser in hopes that it will help them get in.
#1 - I don't know your adviser, don't care about your adviser and if your adviser was any good, they would have been in touch two months ago like the other advisers who talked me into admitting their kids.
#2 - no.
#3 - you want in my class? Get me a raise.
On a happier note - Ginger! That's the one I couldn't remember. Whatever happened to her, anyway?
#1 - I don't know your adviser, don't care about your adviser and if your adviser was any good, they would have been in touch two months ago like the other advisers who talked me into admitting their kids.
#2 - no.
#3 - you want in my class? Get me a raise.
On a happier note - Ginger! That's the one I couldn't remember. Whatever happened to her, anyway?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
a short quiz
In thirty seconds or less, name all of the Spice Girls. Bonus points for knowing their real names.
I can't.
I can't.
Monday, January 21, 2008
living space vs. real estate
Most bathrooms are larger than my office. Many closets are larger than my office. I share my office with another prof. There's room for desks, coats and a chair and then maybe a tight turn around.
Naturally, when another prof demanded a different office space, our was the first one the powers that be came up with as a suitable alternative. Said power of being has an office easily four times the size of mine, and single occupancy.
Naturally, when another prof demanded a different office space, our was the first one the powers that be came up with as a suitable alternative. Said power of being has an office easily four times the size of mine, and single occupancy.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
what's in a name?
Because the 2008 primaries started, as best I can tell, back in 1988, I have started to fixate on odd details. I live in Indiana, so my primary vote won't count (though I will be voting, on principle if nothing else.) Nonetheless, I feel that I should pay some sort of attention.
The religious angle does not interest me (and I probably know more bout the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints than many journalists who pretend otherwise), I don't worry about divorce, and I long ago left the wars in Iraq and Afganistan in God's hands. Thus what is left for me to obsess about?
Names.
More specifically, the candidate eventually elected will be prayed for every Sunday for the next four years. I often read the Prayers of the People at church, and I have noticed that some names ring "more dignified" than others. "Frank, our governor, Mitch, our governor" - I wish them well and wise, but they lack dignity somehow. I never did like praying for "Bill, our president" always preferred "William." George is dignified, but I tend to prefer name of two syllables.
So, where does this leave me, the burned-out voter?
Michael = dignified
Barack = unusual, but passed the two syllable test
John = one syllable, but dignified
Hillary = two syllables
Rudy = two syllables, kind of odd, but can we handle Rudolph?
Not sure how I feel about Mitt.
The religious angle does not interest me (and I probably know more bout the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints than many journalists who pretend otherwise), I don't worry about divorce, and I long ago left the wars in Iraq and Afganistan in God's hands. Thus what is left for me to obsess about?
Names.
More specifically, the candidate eventually elected will be prayed for every Sunday for the next four years. I often read the Prayers of the People at church, and I have noticed that some names ring "more dignified" than others. "Frank, our governor, Mitch, our governor" - I wish them well and wise, but they lack dignity somehow. I never did like praying for "Bill, our president" always preferred "William." George is dignified, but I tend to prefer name of two syllables.
So, where does this leave me, the burned-out voter?
Michael = dignified
Barack = unusual, but passed the two syllable test
John = one syllable, but dignified
Hillary = two syllables
Rudy = two syllables, kind of odd, but can we handle Rudolph?
Not sure how I feel about Mitt.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
more technology, advanced and otherwise
Well, it's been a busy week here at lemming headquarters. As I am a particularly cruel and vindictive person at times, I was delighted to hear that the tech person about whom I last blogged as "resigned to spend more time with their family." Don't let the door hit you on the way out or I will.
Tech's replacement proved to be funny, helpful, understood me when I said "well, I click on the yellow bit and then the red button doesn't come up" and I am prepared to bear his children.
Continuing the stream of happiness, not one but three former students e-mailed me pictures from their vacations. "Oh my gosh, prof lemming, I read about location x in your class and here I am in front of it!" That was cool.
I've started thinking about the syllabus for one of my classes for the spring - I still have a few weeks. I've done the class before, but in a different format. I think I', going to pitch the old bits and start from scratch. This will make for more work (ick) but will be more interesting for me and hopefully for them.
I recently mentioned to one of my favorite college profs that I did occasionally doodle in their class - it had actually helped me follow what was being said. Said prof was horrified. "You did? Really?" This makes me feel better about the students I saw doodle in my class at the end of last semester!
Tech's replacement proved to be funny, helpful, understood me when I said "well, I click on the yellow bit and then the red button doesn't come up" and I am prepared to bear his children.
Continuing the stream of happiness, not one but three former students e-mailed me pictures from their vacations. "Oh my gosh, prof lemming, I read about location x in your class and here I am in front of it!" That was cool.
I've started thinking about the syllabus for one of my classes for the spring - I still have a few weeks. I've done the class before, but in a different format. I think I', going to pitch the old bits and start from scratch. This will make for more work (ick) but will be more interesting for me and hopefully for them.
I recently mentioned to one of my favorite college profs that I did occasionally doodle in their class - it had actually helped me follow what was being said. Said prof was horrified. "You did? Really?" This makes me feel better about the students I saw doodle in my class at the end of last semester!
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Happy 2008!
which will mark a return to blogging.
Long time no write, I know. I spent most of the last six weeks of 2007 in a nasty battle with the tech support powers that be. Let's just say that I resent doing tech support's job for them, on my own time, and that it really ate up a lot of my Christmas Spirit, the dulcet tones of Mariah Carey notwithstanding.
Then I opened Christmas Cards, physical and virtual, and was reminded by former students that I really did teach them something along the way. All right, all right, the cockles of my heart are warmed and I will carry on. Maybe I can shame tech support into being useful for a change.
I caught most of a segment on 60 Minutes the other night which proved, tongue in cheek but still definitive proof, that the geeks now do run much of the world. One of the interviewees was the founder of Geek Squad. Said founder commented that he very intentionally puts his workers in the black clip-on ties for two reasons. the first is to remind his troops that they are professionals. The second is to keep them humble. The biggest complaints he hears about tech support people is that they speak a foreign language and that they are arrogant jerks.
The techno-babble doesn't bother me. 99 times out of 100, I find that tech support people are more than happy to explain a term to you - indeed, and pleased to be asked. It's the arrogance that drives me up the proverbial wall.
Example:
lemming: I need help with this.
Tech: This is the link.
lemming: I clicked on that link and I got an error message.
Tech: Click on this link.
lemming: I just did. I told you, I got an error message.
Tech: Cut and paste this link into your browser.
lemming: I just did, for the third time, and I keep getting an error message which says that this site does not exist.
Tech: Well, that's the right link.
lemming: Have you actually tried this link?
Tech: well, not as such, but that's the right link.
The year can only get better!
Long time no write, I know. I spent most of the last six weeks of 2007 in a nasty battle with the tech support powers that be. Let's just say that I resent doing tech support's job for them, on my own time, and that it really ate up a lot of my Christmas Spirit, the dulcet tones of Mariah Carey notwithstanding.
Then I opened Christmas Cards, physical and virtual, and was reminded by former students that I really did teach them something along the way. All right, all right, the cockles of my heart are warmed and I will carry on. Maybe I can shame tech support into being useful for a change.
I caught most of a segment on 60 Minutes the other night which proved, tongue in cheek but still definitive proof, that the geeks now do run much of the world. One of the interviewees was the founder of Geek Squad. Said founder commented that he very intentionally puts his workers in the black clip-on ties for two reasons. the first is to remind his troops that they are professionals. The second is to keep them humble. The biggest complaints he hears about tech support people is that they speak a foreign language and that they are arrogant jerks.
The techno-babble doesn't bother me. 99 times out of 100, I find that tech support people are more than happy to explain a term to you - indeed, and pleased to be asked. It's the arrogance that drives me up the proverbial wall.
Example:
lemming: I need help with this.
Tech: This is the link.
lemming: I clicked on that link and I got an error message.
Tech: Click on this link.
lemming: I just did. I told you, I got an error message.
Tech: Cut and paste this link into your browser.
lemming: I just did, for the third time, and I keep getting an error message which says that this site does not exist.
Tech: Well, that's the right link.
lemming: Have you actually tried this link?
Tech: well, not as such, but that's the right link.
The year can only get better!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
tis the season
A few years back I confessed that Christmas for me hasn't truly arrived until I hear Mariah Carey sing seasonal tunes. This is conclusive proof of a deep-seated personal failing, possibly requiring professional treatment, but I can't help it. It's just not really and truly the Christmas season until I hear her "All I Want For Christmas Is You" on the radio.
(I also need to hear Springsteen "Santa Claus is Comin' To Town" so I can't be a totally lost cause musically.... I hope. Maybe?)
Last year the Mariah moment didn't happen. I took to playing the radio even when I had a headache and wanted quiet, just in case... but no go. Not once. Not even Christmas Day.
Both toner cartridges gave out this morning, so I ran out to Ye Audle Big Box Shopping Emporium and, before I knew it, before I'd thought about it, without even planning, I picked up Carey's Christmas CD and put it in the cart. It's now burned to my computer. I know, the Beethoven, Copeland and Glass tracks are contemplating a mass exodus at the moment, though they've lived alongside the Doobie Brothers for quite a while now without complaint.
I've heard the song - twice. I am happy.
(I also need to hear Springsteen "Santa Claus is Comin' To Town" so I can't be a totally lost cause musically.... I hope. Maybe?)
Last year the Mariah moment didn't happen. I took to playing the radio even when I had a headache and wanted quiet, just in case... but no go. Not once. Not even Christmas Day.
Both toner cartridges gave out this morning, so I ran out to Ye Audle Big Box Shopping Emporium and, before I knew it, before I'd thought about it, without even planning, I picked up Carey's Christmas CD and put it in the cart. It's now burned to my computer. I know, the Beethoven, Copeland and Glass tracks are contemplating a mass exodus at the moment, though they've lived alongside the Doobie Brothers for quite a while now without complaint.
I've heard the song - twice. I am happy.
Friday, November 09, 2007
will this help my resume any?
| Which Star Wars Jedi/Sith are you? Yoda Dynamite in a small package, and long-lasting, like the Energizer bunny. While you are wise and calm, you are able to call on your killer instincts and be kick-ass. Some may call you a ‘sleeper’. With such great power comes some arrogance, but you are quick to return to humility and fix your mistakes. You have certainly left your mark on the world, in good and bad ways, and it was kinda sad to see you go. But no need to worry, you have gained immortality even though you can’t wield your toothpick of a lightsabre anymore. |
| Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests. |
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
oh, not again
Red Sox - ye-haw!
You all know what a sports fan I am not, so the degree of my enthusiasm may be underestimated at this moment. Nonetheless, please believe that I am jubilant, delighted that a Colorado (state of losers) team lost, that the wild card team lost, and miserable that this means I must now spend months listening to my NPR anchors discuss basketball.
A while back I blogged about my reoccurent problems with collection agencies who get my number thinking it belongs to someone who owes money, should be in jail, etc. A few years ago I would get calls at 6 AM demanding that I turn over the offending person, never mind that I had never actually met them.
Well, it's on again. "Fred" must be in some serious trouble because he or she (it's one of those names that could go either way) gets lots of calls at my number. After three months, I now know the correct address for Fred, or at least the last known address. Generally I can tell the caller that no, they may have my number in their computer, but if they are looking for Fred who lives on a particular street, they have the wrong place. No, I don't know Fred and I can't help them find him/ her (would someone please tell me their gender?!) If ever I meet Fred, it won't be pretty.
I get calls from all over the country. Would that one of them came from Dog the Bounty Bunter on A & E, but no such luck.
Today's call (the third from this number this week) came from Oklahoma. I went into my usual spiel, "No, never met Fred, no clue how my phone number ended up in your database, don't know Fred, never seen Fred, can't pass along a message..." OK, this is a partial lie. You got my phone number the same way that the other twelve (I am not making this number up) people got my number: computer error. Somewhere along the line, people screwed up because, hey, we make mistakes.
No one makes mistakes in Oklahoma. I am (obviously) sheltering someone who has committed a terrible act. Exactly what sort of act (theft? murder? witchcraft? eating too many Twinkies?) I do not know... but the caller says that i do. I appreciate this optimistic vote for my psychic powers, but no. "You know Fred!!!" insisted the caller. "Yeah, that was the name of my lab partner in biology class back in the Reagan administration."
The caller has threatened to send police by on a visit. Police, I'll spare you the time: Fred ain't here. If it's Dog you decide to send, please send Leeland instead of Dwayne.
You all know what a sports fan I am not, so the degree of my enthusiasm may be underestimated at this moment. Nonetheless, please believe that I am jubilant, delighted that a Colorado (state of losers) team lost, that the wild card team lost, and miserable that this means I must now spend months listening to my NPR anchors discuss basketball.
A while back I blogged about my reoccurent problems with collection agencies who get my number thinking it belongs to someone who owes money, should be in jail, etc. A few years ago I would get calls at 6 AM demanding that I turn over the offending person, never mind that I had never actually met them.
Well, it's on again. "Fred" must be in some serious trouble because he or she (it's one of those names that could go either way) gets lots of calls at my number. After three months, I now know the correct address for Fred, or at least the last known address. Generally I can tell the caller that no, they may have my number in their computer, but if they are looking for Fred who lives on a particular street, they have the wrong place. No, I don't know Fred and I can't help them find him/ her (would someone please tell me their gender?!) If ever I meet Fred, it won't be pretty.
I get calls from all over the country. Would that one of them came from Dog the Bounty Bunter on A & E, but no such luck.
Today's call (the third from this number this week) came from Oklahoma. I went into my usual spiel, "No, never met Fred, no clue how my phone number ended up in your database, don't know Fred, never seen Fred, can't pass along a message..." OK, this is a partial lie. You got my phone number the same way that the other twelve (I am not making this number up) people got my number: computer error. Somewhere along the line, people screwed up because, hey, we make mistakes.
No one makes mistakes in Oklahoma. I am (obviously) sheltering someone who has committed a terrible act. Exactly what sort of act (theft? murder? witchcraft? eating too many Twinkies?) I do not know... but the caller says that i do. I appreciate this optimistic vote for my psychic powers, but no. "You know Fred!!!" insisted the caller. "Yeah, that was the name of my lab partner in biology class back in the Reagan administration."
The caller has threatened to send police by on a visit. Police, I'll spare you the time: Fred ain't here. If it's Dog you decide to send, please send Leeland instead of Dwayne.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
idols and idle and ideals
Thanks to Matt for asking where I've been. The last few weeks have been draining and I've not been much for chat (yes, I consider my blogging time a kind of chat!) I've concluded that I need a full time staff - masseuse, housekeeper, maid of all work and a butler to greet me at the end of each day with a glass of Merlot and the day's mail, edited of all spam and junk mail. This is probably typical mid-term stress kicking in (yes, profs get it too) and I remain deeply grateful that I have a job about which to feel stressed and tired.
Oh, yes, and a cook would also be nice. I'll just sit in my study, mark-up bluebooks and dine well.
That's an easy ideal and would probably turn into something of an idol and make me idle.
I've read a couple of pieces by faculty (various institutions, not just mine) for whom the "interview and campus visit" process were little more than sherry, port, red wine, then enormous dinners, mimosas with breakfast, and then give you talk and teach a class. Any campus visit is partly a question of "can I stand to work with this person over the long term" and certainly putting them through such a thing would be one way to test that.
A professional lifetime of such weekends... it amazes me that any of the great books of that period were written at all. Then again, the topics tended to be more interesting (far less esoteric, I think) and relationships seem more convivial. I chat with my colleagues, but it's not the same. Has much been lost? Yes, but so has it been gained. Maybe that's the ideal.
Not that I still wouldn't like a butler/ masseuse who can cook.
Oh, yes, and a cook would also be nice. I'll just sit in my study, mark-up bluebooks and dine well.
That's an easy ideal and would probably turn into something of an idol and make me idle.
I've read a couple of pieces by faculty (various institutions, not just mine) for whom the "interview and campus visit" process were little more than sherry, port, red wine, then enormous dinners, mimosas with breakfast, and then give you talk and teach a class. Any campus visit is partly a question of "can I stand to work with this person over the long term" and certainly putting them through such a thing would be one way to test that.
A professional lifetime of such weekends... it amazes me that any of the great books of that period were written at all. Then again, the topics tended to be more interesting (far less esoteric, I think) and relationships seem more convivial. I chat with my colleagues, but it's not the same. Has much been lost? Yes, but so has it been gained. Maybe that's the ideal.
Not that I still wouldn't like a butler/ masseuse who can cook.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
educational purposes
I'm on a Cole Porter kick again. Periodically I try to learn the tune to "Night and Day." The words are simple enough, but getting all of the intonations, inflextions and whatnot correct for this piece has always been a challenge... all the moreso because I do most of my singing in the shower and in the car and neither of these locatiosn has a piano.
I'm a reasonable singer - nothing all that special, but I can hold my own in a church choir, chorus section or even when faced with my dog rolling his eyes as I search for notes. I have three different recordings of "Night and Day" on itunes. Fred Astaire's rendition has only suceeded in further confusing me, but a few more rounds with John (De-Lovely) Barrowman and I might actually get part of it right.
Meanwhile, I leave you with this career advice from Porter's "Be A Clown" -
A college education I should never propose
A Bachelor's degree won't even keep you in clothes
But millions you will win if you can spin on your nose
Be a clown!
I'm a reasonable singer - nothing all that special, but I can hold my own in a church choir, chorus section or even when faced with my dog rolling his eyes as I search for notes. I have three different recordings of "Night and Day" on itunes. Fred Astaire's rendition has only suceeded in further confusing me, but a few more rounds with John (De-Lovely) Barrowman and I might actually get part of it right.
Meanwhile, I leave you with this career advice from Porter's "Be A Clown" -
A college education I should never propose
A Bachelor's degree won't even keep you in clothes
But millions you will win if you can spin on your nose
Be a clown!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
ahoy there me hearties!
In honor of "Talk like a Pirate Day" (thanks, Dave Barry!) find out your own Pirate name. I am "Dry Bone Bronson" which seems terribly dull and mundane. I'll have to go do a bit more pillaging to make up for it.
Hmm... now, a big white whale, that's what I need...
Hmm... now, a big white whale, that's what I need...
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