the incalculable curve

Guess what?

2008-08-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

I am moving. I've been thinking about switching to wordpress for a while now, and last night I decided to check it out. I think I like it over there, and I just might stay. Check it out:

http://incalculable.wordpress.com/

See you there!

Random bullets of gratitude

2008-08-17T22:51:00.001-07:00

I've been feeling kind of negative lately, and figured that I should fire some bullets of love at those blues. Here goes.

I might be broke right now, but I have money coming in. I'm teaching a couple of great courses that I haven't taught before, and this is good. When my online course starts in September, I will be able to teach in my pjs. Booya.
The co-written paper from hell was accepted for publication. Again, more work to fix its embarrassing black holes of weakness, but I can do this. It will be good. And it will help me (hopefully) get funding.
I'm doing a fantastic directed studies course this fall. Also, it's in This Lovely City, so no more hellish commute to Big Nearby City.
My connections with Small U are getting stronger every day. Above directed reading is with the new Dean of the faculty. I suspect he really likes me, and the feeling is mutual. We have very overlapping research interests. This may or may not result in a job one day down the road.
Dr. J's big funded project is moving to Small U. More good connection for me, plus exciting research stuff happening right in my backyard. Likely some admin cash too.
That's all work stuff. In other stuff: my life is a-okay. Tab A is adorable despite infuriating moments. He is also H.O.T. I love that.
The boys. Oh, they are amazing. Last night we bbq-ed burgers and a watched a silly Owen Wilson movie. Today we went downtown for bubble tea and watched the dragon boat races in the harbour. I love hanging out with them. They are about fifty million times cooler that any other kids I have ever met. Seriously.
Little Black Dog. She is so cute. I biked to the grocery store with her today, and it was nerve-wracking but no dog-induced crashes. For her, it was the most exciting thing ever (then again, for her everything is the most exciting thing ever).
I love my home. Yesterday I tidied up the "yard" (aka, front door walkway) and today I bought some perennials on sale (a few different little lavender and thyme and mint plants) for some aromatic planters. It looks great.
Running is awesome. Running with Liza-Lou is awesomest. Yesterday it was so hot and we randomly ran into Tab A at the beach, so we decided to jump in the ocean halfway through our run. FUN!
I'm starting out the week with a clean house and some delicious leftovers (pasta with roasted veggies and pesto made from our own potted basil -- yum!). There is something about clean laundry and a washed bathroom that makes everything okay.
I almost forgot -- I went out dancing on Friday night! Tab A bought tickets for a show and we we out. For reals -- out. It was very exciting and we saw people and stuff. Wow.

Okay, there's more but it's late and I have every intention of getting up early tomorrow. Because actually, I have a shitload of work to do. And when I say shitload I mean: Shit. Load. Over and out.

Great advice for a Wednesday morning

2008-08-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning all refreshed from a 9-hour sleep (I know it's said that you can't "catch up" on lost sleep, but my experience shows differently) and ready to face the world. Yep, that means paying bills. When I got home last night I found my long-awaited expense reimbursement for the field research I did way back in May, so now I get to feed the hungry wolves rather than just trying to pretend like they'll go away if I ignore them long enough. Ha. Not likely.

I've been juggling debt for a while now, and it's getting weary. I realize, though, that I come from a long line of debt jugglers. My dad can do miraculous things with credit, but they live pretty close to the wire. I talked to my mom a couple of days ago when I was getting a bit down about the whole stupid situation, and she reminded me about how she used to sometimes not eat so that she could feed us. Sometimes she tells me the story about how we lived on $40 a month for groceries after my dad's business bankrupted during the recession of the early 80s. Apparently we lived on homemade whole wheat bread and cracked eggs and laying hens from the nearby chicken farm. And whenever I hear these stories about the heroic poverty of my childhood, I'm thinking, "yes, this is the problem exactly." My parents lived in this fantasy shadowland somewhere between the protestant work ethic and the american dream, all the while believing that suffering is a prerequisite for success, and lack of success means you just haven't sacrificed enough -- not that the system is stacked against you to begin with.

Don't get me wrong. My parents are awesome and I love them. They've worked hard to gain a bit of financial security and to maintain a comfortable middle class lifestyle. They are good, good people -- Jesus-lovin Christian folk full of love and generosity. But in many ways they're also the product of a deluded generation that passed on those delusions as common sense wisdom. That delusion is based on the mythology of upward mobility and equal opportunity. It's a dangerous belief -- if you suffer/work hard enough, you can accomplish anything. Well, maybe you can. But then again, maybe you can't. And if you suffer/work/sacrifice enough and still don't get there, what are you left with?

This is what: a hundred-thousand in student debt, give or take a few thou on credit cards and line of credit. A damn good education, just short of a PhD. Contract teaching and research, seasonal editing -- an inconsistent and variable income that keeps you hovering on the poverty line. A sense of idealism that keeps you believing that somehow it is possible to pull it off, despite the structural gate-keeping of academia that provides a shoe-in for people financially secure enough to not have to work their way through school and a big huge wall to scale for everyone else.

Sometimes I think it would have been better to have been born into a family that taught class values instead of one that bought into the myth of a classless society. Because this is all about class -- it really is. And although with my looks and education I could pass in a second, the truth of the matter is that I come from a relatively long line of idealist pauper intellectuals and working class folks trying with all their might (and credit) for a middle class life.

Anyway, the great advice from the financial credit person I spoke to on the phone this morning: no dice with extending the line of credit limit (because of my lack of savings). No, I should pay off some debts so that I can get a bigger line of credit. Ya think? I'm not asking for a line of credit so that I can take a vacation to Hawaii or build a bigger garage for my new SUV. Duh. I'm one of those stupid assholes looking for money to pay down other debts. Savings my ass.

So I've been thinking a lot about that office job. I just don't feel like this whole situation is working very well. And that alternately depresses me and makes me mad as hell.

Napping in Latin American political economy

2008-08-12T16:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've fallen asleep on the floor in the library, but it happens. Particularly when one has been up until 3am the night before, and then is too tired/wired to sleep much in the 3 hours before the alarm goes off in the morning. It's called poor planning.

However, despite my less than 3-hour sleep last night, I managed to catch an earlier bus this morning and discovered that a full third of the people I know at Small U were on the same bus. Apparently the 6:57 number 61 is the bus to catch. It even connects to the rare number 39, which actually goes right to campus (unlike the number 50 I'm usually on, which leaves me with a 20 minute walk to get there). It was nice to see people and chat a bit on the way to campus. It was also nice to arrive a full hour before my class started, which gave me time to print off a few extra things and relax with a coffee.

I think I've mentioned how much I love being back in the classroom. I love teaching, I really do. I especially love teaching an interesting course that the students enjoy (teaching writing was fun, but it could be pretty trying at times). One of the biggest differences I've noticed with this class is my improving ability to focus and simplify. I'm not worried about throwing a whole bunch of stuff at the students, so unlike the writing courses I've taught in the past where there is way too much information crammed into too little time, this class has a nice, almost leisurely pace. There's time for discussion. The students are engaged and interested, and the whole thing is almost effortless. Well, okay -- not completely. I was up until 3 am last night, but that was mostly because I had to finish the marking, and then review the chapters for today, and then pull together some slides and activities. And I was tired, so it was pretty slow going.

In the end, though? Twelve powerpoint slides for a three-hour class. And it is just the right amount. Gad, I can remember trying to plow through close to 30 slides in a 90 minute composition class. Ugh -- never again.

Anyway, I'm up in the Alma Mater U library, having not made it across town quickly enough to meet Tab A for a friend's MA thesis defense. So now I'm just waiting for the celebratory beer part of the defense to begin. I took advantage of the rare un-rushed library time to scour the shelves of the Latin American political economy section. There sure was a lot written in the 70s and 80s, but not a huge amount since about '87. It could just be an indication of the state of this library, but I got a few good titles (I pretty much poached the section of anything written after 1990). Then I read a few introductions, before deciding that Neoliberalism and Class Conflict in Latin America (1997), along with Trouble in Paradise (2003) would make just as good as a pillow for my weary head. Sweet library snooze, how I love you.

Tab A just called. And now it is time to drink some celebratory beer. Such is the good (if damnably poor) struggling academic life. There are always a few bucks for beer kicking around.

More things I'd like to photograph, if I had a charged camera battery

2008-08-11T15:30:00.000-07:00

1. My new moleskin calendar notebook. I love love love moleskin notebooks. This is the first time I've used the calendar -- each week has one page (left side) divided into 7 days and the facing page (right side) for notes. That way I can write all my to do lists and various notes, etc. in one place. Only, I'm sad that my lovely little notebook is so full of such worky un-fun stuff to do. Is it not August? Why am I stressed as hell about all those to do lists and too little time in which to get it done? Ugh.

2. Moon's new school, which we drove past for the first time today. He was away when they did school tours, so he's never been inside. We also checked out the bus route. Not the greatest, unfortunately.

3. The new graffiti and murals at our local radical bakery. They change up the graffiti art every couple of months, but it is always, always great. My all-time favourite is still the giant mural of Bush as Hitler, contemplating world domination. Lordy. Gotta love the radical bakeries.

4. The delicious olive bread I bought from above bakery. And my super-duper olive bread lunch sandwich.

5. My plants going summertime wild. Not outside plants -- unfortunately I was too busy either traveling or recovering from traveling to do anything at all outside this year. But my inside plants are damn happy right now.

6. Monk's new book, which is just under 500 pages long. He's not much of a reader yet, but he's going into grade 5 and I'm realizing that I need to push the reading a bit more. I tried to get him one that was a little shorter, but he resolutely insisted on this one. Because it's about a dragon, and that is the only thing he wanted to read about. Okay by me, as long as I can get the little bugger to read something that is not "The Dangerous Book for Boys." And speaking of, Moon is at this moment halfway through a 2-hour penalty time for attempting to light a fire outside in the driveway (hello? are you really 12 years old?). Toilet paper, twigs, a lighter and a bag of marshmallows. I was mostly mad that he'd swiped both the lighter and the marshmallows, but the thought of this house burning to the ground due to such silliness wasn't super awesome either. I was m.a.d.

I'm anticipating a long night tonight, unfortunately. I spent most of the day running around doing chores, so I still have all of the marking and planning for tomorrow to get done. Plus re-read the chapters we're reviewing. Iced latte, here I come...

I should be marking, but I'm doing this instead

2008-08-10T22:53:00.000-07:00

While I watch men's swimming. Mega-event weirdness aside, there's lots in the Olympics that I love watching. This is part of the reason I also had absolutely no problems when Tab A decided to get one of those digital boxes to give the TV 3 million more channels. I'm not really in love with much TV aside from the Daily Show and Colbert Report, but all the soccer and Olympics is great background tv. And some of the show names on the 1 million porno channels that we're not subscribed to are pretty damn funny too.

Anyway, I'm a week into the 3-week residency and marking hell is already on the horizon. But since selection and concision are two of the key learning outcomes of this course, I decided to go with very short assignments -- less than one page each -- during residency. One page is ample space to find out what level they're writing at and whether or not they've figured out what's going on in the course. And so my marking hell will be pretty brief -- I plan on getting through all of them tomorrow.

I'm distracted now by the swimming drama vignettes on NBC. I saw one earlier for the 33-year old gymnast whose son had leukemia (too lazy to link), but the swimming drama (love triangle between coach and another swimmer) involving leaked nude photos and possible conspiracy. Meanwhile over in the guys side they're just talking about how they're going to smash the rival competitor, etc. Where are the leaked nude photos of the guys, I want to know? Where are their dramatic love triangles exposed?

In any case, the swimming kicks ass. The races are close and exciting and sometimes unpredictable. I like other stuff a lot too, and then some -- like fencing -- is just so out there that it's funny. Okay, it's those darth vader helmets that are funny. And also I have no idea what's going on.

In other news, I lost my camera battery charger and my second battery, which means that I do not have a functioning camera. Such crap, because I'm broke enough that I can't really afford to buy a new charger for an old camera that I'll want to replace as soon as I can afford it anyways. So why not just save the coin towards a new camera? And I keep seeing things and cursing my lack of charger and thus battery power -- like the most blood red sunset I have ever ever seen on Thursday night. You will just have to imagine the most vibrant red light you've ever seen in the sky at dusk over a set of distant hills, the twinkling of the water in the habour mid-ground and in the foreground the city with all its colours made vibrant shades of orange from the light. Beautiful.

Happy lucky good fortune day

2008-08-08T19:03:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why I'm still totally broke, considering my auspicious birthday. Anyway, I'm in the middle of having a fantastic day, so no time to post. Just this: today I talked on the phone to the people who became Jessie's family after I gave her away 10 years ago. Jess just died of old age at 14 and 4 months. They gave her an amazing life full of so much love, and I'm so grateful to them for that. Really, it's one of the best b-day gifts ever to know that a dog I loved so much had such a long and happy life. I may not be a millionaire yet, but I guess that doesn't mean I'm without riches. Does Visa take payments in love & happiness?

Paris for president?

2008-08-07T08:56:00.001-07:00

Paris responds to the McCain "celebrity" ad. Ha! (but Americans just might go for her rather well thought out energy policy). Link courtesy of the Chutry Experiment.

ETA: Okay, read sarcasm in the "well thought out", although it seems like this is just the spin that McCain's campaign is going for. Still, it's funny (even if I'm a little late in pointing that out).

Jessie

2008-08-06T13:27:00.000-07:00

I just opened my work email to find this message:

***
Hi Incalculable,

I'm taking a bit of a chance here...so, please forgive me if I've contacted the wrong person. Did you once have a black german shepherd dog named Jessie?

We would be so glad to let you know a bit about her life with us in Ski Town and to thank you again for giving us such a wonderful gift.
***

Giving up this dog ten years ago was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. She was absolutely amazing. I've thought about her a lot over the years, wondering if she was still with the couple I'd given her to. I wished that I'd kept their names and contact information so that I could find out, but I figured that I never would know. Ten years is a long time, and Jess would be a very old dog by now. I don't know if she's still alive -- maybe she died and that's what prompted them to contact me. Either way, I am so glad they did. I loved that dog a lot. I can't wait to hear more about her life for the last 10 years.

Rhetoric in one sentence

2008-08-05T06:42:00.000-07:00

Chapter 1: Argumentation starts where doubt begins; its purpose is to gain acceptance from a specific audience.

Chapter 2: Persuasion is based on a meeting of the minds: know what your audience already believes to be true.

It's all about selection, as Perelman says. You have to decide what to leave out.

Thoughts on teaching (always last-minute)

2008-08-04T11:50:00.000-07:00

Yup, tomorrow is the first class of the three-week residency I'm teaching. I sorted out the weekly schedule yesterday (more or less), and I'm just about to sit down and plan tomorrow's class. Luckily it's a short class (only 1.5 hrs), and much of it will be intro/overview. Having said that, this is a course that I've never taught before, so I'm working with a pretty blank slate.

Although I haven't done much actual detailed planning, I have been thinking a lot about it while I'm doing other things -- making waffles, walking the dog, cleaning, falling asleep or waking up. I'm pretty sure I've also been dreaming about teaching, but fortunately no nightmarish images of under-preparation have remained burned into my brain. Just one dream (that had nothing to do with teaching) in which I found out that I was pregnant with triplets. That was weird.

This course is for an undergrad degree in applied communication. It's an online program (although Small U also offers the same degree on campus), and more focused on the field of communication as a profession than as a body of theory. However, this particular course is about rhetoric, which is a pretty theoretical field. The challenge is translating some very abstract and classical theoretical concepts into real-life, applicable tools that the students can try out. As I've mentioned before, the guy that designed this course has a doctorate in rhetoric, so he knows the field inside out, and he's designed the course really well (sweet relief to me).

But although I've taken some graduate-level studies in rhetoric, I am not a rhetorician by training. My expertise is more in critical theory and discourse analysis, both of which which come from a much different disciplinary tradition -- one fairly far removed from classical rhetorical studies. Which means that I'm reaching a bit when confronted with text like: "Modern conceptions of demonstration, in search of increasing rigour, have come to conceive of proof as relative to a system of which all the elements are explicitly formulated and which, by that very fact, appears isolated from thought in general." (Seriously, I pulled this passage at random from Perelman's "Realm of Rhetoric," which is one of the two texts assigned in the course.)

I've already read a few variations on the typical student response: Huh? I hate this book. Ayayayayeee... And not only is much of it almost impenetrable without a serious application of focused brain-power, but this is precisely the type of writing I am committed to eliminating from the students' nascent (but inevitably failing) attempts to write "academically." It's going to break their poor hurting brains right in half. Having said that, however -- serious application of focused brain-power is kinda what education is all about, right? It will be good for them (but likely somewhat agonizing for all of us).

Luckily, the second text for the course is on the complete opposite end of the scale, much more a Malcolm Gladwell-style New York Times Bestseller about what makes ideas "sticky." It's an easy and fun read by authors who truly practice what they preach -- an excellent antidote to Perelman's obtuseness. So instead of skirting the difficulty of the first text and wallowing in the joyful ease of the second, I've decided to break out the classes by focusing each one on two chapters of Perelman, underscored by one of the main elements of "sticky" ideas: simple, unexpected, concrete, credible, emotional, and narrative (or stories). Each day, one team (the students work in groups) will have to summarize each of two Perelman chapters in one sentence -- the stickier the better. I'm curious to find out how they do with this challenging task -- but I'm going to do the first two chapters myself to find out, and to use as an example for the first class.

Anyway, I'm getting excited about teaching. My last (excruciating) course finished in February, so it's been a while since I've been in the classroom. It's been a lot longer since I've actually enjoyed being in the classroom -- I taught the same course for two years too long. I cannot express how glad I am to finally be teaching something new (and interesting!). And with that, I had better Get To Work.

Running strong

2008-08-01T18:43:00.000-07:00

I've started to run, just in the past few weeks. I've never really been a runner, as in someone who runs regularly over an extended period of time -- except for maybe in the first year after Moon was born, and I was pretty focused on shedding the baby weight I'd picked up. I also swam a lot that year, but it really didn't all come off until I went back treeplanting. That's a solid weight loss program for you.

After Monk came it was stress that took it off. Stress and poverty. I was trying to get through my undergrad degree, living in a school bus with two babies and a partner who was falling apart at the seams. I wouldn't have been able to eat even if I could have afforded to. Then we split and I started to pull my life back together, and that involved living in a place with a bathroom and a kitchen, finishing school, getting a job, eating like a normal person, etc.

See, I am not a stress eater. I am a happy eater. When things are good in my life, I start to enjoy food and drink and all of that good stuff. I usually know that I'm miserable when my clothes start to hang off of me like I'm some kind of skeletor. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it), I've been pretty content & happy with my life for a while now. Although last fall was pretty stressful with teaching and the (lack of) funding situation is kind of an ongoing stress, things are pretty damn alright these days. I have an amazing place to live (which was a major source of stress in the bad old days), I have a super sweet non-crazy boy who I love, the kids are great (they have never been a source of stress, mind you) and generally life is a-okay. Then summer came and I started noticing that I could fit into exactly NONE of my summer clothes.

I've never really had to think much about exercise either. In my teens and early 20s I spent most of my time either climbing up stuff or skiing down or paddling over it. Then I had babies and hard times. Then times got better and my metabolism just took care of it. Then I was in my early 30s and... I suddenly no longer fit any of my favourite pants. Damn. Enter the lovely Liza-Lou and her running for totally inactive people running book. Yay! I've tried running before and failed. Why? Because silly me, like so many other beginning runners, I pushed myself too hard and running hurt and I hated it and then I stopped (according to the book). It makes sense, no?

Anyway, this book is designed for people like me who need to start running FROM SCRATCH. Like, if this is you lying prone on the couch for the last decade or two, and now you want to get up and run, here is how you do it: Start slow. Very slow. So for the past three weeks, Liza-Lou & I have been running 3x a week, following this very slow and easy program that involves running and walking on intervals, and it is completely awesome. I still can't fit into any of my old pants, but I really hardly care. Because running is fun and it feels great and I love it. It's hard to not give in to the urge to try to push myself because it feels so comfortable, but apparently the program has been SCIENTIFICALLY proven and you must not skip ahead or else. So we're following the slow build-up so our creaky bones and ligaments can get over the shock of what the hell is all this activity about all of a sudden?! And it seems to be working, because so far nothing is hurt. Hooray! I just might become a runner yet... My happy belly has not yet disappeared, of course. All in good time.

A little overdue: folk fest and other stuff

2008-07-31T10:56:00.000-07:00

In this part of the world you could go to some kind of outdoor music festival every weekend if you had unlimited cash and time and didn't mind driving around a bit. This was the first time I'd been to this particular folk fest, although it's been running for 24 (!) years. Anyway, it was a nice mellow scene (lots of kids running around) with good camping and some fantastic music. Fun was had by all -- pictures below.

Standard folk fest shot -- the weather held up pretty well, although we had a couple of little rain squalls (the first rain in about a month). This is the main stage -- there were three others scattered throughout the property, which is a working farm for the rest of the year.

Moon and the old donkey. This guy was great -- very Eeyore.

A view of the farm. It used to be a residential school in the bad old days, but it's been reclaimed for much more positive purposes. To the left of Tab A & Moon are the allotment gardens, where folks in the community grow food. The animals (chickens, alpacas, and sheep) are tended by some of the community living programs for special needs people, and they also make and sell all kinds of crafty stuff.

Inside Bella, Liza-Lou's van and our home for the weekend. So cosy! This is exactly like the van my folks had when I was a kid, which we used to camp in all the time (and which I also learned to drive in). I'd forgotten (a) how much stuff you can cram into all the cupboards and nooks & crannies in one of these things and (b) how completely awesome and luxurious it is to camp in good old Westphalia comfort. Love it.

One of the greatest things about this festival -- they went zero waste. All the cups sold at the food vendors and beer gardens were made of a compostable plastic-like material, and they had these recycling centres (including a bin for compost) everywhere. Disneyland could learn a thing or two, I think.

On the way home we stopped and explored this great old abandoned church. This is Monk standing in one of the empty windows. After snapping this picture my camera battery promptly died and I still have not been able to find my battery charger. Or my headphones, for that matter. I am convinced that there is some kind of electromagnetic black hole in my house that is slowly sucking up all of my electronic gadgets. It is so annoying.

Anyway, other than searching fruitlessly for my camera battery charger, I've also been slowly getting back into work mode. This involved one full day of post-camping laundry and house/van cleaning. I'm also shifting from the case study writing to planning for my three-week long teaching gig that starts next week. I haven't taught this course before, so it's all from scratch. I'm enjoying cooking up some new ideas for stuff I haven't taught before.

On the case study, I spoke with Dr. J on Tuesday about the case narrative that I finished last week. Her comment: "You are wasting your time in academia -- you should be writing novels." Good lord... if she knew how much time I've spent considering exactly that. Anyway, it was a surprising comment, but it got me thinking. I mean, really? If I thought I could survive as a writer, I'd drop everything right now and do it. And the way things are going with my (lack of) funding situation, I really might as well just do it anyways. But of course the real reason that I don't is that I lack the confidence. I know I'm good at academics. I feel like I could be a kickass novelist, but I don't know it. And it scares me, and I'm a big wimp. A big broke wimp.

So, having said that, I should just put it out there... One day soon I need to give myself a chance to write the novel I've been cooking in my head for the past five years. It will take a full year of financial stability. I don't know how it will happen, but I will be on the lookout for a way that doesn't involve prostitution. You never know...

And lastly, something I don't have time to blog about now, but I want to remind myself to blog about this soon: girlfriends. A few days ago over at The Bitter and the Sweet, the bittersweet girl wrote a post titled: "Your blog is your girlfriend," and it got me thinking. I've had some great friends move away in the past couple of years, and recently I've had some pretty big issues with a very close girlfriend who lives in town. And it made me realize how much I miss the companionship of a good girlfriend -- a daily friend. I have weekly and monthly friends, but no one close enough to keep that mutual running commentary on life that makes daily friends so damn great. In a way, the blog does replace that -- I can keep a kind of running monologue on things, but it's in no way any kind of adequate replacement for the dialogue of a close friendship with someone who is not your lover (of course Tab A is wonderful and is absolutely a companion/confidante, but a boyfriend cannot/should not also be a girlfriend -- two different things, in my books).

Anyway, maybe more on this some other time. I am taking the bus to Small U for a meeting & am almost late already....

This week (so far) in pictures

2008-07-24T14:13:00.000-07:00

Monday, mini-golf with the kids:

Tuesday, post-thesis celebratory beer:

Later on Tuesday, post-thesis celebratory beer-induced bike mishap:

Wednesday, hangover:

[redacted]

Today (Thursday), new vintage dress:

In between all the thrills and excitement, I've been trying to get through the Peru case study. I'm happy to report that I'm finished the narrative structure (7 pages, single spaced) and I have another 4 pages of background info already done. There are still a few sections to fill in, but it's getting close. Close enough for me to take a few hours off this afternoon to pack and buy our tickets for the folk festival this weekend. We're camping in Liza-Lou's van for a weekend full of sunshine, old-timey tunes and fun. Yippeee!!

Suspicions and good news (!!!)

2008-07-22T16:24:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with Mrs. R, the little old lady who befriended me when I first moved to Lovely City almost 12 years ago. In 1996 I was 21 year old single mom with a 3-month old baby, sharing a crappy basement suite with my 19 year old sister. We went to church on Sundays because it provided some sense of familiarity in what was otherwise a very big scary city for us small town kids.

The church wasn't that great. It was pretty awful, actually. More than a few times I sat cringing through a sermon that seemed to be a pointed attack on the tragic immorality of young single moms like me. Eventually I stopped attending altogether, but not before Mrs. R, a widowed and childless deaconess in her 70s, had securely tucked me under her old churchy lady's wing. She was the only one out of that congregation of some 100-odd who bothered.

At first, my sister and Moon Boy and I would go over to her house for lunch once in a while. Then my sister moved away, and it was just Moon Boy and I. As a toddler, he would sit at her big old piano in the living room after lunch and plunk the keys both methodically and randomly (no pounding for that boy -- his was an abstract but very deliberate kind of music). I wasn't the only one Mrs. R "looked after" -- over the years she has had a whole string of younger women that she's invited into her home and nurtured. She is a lovely, lovely person. And because she is so lovely and loving, she's become increasingly vulnerable as she's aged.

First, after I moved away from Lovely City during my two-year long ill-fated marriage, Mrs. R fell and broke her hip. Without family (except for some step children living across the country), and not wanting to move into a retirement home, Mrs. R decided to move in with a family who she'd befriended. They were new to Canada, and in need of the nurturing that Mrs. R is designed to provide. Except what happened is that she sold her house to buy one that would house all of them, and then after two years when she was not getting the care she needed or wanted, they refused to sell. This was a problem because they'd convinced her to put the house in their name.

Essentially, this lovely little old lady was swindled out of her life's savings. She moved out (actually, I moved her out) into a nice little apartment. The evil swindlers sold the house and bought another, refusing to return Mrs. R's investment. Finally lawyers got involved and many years later Mrs. R got a fraction of her money returned. Then what did she do? Repeated the whole fiasco with her step-granddaughter, who moved across the country to "look after" Mrs. R. Turns out she was a pathological liar and substance abuser.

Anyway, I've grown more than a little suspicious and protective when it comes to Mrs. R. She finally got into a decent retirement home (which I'd been trying to get her to do for years). She's happy there -- she has lots of little old lady friends and all the medical attention she needs (which is a lot, seeing as though she's going blind). Of course, she's still crusading around and befriending young people, like the taxi driver she's been talking to me about for the past six months. So this is our conversation this afternoon:

Ring, ring. I answer the phone.

Mrs. R (in her shaky little old lady voice): Hell-llo [some random name - she almost never gets it right any more]...
Me: Oh, hi Mrs. R. How are you doing?
Mrs. R: Well dear, I'm just so sad.
Me: Oh no. What's wrong?
Mrs. R: Well, I just got off the phone with [random name], a friend of [taxi driver], and she has a young daughter about 10 years old who has leukemia.
Me: Oh, that's so sad.
Mrs. R: Well, yes it is. And she had leukemia as a child and now she's just found out that her leukemia is back.
Me: The mom also has leukemia?
Mrs. R: Yes. And, oh dear. She is just so worried and upset.
Me: No kidding. That's awful.

So am I a terrible person for being immediately suspicious at this point? I mean, random person met through the taxi driver, who has a daughter with leukemia and has just found out that she also has leukemia. And why the hell is she sobbing on the phone to a little old lady like Mrs. R? Apparently this girl's mother lives in town, and they are coming to visit Mrs. R tomorrow. I'll be watching this one closely.

In other news: Tab A got his thesis done!!!!!!! (This warrants at least fifty million exclamation points). He just got back from dropping of the fully completed draft and it is completely miraculous that it is finally done after weeks and weeks of the misery and anguish of intellectual labour (for him, not me -- I just edited and gave back rubs). We are going to drink some celebratory beers right this second. Don't expect to hear from me for a while.

Be the change, baby

2008-07-21T08:07:00.000-07:00

I am driving my car a lot less than I used to. It's not just that it's getting too expensive to feed it gas and I'm getting too broke to afford it. No, although that's a very good reason to stop driving. But more than that, when I get out of the car I remember that I live in the world. With people and trees and sounds and smells and stuff. When I ride my bike (and pass cars heading into downtown!) I remember that I have power. When I take the bus I remember that I am a part of a community and that we are all in it together.

There are a couple of things that would make all this self- and community-propulsion a little easier (like a bike with gears and better bike storage at my house -- oh yeah, and a bus pass and a system with more routes), but really I have it pretty good. I live within six blocks of a shopping district complete with all the necessities: groceries, video rentals, liquor, coffee shop. No problem. I'm a ten-minute walk from a beautiful beach at which I can tire out Little Black Dog by hurling sticks into the ocean surf. The city park and petting zoo are about eight blocks away. Downtown is about the same. Really, the only thing that's out of my walking/biking reach right now is the kids' school. Or schools, I should say -- they'll be going to different ones next year, which further complicates getting there.

If I'm working from home it's not that big of a deal to get to the other side of town by bus to drop the kids off at school and pick them up again. But if I took an office job I'd be crunched for time, and that would mean driving. Then again, if I had an office job I'd probably be able to afford to drive. But do I want to? Hell no. There are certain sacrifices involved in trying to avoid the 9-5. Right now I'm clinging, just barely, to that choice. It might not remain open for too much longer. But when I think of how my life would be structured by a 9-5, 40-hour work week, I really cringe -- not at the structure (which would really probably be a very good thing for my productivity levels), but rather how my choices would be limited. How much harder it would be to live without relying on a mode of transportation attached to a gas tank. What enormous proportions of my life and brain power would be given up in exchange for a wage. How disempowering that whole system really is.

I've always thought that there needs to be a revolution against the work week. How much more self-sufficient would we be if we had the time? How much more food would we grow in our backyards and balconies and rooftops? How much less would we drive? Would we bake more bread and play more music? Talk to our children more? Know our neighbours better? Feel less threatened, and more equipped to resist the lies we hear on the evening news? I think so, anyways.

I'm not trying to advocate the kind of "be the change" personal politics that often accompany very privileged choices to "opt out" of mainstream consumer lifestyles. I mean, yeah, go ahead and be the change, but be critical too. Understand how our lives are systematically structured in relation to a certain set of ideas about the world that is inherently unsustainable. And then work so that being the change becomes a viable option for other people. Or so that other people have any viable options at all (because a whole lot of people don't have any). We have lots of power over here in this part of the world. Even when we feel disempowered, it's good to remember that (and then to resist that disempowerment in our own lives -- because although it is real, it is not necessary or natural).

Anyway, I just read the profiles of people who won this year's Awesomest Scholar of the Nation scholarship. They all get a whole lot of money and glory for being awesomest and doing some very cool and interesting and useful academic work. But, being more often on the not-quite awesome enough to cut it side of the academic competitions, I'm acutely aware of how much awesome work doesn't make it through. Well, you say, not everyone can be funded. There's only so much to go around. But really? Why? Because that's how the system works? I dunno... the argument seems pretty hollow.

Anyway, my point is not that everyone should get the Awsomest Scholar of the Nation award. That's just silly. Rather, I should get Awesomest Scholar... heh, just kidding. No. I'd love it and I'll probably apply for it, but I really don't stand a chance. And I really don't need it, either. What I do need is enough to get through the program and finish my PhD, which isn't really all that much. But the problem is that the pot is shrinking at the same time as the portions are staying the same (or even getting larger). And so what does that mean? Well, fewer get to eat.

And this is precisely how the system works. And it's a bad system, because it's based on exclusion via merit-based competition -- just like real life. On the surface, of course, this doesn't look like a bad thing because, hell yeah -- let's reward people who work hard and are smart and all of that. That's common sense. But common sense is not the same thing as understanding the nuances of the real world. And in the real world there is complexity that common sense cannot account for. Like, smart and hardworking and worthy people don't all start from the same place. They don't all face the same life circumstances. Sometimes they have help and sometimes they don't.

So go Awesomest Scholars of the Nation. You rock. And go Be the Changers. You also rock. But one humble request from a Slightly Less Fortunate (but still pretty damn fortunate) citizen of the world. Use your powers of Awesomeness to help spread the good stuff around a little better. Because this system we have now is doing a pretty damn poor job of it.

Educate yerself here.

Hipster nightmares

2008-07-19T09:43:00.000-07:00

I don't remember my dreams all that often, but sometimes they are too weird and disturbing to forget. Like last night, when I dreamed that the kids and I were being chased around by this evil little floating head character and his equally evil sidekick which looked like some kind of stuffed-animal seahorse. We were being chased through a neighbourhood and ran into some stranger's house for safety, but the evil duo started to force open the door that we were leaning against to keep shut. Anyway, I'll spare all the gory details but eventually they got in and I had to kill them. And then they ended up just being ragged, fucked up and creepy little stuffed dolls.

It might have something to do with the art show I went to last night. It was one of those hipster art shows put on by a collective of local artists, so it was pretty small and low-budget, but with a great variety of different styles and pieces. One theme that's really popular with the hipster artists, despite their various takes and interpretations, is the creepy weird doll-type character. Some are creepier and weirder than others, but the theme almost invariably shows up in some form or another.

In fact, the creepy doll art really appeals to me... sometimes it's funny and beautiful and disturbing all at once. A lot of the pieces last night featured a fantasy comic-art aesthetic (there were even some variations on 80's-style unicorns), and some of my favourites were these pen & ink chaos comic collage-type pieces -- the type that are so full of detail that you have to get right up close to see what's going on. Monkey draws like that just naturally, so it's pretty cool to see a similar style hanging in a hipster art show.

That was the up side. It took me about an hour to look at everything and drink my beer and wander a bit checking out the scene. And if I'd forgotten about the scene, last night was a good reminder: hipster artists are patently unfriendly. It's so weird and beyond my understanding. For instance, this is a pretty small town. A lot of the people there last night I have seen many, many times before -- at various parties, on the street, at the university. One girl there has kids in the same school as Moon Boy and Monkey, and we also have a friend in common, so we've seen each other and talked several times. So you'd think it might be natural and friendly to say "hello" when we run into each other around town -- but apparently that is not the hipster way.

I know I shouldn't let it bug me, but it does. I like community. It's important to me. And these folks are ostensibly a part of my community (in the sense that we live in the same small town, are roughly the same age, know many of the same people). But at the hipster art show, I get the same feeling as I often have at the kids' school. Like people look in my direction but it's like I'm not there. I can smile and try to make eye contact, but they either look away or pretend like they don't see me. WTF? Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose? Is there sometime offensive about my presence? Is it so hard just to say hi and acknowledge my existence as a human being? Or hey... maybe I am actually invisible. Maybe it's a superpower I didn't even know I had...

Anyway, unfortunately the only person to acknowledge my existence as a human being was this asshat, who regaled me with tales of his arts council funding for a full ten minutes until I played dead in the hopes that he'd go away. And then I decided that it was time to go home. This town is way too small for one night stands gone awry (luckily I have very few of those lurking around).

On the brighter side, however, I went to the show with two long-lost girlfriends who I adore, and we had a great time drinking wine and whisky earlier in the night. We've all been either traveling a lot and/or in hermit mode for the past year, so it was great to reconnect.

And, in other news, I may have found someone to do a directed studies course with me -- the new Dean of Small U's management school. He's young-ish and, for a management school dean, surprisingly progressive. He's also very enthusiastic about my research and about doing this directed studies, so it might work out really well. It wouldn't be on exactly the topic I'd been planning (he is not a development specialist), but he is a specialist on Latin American extractives industries and neoliberal political economy. I think it'll be every bit as useful as development studies (although now I'll have to pick that up on my own at some point).

The other good news that came out of yesterday's meeting with Small U Dean is that we may be able to move one of Dr. J's research projects there. This would be great for me -- it would give me more of a central role in this project, and it would also build a network close to home at Small U. I've always thought that this research would fit in really well at Small U. So between working with the Dean on a directed studies and having this project at Small U ... that works to further strengthen my relationships there. I still think it was the right decision to leave my faculty post there, but it's nice to feel like there might be some possibility of a re-hire at some point. I don't see it as a long term option (in four years or so, Tab A will be looking for a faculty post somewhere and it's likely that we'll have to move to god-knows-where to find something for both of us), but there is potential. I'm not yet totally clear on what potential, but it feels optimistic.

The kids come home at 4 this afternoon, so I'm motivated to get some shit done today. I'm not as far ahead on the case as I'd hoped (surprise, surprise). This last week was pretty pathetic in a work sense, actually. On the other hand, it was a pretty good week in a napping and yoga sense, so I really have no excuses left. I am officially recovered from Disneyland, so now it is time to visit Productivityland. Damn, I wish that was as fun as it sounds.

Is there a message here I should be getting?

2008-07-16T15:51:00.000-07:00

So the geography prof doesn't want to do a directed studies with me. He's teaching three courses already and doesn't have time. He apparently couldn't think of anyone else who might want to work with me. Thanks for that, Dr. Helpful.

Now I'm kinda at a loss. I can't afford to get to campus for classes, so that's not an option (it costs me about $400/month to commute). I could possibly afford to cough up the $1700 for tuition, but it will be pretty tight. I looked for a course at Alma Mater U here in Lovely City, but there's nothing that comes even close to what I need. I'm trying to stalk down a prof at Alma Mater who would be great to work with, but I've sent her emails before and gotten no response. So I'm not feeling super optimistic about that possibility. Anyway, I just sent a completely begging email to the prof of the class I'd hoped to take, asking if he'd consider doing a directed studies based on the same syllabus. I promised that I wouldn't need much direction.

And at the back of my mind I'm wondering, what the fuck am I doing here? And then I realize, what other options do I have? Oh yeah, government job. I think maybe I'll just try to stick it out a little longer... But really, how much longer? This is getting ridiculous. And now I've heard a rumour that even the measly funding my department provides students is being cut back. So it's likely that the small fellowship Uncle G said might be a possibility is no longer a possibility. He didn't mention anything about it in his last email, so that kind of leaves me wondering.

I want to scream. Why is this so hard? I am good at what I do. I know I have the potential to be a kick-ass academic. But it looks like having the ability, potential and desire to do it are not enough. No. What's required is a fucking trust fund. Who came up with this bullshit system? Asshats.

I love home

2008-07-15T17:59:00.000-07:00

It's great to be back. We got home on Sunday after two solid days of driving -- including a 14 hour epic on Saturday (!). Overall, I was astounded at how well the kids did on the drive (although I did end up in the middle seat a couple of times to run interference). All I can say is: quiet contests. Oh yeah, it still so works. It only cost me a KitKat and, man, those kids can really shut up when there is candy involved.

So Disneyland. It was interesting and surreal. The rides were pretty fun, and although it was very crowded and very hot, it was also really clean and obviously well run. They put a lot of effort into making sure there are no disruptions to the fantasy world they've created there. It's more than a little weird.

And of course the kids had a great time. They are the perfect age to enjoy a place like that -- old enough to go on all the rides, but young enough to be completely enthralled by the whole experience. A word of advice for anyone who goes, however: use the fast passes. By day 3 we had it figured out -- in the morning the kids ran around and grabbed fast passes (which allow you to skip the hour long lineups for the more popular rides) and went on some of the rides with shorter lineups, and then all afternoon we just jumped from short lineup to short lineup on some of the better rides. Definitely the way to go. And ultimately: my parents paid for the whole thing. How awesome is that? They are not rich, but they're pretty generous when it comes to stuff like this. Thanks mom & dad. You guys rock.

I don't have too much else to say about the whole thing, except that Americans don't seem to be too interested in recycling much beyond beverage cans and bottles. I hate to think of where the mountains of trash end up... but I like to think (perhaps idealistically) that maybe the landfill of today is the raw material mine of tomorrow. In any case, ew. Everything goes in the garbage. Every. Little. And big. Thing. Also, I think I saw maybe one or two cabs during the entire time in LA, and only one person riding a bicycle (for transportation, that is). Most people seem to drive the most monstrously huge cars and trucks possible. All I have to say about that is: $5.00/gallon gas? HA!

So that's about all. If you know me and want to see pics, send me an email and I'll give you the link. Oh yeah, also: Portland is a cool city (strictly aesthetically speaking). I think I could live there. LA, not so much.

Since getting home, I've done a whole lot of nothing. Well, other than a bit of thesis editing for Tab A and figuring out Google calendar so I can be completely google-ized. Actually, it's a bit of a compulsion. I love planning. Especially colour-coded planning (yes, I'm aware of how nerdy that is). So I've spent an entire afternoon when I ~~could~~ should have been working to plan out (in colour) when exactly I will write, have meetings, teach, go for runs, go to yoga classes, do the recycling, clean the house, etc. for the next two months. It is so dorky but so satisfying. And I do follow the schedule. Usually. More or less (until I change it all around again).

Tomorrow, my calendar tells me that I need to get my ass in gear. I have two weeks to get the case study done, then it's a week of planning, then teaching for a 3-week residency, then ... what, the summer is over? Aw, damn.

Oh yeah, in other news, I didn't get another stupid grant. Bye-bye, hopes of $10 grand to get through the next year of coursework. Fuck it. I'm teaching a course in the fall (on-line - yesss!!) and I can go back to Job #2 and basically pick and choose when I want to work. Which unfortunately will have to be more frequently than I'd really like, leaving less time to do coursework and (dare I hope...?) maybe even have a life. Yeah, dream on about that last one.

Anyway, I can't afford to commute to Big City for a class on campus, which really sucks because there was this course I really wanted to take. Instead, I'll have to try to replicate the course in a directed studies, which I could do from a distance ... if I can find someone to do it with me, of course. Uncle G recommended this guy from Geography who is a development and Latin America specialist and so I emailed him, but his response was basically: "I'm teaching a grad course on development in the fall, so you should register for that." I'd kinda hoped for something more along the lines of: "Oh wow that topic sounds so fantastic, of course I'm interested." So now I will have to email back and explain that, in fact, I am a poor loser who cannot even afford to get to campus so please have pity and do a directed studies with me.

Anyway. Belfast is out. Uncle G and Supervisor both suggest that I should focus on a publication instead of going to more conferences. I know. It makes sense. But Belfast? That would have been so cool...

American amusement

2008-07-09T00:05:00.000-07:00

If there's anything the Americans do well, constructing elaborate and ingenious diversions must certainly top the list. Well, as I understand it they also have an extensive arsenal of some pretty remarkable weaponry, but their passion for entertainment rivals, maybe even outstrips, their passion for world domination. It's stunning, really.

Anyway, we arrived at Disneyland this afternoon and didn't leave the park until after 10:30 pm, but I'll have to get to that later. I'm running a day behind here, so first a bit about yesterday. Yesterday was water slide day, at a ginormous park where they checked your bags on entry, not so much to ensure that you are not bringing in weapons or illegal substances -- no, what they are really concerned about is people bringing in their own food or beverages. Yup. You want to go for a day of sliding? Well, you can just forget right now about bringing those carrot sticks or that apple. No sirree -- you'll damn well buy pizza and coke at premium waterslide prices, just like everyone else.

Overall the slides themselves were pretty fun, and a good way to stay cool(ish) in some very hot weather. Aside from the actual sliding part of the day, though, I have to admit that I wasn't super keen on the close proximity to all that wet, bathing-suit clad humanity and the general sense of filth about the place. Interesting people watching to a point, and then it just got yucky. I have to admit, though -- I had no idea just exactly how popular it is to get a name of someone tattooed in curlicue script on the backs of shoulders, or upper arms, or the left upper chest. Like, no joke, I'd say at least one in five adults had some variation of the curly script name tattoo. And pretty much the exact same script, too, from what I could tell. I don't think the point is to be original, though. What's the need for originality in markers of possession? Name tattoos, cattle brands, wedding bands... uniformity serves the purpose quite nicely.

I didn't take too many photos, but here's a small sample of what the place looked like:

I have to agree with Moon Boy when he said about this slide "the scariest part was waiting in the line-up." Because I'm not sure if you can tell from this photo, but it is very, very high. And the 45 minute-long wait provides lots of opportunity to ponder what you would do if the Big One (the earthquake, that is, if you are not a West Coaster) should happen to hit while waiting six stories up on this ill-advised diversion/deathtrap. Run, jump or cling? It's a tough call, but in the end I went with clinging as the better survival option.

My favourite part of the day, however, was when Grams asked the kids on the way home what fun factor rating they'd give the park on a scale of one to ten, where 1 was doing math drills while eating overcooked broccoli and 10 was the funnest thing ever (whatever that might be). After much humming and hawing the kids gave the water park a 6 or 7. Tough sell, those kids. Universal Studios didn't fare much better at 7.5. "Okay then," said Grams, "what about the beach?" The verdict? Without a moment's hesitation, a resounding fun factor of 9. Ahh, well. Some how many hundreds of dollars of entry tickets to find out that the free beach beat it all by a solid 1.5 fun factor points. That's my boys.

Without a doubt, though, Disneyland will be off the fun factor scale. We haven't tested it yet, but I really don't think that beach stands a chance. Disneyland is super-sized fun. It's fun on steroids. It's the LSD of fun -- all sound and colour and improbable proportions of space and time. One giant alternate reality, impeccably engineered. Only in America.

The fun begins

2008-07-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

Friday, 4th of July, my sister's boyfriend (we'll call him LA Guy) hosted an all-American barbeque complete with hamburgers, hotdogs (veggie-dogs for the veggies), baked beans and, of course, all kinds of beer (of which I drank little, with the previous night's hangover still lingering). Funny thing was, the only American of the bunch was a wee little 6-week old newborn (of Danish parentage). Ah, well. We had a good time anyways.

Saturday morning was an epic shopping journey in hellish temperatures to find the elusive UV-blocking shirt for Monkey. Damn, that was hard. You'd think in a radiation-baked city like LA they'd be all over the place. But practically everyone I asked at the local mall had no idea what the hell I was talking about (despite the fact that every second store was some high-end kids' clothing shop). Anyway, someone finally figured out that what we were talking about is known here as a "rash guard" and can be found at a surf shop. So after 2 useless hours of dragging the kids from shop to shop while they cursed the gods at the cruel injustice of three days trapped in the back of an Audi sedan for a prize of a week of pure, unadulterated amusement-park thrills, only to be dragged shopping by the evil female elders of the family, we found this:

This is a very UV-protected (SPF 50) Monkey watching Gramps and almost-uncle LA Guy get slammed by a wave at Santa Monica beach yesterday afternoon. The shirt is awesome, not to mention so unbelievably cute. Here's Moon Boy, who actually caught some waves on the boogie board:

Anyways, fun was had by all. The water was actually pretty nice -- that and the breeze were a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of shopping in the morning. After the beach, it was the Santa Monica pier roller coaster and bumper cars, and a small taste of the crowds and noise we're up for in the next week. Not that bad, really. Manageable. And based on how much fun the kids are having, totally worth it.

So today I stayed home and worked while the Grands took the kids to Universal Studios. I'm caught up for the online course that starts tomorrow, and I gave Tab A a final edit on a chapter for an edited book (his first publication!), but the case study....? Not so much work done there. Crap. And tomorrow, staying behind is Not An Option. Raging Waters, here I come! I may have to pull some late nights in the next week....

And the excitement builds...

2008-07-04T22:32:00.000-07:00

After my last post, we drove for another two days before arriving in LA yesterday afternoon. Sweet relief. We're staying with my sister and her boyfriend, who has a sweet little house in Nice LA Neighbourhood, of course with the obligatory backyard pool which the kids have not left since they cannon-balled in moments after arriving. Here they are, Monkey about to launch the basketball at his brother's head (probably in retaliation for something Moon Boy* did earlier in their ongoing battle of the brothers):

Except for now poor little Monkey has a sunburn -- despite my compulsive slathering of sunscreen all over his body every three hours. I think the only thing that will work now is one of those sun-blocking shirts, which I'm on a mission to find first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, Monkey is under a strict shade-only rule. That kid is not built for tropical conditions.

As for me, I am hiding out in the shade as well, taking no chances with the sun. I'm pretty much as white as it gets, and lacking any natural protection whatsoever I am a prime skin-cancer candidate. Me and poor Monkey... Thankfully at least alabaster white is coming back in style... unlike most of my youth when I felt so ugly being pasty white next to my sun-baked tan friends. Now, though, when I still get asked for ID buying liquor and people are shocked to find out my age... I'm not complaining too much.

So today was spent lounging in & around the pool, the kids playing non-stop and me nursing a terrible hangover from last night... the result of a couple of tall g&ts before dinner, followed by a rather inadvisable switch to rose wine with dinner, and somehow it all crept up on me until 10pm hit and I was slammed. This is how the trouble began:

I know, it looks innocent enough, but this is after I asked Monkey to fill my wine glass. And that child is literal. He filled my wine glass. And silly me, I drank it all. Much to my regret this morning (and, who am I kidding, pretty much all day long).

Excitement is also building for Disneyland. The kids and grandma (although it's mostly grandma because the kids have about a 30 second attention span right now) have also been figuring out the schedule for Disneyland, what rides we'll visit in what order, etc. We're not going until Tuesday next week, so that leaves lots of time for making a plan. Quite honestly, I find the whole thing a little frightening... and not just because I know I'm the one who will be accompanying the kids on the rides. Every. Single. Ride. No, it's also the knowledge that it will be heat and crowds and sensory overload of about 50 million degrees above anything I've recently had to suffer through. Ayayeee.... But I swear by my belief that Disneyland is at maximum a twice-in a lifetime thing. Once as a kid and once as a parent -- and that is it. So after this, I am off the hook for life. Hooray!!

Anyway, needless to say I have not been getting much work done. That will have to change soon, unfortunately... but I will think about that tomorrow.

*Btw, "Rocky" wasn't working as a pseudonym for Kid #1, so he's now "Moon Boy" after his nickname as a baby.

In which I rave about my kids

2008-07-01T23:24:00.000-07:00

Day 1 of the drive completed without incidence. I am posting stealthily and quietly in the dark while everyone else snores away in the hotel room. It sounds like the tantruming, stomping child in the suite directly above us has finally exhausted itself, and I am grateful to the universe for blessing me with two mellow kids who, even in their worst whiny, snarky bad moods are really quite respectfully tame.

Since I'm going to be posting about them a fair bit over the next couple of weeks, and since I've been meaning to update the rather impersonal "Kid #1" and "Kid #2" pseudonyms, I thought I'd introduce them with their new blognames:

Here they are, enjoying a couple of ripe strawberries out of their dad's garden when we dropped by yesterday to pick up some stuff they'd left there. On the right is the rock star formerly known as Kid #1 -- now Moon Boy. To the left is his little bro Monkey, formerly Kid #2.

Moon Boy just turned 12, and he also just graduated from elementary school. He's cool, quiet and a little complicated -- he's always been a bit of a thinker, a muller. Mostly he's just really aware of what's going on around him, which makes him sharp and funny and surprisingly adult in his interactions with people (except for when he's being totally goofy and clownball with his friends or his little bro). Monkey, on the other hand, is a complete monkey pretty much all the time. He's 9 and utterly unconcerned about fitting into anyone's expectations, which makes him funny in a totally different way. He has this wild imagination which you get glimpses of every once in a while in his incredibly detailed drawings -- sometimes he'll spend an hour or more on these scenes full of futuristic machinery and crazy-looking creatures (all of which have equally crazy names).

It's hard not to marvel at the personalities these guys are revealing as they grow up. I can remember sometimes looking at them as adorable little lumps of baby, thinking (somewhat impatiently), what will you be like as a person? And now, I love how every day reveals just a little bit more of who they are. How lucky am I that I get to watch that up close and be a part of it, even if my role often feels limited to a combination of kid-wrangling and stunned wonderment. Although, what am I talking about, limited? Parenting is pretty much just that, I think -- kid-wrangling punctuated by moments of stunned wonderment. And that is something no amusement park ride can match. Disneyland, bring it on. I am so way ahead of you.

On the road again

2008-07-01T08:21:00.000-07:00

Yeah, literally. I'm about to catch the ferry across the small body of water that separates This Lovely City from Giant Neighbour Country, then meet up with the folks and hit the road (for three days) until we reach LA and Disneyland. Ayayayayeee. Three days of highway driving, sitting with the kids in the backseat of my dad's sedan. I'm praying for only minimal regression.

Really, it should be fun. The kids are now at heightened levels of excitement, which miraculously I managed to channel yesterday into getting them to tidy their room and then pack their own (!!) backpacks. I also got Kid #2 to make himself nachos in the oven when he wanted a snack -- although I'm supervising everything pretty closely (with an air of extreme nonchalance, of course), I figure that it's about time they learned to do some basic survival stuff. You know, important skills like making nachos and packing a bag.

So we are all pretty much ready to go. Last night I got another abstract written and sent off for a conference next spring that's focused on looking critically at the mining industry in Latin America. It will really be a keystone conference for me, since this is pretty much exactly my research focus and will bring together most of the people working on this stuff. So now that's a total of three conferences for next year - Belfast, New York and Toronto. And I had better get some funding or I am in Big Trouble.

I will also be in Big Trouble if I miss this ferry (Tab A: "you always blog at the worst times"), so I want to make a quick shout-out welcome to French Panic and point you good readers to my New & Improved blogroll. Check them out -- these are the blogs that top my reading list right now & they are all great.

That's all for now -- more from on the road.

Who Loves the Sun

2008-06-27T11:57:00.000-07:00

Who doesn't love the sun? Actually, it's the title of a great movie I watched last night. Okay, admittedly I got too tired and had to turn it off before the ending (Tab A fell asleep after the first half hour), but it's been a while since I've seen a film with such character depth (which gave it a kind of literary quality), not to mention the stunning Canadian shield scenery & equally beautiful cinematography. I'll definitely watch it again one day when I'm more awake (ha, what a pipe dream).

Another thing I want to plug is this amazing blog featuring folkloric and vernacular music, mostly from this guy's own collection of rare vinyl. Every week he posts a track that he's digitized and remastered, along with a bunch of information about the track, musician etc. It's well worth bookmarking -- I've just started to work my way through the archives, and with each post I read I'm more awed by and grateful for this guy's knowledge and generosity. It's called Excavated Shellac. If you appreciate old and rare folk music from around the world, you will certainly want to check it out.

In other news: this morning I met with the program manager for the course I'm teaching on Rhetoric this summer. He is an intelligent & quirky guy, and I'm looking forward to teaching this course that he's designed (and described to me as "his baby") -- not just because the first half of it (which is all online) is completely organized and thus hardly any work for me at all, but also because it's a new subject that I haven't taught before, and I expect to learn a lot through the experience. That, and I really enjoyed the students I had in the last course I taught for this program, which is an applied communication undergrad degree. Anyway, I'm mostly just happy and relieved that the course is so together because I'm feeling pretty behind on the case study that I should be writing, and I have another abstract to write for a deadline on Monday, and here I am blogging instead of working.

One last thing: Kid #1 graduated from elementary school yesterday. They actually call it a "leaving ceremony" at his school, which is this very cool little hippied-out alternative public school (probably the one of the last of its kind) of about 120 kids in total. And although both kids have had great experiences there, and I'm really incredibly grateful that we were lucky enough to get them in, I have an admission to make. This school is really heavy on the parent involvement (which is one of the things that makes it "alternative," other that being all artsy and non-coercive), but there is this very intense cliquey-ness about the parents who are really involved. As a working student parent, I'm really grateful for their involvement but ever since starting at this school four years ago, I have felt this very strong sense of exclusion from this "inside" group of mostly stay-at-home moms who seem to have all the time in the world to hang out and do stuff at the school.

Okay, I know... comparing is bad and I'm probably reading too much into the fact that these moms that I've seen around the school for four years running now (because they are always there) seem to hardly acknowledge my existence. I imagine that being a supermom is a very busy job, and I must look like some kind of lazy-ass slacker mom who probably shoots intravenous drugs or something. Ugh. It sucks to have this icky feeling about the kids school, especially when in all other respects, it's such a great school and the kids have had such a positive experience there. And maybe this is just my insecurities as a young parent surfacing -- but really, there is no other context in which I feel inadequate as a parent. In fact, for the most part I feel like both the Ex & I have done a fantastic job of parenting these kids -- and they are clearly well adjusted, happy and very cool little people. And likely, this is largely my fault for not being as friendly & outgoing as I could have, and letting my own struggles and stress take up too much space in my daily life. I regret that, because I think I missed out as a result.

Okay, enough venting. It's summer break, so no more elementary-school induced parenting inadequacy for two whole months -- whoo hooo!! I love the sun!

Belfast?

2008-06-25T09:25:00.000-07:00

I just found out that an abstract I submitted for a conference in Belfast this September was accepted. Yay me again! The only thing is: one, the airfare from here to there (uh, yikes) and two, there is actually a conference registration fee of 220 pounds (which equals a lot in my currency). The other thing is: the conference is at a management school (hello, suits!), but it is entitled "Challenging the Mainstream." Oh, you just wait, Belfast suits. If I can scrape together the funds, I will bring my best challenging.

In other news: Europe cup semi-finals today!! Go Germany!! (Although if the Turks pulled another one of their miraculous turnarounds I'd be secretly happy with that too).

In other news: Kid #1's haircut is so cute I can hardly stand it. Kid #2 is being pretty damn cute lately too. And Tab A... don't even get me started on the cuteness there.

Yay me!

2008-06-24T17:37:00.000-07:00

Well, that was fast. By noon my prof had read my paper and sent me some feedback via email. Guess what? A+ ... !! Wow ... I was hoping for passable and non-embarrassment, so A+ is pretty damn fine with me. And it's the first A+ I've ever gotten. Ever. So yeah. I'm happy.

I'm also happy because I went to yoga and it was amazing & it reminded me of why I love going to classes (and why practice at home is so different). There's something about that voice guiding you through a practice that you don't have to think about or plan out, but you can just be in. And it helps that the teacher was one of my very favourite restorative yoga teachers -- I've gone to classes with her for about 6 years (although it's probably been over a year since I've seen her!), and it was a surprise to see her teaching today because she wasn't listed as the teacher for this class on the schedule.

Two more good things about today: I took the bus to pick up the kids from school, which is something I've been wanting to figure out for a while. It's about 40 minutes (including transfer and wait time), but with something to read on the bus it's productive time. I'd like to start taking the bus as regularly as possible, eventually in the hopes of weaning myself off the car. Although with Kid #1 going to middle school next year, it adds another leg to the journey which is a bit of a drag (luckily it's on the same route, only further along). Then at some point once I'm comfortable enough and the kids know the route well enough, they might be able to start taking the bus alone. Eventually. Maybe not in the next year, because both transfers (to school and home from school) are in semi-sketchy areas of downtown, and I'm just not sure how I feel about that. No, I'm sure how I feel about that -- negative. In any other part of town it would probably be okay, but not where the dealers and tweakers hang out.

Also: Kid #1 got his hair cut this afternoon. He's had it long for a couple of years, so it's a big change. It's not short-short, but it's a lot shorter than I've seen it in a long time. I don't blame him for wanting to cut it -- even though he dresses like a boy completely, he is mistaken for a girl all the time. For instance, this is what happened at the salon when we dropped in to see if we could get an appointment:

Me: Hi, I'm just wondering if we could get my son in for a kid's haircut right now.
Salon front desk girl [looking at Kid #1, with his shoulder-length blonde locks]: Oh, sure, we can get her right in.
Me: No, it's him, actually.
Salon front desk girl [looking at Kid #2, who has a buzz cut]: Oh, the haircut is for you?
Me [pointing to Kid #1, who is rolling his eyes and stifling laughter]: No, it's for him.

That, and he constantly gets: "oh, you look exactly like your mom!" Poor kid. Anyway, the haircut will probably help a little. And besides that it looks really really cute.

Oh yeah, and "Lars and the Real Girl"? Awesome. Totally not what I was expecting (which was something more along the lines of "40-Year Old Virgin"). No, "Lars" was sweet, a little silly, and a lot touching (and I am not normally a sappy-movie loving person). Really -- it was way more perfect for my mindset last night than the brainless and slightly stupid comedy I expected.

So now that I am somewhat refreshed and rejuvenated I have got to tackle that daunting stack of work lined up for the next week. Er, make that 5 days -- the kids and I leave early next week to meet my folks in Seattle for the long drive down to Disneyland. At this point, it's inevitable that I'll be bringing a fair bit of work with me, but every bit I get done this week is one thing less to bring. That's not bad for a bonfire under the ass.

Yoga break

2008-06-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

Before I start thinking too much about all the other things I need to do now that the paper is off my plate, I'm going to go to a yoga class. I haven't been to a class in way too long, but when I cleaned my office I found a punch pass that still has a bunch of classes left. And I've been longing to get back and stretch and start to build back some of the strength I used to have when I practiced regularly. Honestly, it feels like my body has been turning to mush over the past year & I realize it's not like when I was younger and seemed to stay fit with zero effort. Unfortunately.

Yay yoga! I miss you... it's been too long...

Bye bye paper

2008-06-23T21:36:00.000-07:00

Oh that got so very painful at the end. All in all, though, the writing went pretty well. I actually stopped work at about 10 last night (it was 1am on Saturday), and then I got up early and had a really productive morning. I'd done a lot more work ahead of time than I thought - with all my annotations and article summaries, I ended up having to cut down on material in order to fit in the important stuff - what I actually propose to do for my research. I could have made that part of the paper much stronger and more detailed .... if I had enough time to put it down for a few days and then return with a fresh mind. Alas. Maybe one day I will manage to find a way to write a paper without having a giant bonfire under my ass. Then again, probably not.

I had a few flashes of panic after sending it in. I think I used to have a lot more confidence about my writing. Like, after I was finished a paper I'd read it over and think, "yay for me, it's great." But now I just hope that it's passable and not a total embarrassment. And frustratingly enough, I'm not totally sure if this lack of confidence is warranted. Since I've been handing all my papers in late, I haven't received any feedback and so I honestly don't really have a good sense of how my recent ideas stand. Of course Tab A always reads them and gives feedback, but he's required under pain of death to say something nice about my papers, so... you know. Not quite the same.

I'd be a bit worried about my lack of confidence if I didn't know how completely typical this is of the grad school experience. Still, it sucks. I want to feel good about what I'm doing because, goddamnit, this shit is hard enough as it is. And so I am going to go watch "Lars and the Real Girl," which is hopefully the most brainless movie to have hit the video store shelves in the past year -- because my brain juice is at about nil and I am really, really tired of thinking.

We take this break to announce...

2008-06-20T18:39:00.000-07:00

... Despite taking yesterday off to go to a conference in Big City, I finished my paper on the way home so now I can take the weekend off. Ha! Of course that's a complete lie, but I just wanted to see what it would feel like to be able to write that. Damn I wish it was true.

Anyway. The conference was a worthy investment of time (and money, considering the cost of travelling anywhere these days). We got to hear a three difference indigenous activists talk in detail about their struggles for recognition and self-determination in the face of continued corporate-led and government-supported development on unceded territories across the country. In each case, they spoke about the co-optation of their band leadership by interests clearly not representing their communities, they talked about serving jail time for standing up against what they see as illegitimate, illegal and ecologically unsustainable development on their land, and they also talked about the sense of isolation they feel in their struggles in parts of the country far removed from public view. Anyway, overall it was really useful in terms of identifying some of the issues and individuals and communities that I need to know about for my research, even if that part of it is a couple of years down the road yet. But for the meantime, I'd really encourage everyone reading this blog to take a few minutes to find out about what is happening here (thanks to my sister S for the link!). It's scary stuff, and although it affects indigenous people more directly than most, ultimately it affects everyone else too (and if there's one thing this conference reminded me of, it is exactly how important indigenous culture and knowledge should be to anyone who cares about this planet and its future -- us colonizers have much to learn from the traditional knowledge and ways of life that they are struggling so hard to preserve in the face of continued development that threatens their existence).

So, in the spirit of honouring the brave indigenous fighters who are standing up for their land and their ways of life, I want to throw out a few choice quotes from an article by Bobby Banerjee (my new favourite theorist). The article was written in 2003, and it's called "Who Sustains Whose Development? Sustainable Development and the Reinvention Of Nature." In the article, Banerjee points out that current notions of sustainable development (as used by the businesses, governments and agencies that are invested in developing the planet for industry and consumption) do not represent anything resembling new theoretical (or moral) positions, but are rather "very much subsumed under the dominant economic paradigm." Here's a few other good bits:

"As with development, the meanings, practices, and policies of sustainable development continue to be informed by colonial thought, resulting in disempowerment of a majority of the world's populations, especially rural populations in the Third World. Discourses of sustainable development are also based on a unitary system of knowledge and, despite its claims of accepting plurality, there is a danger of marginalizing or co-opting traditional knowledges to the detriment of communities who depend on the land for survival."

"Despite highlighting issues of poverty and equity, contemporary discourses of sustainable development do not criticize the structural conditions that characterize the increasing intrusion of capital into the domain of nature, which results in the capitalization, expropriation, commodification and homogenization of nature. The economic relations that underpin contemporary sustainable development strategies have evolved from the violent histories of colonial capitalist relations, which informed development for much of the 20th century. If discourse of sustainable development articulate notions of equity, democracy [sic] inclusion, then a critical perspective will allow us to see it as ‘a product of a racialized justification for modernization, in which marginalized peoples are subject to a new dependency and a new colonialism’ (Bandy 1996: 542).”

"The current focus on capital and markets to achieve sustainable development is restrictive and disallows alternate ways of thinking and knowing. We need to apply insights from other forms of knowledge, however 'traditional' they may be, and interpret these knowledges in economic, scientific, political, cultural and social terms that challenge existing views of the world and of nature. Sustainable development is not just about managerial efficiency (although that has a part to play); it is about rethinking human-nature relationships, re-examining current doctrines of progress and modernity, and privileging alternate visions of the world."

And my favourite (partly in reference to the 1987 Brundtland report, where the earliest non-definition of sustainable development came from):

"What is needed is not a common future, but the future as commons."

In which the panic begins

2008-06-18T19:40:00.000-07:00

I'll start off by saying that I'm keeping to the five pages, more or less. Yesterday was the much-put-off telephone meeting with Dr. J to talk about the next stage of the project (which entails me writing the cases and her translating stuff from Spanish and shooting me information when I ask for it -- no big surprises there, I figured I'd be doing the grunt work on this one), during which she also read out about three pages of notes to me under the pretense of catching me up with some meetings she had after I left Peru, but really just because I can type and she can't be bothered. Again, no matter, but damned if I didn't count it in my five pages. That's right. Day 2 and I'm cutting corners like crazy.

Shortly after my productive phone meeting that got me three out of five pages for the day (oh btw, that is 5 double spaced pages, which if you're good at math like me translates to just under 3 single spaced pages -- and don't give me that look that you probably think I can't ~~see~~ imagine) I received the Email of Doom, which read something like this:

Dear Incalculable:

I hope you had a nice trip to Peru. I am leaving town next week on the 26th, and I will not have access to my email. I'd like to have a few days to read your paper, so could you please send everything to me by June 23rd so I can submit your grades before I leave?

Thanks,
Dr. Waiting Patiently (but not eternally so) Methodology Professor

After screaming silently to myself for a few minutes, I replied that sure, no problem I could send in the paper next week on ... Monday? No, really? Aww crap. Not this again...

So I finished off my 5 pages yesterday by annotating a couple of articles, one that I'd just finished reading (yes, by my new crush Bobby Bassline, as dubbed by Tab A after I googled him and found out that he is not only extremely prolific with the writing -- to the tune of about two articles and a few-odd book chapters a year -- but he also looks like he rocks the esteemed halls of the management school bad-boy style)... today I read & annotated another three, and I'm almost through a second article by BadBoy Bobby ... and although I feel like my head is about to explode whenever I think about what my weekend will look like, I have to admit that I am LOVING being back in my own research. The downside is that what I'm reading is providing me with some fabulous theory explaining just how f*&#$ed the corporate-sellout research I'm doing actually is (I mean, I knew it before, I just didn't have the theory to back it up and explain exactly why it's so problematic). So if it wasn't already painful enough, it's going to be doubly so when I go back next week and have to plow though this case study -- knowing that the work I'm doing is moving in precisely the opposite direction from where I want to go with my research. *Sigh* Intellectual autonomy seems like such a distant dream. How depressing.

In other news, I also have an abstract to write this week for a conference I want to go to in Belfast this fall. The deadline passed a couple of weeks ago, but Dr. J emailed and asked if we could submit late. Originally I was thinking of writing my own paper for this conference, but seeing as though I forwarded her the CFP and she responded and since I'll be using an analytic model that we developed together (but that is seriously flawed and which I want to revise for this conference) I guess it will be another co-authored paper. However, since I know she has no interest in actually doing any work, I told her that I want to basically disassemble and then reassemble the model and she said to just go with it. However, these words kind of worried me: "I trust you completely." Umm, okay... I hope you're cool with me stirring s*&t up a bit. Cuz I have got some good oppositional ideas here and I intend to use them, sooner rather than later.

Anyway. I am also (perhaps unadvisedly) travelling to Big City for a conference about Naomi Klein's Shock Doctrine and Indigenous activism (refreshingly organized by indigenous activists, not academics), Klein will be there, as will activists working on a range of issues affecting indigenous folks in our Home on Native Land -- including mining (my research) and the olympics (Tab A's research). Although we work with a lot of overlapping theory, it's pretty rare for my research area and Tab A's research to coincide so nicely. Nevermind that we both have papers to finish this weekend. We may be pulling sweaty-palmed all nighters this weekend to get it done, but at least we're in it together.

People taking power and intellectual inspiration

2008-06-17T10:18:00.000-07:00

I've been following this story since it broke a few days ago, but last night it took a pretty interesting turn. In southern Peru, people unhappy with the (lack of) redistribution of mining wealth have essentially shut down access to an entire region. Not all that remarkable, but more remarkable is this: when police went in to take down a blockade, they were overcome by some 20,000 demonstrators and 65 or so of them were taken hostage. Yeah, that's right. People took the cops hostage. If you look at the BBC video you'll see some injuries on both sides, but surprisingly the actual hostage-taking looks pretty amicable -- the cops in full riot gear sitting meekly on the ground hemmed in by what looks like hundreds of standing folks looking on as the police chief jokes around with a campesino woman, taking off his helmet to put on her hat.

Although this is happening in the opposite end of the country from where I did my research, I'll be following this story pretty closely. One interesting thing I note is that, according to the news reports anyway, the problem seems to be not with the mining activity itself -- but rather with the distribution of monetary benefits derived from mining. Interesting, but not all that surprising -- Peru has suffered from a long history of unaccountable and corrupt government, leaving the country's infrastructure in tatters, especially in the more remote areas populated by poor campesino people. And despite the fact that they suffer from the typical ailments of the dispossessed -- malnutrition and associated health issues, lack of education, few economic opportunities -- they are practical, pragmatic people. Clearly, if mining is going to happen anyway, and especially in an era of record high mineral prices that are bringing windfall profits to both corporations and the state, they want a piece of the pie.

In other news: I made my five pages yesterday -- half on the case study and half on my bibliography. I think things are going to start to get a little harder once I need to start reading and writing, however. I got through 3/4 of an article for my methodology paper, but I might have to kick it up to one full paper a day. Once I get to the crappier articles I'll be more motivated to skim, but the one that I'm just finishing right now is fantastic (and current -- just published in 2008). It's always exciting to find articles like this -- like, the article I would have wanted to write if I had the experience/knowledge, but I'm so glad I don't have to because this guy did it way better than I ever could have, and just reading it puts me way ahead in the direction I want to go... sigh... Not only am I totally intellectually crushing on this author with the kickass name "Subhabrata Bobby Banerjee", but I think his ideas will inform my research in a pretty big way over the next little while. Direction. It's nice to catch a glimpse once in a while.

Five pages

2008-06-16T08:31:00.000-07:00

Last year my lovely and gracious parents decided that this year, 2008, would be the year of the Big Disneyland Trip for the boys. This trip is a replica of a similar trip that my grandparents took my whole family on when I was a kid -- two weeks of road-tripping (Motel 8 sleeping) Disneyland fun. The kids are a perfect age for it & have been counting down the days since Christmas.

So last night, as I chatted with my dad about the details, it hit me that I have exactly two weeks before we leave. And I have about four weeks' worth of work to get done in the next 14 days -- including a paper and annotated bibliography for my methodology course (which I had deferred because I had to go back to full time work for two months before I left for Peru), and the case study for the Peru research, and preparation for the course I'll be teaching this summer (which has an online section starting in July, and then an on-campus intensive residence in August).

I'm not going to think about how impossible it will be to get that all done. Instead, I'm going to write five pages a day -- come hell or high water -- until the bibliography and paper and case study are done. Five pages a day should do it, I figure. And I have a sweet office to work in... so no excuses, just writing. (Oh yeah, blogging doesn't count in the five pages. That would be way too easy.)

Back to work

2008-06-12T13:16:00.000-07:00

This is what I've been doing since I got home, more or less:

Although I did take some time off from filing to do this:

I really should have taken before photos of the two biggest disaster zones in my house, but just imagine huge stacks of unfiled paper (some dating back a full year) filling my disorganized office and shoes in an equally large heap on the floor right inside the front door (for your tripping convenience). Clearing the clutter has been very cathartic -- a great way to get settled back into being at home and getting ready to work. Here's where I'll be treading the wheel for the foreseeable future:

Now I have the space organized, it is time to get busy working... but first, a walk downtown to meet Tab A for lunch... I love being home!!

Twelve years

2008-06-10T22:12:00.000-07:00

Kid #1 is 12 years old today. It's hard to fathom how much he's brought into my life in the past 12 years -- defining years when most of the people I knew were finding themselves in India or ecstasy. Here's where I found myself, in the sheer abandon and joy of this celestial being who somehow grew out of me and into a person who I am awed and honoured to love and be loved by. How lucky I am. World, watch out. This boy will blow your socks off.

It's good to be home -- this picture pretty much says it all. Happy birthday, Kid!

Close to home...

2008-06-07T15:12:00.000-07:00

After 36 hours in transit, including a 13 hour wait in the Lima airport and another 13 hours on two different flights, I am finally in Big Nearby City airport, waiting for my last 20-minute flight across the strait and home. At last!

I can't say how great it is to be back in Home Country -- of course the differences are striking looking out the airplane window as we landed here compared to Lima. No crumbling slums (brightened only by strings of colourful laundry hung out on unfinished upper floors of mud-brick houses, green grass instead of grey dust) -- here, even the industrial sites are neat and tidy, organized as if by some conscientious kid whose toy trucks must all be lined up just so. That's the difference, I suppose, between a resource-rich country with a small population and a fairly responsible and accountable government, and a resource-rich country with a huge population and a high degree of government corruption.

Of course, a lot of the wealth that keeps my country looking so pretty and neat and tidy comes from developing nations like Peru, where it's easy to go and extract resources and make a huge profit doing so. We in the "developed" world are pretty good at exploiting great business opportunities offered by the enormous inequities in power that exist both within nations and between them.

In the past week, I had the opportunity to look up close at that dynamic. I was researching at a mine where the company, admittedly, puts a great deal of resources towards what they consider responsible practice. They've got some good stuff going on -- and things would be a lot better off for a lot more mining-affected communities if other companies bothered to take their lead. However, even with the best intentions in the world (which I believe are without a doubt present in the staff that implement these programs), they are still working within an industry with a huge, unavoidable capacity for destruction of habitat and ways of life -- the best that any "responsible" practice in the industry can achieve is to partly mitigate or offset the impacts with benefits for the affected communities. What I saw in the past week showed clearly that this can be done -- but there is still much lost that cannot be recovered or mitigated. It's simply unavoidable.

Anyway, I may write a bit more on this over the next little while, but don't expect too many details. I had to sign a pretty heavy confidentiality agreement (expected for an industry where the "risks" of bad publicity are very real and worrisome for companies), and I have no doubt that if I breach the confidentiality contract they'll sue my ass off (not that it would be worth anything -- but they'll certainly cause big problems for the smooth functioning of my existence). There, again -- power at work. I've effectively been muzzled from writing anything about this company other that what I can manage to get published (with their approval), and then becomes public domain knowledge. However, I'm hopeful that there won't be any problems with what we publish out of this research -- not surprisingly, we got a pretty "good news" story out of the past week's research.

I'm glad to have this perspective -- after spending a week with the company, I can understand the perspectives and motivations with a little bit more complexity than before. And if there's anything I took away from what I learned there, it's that the issues in this industry are incredibly complex and no generalization can capture the contradictory and often perplexing nature of what is happening on the ground. It will give me lots to work with over the next several years as I dive into these issues on a bit more of a theoretical and historical level.

I have all kinds of pictures that I can't really post here either (for the reasons noted above -- preserving my poor ass from lawsuit), but I will post on picture that I hope captures the essence of what we are really talking about, and what I want to keep in mind as I tread this path:

... and that is the future of people -- of this little guy, for one. His life has already been irrevocably changed in ways his parents could not understand, let alone make informed decisions about. He'll live with that, as will his children and the generation after that, and it's impossible (from this vantage point) to know if these changes be for the better or for the worse -- only time will tell.

Marketplace fun

2008-05-29T18:07:00.000-07:00

I managed to get the grant application sent off today, sans ranting. The granting foundation is pretty pro-business, so I kept the personal essay pretty ~~lame~~ tame, with a little bit of good begging thrown in because I am completely desperate after all. So let's all keep our fingers crossed for the funding to come through, otherwise I will need to get creative. And you know what that means -- if no one wants to pay me for my brains I only really have one other marketable resource to sell. Just kidding. Kind of.

So I finally did a bit more exploring today, and some shopping (!). I decided to buy a charango, despite the fact that I'm really reluctant to spend money (seeing as how I'm so broke and all that). However, I haven't bought anything at all yet, and I'm even not spending much on food -- I have breakfast at the hotel (free), then usually skip lunch and have a good dinner (or vise versa). So, one good meal out a day is about 30-40 soles, which is about $15... not too bad. Still, it feels like the money goes fast when you are travelling and eating out every day at least once.

The charango was a lot of money (Peruvian standards), so I really hemmed and hawed about it for the past couple of days before deciding to go for it. But I figure that all next week my food & lodging will be covered, and when would I ever get a chance to buy this cool little instrument again. Plus, in dollars it really wasn't too much -- just over $100 for all this:

The charango is great -- it's a sweet little instrument with a bold, cheery sound. The fretboard is quite wide for how tiny the body is, but it's not that difficult to chord (although the chord shapes are quite different from either guitar or banjo, barring Am). I love it, in any case. And the maracas are for the kids -- you can't tell from this picture, but they've got these great, intricate carvings on them -- really pretty. Still, it's more than I've spent for a week's worth of food! Yikes...

Before I went to the music shop, I was wandering around looking for a place to change my money on the main street when I saw this little back alley opening into a marketplace. I thought I'd check it out, just to see what they had because I've only really kept to a fairly limited area around the main street where it's all shops and banks, etc. It looked like I could go through the alley and loop back around the block and back to the main street. And I could have too, except for when I entered the alley, I realized that the marketplace was far bigger than I'd imagined -- literally a maze of alleyways that spread out in all directions with stands and shops of varying degrees of permanence, covered for the most part with traps strung up on poles between shops (often requiring anyone taller than 5ft 1 to duck under), folks (largely indigenous) selling pretty much anything you could ever imagine to buy -- lots of clothes (some modern, some traditional), woven and knitted goods, canvas bags, plasticware, metal kitchenware, shoes and boots (many cobblers working their ancient-looking but powerful machines), huge varieties of vegetables and fruits spread out on tarps (or just piled on the ground), all kinds of inadvisable looking meat (including plucked chickens hanging from hooks), and on and on and on. Literally, it seemed like forever in all directions. Anyhow, it's a good thing that I've got a pretty solid sense of direction, because it would not be hard to get lost in there. Here's pics:

When I first entered, I thought this would be pretty much it. But then I turned a corner, and saw this (but imagine it just goes on forever and ever):

(Note the hanging chickens with their very chickeny feet still attached.)
Turn another corner, and you find this:

And this goes on and on and on. I could have taken a million pictures in here, but you will have to extrapolate from these three. Overall, I think this was just about the most interesting place I've seen this whole trip so far. Fun!

I did get one other thing today, this from the marketplace shown above. Tab A's new patriotic Peru jersey, just in time for his new soccer league. This was crazy cheap (11 soles), but really high quality and comfy! Here I am modelling for the boy who will wear it soon:

So ends another day in Huaraz. Tomorrow I check out of the hotel and will have to find my way up to the company's compound north of town for a week of ~~lockdown~~ research. Hopefully I will get back into town at some point. But if not, at least I have done my shopping for the trip!

Reflections on debt and resistance

2008-05-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

I am in the middle of putting together an application for a grant that (I hope, if I get it) would allow me to stay in the phd program and continue uninterrupted. Two good things about this grant are that (1) it's from an organization that I've volunteered for in the past and (2) it's a grant specifically for single moms. The not so good thing about this grant is that there is only one available, and there are a lot of single mom students out there who are every bit as deserving and needful as I am.

Regardless, I have nothing to lose by trying. And since part of the application is a 1,000 word personal essay, I figured I'd better vent out some vitriol first in this alter-essay. You've been warned.

Typically applications like this (and I've filled out hundreds of them) have sections for listing your expenses and income, to demonstrate financial need, along with a section for assets (ha! yeah, right) and debt. Usually I try not to think too much about my student debt -- it's overwhelming and just totally depressing. Somehow I managed to time my education just perfectly so that I fell through all the cracks of the government debt-reduction programs. First they (meaning the government) cut the loan forgiveness program (my friend who graduated just a couple of years ahead of me had $30 grand forgiven, effectively reducing her debt by half). I only had a year or two of debt eligible for forgiveness, so I think I got about $2,000 off my loan at the end of it all. Then, a few years later they brought in a grant program with student loans, but it wasn't much more than a partial replacement of other grant programs they'd already cut back. And at the same time, they lifted the freeze on tuition fees, allowing them to almost double.

Needless to say, I have a massive amount of debt under my belt. So much that I've pretty much given up hope of ever being able to pay it off. I've written before about how I'd hoped to get a job teaching after my BA degree, only just as I was finishing my teaching practicum the government slashed education budgets, leading to massive layoffs and general mayhem and, obviously, no chance for a beginning teacher to find work. I applied for every job I could find, in any sector of employment (there were few) and was turned away repeatedly before making the snap decision to keep going to school for a master's degree. It was really my only option -- I had been lucky to get the kids into the awesome daycare at the university, and if I had lost my daycare, I'd literally be done for.

So, I just kept the student loans rolling in for another (almost) 2 years, before I reached my lifetime limit halfway through my last year of my MA. Keep in mind, however, that student loans were never enough to live on, especially not with daycare subsidy only covering half of the monthly fees. I worked throughout my MA as well -- odd jobs like house cleaning, the occasional editing gig, some tutoring -- whatever I could find (not all of it strictly legal, but whatevs). I also applied for jobs (real jobs) obsessively. I would have dropped out of school in a second if anyone had offered me a living wage, but no one did.

At school, I became expert at speed reading and usually wrote my papers in the couple of nights before they were due between the hours between 10pm (after I'd fallen asleep putting the kids to bed at 8) and 3am. Somehow, I got okay grades, but never enough to compete for funding with the superstar students who waltzed into the program already funded to the hilt, living in condos bought for them by parents, boasting of their world travels and cosmopolitanism and global citizenship and all that bullshit. No doubt their funding applications were stacked with spotless GPAs, lists of awards and overseas volunteer experience. Real humanitarians, for sure.

If I sound bitter it's because I am. I know I shouldn't be and jealousy/envy is ugly stuff, and I try to fight it, but still. Life is unfair. And becoming simultaneously more educated and more angry and more in debt is not necessarily the most psychologically healthy thing. But of course in the end practicality wins out and so I graduated and swallowed both pride and anger to take a job teaching writing to business students. The pay was much better than cleaning toilets (though not so much better than wages offered by basement agribusiness). Anyhow. One can only swallow pride and anger for so long. Four years just about did me in, and so I made the perhaps irrational decision to go back to school and toil for another five or so years in the hopes of finding some intellectual autonomy and/or financial security through a phd.

Which brings me back to the topic of debt. Because in the fours years I was teaching at the university, I never made enough to both support myself and the kids and pay off my debt. And our oh-so-benevolent government has this interest relief program that you can apply for, whereby the government pays interest if you don't make enough (I never came even close), and the principle just sits there. After all, the student loan business is a business -- they charge the same interest (prime plus whatever) that any bank does. That's how the world works, right? Pulling yourself up by the bootstraps? That shit is not free, my friend. You might get lucky and win the lottery, but chances are you will have to pay just like everyone else. And if you don't pay now, you will later (at prime plus whatever).

If there's anything that makes me angry, it's that. We are supposed to believe that we all have equal opportunities, and if you don't succeed it's because you didn't try hard enough, weren't smart enough, or for whatever reason are simply undeserving. Only what they fail to mention is that, though the opportunities may be there in principle, we don't all start from the same place. And if you are starting from behind the line, you will have to work harder, be smarter and pay more (a lot more) to catch up -- if you ever do.

I've tried to explain to myself why I am drawn to the research I am -- why it is so important for me to understand and dissect the power dynamics between the ones on top and the ones below. What keeps the world hierarchically stratified in such a definite and obvious way, despite all the touchy-feely rhetoric about equality and justice and blah blah blah? I see it in my own life -- which, no doubt about it, is highly privileged from a global perspective, despite all the whinging and complaining. And partly it's this recognition -- that despite how fucked-over I feel, I still have this enormous amount of relative power. I have a white skin and a voice and citizenship in one of the most privileged countries on the planet. I have an education (encouraged by family rich in love and support, if not finances), and a certain amount of aptitude and ability in an academic sense. So if I can use all that to understand the systemic and somewhat arbitrary injustices that perpetuate and widen the gulf between the powerful and the powerless... then maybe in a way I am also selfishly avenging my own sense of powerlessness? And maybe that is not a bad thing.

In Latin America (as in many other parts of the world, but especially here), decolonized countries saddled with debt after centuries of imperialism and exploitation had two choices: accept financial "assistance" and structural readjustment programs from the World Bank, or face complete economic collapse. It's really only one choice, isn't it? I don't know if it's too far a metaphoric stretch to say that if you are a poor person in a developed country and you are looking to "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" you face much the same choice. What inspires me is the response to this (seemingly) inevitable choice. Here in Latin America, a lot of ordinary people have seen through the bullshit. They may not have a lot of power (yet) to do much about it, but there is resistance and it is building. I may be an outsider here, but I feel the same building resentment (and in my case, tinged also with a sense of complicity for what is happening here -- because we can too easily turn a blind eye, can't we?).

Anyway, there are all kinds of battles waiting to be fought. I may be discouraged and overwhelmed at times, but I'm not ready to give up yet -- not while my kids walk on this planet, hardly aware (but increasingly so) of the tarnished legacy they are about to inherit. I didn't understand that when I blindly brought them into this world, but I do now. It's not the only reason, but for me it's a big one. And what else do I have at stake but the future of those two boys (which is really the future of the whole world)?

Would it sound tacky to put that into my personal essay? Yes, probably. Oh I am so not looking forward to writing that thing -- but no more procrastination...

Back to better

2008-05-27T20:40:00.000-07:00

I'm okay now. I finally got to sleep, and as is usually the case, things look a little less dark by daylight. Not that anything is different or resolved, but I'm okay with that for now. I still miss my peeps & canine, though. I wish they were here with me. And I am for sure getting a cold. At least my digestive system is a-okay, though. I got lucky on that one (and I will thank my mom for the habit of disregarding best before dates on food, thus intestines of relative durability to withstand the odd bacterium that should creep in. Yes, I also let my babies eat dirt and if their bottle should fall on the floor I'd pop the nipple in my mouth for a second and consider it clean enough. You never saw healthier more germ-resistant kids).

Anyway, being here for a couple of days has made me realize how laughingly coddled and safetied up my culture is. Here, you survive by your wits, dodging horn-blaring cars, giant potholes in roads and sidewalks alike, nothing smoothed out or made safe for hapless, helpless humans. If not crammed into a tin can of a van like so many sardines, folks ride three to a motorcycle (no helmets), often a small child wedged in between riders. Or, tempting fate with large propane tanks strapped to the back of the bike (sometimes just jerry-cans full of fuel) like some kind of Mad Max jet-pack. Ha. Try that at home.

As far as people, though, I feel less unsafe than I was made to believe. However, I still walk only familiar, well lit and peopled routes, and am not about to go wandering around by myself (as much as I'd love to go hiking up in the hills -- I will wait until I can convince Tab A to join me here one happy day down the road). Once I was accosted by a kind of creepy-seeming guy who wanted to walk & talk with me, and I so beelined back to the hotel (thankfully only two blocks). But other than that, there is no need to even break my stride when someone throws a "hello" (in best English impression) my way.

I have had a couple of conversations, though, when the timing was okay and the vibe not weird. Women don't try to talk to me -- just men. On the weekend at Zero Drama, I chatted with a nice young guy from Lima (a conversation facilitated almost entirely by the Spanish-English dictionary). He called my hotel the next day, but I felt sick & didn't want to talk on the phone. Today I met an English-speaking (but Huaraz native) trekking guide on the street and we had tea and some nice semi-English, semi-Spanish conversation. Both times Tab A's boyfriend photo comes out like an amulet, just to be clear -- mi novio, claro? Yes, he is indeed tall. And then a photo of the kids too, for good measure. Even still, I realize the need to be firm with boundaries, despite the professed innocence of intentions. No, I don't want to talk on the phone with you. Maybe I will meet you in a public place to see some traditional music, but I will make my own way home, gracias.

Anyway, I have also been on the lookout for a charango, which is that small little mini-guitar shaped mandolin-sounding 10-stringed instrument you see in classic latino string bands. Today I found two stores that sell them, and the going rate seems to be around s/240.00. Since it's about 2.7 soles to the dollar, that puts one at just under $100 -- not a bad price by home country standards although it still feels like a lot of money. I have a feeling that I will regret it if I don't pick one up, though. And plus, I miss having an instrument to pluck (even though I wasn't getting much banjo-playing time in before I left home). We'll see. For now, I have a hot scrabble date to get to (I'm talking to you Tab A -- bring it on!).

PS -- Happy birthday my sweet middle sister!! You are 31 today (wow!) and so, so amazing. I miss you!

Views from the outside and in

2008-05-26T22:42:00.001-07:00

Sometimes trying to go to bed too early is a bad idea. I thought I'd read a bit and then fall alseep, but three hours later after reading, getting bored of reading, being too cold, then too hot, then tossing & turning a bunch, trying unsuccessfully to get the brain cogs to slow down, I am now both rested and bothered enough to be up for another good long while. Damn I hate when that happens.

I think I'm getting a cold. I miss the kids and Tab A and Little Black Dog like crazy. I'm culture-shocked (I guess) and sick of feeling deaf and mute and foreign. Wondering what I am doing here. Not sight-seeing. Not researching. I've spent one day settling in, one day connecting with English-speaking researchers (both have left town now), one day feeling sick and not doing much of anything, and one day working -- organizing emails, files, doing some reading, etc -- stuff I'd be doing at home (if I had the time). I have three days left in Huaraz before Dr. J arrives and I am whisked off to the company compound 20 minutes north of town (literally -- it is behind a barbed wire fence and secured by armed guards) to do the "research" I was imported to ~~legitimize~~ conduct. I feel like I will have accomplished nothing here but perhaps caught up on some emailing and some reading. I am frustrated, and feel more than a little useless.

So today with my lovely Spanish teacher, whom I absolutely adore (and who invited me to visit her family's farm this weekend), we went over basic vocabulary like body parts, clothes, food, things you find in a house, etc. But what I want is to know how to say: What does this mine mean to your community? What divisions has it created? How has it affected the lives of the farmers who live on the hillsides beneath it? Has there been opposition? Is it the kind of development people want? Have your voices been heard? Have you been informed of the risks? Have your wishes been respected? Did you ever have a choice or a say? What has been your experience with this foreign company, from MY home on native land, who is helping itself to the resources in your native land? Because, like everyone else around here, I can see the top of the mountain lopped off like a big open wound. And I know what's leeching out of the tailings and into the water. It will still be here long after the company has left.

No. Instead, I know that "shoe" in Spanish is zapato, and of course it makes me think about the Zapatistas in Mexico, fighting for basic rights of self-determination -- for the choice to reject corporate globalization in order to farm on ancestral lands and cultivate a sustainable existence (in the true sense of the world, not the bastardized business slogan "sustainable development") -- and this being remarkable, revolutionary, even radical in today's world. It's somehow not radical at all to spend billions (trillions?) of workers' dollars (no, the dollars that the children and grandchildren of workers have not even earned yet) to send armies to foreign countries on wild goose chases and conveniently end up with access to huge reserves of scarce resources -- but for a community of indigenous people to militantly demand the right to determine the terms of their sustenance and survival? Not going to go over well with the People In Charge. We've all heard the rhetoric about the wars on terrorism or drugs or what have you... real problems held up and used as decoys for scary stuff like this. And this can and does happen because even well-meaning and hopeful people like me (and probably you, if you're reading this blog) can come to a place like this, hoping to learn something and end up not really understanding much more than zapato -- and then we have to go home again and figure out how we're going to pay the bills (to keep the whole thing running, see?) while the People In Charge make decisions that we don't even know about until after the fact. It's enough to make a person crazy. Or at least, very sleepless.

This is oversimplification, I know. But at the centre of it is a big, overwhelming reality that is nearly impossible to fathom in all of its complexity. And I kind of wonder what my role is in all of that, considering especially that I am very much an outsider here -- really, just as much as the company is, if in not quite so nefarious a sense. On Saturday, Dr. H talked about how suspicious folks around here have become of well-meaning researchers who swoop in and talk to them and listen to them and raise hopes and expectations and then swoop out and nothing changes. Someone earns a doctoral degree or a publication, but the people who contributed to the research see nothing. I guess at least the company brings jobs, for the short term anyway, and builds roads and schools and stuff. But sooner or later they will leave too and the jobs will go with them and the schools and roads crumble because there's no more money to maintain them -- and all that is left is a leaching pile of waste rock and a big hole in the ground. It's a pretty old story.

But it's also not the whole story. I am cynical, and I think the cost-benefit analysis works far more in favour of the foreign company and the host government than the local communities, but I am open to find out what great things the company will tell us that it is doing to promote sustainable development around here. After all, that is what we are here to find out. I have no doubt it will be all shiny and happy when we get to the company compound, but I wish I had the ability to see the entire picture. One thing I am fairly convinced of, despite all the doom and gloom and bad things perpetrated by evil entities drama... the individual people involved really genuinely feel that they are involved in something positive and good. I've seen this, and I believe that it's genuine. I don't think they'd be doing it otherwise, because there are really very few complete sociopaths among us, I think. And it's really persuasive to be around that kind of conviction. Persuasive and surreal at the same time. They're nice people. They are really excited about being forces of good. They are believers. (And this is why I really want to read Chiapello and Boltanski's New Spirit of Capitalism -- all fifty million pages of it).

Me? I am a big, insomniac doubter. But I'm not letting on quite yet -- not while there are still bills to pay and mouths to feed and tenure is a long, long, long way off.

Huaraz in photos: the first three days

2008-05-25T17:47:00.000-07:00

Like I said before, I really like Huaraz. It's a bustling, busy little town full of kids and dogs and old people in traditional dress. I'm not really big on taking photos of people without their permission, so I've limited my pictures to the town in general, which has more than enough to offer visually. Also, the place I'm staying is fantastic -- I'd highly recommend it to anyone looking for a comfortable, central place to stay in Huaraz.

My room at Olaza's -- bright, clean and comfortable.

The courtyard outside my room.

The upstairs lounge (where I am posting from right now, except for it's nighttime and there is a fire in the fireplace).

From the rooftop terrace, the view looking southwest.

Looking northwest from the rooftop terrace.

Typical street view, from a cafe near the centre of town.

Cordillera Blanca, from the same cafe.

I took this photo yesterday morning, thinking the name of the bar was pretty funny (and so Latin American!). Then later in the day, I got a call from Rowenn, one of Dr. H's students, asking if I wanted to meet here for drinks. Anyway, it turned out to be a great little bar, run by a really nice guy from Huaraz named Javier and Angie, his girlfriend from Wisconsin. All very excellent people, so I had a great night chatting with them and some of the other fifteen or so folks who filled the tiny bar up. Javier made me coca tonics -- not made with Coca Cola, but with a coca-leaf liqueur -- a nice herbal and almost citrus-like flavour... yum! Anyway, I'm not sure if it's the four coca tonics I drank, or something I ate, or the fact that I've finished the altitude sickness pills I brought with me, but today I was moving sloooww...

When I finally did venture out to find food later this afternoon, I came across this festival in the central square. On all four streets around the square, folks were creating this amazing collages of flower petals, crushed leaves and coloured sand. Beautiful!

Another shot of the flower-petal art at the central square.

Sunset on the way back to the hotel after my stomach-easy dinner of rice & beans topped with a fried egg and a tall glass of lemonade. Sundown comes early here -- this was taken at about 5:30. So ends my third day in Huaraz... I'm off to see if I can find my loved ones on Skype, then to curl up in bed with a book until I fall asleep. Hopefully tomorrow will find me a little more energetic and ready to go, because I have work to do!

Huaraz in photos: the flight up

2008-05-25T16:59:00.000-07:00

The past three days have been a bit of a whirlwind -- arriving in Huaraz early Friday, then settling into my new hotel, checking out the town, dealing with some altitude sickness (it just hit today), a day-long power outage (also today), my ongoing language ineptitude, etc... Although I spent most of the day today sleeping and lounging about with a new book, I'm still exhausted. Hopefully I'll get the energy back soon... But in the meantime, I'll let the pictures do the talking.

The Twin Otter that flew us up to the tiny airport just north of Huaraz. Yes, I bailed out of the seven-hour bus trip in favour of the one-hour flight. I suppose if I'm doing corporate sell-out research anyways I might as well take advantage of the perks. In any case, the only reason I know this is a Twin Otter is because one of the passengers was the company flight inspector, who, incidentally, lives on the west coast of home city island. Small world, but not really when it comes to a company from Home on Native Land operating in Peru. Note the foggy and grey morning -- completely typical weather for Lima, especially at the airport.

This one is for the boys. It's hard to tell, but there is this very cool little digital map that shows where the plane is in relation to the destination, etc. We flew north up the coast for about 45 minutes, then took a right and up, up, up over the mountains to Huaraz at 3000 meters above sea level.

The perspective is a little deceiving in this photo -- enormous inclines are flattened out, so it's hard to tell how precariously these little villages seem to be clinging to the ridges and steep slopes of mountainsides. This is one of perhaps 20 or 30 little villages that I saw on the way up through the Andean step-hills (which are really mountains in their own rights). The villages are all connected by winding, zig-zagging switchback roads (or perhaps trails -- I don't imaging many four-wheeled vehicles can access these places). What is also difficult to see in this photo is the terraced fields that rib what seem like even the steepest of slopes -- they look like steep green staircases in otherwise rocky and barren mountainsides.

The city of Huaraz from the air. It looks much nicer from the ground.

La mina. It's a bit hazy, but you can see the open pit across the top of the mountain. This is just northwest of Huaraz, in the Cordillera Negra (so-named because they lack snow, unlike the snow-capped range to the east of Huaraz, called Cordillera Blanca)

Another photo of the mine showing its proximity to the terraced farms that dot the slopes below. One of the largest concerns is around water use, with the mine consuming an enormous amount of water, leaving farmer and ranches in the area a fair bit drier than before. I'd imagine toxic run-off during the rainy season is a bit of a problem here too.

La Cordillera Blanca through the cockpit window. These are some truly impressive peaks.

Quick post: Huaraz rocks my world

2008-05-24T13:52:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Huaraz yesterday morning, and the title of this post says it all. After almost two days, I'm in love with this town. Seriously... In. Love.

This will be a short post, because I am dead tired. It's partly the altitude, which not only leaves me winded after walking up a flight of stairs or a few blocks of slight incline, but is also making my lips and fingers tingle (from lack of oxygen?). The other reason I'm so tired is that I've just spent three hours with my Spanish teacher, Ines, for our first class. We went through the entire alphabet of pronunciation (29 letter sounds in all), but then at the end when we had some conversation, I was totally lost. Frustrating... but it will take time, I know

Before Ines came over, I'd just finished an amazing 1.5 hour meeting with Dr. H, who totally blows my mind. She's an anthropologist who has been living and working here since the 1980s and she runs a pretty amazing research institute focused on women's health. She also teaches at the university here in Huaraz, is fluent in both Spanish (obviously) and Quechua, and is totally and completely cool. I want to be her when I grow up.

So in 2 hours I'm meeting with an American student who is studying with Dr. H. We're meeting at a bar called "Zero Drama" -- no joke. I actually walked past it earlier today and took a photo because I thought it was funny. Oh yeah, about the photos -- I have a bunch from the past couple of days, but the connection in my room is so slow that I can't upload them to the blog. So that will have to wait for my next post, which I'll do from the lounge where the signal is a lot stronger. For now, though, I am off to bed for a quick pre-dinner/Zero Drama nap. Hasta luego!

Dia tres en Lima: el idioma del agua

2008-05-22T13:16:00.000-07:00

I went out last night to find a cheap(er) place to eat dinner. The night before, I'd asked for a recommendation from my hotel front desk guy, and he recommended a very good but expensive Peruvian restaurant a block and a half away (the food was nice, but nothing super spectacular). So, seeing my soles (the Peruvian currency) going rather quickly in this expensive district in an expensive city, I decided to go for one of the "budget" options listed in my Peru guidebook. Now, the guidebook (Lonely Planet) is awesome in general, but one thing it is not so good for is restaurants. Not only are the options pretty limited compared to what actually exists on the streets, but also things tend to change rather quickly in the restaurant world. And so, after circling the area a couple of times, I came to the realization that the place I was looking for no longer existed.

Luckily for me, I just happened to walk by a place on the main street that I've walked up and down maybe 20 times (about 3 blocks from my hotel), and although I'd never seen it open before, it looked nice and simple and well-lit enough to write in my journal. I'll have to go back and find the name of it, because it was fantastic Middle Eastern food and very good prices. I had a really nice salad of chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, onion and parsley/mint in a basalmic-type dressing, four little deep fried balls of spiced ground meat (I know them as momos back home, but they were called something different), and an absolutely delicious lemonade with mint. Yummm -- exactly the kind of fresh food I was craving after several days of avoiding any kind of uncooked vegetable (screw it -- I can't spend 3 weeks without eating fresh veggies).

Although I brought my Neruda collection and my Spanish-English dictionary, I didn't end up doing any translation -- instead, I journalled in my notebook. I wanted to get down some thoughts and observations about the teleconference I had in the morning -- stuff relating to my research that I don't really want to blog about (mostly because it's boring, but also because it's potentially incriminating and really poorly thought out at this point). The process of journalling is really helpful, though -- not only will it be a record of things I'd probably otherwise forget, but it also allows my to develop and process some ideas about how I can use what I'm learning in my sell-out corporate research for my own ground-breakingly critical research (ha!). One of the main focal points of my research is on power/language dynamics, and so it's really interesting to think about the way corporates express their thoughts and concerns about this (patently uncritical) research that we are doing, as well as the language they use to talk about their active and engaged (and very vocal!) civil society critics. The other thing that struck me when I was writing yesterday was how difficult it was to explain my research to Krisna, my tour guide from Tuesday, and what a hard time she had translating the ideas into Spanish for the driver. It made me realize how culturally specific the concepts I'm researching actually are... which is interesting, given the fact that I want to study the application and effect of a specific kind of "corporate responsibility" discourse in Latin America, despite the fact that it may not form a part of the "common sense" lexicon in here (although the content of the discourse might...). This is definitely something I need to research a bit more, and I'm thinking that it might be useful to do some random sample surveys to find out more about how people understand the roles and responsibilities of foreign corporations.

Anyway, moving on to Tab A's research area (I am trying to convince him that it would be a good idea to do some comparative research between Latin America and Home on Native Land), the security presence here is truly amazing. You can't walk a block without seeing at least one uniformed police/security guy on the sidewalk, and another few driving by in cars and trucks with their blue flashing lights. I've heard that there are security cameras all over the place, but so far I haven't seen many (I haven't really been looking hard either). The upshot of this, of course, is that even as a blonde-headed gringa, I feel pretty secure walking around alone at night. Except for one "hey baby!" from a group of young guys just outside the fancy restaurant I ate at two nights ago, I have not even been catcalled or anything. Granted, there is a bit of blatant staring, but even that is not very extreme. Another thing that you'd think would be unnerving but is totally not is the fact that in order to change American money into soles, you just walk up to one of the three or four money-changers hanging out on every street corner, hold out your cash, and then they punch the numbers into their calculators, show you the amount and then dole out the soles right there, which you pocket and then walk away. I'd feel weird doing that in home city -- but here it is completely normal (and, chances are, there are about 10 cops within eyesight anyways).

Today is my last day in Lima, and I'm taking it pretty easy (not like I've been doing anything else, really). I walked around a bit this morning to find a cafe for coffee/breakfast, and ended up in a great little sidewalk restaurant near a park (such a treat to be away from the traffic -- if only by a few metres). This cafe is right near the Flying Dog Backpackers Hostel, which I saw yesterday when I went to meet Gearte, the lovely Dutch girl on a 9-month around the world trip. She had been staying at my hotel the two nights before, but moved to a cheaper (and much cooler) location for her last night in Lima. Yesterday Gearte's great Spanish got us some coffee and lunch at a small cafe a few blocks away, so today when I went to the restaurant near the hostel, I was able to order myself cafe con leche and a bite to eat with little trouble.

The coffee here is fantastic. After drinking cafe con leche here, I may become even more spoiled than I already am, coffee-wise. However, it is a small price to pay for caffeinated bliss in a cup. That alone would keep me coming back here. Over breakfast I pulled out my Neruda collection and began copying the Spanish into my journal: Canto I - La Lampera en La Terra (The Lamp and the Earth). I figured that I would copy the Spanish onto the left page and then translate on the right facing page, and so I first wrote out the Spanish, trying to pronounce the words as I copied them. Then, I pulled out the dictionary to begin translating -- I recognized several words and looked up others, but only half of them successfully. Although I only understood parts of the poem, I understood one magical phrase perfectly: el idioma del agua -- the language of water... that's where I stopped, repeating it in Spanish over a few times. I don't know if it would have struck me so powerfully if I'd read it first in English, but in Spanish I think it's incredibly beautiful -- el idioma del agua...

In any case, I have a feeling that for the most part my dictionary is ill-equipped to translate poetry, and with a full third of the words untranslatable through my limited resources, I've realized that I will have to wait until either I get a better dictionary or I have a Spanish-speaker to help out. Hopefully, I'll find the latter next week while I'm in Huaraz -- my mission is to find someone to provide a week of Spanish lessons (I have a few recommendations to try).

After my breakfast, I relocated with Neruda and my notebook to the adjoining park, where I sat alone for a while until a middle-aged Latino guy -- one of the many many map-sellers that hang around touristy areas -- sat down and said hello (in Spanish). We struck up a conversation (as much as I could with my limited comprehension) -- no doubt through his all friendliness and patient repetition he saw a sure map sale. Anyway, he was really nice and polite and not at all pushy, and it was great to have some Spanish conversation. He explained that he's indigenous, from Arequipa, the southern part of the country (la sur) and he's lived in Lima for three years, supporting his family by selling maps to tourists -- it's very expensive to live in Lima (this is true) and he wants his kids to go to school to be professionals. He asked if I'm married and have kids (this is the first thing every single male person I've talked to asks. My answer: "No, pero tengo un novio" and whip out a photo of Tab A looking all manly and boyfriend-like). Then the question about kids ("Si, dos hijos") and how old they are, and then am I married (again), and then, no separated, and how long? and do I live alone, and no boyfriend? and then out comes the Tab A boyfriend photo again, and then, oh he's tall, si, si... and on like that for some time, with more discussion of being indigenous and poor, etc. And of course in the end I bought a map (gladly -- it's actually really colourful and nice) and got this photo con mi amigo nuevo, Samuel:

Nice guy, Samuel. I hope he sells lots more maps so that his kids can go to school and become professionals.

That's all the news for today. I'm packing up tonight to be all ready for an early departure in the am (by plane, not bus as I'd originally planned). I'm actually really looking forward to leaving Lima -- it's nice here, but three days is enough.

Day 2 in Lima

2008-05-21T17:39:00.000-07:00

I still can't order a coffee in Spanish without sounding like a complete fool, but I've become an expert in dodging traffic when crossing streets. In a way, there's a kind of predictability here, unlike in home city where if you even look like you might want to cross a street, drivers will often stop dead in the middle of traffic. Here, no one stops dead, ever -- unless traffic is gridlocked ahead. Here, one can safely assume that cars will not stop for pedestrians -- traffic lights or no, pedestrian crossing or no -- and can therefore only proceed (quickly) when the coast is clear. Even old grandmothers crossing the street have the look of the most of wily survivalists about them -- obviously any car-pedestrian confrontation will result in victory for the car.

Why am I so obsessed with the traffic here? Well, not only is it one of the more prevalent aspects of being in a big city, but it also seems indicative of the undercurrent of the culture here in this city. It's a place where you need to keep your wits and keep moving -- you must be sharp and alert and fast, because everyone else is too. They don't slow down -- silly tourists caught on a crosswalk at the wrong time (I saw that from a taxi this morning and it made me smile to see them scamper, bewildered and panicked for the safety of the sidewalk -- that was me only yesterday!), or silly tourist who can't pronounce the words necessary to call a taxi (the very friendly front desk guy at the office building after my morning meeting seemed to think that talking faster and more might help me understand... luckily a cab showed up to drop someone else off, and I managed to get in and get myself back to the hotel).

Overall, though, there is a kind of vigorous pulse in this city that is not just the constant near-death brushes that characterize walking or driving in traffic. People shout out at each other, carrying on conversations across street corners. Cars and buses honk their warnings constantly at each other, at pedestrians and sometimes at no one in particular. There seems to be an entire lexicon of honking, in fact -- the short, friendly beep ("I'm here!"), the slightly more aggressive blare ("Back off, I'm first"), and then of course the full-on blast that is a universal *$%# you!! Every car, bus and truck on the road bears the battle scars of travel in this city -- unlike home country, where a scratch on a car is a minor disaster, car bodies here are like armor for their owners. Their job is to protect, not be protected.

Okay, so I've done things other than observe traffic. Yesterday I got a city tour as a part of my package stay here at the hotel (booked through my travel agent back home). It's not a bad deal. For slightly less than the cost of two nights stay (each night is $60 USD here), I got the two nights, plus airport pick-up and a city tour. The tour alone was three hours long and since I was the only one on it, I got the most of my fabulous guide's knowledge. Highlights below (in pictures!).

My hotel room. It not only smells like the inside cabin of a wooden sailboat, it also kind of looks like one. And the bed sheets feel just slightly damp when you get in (but my hair and skin look fabulous with all the humidity -- I've lost five years from my appearance for sure). Despite the damp, narrow & slightly hard bed, I've had an amazing sleep each night I've been here.

The view from my room, showing a typical juxtaposition of classic and soullessly modern architecture. Notice the two brave souls below taking their lives in their hands as they cross the street (just kidding -- this street is actually pretty quiet).

The beach. Miraflores is located on the edge of the bluffs overlooking the ocean. The fog on the horizon is a permanent feature -- apparently it is never a clear day in Lima. You can't see it in this picture, but there are people surfing (although the water is apparently muchas frio).

Huaca Pucllana. This very historic and ancient pile of bricks & dirt is actually right smack in the middle of a residential section of the city. They have been pulling down houses to excavate and reconstruct the site, which is pretty huge already. What's especially interesting about this place (well, other than the fact that it's 1600 years old) is the fact that it's guarded by these critters:

That's right, hairless dogs. Imagine curling up with one of those suckers at the end of your bed. At first I thought they were just mangy strays, but apparently they are as ancient as the stones they're guarding. They have a special name, but I will have to look it up. Cuu-uute!

The obligatory plaza shot. This is Plaza de Armas, which used to be the heart of Lima back in the colonial times. You can see that the colonists were really into big fancy buildings to demonstrate their advanced civilization (yeah, nevermind Machu Picchu). In the background is La Cathedral de Lima and in the foreground is a fountain with a bugle-playing angel for the perching convenience of local pigeons. Pigeons love bugle-playing angels (if you look closely there is one perched atop his bugle-playing head).

Detail from the cathedral of the Monasterio de San Fransisco. This Franciscan monastery was a definite highlight of the tour. Photos weren't allowed inside, but imagine lots of ornately detailed alters, huge oil and canvas paintings, an enormous library filled with old, old books and amazing natural light (no candles allowed back in the day), an unbelievably lofty and ornate cathedral sanctuary, and directly underneath it, a maze of underground catacombs filled with the bones of 25,000 (or 70,000 according to my guidebook) believers who apparently wanted to spend all of eternity listening to mass. Unfortunately for them, the conservationists decided for some reason to separate and catalogue all the bones, so now those poor suckers are spending all of eternity with their bones pieced off like a taken-apart puzzle and stacked in catacombs to be marvelled at by tourists like me. And hopefully one day my boys, because they would have LOVED this part of the tour (me, I went down there more so I could tell the boys all about it... damn it's creepy to see all those old bones...)

And finally, here I am with the lovely Krisna, tour guide extraordinaire. If you are ever in Lima and want a sweet, knowledgeable tour guide, let me know and I will email her contact info.

So that's it for Lima, days 1 and 2. Actually, Day 2 is not quite over. I'm going to go find a cafe for dinner, and bring along some work-related reading, as well as the Neruda collection I just bought (in Spanish) and my Spanish-English dictionary. If Neruda wins out over work (which I suspect will be the case), then forget about calling a taxi or ordering cafe con leche -- I'll be speaking Spanish in poetry (we'll just have to see how far that gets me...).

Wireless world

2008-05-20T09:54:00.000-07:00

Two days of mad listing/packing/running about and one day of flying later and, incomprehensibly, I am in Lima. I'm staying in the Miraflores district in a quaint little hotel that smells like the inside cabin of a wooden sailboat. No kidding. Actually, everywhere smells and feels like the inside cabin of a wooden sailboat, but especially at night -- it was the first thing I noticed as I stepped out of the airport terminal and into the misty, musty night air at 1 am last night, after collecting my baggage, clearing immigration and finding my ride. Incidentally, there was no one holding a card with my name on it when I got off the plane. Rather, there were a couple of guys holding cards with someone else's names and the company logo I was told to look for -- thankfully. However, after some confused conversation (me: English, them: Spanish), a third guy showed up with my name written on a piece of paper. Good enough for me.

So some initial observations about being here, aside from the fact that my Spanish sucks and I wish someone could implant a Spanish-translation chip into the language centre of my brain, are mainly to do with traffic. The rules of traffic seem to be a lot more flexible here than in home country. Really, it seems like things such as traffic lights and lane markers and turning signals are really more suggestions than actual rules. The lack of regard for lane markers is pretty funny -- on the highway, drivers seem to prefer driving on the lines rather than between them. They also can be counted on to swerve unpredictably (to a naive passenger, that is) and with little warning. The solution to this potentially dangerous situation seems to be to drive slightly faster than the swerving mirco-buses, flashing your highbeams as you approach from behind to wake the drivers up, at which point they pull over toward one side to give the gaining vehicle room to pass. The system seems to work just fine.

The other traffic-related thing that's different is crossing streets as a pedestrian. It seems safest to cross in the middle of the block on a one-way street. Otherwise, I've learned that the best thing is to just hope that other people want to cross in the same direction as you do, and that they know what they are doing. Because as far as I can tell, there is no pedestrian signal to cross, and it's a little difficult to figure out which way the lights are going. Also, cars don't really care to stop for pedestrians, as I learned when the lights suddenly changed as I was crossing a four-lane road this morning and ended up having to dodge cars halfway through. Ayeee... I just followed other street-crossing pedestrians after that little brush with death.

I don't have a whole lot else to report, other than that I don't feel quite as conspicuous as I'd anticipated (there are lots of other visible foreigners around, especially in this very touristy area). People seem pretty nice, but damn they talk fast. I don't blame them -- I wouldn't really want to slow down what I'm doing for some silly gringa who can't understand Spanish. But I think I need to spend some time figuring out exactly what phrases I need to know, and then learning them by rote. I have a few things down, but I have a feeling that my clumsy tongue pretty much garbles everything to Spanish ears anyway. *Sigh*

Anyway, have I mentioned that this is my first time travelling anywhere outside of North America? Ever. Even within North America, my travelling experience is pretty damn limited. So yeah, I'm a bit out of my element, but so far so good. I mean, I have wireless internet access in the lobby of my hotel, and I was able to fumble through buying bottled water and a phone card this morning. I even figured out how to call home, despite the fact that the phone card system is entirely en espanol. Look at me, world traveller... (but really, can someone find me that language chip, por favor?)

Two days to pack and go

2008-05-17T08:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's time to get serious. I have several hundred variations on my to-do list floating around, and I thought I would get way more done yesterday than what I actually did. Damn I hate that.

What I did do yesterday kicked ass, though. Thursday was my last day at 2nd Job, and because it's seasonal work (we work when the Big House Where They Make the Rules works, which is only in the fall and spring), I won't be back until the fall -- if I have to work a 2nd job in the fall, although that if is more wishful-thinking than anything, given the whole lack of money situation and all.

But what is even more exciting than finishing with 2nd Job for the next several months is what I did yesterday -- yesterday, I officially cleaned out my crappy office at Small U. Yes, I am no longer a .75 senior instructor at Small U and oh god it felt good to throw my stacks of unfiled paper crap in the recycling and clear the bookshelves and print out a couple (okay, five) last articles and return my keys. I had no idea I'd feel so elated saying goodbye to that chapter of my life as a business writing instructor (although I will really miss the free printing). In fact, even writing that last sentence about closing that chapter of my life as a business writing instructor made me elated. Yesssss!!

It's kinda funny, too, because I just got my evaluations from my last course in the mail yesterday, and reading through them reinforced the realization I made sometime in my last year of teaching that course -- that I really don't care. And apathy, my friends, is pretty much the worst quality any teacher can possess. Now, to be fair -- in the last year, I have also been taking courses for my phd and working at 2nd Job to pay for it all, and teaching this course that I've now been teaching for four years running just about killed me. I've always loved teaching, and I've been pretty good at it. That sounds boasty, but it's true -- I've always had fun teaching and my students have loved my classes -- and my past evaluations reflect that. This year, however, was a totally different story. As much as I tried (which was maybe not saying a whole lot, but anyway) I could not get myself to give a shit about the class. I was more or less going through the same motions I've done for the past four years, but I did just didn't care. Not. One. Bit. And so although there were some positive comments on my course evaluations, there were also a lot of comments to the effect of "the instructor seemed too busy and distracted." You think?

Anyway, there was a whole list of reasons why I decided to resign from my position at Small U, not the least of which was the realization that I would not be able to teach the courses I'd like to teach, and I was losing it for the courses it was my job to teach, and I'd rather not do it at all than do it shittily and miserably. And because for other, more political reasons, it seemed like a good time to submit my resignation, I took the leap of faith that I'd have enough PhD funding coming in through Big U, and I'd rather teach there anyway when the opportunity came up, and.... Oh wait.... What? I didn't get the PhD funding? Great....

Regardless, I'm glad I resigned. My relationships at Small U are still really positive, and I'm teaching two new courses as an adjunct -- both courses I really want to teach, and both related to my research. And -- this is best -- one of the courses is half online with a short (3 week) teaching residency, and the other course is entirely online. Yeah, that's right. I get to teach in my pajamas. Damn, I get to teach in the nude if I want, from the comfort of my own bed. Not that I would ever do that.... but I so probably will.

In other news, I got a haircut and my hair looks exactly the same as before. I've given up even hoping for a new hairstyle to just magically manifest. I am just way too apathetic about my hairstyle to bother putting in the effort that would be required to have cool hair. Also in other news, I actually went out dancing last night. Now that was exciting. And totally not planned, especially given the amount of shit I didn't get done yesterday and now have to get done today. So, yeah, I'm still a little wobbly. Nothing better than drunk posting at 9am (but at least it sidesteps the whole hangover issue). Also in other news, loverboy A has a new pseudonym (he will from here forward be known as "Tab A"), and it is finally truly warm out (yay summer dress time!), and also a really funny story involving best friend Pixie Girl going on a camping trip, sweet roomie Liza-Lou and her sparkly clean VW van Bella, a shot starter motor and -- the star of the story -- a girl tow truck driver.

But all that will have to wait for another day because dammit, I have got shit to do.

Four days to pack and go

2008-05-14T21:04:00.000-07:00

In four days I will be getting up at 4:30 am to catch a plane to Peru. I've been writing lists like mad, trying to figure out stuff like how much cash to bring, if I should use travellers cheques or not (apparently they're hard to cash and more trouble than they're worth), arranging places to stay (all done except for three nights in Lima -- I might just stay at the place I have booked for the first two nights, even though it's a little more expensive than I'd like), and then writing more lists of things I have to do, things I have to pack, things I must not forget, etc.

With all the lists and whatnot, I'm feeling pretty on top of things, even though I really only have three days to get it all done, since I work all day tomorrow (my last day -- woot!). And because I am so organized (not really) and such a listing maniac (this is true), I have decided to take a break from the list-making and watch more Desperate Housewives tonight. Truth: Lover is playing soccer tonight, so I'm taking this opportunity to watch Desperate Housewives while he is out of the house.

Priorities, people.

Mothers of the world unite

2008-05-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to a call from the kids singing "Happy mother's day to you" -- so cute. With them away, I'd almost forgotten about it being m-day, although I've been seeing the store signs around for a few weeks. Whenever I see the first signs, though, I begin to panic because I *never* know which is the actual Sunday (of either mother's day or father's day, for that matter). I think it should be a rule that stores/restaurant signs about mother's day should also have the date, just to make things clear for everyone. Something like "Mother's Day in 6 days -- don't forget!" It would be a public service.

Anyway, I got to have a little bit of mutual appreciation with the kids and my mom on the phone this morning, which is a great way to wake up (despite the mild hangover residual from my roomie Liza-Lou's amazing steak barbeque/post-van-washing party last night). But really, I'm not thinking much about mothering these days... because yesterday it kinda hit me -- holy crap I have one week until I leave for Peru. Ack!

I picked up my ticket from the travel agent yesterday & at the same time, arranged a 2-night city stay in Lima to get oriented (they also will pick me up from the airport, which is great because I arrive in the middle of the night). The travel agent was great -- this being my first time really traveling, I've never dealt with travel agents before. All I can say is, thank the gods & goddess for these wonderful, knowledgeable & damn well connected people. I will get off the plane in Lima and someone will be waiting there with my name on a card. What a relief.

Anyway, this morning Liza-Lou & are going to the Sunday market downtown (it's the first of the year for me -- I'm so excited!) and then I'll hit Value Village for some traveling clothes. I did a bit of shopping yesterday for new sensible walking shoes, and I picked up a few things clothing-wise... but I'm pretty broke, so if I can find the same or better at VV, I'll return the new stuff. However, there are two things I won't return: this fantastic knee-length dress with a built-in shelf bra that will be great to either dress down or up, and a pair of pants with similar dressing-up capabilities, but also stretchy & quick-dry and super comfortable. The packing for this trip is a little tricky -- what does one bring to spend 3 weeks at 4500m above sea level in the Andean mountains for research that is half community based and half corporate?

I guess I'll find out... (and, don't worry, I'll let you know).

Listen to yourself, dude

2008-05-08T23:55:00.000-07:00

The title of this post is an actual quotation from one of the takes I edited tonight. I kid you not -- it is on public record that one of our dear Elected Officials called another "dude."

Anyway, the opposition dudes in the House are all over the government dudes, because seven years ago when the government dudes were first voted in, they pushed through a bunch of bullshit legislation that laid off thousands of unionized health care workers, teachers (right when I was about to graduate with my teaching degree, actually) and other public service workers, privatizing a bunch of services and then hiring some of the *lucky* ones back at half the wage.

One of the perks of my dreadfully monotonous job is getting a glimpse, every once in a while, of how necessary public debate really is, and how completely sick it is that we don't even know the half of what goes on in all these Big Houses Where They Make the Rules. And I'm glad for the people who do get in there, into the fray -- sometimes fighting for justice (but almost always losing badly).

There's an inspiring side to it all... I mean, don't get me wrong -- 90% of the time I'm listening to this crap I want to stab myself in the eye with a spoon out of sheer agony... but then someone says something like this (before the whole thing devolves into catcalling and insults):

But who were these people who worked in the health field, who were the recipients of these cuts? It was between 9,000 to 10,000 workers to begin with. As well, they were mostly women, many of them running single-parent households, just barely being able to make ends meet, and now they were losing their jobs.

They were mostly women, not to mention mostly women of visible minority origin too. They were mostly a lot of recent immigrants, within the last five to ten years. That's who they were, mostly. These were the people who were affected by the cuts the Highest Elected Official made.

I've already mentioned that they didn't have courage enough to actually do it in broad daylight. It was done on a weekend in the middle of the night.

Here's what happened. Going from $18 or maybe $19 an hour, their jobs were privatized, and their pay was cut to less than half, down to as little as $8 an hour — eight to ten bucks an hour. If some of those people, after they were laid off, were fortunate enough to get a job, to be rehired by these private contractors who were now going to look after the jobs these people did, they were going to be paid a lot less, too, and that's what happened.

Most of these workers I've mentioned were women. In essence, what happened here was that this was the largest layoff of women workers in the history of Home on Native Land with the stroke of a pen — one stroke of the pen by the Highest Elected Official. He perpetrated the largest layoff of women in the history of this country.

These women and these health care workers — so many of them lost their mortgages because they were not able to pay for their mortgages. They had $18- or $19-an-hour jobs. They either went down to minimum wage, if they were fortunate enough to be rehired, or they had difficulty finding jobs. Many of them lost the mortgages on their houses.

Many of them lost their car loans if they had recently bought a new car. They couldn't make the payments because the unemployment rate under the Elected Government, for three years, was closer to 10 percent at the time. There were no jobs out there for them to actually go and find a job at 20 bucks an hour to supplant the ones they had lost.

Do you think my colleagues on the opposite side actually cared about the situations of so many families that were broken, so many mortgages and car loans that were lost by these families, and the disruption they took in their lives? We don't hear any members across the way getting up to speak on behalf of these people. But they'll take their turn — one after the other, one by one — every day they're here when they have to talk about corporate interests and all of the companies, like the banks and the oil companies, that are making hefty profits.

They've got no problem standing up in this House and talking about the needs of those people that they represent — those poor oil companies and banks. They keep shovelling the money off to the back of a pickup truck every year. But when it comes to the lowest-paid workers in this province, they've got nothing to say to actually stand up on their behalf.

Well said, dude.

About Burma/Myanmar

2008-05-07T12:34:00.000-07:00

Things are pretty bad.... this is worth checking out.

Things that make me smile: crack pipes and a balloon

2008-05-07T09:04:00.000-07:00

The hours at 2nd Job are very long. I start at 10am, and I'm usually finished by 9pm (sometimes earlier, sometimes a little later). It's a long time to be sitting at a computer station, listening to our Elected Officials duke it out over (sometimes) the most ridiculous things, and transcribing every word they say. Yes, that's right. I spend 10-11 hours a day soaking up the rhetoric (and editing lightly for clarity) of our Dear Elected Officials, making sure it is reported accurately for perpetuity in the public records.

Most people don't know that said public records exist, but, in fact, wherever you live (that is, if you live in a democracy of some kind), you can find out what your Local Elected Officials are talking about in the Big House Where They Make the Rules. That stuff is public, see? All you have to do is get on the interwebs and find it, and then you, too, can marvel at the sheer volume and frightening content of this public record.

Every once in a while, though, one of our Dear Elected Officials drops a gem that is just too good to be true. It happened yesterday, near the end of one particularly monotonous afternoon. I got this take at first line, which means that I am the first one to listen through and edit a 5-minute section of audio. First line takes are often very messy, sometimes requiring a fair bit of editing to make them understandable. Other times, there is just no hope and you have to leave it verbatim. Anyway, thanks for this, Dear Elected Official -- you made my day:

We're seeing kids…. you can ask some of the grade 5-year-olds where you can find some of the paraphernalia. They can tell you at any time what store you can go to. I can tell you, there is a smoke shop not too far from where I live that is there to sell tobacco, but it's also known as a head shop. It sells such things as stash cans — they resemble pop cans, but they're there to hide substances. They sell small glass vials, pipes for crack. They provide all the infrastructure for cooking and preparing drugs for injection; felt-tipped markers with internal drug pipes; acrylic grinders; scale for weighing drugs; pipes that are used for inhaling crack cocaine; pipes that are made out of wood, glass, metal, synthetic and they also come in many shapes and sizes.

Damn, that still makes me laugh, even a day later. This DEO is in the wrong biz, clearly...

Anyway, another thing that made me smile (confession: almost cry) was this sweet email from Uncle G. -- still no funding to be found, but he closed his email with this:

I would email you a balloon, if I could, because as Piglet said to Pooh (or was it Pooh to Piglet?) no one can be uncheered by a balloon..

Lunch break post: no news is not particularly good news

2008-05-06T13:26:00.000-07:00

One good thing about Job #2 is that it's only a ten-minute walk from where I live, so I get to come home for my hour-long lunch break and make a sandwich and post a quick update (which I can't do from work, since they've somehow blocked my blogger sign-in... sneaky, eh?).

So I've been waiting for an update from Uncle G. about my funding situation, and hearing nothing, I finally called when I got home for lunch today. Not much to report, which doesn't really come as much surprise, since he likely would have emailed me already if there was anything happening. However, I also needed to ask some other, admin-type questions, like: what happens with my time to completion status if I have to withdraw for a few semesters? And, what happens if I can't get my methodology paper done since I'm working 50 hours a week for the next two weeks, and then leaving for Peru? That last one just dawned on my last night. I don't think I can get it done.

Shortly after I realized that I would probably not be able to get this paper done, and how this is exactly what happened last semester, it also dawned on me that maybe I am Not Cut Out to be a PhD student. Yes. Maybe this is so hard for a reason: I shouldn't be doing it.

I don't have time to elaborate my thoughts on this further, since I have to be back at work in roughly the time it will take me to walk there. This is because: a) I am not independently wealthy, nor am I married or even related to someone who is; b) I am not married at all (okay, I am still married on paper, but to someone who is even more broke than I am, and we are only still married because it costs money to get a divorce); c) I have two kids to support on one rather crappy and spotty income; d) I am not an academic superstar and I don't have any funding for my studies; e) I have massive debts that I will one day (sooner rather than later) have to pay off; f) and I am almost late for work.

I hate money. Correction: I hate how not having money fucks everything up, all the time. I also hate how hard it is to get money if you don't have any. Stupid poverty cycle. I hate you.

Things I realized today, Sunday edition

2008-05-04T16:45:00.000-07:00

1. To be exact, this has been dawning on me for the past few days, but it just sort of crystallized today. That is, I made two mistakes in deciding to start my phd when and how I did. Mistake number one is that I should have applied to several different programs and I should have held out for an entrance scholarship of some kind that included guaranteed funding. Mistake number two is that I should have chosen a program/supervisor with a funded research project that I could work on. Now, to be totally fair -- in order to avoid both of these mistakes, I would have either had to wait for a long time to find the right school, and I would have likely had to move far away because it would not be in the next city over from where I live. And since last year seemed like the right time for me to start, and I wanted to do it besides... I didn't set myself up very well for funding. Now I realize that. Then I didn't -- I had this foolish idea that I would get funding somehow through the program or through some other means. I thought it was a safe gamble.

2. However, I realize also that being very strategic and smart about funding could only really happen in an ideal world, and I did the best I could with my slightly-less-than-ideal situation. I can't list everything that's good about starting when and where I did, but it's enough that I don't regret it at all. I'm in a shitty funding situation now because of it, but really the alternative wouldn't be all that great either (although what the hell I would have done if I hadn't gone back to school is beyond me... I'd likely already be working in some government office cubicle somewhere). So, I realize that as crappy as the lack of funding thing is, I still am glad to be in the department I'm in (and damn I hope I can stay there). Although there isn't any department-based research that I can work on, I do have access to some very amazing scholars and my courses have been great so far. It's a department that has the potential to provide exactly the type of intellectual support that my project requires from a theoretical and methodological perspective.

3. There is, however, a professor at Alma Mater U. in this Lovely City who has a funded, multi-year research project which (I think) would be a great complement to my research. He is a superstar academic and practically everyone I know at Alma Mater is working with him (he's on A's committee). He must be on 15 different grad student committees -- it's kind of ridiculous. However, from what I know of his research, it is an amazing fit with my own. I am trying to figure out if there is a way that I can get him interested in my work and maybe do some work with him. If he has money to support grad students, and if there is some way to arrange it (without actually leaving my home department, because there is no way I can or want to do my PhD in his discipline..) it may solve some problems, and also be an amazing boost for my academic career. It seems like a remote option, but I'm going to pursue it to see what I can find out. At this point, even a remote option is better than no options at all.

4. My parents are awesome. I talked with them on the phone today and they are so happy to have the kids around. Of course the kids are having the time of their lives too -- when I called Kid #2 had a list of "super-fun" things that he'd been doing (including, remarkably, learning some mental math tricks that my mom taught him). Kid #1 was outside building a bike jump on the empty lot next door. They've also made friends in the neighbourhood and at my mom's schools, so they are hardly at a loss for things to do. It's a perfect place for kids, and it eases the pining to know that both the kids and my folks are having a great time. Also during our conversation today my dad offered to help me with tuition if I needed it, which is pretty amazing considering that they do not have a lot of money at all and they are getting pretty near retirement. Hopefully I won't need it -- I feel like they have done so much to help me already.

5. I love soccer, even though I suck at it. Every Sunday there's a weekly pickup game appropriately called "slacker soccer" at a nearby field -- no structure, organization, minimal rules, girls, guys, kids, dogs... everyone running around a field kicking a soccer ball more or less randomly around, sometimes scoring goals but no one really counts them. Exactly the way sports should be, in my opinion -- it's mostly about running around and having fun. Anyway, I did run around and have a lot of fun, but I realize that I could run more and have more fun if I was a little more fit (okay, a lot more fit). I will have to figure out how to fit a bit more exercise into my life.

6. This one sucks: I have to sell my bike. I thought about taking insurance off the car, too, until I realized how difficult it would be to cope without it, and how I'd probably end up spending just as much on other forms of transportation anyway. However, as sad as I am to admit it, I simply can't justify keeping the motorcycle. I'm not going to be traveling to Big U. this summer, so I don't really need it. Apparently, however, the Visa corporation really needs some money from me -- so, without a single other asset in my name to sell off, the bike has to go. Dammit, that's a drag. I love that bike a lot...

Time passes... when you're watching tv

2008-05-04T10:58:00.000-07:00

I finally broke out of it on Friday -- and "breaking" is unfortunately a pretty literal description of my day. But the upshot of it all is that I'm feeling much more like my usual self and much less glum and gloomy. Being depressed is so boring -- I was starting to drive myself completely crazy, and even more so because I just could not shake it and that was making me even more worried/depressed.

The last time I was depressed was a couple years ago after a bad break-up with a major asshole who I'd somehow fallen for. It wasn't so much the breakup that made me depressed, but more the aftermath of a really difficult time and the loss of that fantasy-hope that we sometimes spin around sub-par relationships. Anyway, I was living alone in a condo that we'd bought together and I was pretty alienated from a lot of my friends and so when I wasn't working I had a lot of time on my hands. That summer I got through three seasons of Six Feet Under on dvd, then I watched the entire Arrested Development series and the three seasons of Desperate Housewives that were out on dvd at the time. That and walk the dog was pretty much all I did for about three months. Then I got bored and began to have a life again.

I haven't watched any series in the past year and a half -- mostly because I'm too busy and not interested enough. However, [confession] I love Desperate Housewives, and I've been wanting to watch the fourth season since it came out on dvd last fall. Problem number 1 is that I've been way too busy and problem number 2 is that dear A. just not into the Desperate Housewives, and when push comes to shove I'd rather hang with him than watch tv by myself.

This week was a different story, however. I went to the video store on Thursday after work to pick up a movie (we watched The Savages - which I give 1.5 thumbs-up), and I also picked up two Desperate Housewives discs to help me through the dark times. I can't say whether it was the breakdown I had Friday morning, or the warm candle-lit bath that soothed me out of it, or the fact that my lover lay down with me and watched a full four hours of Desperate Housewives... but somehow something finally cracked enough to allow me to climb out of my dark hole and see the sun. Thank the gods & goddesses for that. Enough is enough.

Missing the kids & hugging the dog (waiting for time to pass)

2008-04-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

I'm trying not to be too much of a downer on myself or other people, but sometimes you have just got to be patient & get through the shit. That takes time & whenever I'm in some crappy space I can remember my mom's simple statement "time passes." I don't know if it's a universally reassuring thought, but somehow it always seems helpful to me. What she meant is that no matter how shitty or difficult the time you're in, it's always moving, it's always passing. So sometimes you just need to sit and wait it out until it's run through all it's shittiness, and then things get better. Simple, huh?

Well, it's simpler when you can just sit alone in your room and let the time go by. But I'm also battling conflicting feelings of wishing I wasn't such a lame-ass to be around for the roomies and boyfriend and just needing space to wait out my shittiness... and at the same time wishing for some love & affection and simple presence. It's part of the difficulty about being human and complicated, and it's also part of the reason why pets are so amazing and why I am so completely grateful for Little Black Dog.

So here is Little Black Dog's story, remembered as a way to soothe myself out of missing the kids (even though it's only been a few days, it's the knowledge that I won't see them for a whole month that's hitting me in the gut right now... although I know time passes.)

Anyway, a couple of years ago I decided to get a dog. I love dogs & always have (really, who doesn't? I know that some people don't, but I secretly am suspicious of dog-haters). I lived in rental housing for a long time, and you really can't have a dog if you're a renter, at least in this city. It's kind of a given that unless you are pretty well-off and/or have some kind of secure housing situation, you won't be able to get a dog. It's different in non-urban areas -- I had no problems before I moved to the city, but after moving here I pretty quickly realized that I'd cut my already limited options for housing by about 80% if I tried to keep my dog. So I gave her away to some friends who lived in Ski Town and she lived happily ever after with them, and I didn't have a dog for about 10 years.

That is, until I found a real job and a few years after graduating from school, actually had (barely) enough money to get into a condo. My main criteria in looking was that pets were allowed. Some months later, enter Little Black Dog -- an 8-week old rescue pup picked up off the street in Cowboy Town and brought for adoption to This Lovely City, a known dog-loving haven. When the lady on the phone told me that she was a terrier-border collie cross (she had no idea, it was a complete guess), I imagined some fuzzy wiry little thing, but what I ended up with after falling in love at first sight was this:

Yes, you guessed it.... something like pit-bull or boxer (likely) crossed with maybe lab (she loves the water), definitely some kind of obsessive border collie-type (she will chase for as long as you can throw -- frisbee, ball, stick -- it doesn't matter) and something equal parts crazy-smart. She was a pain in the ass monkey-mischievous puppy, but at two years old, she's turned into a wickedly sweet smart dog (with just enough pain in the ass-ness thrown in to keep me sharp). Foot-warmer, spooner, goofy happy night-time walk frolicker, suspicious noise growler, baleful-eyed adoring gazer, ear licker.... damn, I love my dog.

It's not over yet

2008-04-30T08:48:00.000-07:00

Apparently, there still may be options for getting funding. The more level-headed of my friends & allies have been saying this all along, of course, but I have reasons for doubt -- not the least of which is a serious reluctance to sign up for another year of working two jobs, commuting for school, trying to parent and not lose my sanity all at the same time. It was not fun. Especially as I watched my credit card balance grow every month to proportions almost impossible to consider paying off... without the windfall of a big grant, that is.

Anyway. I spent the day at the department yesterday and ended up feeling a bit more optimistic about possibly being able to get enough funding to stay in the program... still far from sure, but it's good to know at least that there are people in the department working to figure something out. That support is worth a lot.

The downside is that it is still going to be a lot of work and I am exhausted. Chasing the money takes time and energy, both of which are in short supply around here. Now that the kids are with my folks, I have got to work as much as I can, which means 12 hour days of editing for the next 2.5 weeks, and trying to finish my coursework on the side, plus prepare for Peru. It's hard to imagine where I will find the time to chase the money.

I don't know. Goddammit I am tired of everything being such a struggle.

Meanwhile, in the real world...

2008-04-28T21:31:00.001-07:00

... people are starving, and it is about to get a lot worse. Ignore my whinging and do something useful, like signing a petition. Okay, that's maybe not the most useful thing you can do, but at least you can do it without getting up off your ass or even stepping away from the computer-box. Then go eat a bowl of cereal or something.

Covering ground

2008-04-28T19:40:00.000-07:00

To be exact, I've covered 1,314 kilometeres since 9 am yesterday. That's from Big City to Hippy Town and back again, with a 14-hour stop-over to say hello to the folks, catch a few zzz's and kiss the kids goodbye for a month before hitting the road again at 10 this morning. Damn my ass hurts.

I wish I could say that I've covered ground with my what-the-hell-to-do-next thinking too, but I'm more just spinning the wheels than actually getting anywhere productive. I've had some good email support from friends & allies (yo, Shan & Kate), and talking things over with the ever-solid A in the scattered cell-reception areas helped get me through an otherwise pretty desolate drive through some of the most stunning landscape this part of the world has to offer.

The route is called the Crow's Nest highway, and it runs from the coast, winding through mountain passes and deep deep valleys til it hits the semi-arid interior all studded with lakes and stripped through with rivers. Little towns are few & far between in the mountainous part of the drive -- it's all rock peaks and pine forests backed by clearcut after clearcut just off the highway. I know because I used to treeplant in behind the buffer of trees they leave for the summer-time RV travellers who must marvel at the seemingly endless forests that abruptly end just out of their sightlines. You take a helicopter over those mountains, though, and you will be stunned by what you see -- a patchwork of cut blocks all full of blackberry, fireweed and monoculture spruce seedlings struggling for survival.

So back in 1997, when Kid #1 was just over a year old, I moved out of my shitty, mouldy basement suite in Lovely City, told my welfare worker to go fuck herself, and went back treeplanting for the spring -- just long enough to buy a 1979 Ford econoline van for $900 and live in it for the rest of the summer, saving as much as I could for school in the fall. I traveled the Crow's Nest a lot that summer -- between odd agriculture jobs (cleaning garlic, picking asparagus) in the interior, visiting friends in the city, looking for a place to live when I went back to school. Good thing gas was cheap back then -- I'd never be able to afford to run that beast nowadays.

It was a crappy van, but I loved it. In it, me and my kid were free -- completely autonomous. No welfare worker sticking her righteous, stuck-up nose into my business, no leering neighbours, no better-than-you suv moms with their condescension, Starbucks lattes and seven hundred dollar stroller sets at the community centre play group. I could not get away from that shit fast enough, and that rusted-out blue econoline let me do it. Complete with the style, I might add, that only a blue shag carpet and fake wood paneling interior can bring.

It did have one disturbing tic, however, and it was clearly the result of some wiring malfunction. For some reason, only at certain times and if the steering wheel was turned just so, the headlights would inexplicably and without warning shut off. Completely. Actually, now that I think about it, it was not just the headlights that would shut off, but also all of the interior dash lights (until, that is, the dash lights stopped working entirely). Anyways, I didn't experience this for the first time until I'd had the van for about a month or so, and I was on one of my many runs over the Crow's Nest. It was probably about midnight or so, and the baby was asleep in his carseat and I was trying to make it over the pass back to the interior. Right at one of the most extreme hairpin curves, with a steep mountain on one side of the road and a sheer cliff on the other, I turn the wheel and find myself in complete, absolute darkness. Luckily I was already going pretty slow, but I had to slam on the brakes and sit there, stunned and disoriented in utter dark black night with my heart just about leaping out of my throat, until the lights switched back on again, just as suddenly and inexplicably as they'd shut off.

Anyway, it was fortunately a very occasional malfunction, but it happened often enough that I could never be totally relaxed driving at night, and I will never forget the shock of being plunged into utter darkness that first time. It felt like what it must be like to become suddenly, completely blind. How shocking and disorienting that must be.

It a way, it feels like a bit of an analogy for what I'm feeling right now with having to rethink my plans and all that. It was interesting to drive that road again (twice!) in the past couple of days, and remember my younger self and how confused and lost I was then too, with this little baby to look after and still not even being sure of what to do with myself. In a way, it makes my current crisis a little less of a big deal. Sometimes life shorts out and you're left in the dark for a split second while the world seems to drop away, before it all comes light again and you realize that you are still on the road, still facing in the right direction, and all you can do is keep on driving, hoping for the best.

A curriculum for homeschooling

2008-04-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

The kids are off school for a full month. Originally it was so I could go to Peru for 4 weeks, but now it's so I can work full time at Job #2 for a couple of weeks so that I can afford to go to Peru for 2 weeks. God, that sucks.

Anyway, I am in Big Nearby City at my sister's place for a quick stop-over on the long drive to Small Hippy Town, where the kids will spend the month with my parents. The kids' teachers gave us a pile of stuff to do for the month, and my mom (who's a traveling teacher at a couple of small one-room rural schools) will take them with her on the weekly teaching rounds. But really they'll be homeschooled for the month. Now, normally getting these kids to do homework is like inflicting some kind of brutal torture, both on them and on myself. But for some reason -- I have no idea why -- they are all over doing the stuff now. Kid #1 gladly finished all the math he had to do for the week, and both kids have written great journals for the past couple of days. Tonight I went through and made them each a spelling list based on the words they misspelled in tonight's journal entry. Tomorrow I'll quiz them on the words sometime during the long drive to the interior.

The Ex & I have tossed around the idea of homeschooling for a long time, but it's never been much of an option, what with having to work and all that bullshit. Basically we need the childcare, but we both feel that the education sucks. Without a doubt, we could do better on our own, but we're also locked into a wage system that does not allow us to educate our own kids. It's a stupid system, but one that's pretty hard to extricate oneself from.

Now, once again, my whole future is up in the air. I've just done the math, and with the sell-out corporate research I'm doing in Peru and the two courses I have lined up to teach this summer and fall, I can make it until Christmas. However, I can't afford to pay tuition or travel to Big U (I have two course left to do), so unless I can find alternate funding, I'm out of the PhD program indefinitely. And by next Christmas I will need to have some full time work lined up, which likely means an office job of some kind. Although the course that I'm teaching in the fall is an online course and would possibly allow me to be at home teaching the kids, it's unlikely I'll be able to afford it in the new year. Office job means full-time childcare, and a tiny bit of parenting in the evenings and on weekends. Somewhere between hobby parenting and duty parenting. But not actually raising my own kids -- in the wage system, someone else gets paid to do that.

Having half of a doctoral education is a shitty, shitty thing. Just enough to understand in intricate detail how fucked this world really is, but not enough to enter the privileged world-apart that is tenured academia. Fuck you anyways, academia. And fuck you wage system, capitalism, patriarchy and all the other bullshit oppressive power-tripping systems that fuck up this whole beautiful world. We may be under your heel now, but we are raising an army. My children know everything. My anger is their anger. One day, it will burn you down to the ground so we can start everything new again. And you will not be welcome.

Some hurt heart therapy

2008-04-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

It's hard to be sad around this:

And this:

No more suspense

2008-04-24T18:18:00.000-07:00

I just got an email from the faculty of graduate studies: I did not get the award. The implication of this is that I can't continue my phd. I am too far in debt already and I can't afford to keep going. This is not a spontaneous or reactive decision -- I've known all along that if the money didn't come in this year I'd have to quit.

I honestly wasn't expecting this, so it's a bit of a blow. But it's not the end of the world, either. I have a lot of things to think through and figure out, but I am remembering how devastating it was to not get that rental house last year, and how it turned out better in the end anyways because I not only found a great place to live (just in the nick of time), but I also ended up with an amazing partner & lover out of the deal. Sometimes bad sad things end up being the best things, and so I hope this is one of those times.

Just two questions on my mind now: how am I going to deal with the debt? And: what can I do now that will be even more inspiring & fulfilling than a phd ever could have been?

Canada in Guatemala

2008-04-23T22:16:00.001-07:00

This is what imperialism looks like. Skye Resources, Vancouver, B.C.

I am so transparent (and impatient)

2008-04-23T11:27:00.000-07:00

I am sitting on the couch with my computer and A. is across the room at the kitchen table with his computer. It's a typical morning after dropping the kids off at school, a quick spin past the uni to do a few chores, stop off at the grocery store for some juice and then a late breakfast of poached eggs and toast. So I'm doing the usual email-facebook-news headline-blog check and I decide I'd better write a post about my ongoing waiting saga. And just as I'm logging in, A. looks over and is all like:

A: Are you blogging?
Me: Uh, yeah. How did you know?
A: You have your blogging face on.
Me: I have a blogging face?
A: Yeah, it's just like that. (points at me)
Me: Wow, I'm that transparent, eh?
A: Naw, it's just that I can read you that well. I can read you like a blog.

Anyway, I'm not only totally transparent, I'm also terrible at suspense (as you may have noticed). Yesterday, after the mailman brought me nothing again, I broke down and called the Capital City Institute of Social Sciences and Humanities Research to find out what the hell is going on with the notifications. Apparently they were sent out last week on Friday afternoon, so it really should be any day now. And apparently the faculty of grad studies already knows, but they won't release the information until after students have received the letters.

So there's still no answer, but somehow knowing that it's on the way makes a big difference. Weird, because I still don't know if I got the award or not, but my mind is a lot calmer even about the possibility that I didn't get it. At least I will know in the next day or two, rather than living in the terrible suspense of not knowing when the letter will arrive, but expecting it and getting disappointed every day when it doesn't come. So silly.

I have so much to do today, but so little motivation to do it. I'm leaving tomorrow early am to go to Big Nearby City, where my sister is visiting from Far Away Northern City with her three babies. I cannot wait to see them -- I've only seen her youngest once just after she was born 7 weeks premature last summer, and a 9-month gap means a lot of changes for all three of them.

My guys are really excited too. They love their cousins (although Kid #2 sometimes gets a little impatient with being followed around by an adoring younger cousin). It's sad that they moved so far away, but such is life. It will be a bit of a reunion this weekend -- our youngest sister is in town as well, so it will be the first time in a long time that all three of us will have spent time together.

Then on Sunday the kids & I drive to little Hippy Town in the interior, where I'll drop the kids off with my folks before turning right around and driving the 8+ hours back again to Big City, where I have a meeting with my supervisor and the research ethics board. And my next set of assignments is due on Monday (or Tuesday, I can't quite remember). Crap. I better get moving right now.

Fighting back fear

2008-04-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

I watched Donnie Darko again last night for the first time since I saw it in the theatre four years ago or so. There are a lot of movies I need to start re-watching -- I love how it's like seeing a movie for the first time all over again when there's such a huge time gap between first and second viewing.

Anyway, I'd totally forgotten about the crazy teacher lady character (her "God is Awesome!" t-shirt made me laugh out loud) and her creepy pedophilic self-help guru (played by the aging yet indomitable Patrick Swayze). Anyway, if you've watched the movie, maybe you'll remember the uber-cheezy 80s video the teacher shows Donnie Darko's class, and how she makes the students read out these stupid scenarios and then put an "x" marking the point the scenario represents on the FEAR------LOVE continuum she's drawn on the chalkboard, which Donnie Darko tells her she can "insert forcibly up her anus" (in the teacher's own words later in the principal's office...). Beautiful.

So nothing came in the mail again today, and despite my best efforts, I'm feeling myself slip into a feeling uncomfortably similar to this one waiting for this stupid letter that I feel like I should have received already. And I'm trying to stay positive, but kinda losing the battle. Grr, I hate this. I know I should still be hopeful and positive and all that jazz, since I still could get the letter tomorrow, and it may well be the good news I'm wishing & hoping for with every ounce of my being. It might happen. Tomorrow. Maybe? I hope.

I hope no news is good news

2008-04-19T12:26:00.000-07:00

Doctoral awards have already been announced in A.'s dept at Alma Mater U, but I emailed my grad secretary yesterday and she said the department hasn't found out yet, and likely won't until I tell them. So I guess it's back to waiting for the mailman on Monday (I guess the woman was just a temporary replacement -- the old mail guy is back again).

I do have one piece of good news, though. When I went to email my prof yesterday about the paper that I thought was due yesterday, I found the email she'd sent our class about due dates -- and realized that she's actually extended the date until April 28! Yes! An extra week an a half -- I will actually get to do all the readings I need to do and not feel like I'm on borrow time doing it. What a relief.

So that's all for now. Message to universe: still yes, you fucker. You think I will crumble under this cruel taunting? Not a chance. Bring on the money. I am waiting.

One paper down, one more to go

2008-04-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

Serious sweet relief. I finished it last night, all except for some small edits and the introduction, which I literally had to rip out of my brain word by word this morning, feeling like I was tearing out my own fingernails for the entire 2 hours it took to get down less than 150 words. Damn that got hard at the end.

Anyway, I had to be at Job #2 at 1pm, so there wasn't much of a choice but to push on through. It took me right to the last minute, though -- after emailing it off I had just enough time to race through showering and getting dressed, then pedaling my single-gear bike as hard as I could crank it up the slightly uphill four blocks to work. It's one of those gradual hills that you'd never notice walking (or likely even on a bike that has more than one gear and isn't 50 years old). But on my bike, with the front basket loaded down with the only dinner I could grab out of the fridge in 30 seconds or less (consisting of a 500ml container of yogurt, another of leftover potato-leek soup, and a litre of juice...) .... it felt like as much a slog through knee-deep mud as that last 150 words felt this morning.

Needless to say, it was a long day. Tomorrow will be another one -- a full 11-hour shift of editing, and then on Friday my next paper is due. Ha. I think I'd better email my prof tomorrow. Actually, it's not the full paper that's due -- just an annotated bibliography and the lit review section for my methodology paper. And I am actually really looking forward to getting into the reading with my last paper still fresh on the brain -- but there's just not enough time to do it between now and Friday. It's a matter of physics.

I'll read tonight, though, and I should be able to do more tomorrow. Despite all my complaining about the course and the instructor in my last bitch post about it, I ended up really liking my prof. I wouldn't really want to sit through another class, but she's amazingly helpful & knowledgeable outside of class. I'd say that 90% of what I learned this term came from talking with her and reading the papers & books that she recommended. So I think she'll have some flexibility on late submission -- they're way nicer to me than I am to my poor undergrad students... (Not true, I'm a pretty reasonable teach... most of the time.)

Are you waiting for an update on the mail situation? I'm trying to avoid thinking about it every 5 minutes, to little avail. But, no, nothing again today, although I keep hearing about master's students who have already received notice through their departments. Not too sure why the doctoral grants are different, but I'm choosing to believe that it's not that the universe is trying to see just how much I can take before crumbling, but rather that the Academics Who are Deciding My Future are trying to find more money to throw at me. Note to universe: yes, I'll take it.

Blessings on the mailperson

2008-04-15T12:34:00.000-07:00

We used to have a mailman, but A. has just informed me that yesterday it was a mailwoman. Anyway, nothing in the mail yesterday, and I just went and checked about ten minutes ago -- still nothing. Again, not even a bill, so I'm beginning to suspect that maybe somehow our new mail delivery person does not know how to find our front door (it is kind of hidden around the opposite side of the building from the other townhomes in our block). Anyway, just to be safe I am sending out lots of love and blessings to the whole mail delivery system, but especially the sweet angel that handles our mail. May you find our door soon, valiant soldier of good news.

Update at 2:57 pm. She finally made it, but only one piece of mail arrived: a letter from my credit card company offering a new credit line of $7,700 so I can travel ("surprise your family with an exciting vacation!"), pay my taxes ("it's never been easier!"), or consolidate bills ("simplify your bill paying and simplify your life!"). How well you know me, MBNA -- I would never be able to do any of these things except for on credit. But wait, aren't you at all concerned that I'm already massively in debt? Or that I'm a student with virtually no income? No? Oh. I see... more interest for you.

Message to universe: close, but no dice. Please come again tomorrow.

Still writing... and waiting

2008-04-14T16:45:00.000-07:00

I didn't have a very productive weekend. Well, not on the paper-writing front, that is. We had a great housewarming bash on Saturday to welcome our new roomie. Despite being up until 4 am playing music, I somehow woke up feeling all home-makey and inspired. The kids & little black dog and I went for a hike with some friends, and then stopped off at the market on the way home to buy our veggies for the week. We spent the afternoon making banana bread, potato-leek soup and some delicious apple crisp, before rounding up everyone in the household to sort out the worm bin (having created a huge amount of compost material from our afternoon of cooking). We sorted through it in record time -- four women & two kids working away, while A., the sole adult male of the household cleaned the kitchen & got supper ready. Another wonderfully domestic Sunday afternoon.

Needless to say, I didn't write last night like I'd hoped to. But I did have a great sleep and then woke up this morning feeling ready to go. I'm over beating myself up about not having this paper done yet, despite the fact that I've blown every deadline I set for myself. Whatev. I got a good amount done today, and I still have lots left in me. A. and I just picked up the kids from school and then went to the beach with the dog. Now she's flaked out on the livingroom floor. Kid #1 is working on homework at the kitchen table and Kid #2 playing in the sunroom. I'll take it easy until the kids are in bed, and then push on as late as I can tonight. I'm starting to pick up momentum now that the ideas are falling into place and I can see where I'm going. It's a good feeling -- I'm inspired by how the paper is taking shape.

Other than that, I'm kind of on edge about the doctoral grant. I still haven't heard, but apparently the results of the master's competition have been announced. I've heard that there won't be an email or anything -- apparently they just send everyone letters. Anyway, nothing in the mail today. Literally -- not a single letter. Not even a bill. Damn, I hate waiting, especially when so much is weighing on it. But -- message to universe: yes. Yes, yes yes. As long as we have that straight, I'm okay to wait a few more days. But please, let it be this week...

So cavalier...

2008-04-11T22:46:00.000-07:00

"Just needs to be stitched together in readable prose." Ha. Ha. Ha. Uhhh.... If it's not already clear that I'm a complete idiot, it should be now. What time is it? Ten minutes to 11 p.m. Where am I? The library. How much of my paper is now "stitched together"? Not enough.

I really want this thing to be done, but I'm not nearly as close as I'd fantasized. About half-way there, I'd guess. Actually, maybe less, because I have three major theories to get through (notes already transcribed for two of them). Arg.

Anyway, A. has given up writing and is wandering around somewhere in this library collecting books (like we need more in our house...). I'm going to find him and haul him out of here to go drink beer in some depressing college bar. It's really the only rational thing to do at times like this. That, and hope that tomorrow will be a more productive day...

Waiting for water to boil

2008-04-10T08:13:00.001-07:00

I just realized that I'd filled the kettle, but forgotten to turn on the element. Duh. There's something cruel about how difficult it can be to make coffee in the morning before you've had your coffee. It's not always that bad, of course -- I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself because I'm exhausted, and staring down the barrel of a 12-hour day editing at 2nd job.

Yesterday was my final (hooray!) class at Big U for this semester, so it was also a pretty long day -- freezing cold 8 am motorcycle ride out to the ferry, 2 hrs on the ferry, another hour long freezing ride through city traffic, a great brown bag talk on campus on Marx & technology from one of our brilliant profs, then a 3hr class, then another hour ride through city traffic and rain, another 2 hours on the ferry, followed by the final leg of my journey -- another 45 minute freezing cold ride in the dark to arrive home at 9:30 pm. Damn, I'm glad to be done that shit.

There aren't many other bikers on the road yet, but the weather is starting to turn and so I'm seeing a few more every ride. On the ferry home last night I ran into a guy who commutes on a BMW bike & we talked about riding in crappy weather, etc. He was set up -- electric jacket, heated hand grips, but more exciting -- electric gloves! See, I have an electric vest (hand-me-down from my girl gang buddy who sold her bike to go traveling), but my hands freeze when I ride, so I've been coveting heated grips for a while. I had no idea, however, that such a thing as electric gloves even existed. Eureka! Next winter will be much more comfortable riding (I hope).

The water has boiled and coffee will be ready in 3 minutes. I'm not looking forward to work today. I want catch up on sleep and write my paper -- which now with note all my notes organized in the right order (albeit missing some stuff) is complete in ideas, and just needs to be stitched together in readable prose. But I still haven't found out about the doctoral grant, and I need the money. I don't want to even think about the possibility of not getting the grant, but time is marching on and the fears and doubts are starting to creep in. And I will be late for work if I don't get my ass in gear right now.

1700 good words (give or take a few)

2008-04-08T23:24:00.000-07:00

Writing is a slow processes. It comes in fits and bursts -- a paragraph here, sometimes just a sentence or two. Over the past couple of days I've been chipping away at an introductory section which is setting up a framework for the rest of the paper. I will still need to go back and modify the first few paragraphs after I find out where it's going. I have a general idea, but it's always a bit of a surprise to find out the dynamics of the chemical reactions once you mix ideas together, and this chemistry (or perhaps alchemy) sets the trajectory for the rest of the paper.

The important thing is to get started, though. With a good enough start, the force of it seems to set the rest in motion, and it's all about getting the momentum going (however slow & weak it starts out). After that you just have to hope for no roadblocks or dead ends or other major intellectual disasters.

Anyway, I've sketched out some of the issues in the global mining industry using Beck's description of risk society as a starting point. He first wrote the article "World risk society as cosmopolitan society?" in 1996, so some aspects are a little ... dated, I guess. Well, that and perhaps a little overdramatized, although I appreciate that aspect of Beck.

I'm done for the night, but I'll leave you with one of my favourite passages from this 1996 article. Beck is talking about how the political site of the world risk society is tv, and in this context both destruction and protest are symbolically mediated and simplified for mass consumption. He uses the Greenpeace campaign against Shell over the Brent Spar oil platform disposal issue to illustrate the characteristics of effective media-centred campaigns which must be among other things transmissable, politically expedient, invoke simple alternatives, etc. But the one that always gets me chuckling is his explanation of the importance of moral outrage:

"'Those at the top' get the approval of government and experts to dump in the Atlantic an oil rig filled with toxic waste, yet 'we down below' have to save the world by dividing every teabag into three - paper, string and leaves - and disposing of them separately."

Anyway, I have to laugh -- especially considering the amount of time & energy I put into my recycling compulsion. (Ridiculously, I use hot water and soap to rinse the plastic wrap, styrofoam trays and tin cans clean, then separate it all into about ten different categories to be recycled and drive it in my fossil-fuel consuming car over to the mobile recycling depot in my neighbourhood every two weeks. And that's not even mentioning the maintenance my worm compost bin requires... But, like Beck says, I think it's really less about saving the world and more about gaining some sense of absolution through doing something that matters -- however ineffectual that might be in the grand scope of things.)

ps. A. just jokingly asked why I'm copying Guy Drinking Milk... I said no, I'm being inspired by his writing blog. Big difference. But anyway, thanks for the inspiration, both of you boys...

Beck and Latour help with Sunday chores

2008-04-06T12:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sure they'd be much obliged to know it, too... A. downloaded a podcast to listen to while he fixes references for the paper he just finished. Our new roomie L., also a student, is reading for her take-home exam (for a course with A.'s supervisor). The kids are upstairs rolling coins (this has kept them interested for over an hour), and I am puttering around the kitchen (so far I have cleaned out the messy cupboard under the sink, and I'm about to unload the dishwasher so that I can load it again). It's all very domestic and nice, just like a Sunday should be.

A. has just pointed out that I'm a blogging machine. Last night and then again this morning. Can you guess? That's right, I have a paper to write. A deadline that I set for myself (Monday) that I will not keep. Actually, I did work for a good solid few hours yesterday. I'm at that difficult point where I'm making the transition from reading, thinking and note-taking to actually articulating how all the ideas fit together, and getting it all down in readable prose. I've noticed a few things about my process which work well for me:

1. I've been taking really detailed notes on each article -- some notes on the computer, and some in my notebooks. Now, as I'm beginning to pull things together, I'm able to quickly scan over my notes to figure out where things are. I'm also condensing a considerable amount, although I've drawn quite a bit of detail from a couple of the articles. I still have some transcribing left to do of the hand-written notes, but I think I'm just going to do it as I go through the paper.

2. I usually write in a pretty linear way, once I've done a bunch of thinking & note-taking. I'll go back and change the intro when I'm all done, but I find that I have to think through the paper from start to finish. In a way, the starting point is kind of random, though -- whatever happens to be freshest on my mind when I actually sit down to start writing. I'm beginning this paper with Ulrich Beck's concept of the risk society and connecting it to the mining industry. After this, I'll move through subpolitics (also Beck), the network society and counter-power (Castells), then into global governance (a variety of authors) and questions around public sphere (using Fraser's critique of Habermas), threading throughout problems of regulating the transnational mining sector in a neoliberal (globalizing) political economic context. It's a 25-page paper, so it will have to be pretty high-level & cursory. It's a bunch of ideas that I really want to think through and juxtapose, even if only at a fairly basic level at this point (Uncle Gary warned against biting off too much -- he's been waiting for me to finish this paper for a while now...).

3. Now I just need to sit down and write. I have a good start (about 2 single-spaced pages of good introductory stuff) and about 6-8 pages of notes which will be more like 10-12 once I flesh it all out. It's more than I need, so from here on in it's all crafting and shaping. I want to have the paper done this week, no exceptions. My deadline for the second paper I have to write is on April 25 (for my methodology course -- I'm writing on critical discourse analysis as a primary method for my dissertation). I've also just spoken to my sister, who's coming to Big City with the babies at the end of April, so my plan is to drive over with the kids on the 25th, visit Sis and the babies for the weekend, and then continue on to little Hippy Town to drop the kids off with my folks for the month of May.

One last thing: I've been re-inspired by two blogging friends who are both writing about reading and writing. They're on my new updated Good Stuff list, so check them out: MissCommuniKate and Guy Drinking Milk. Happy Sunday!

PS. A. actually unloaded the dishwasher while I was blogging/talking on the phone. Hahaha... that's one way to get Sunday chores done...

Pretty sure that I'm going to Peru after all

2008-04-05T23:50:00.000-07:00

I came back from the mining conference in Bright Lights Big City almost a full month ago. For a whole bunch of reasons, I came back completely discouraged and depressed and overwhelmed and not at all sure that I wanted to see this research through. I'd been working on a conference paper that nearly sucked the life out of me -- not only was it an enormous learning curve on a topic I knew very little about, but it was also really difficult to coordinate the research, writing and vision of five different people separated geographically, but also coming from completely different backgrounds. I started to loathe that paper after a couple of months... god, it was painful.

But now, somehow -- miraculously -- the paper is done. Well, it was done several weeks ago (one of our team members presented it at the conference in mid-March), but then it was accepted for publication in a foreign policy publication so we had to cut it down, clean it up, format it, check references, etc. So this week I spent several hours with edits made by others on the team and did some rewriting, proofing, etc. And to my surprise I realized that the paper is actually pretty good -- I'd had such a hate on it by the time we finished it (mere days before the conference and way past the original deadline) that I thought it was a terrible paper that I'd never want to see published with my name on it.

Anyways, I was wrong/overreacting -- not an unusual phenomenon, unfortunately, especially when I've been working too much and sleeping too little. So the paper is submitted for review and off my plate and I'm feeling a little more sane. My moral misgivings about the field research in Peru have been assuaged by some even-minded and honest discussion with my supervisor Dr. Shane and Uncle Gary (my favourite so far prof and director of the grad program). And just yesterday I made contact with an anthropologist who lives & works at a research base near Huaraz, the closest city to the mine we're researching in May. I spoke with Dr. Pat on the phone today (she was visiting family in the US) and I cannot say how reassuring it is to have made a connection with her. She knows a lot about the mine, which has had some serious impacts on the communities in the surrounding area, along with another major mine and a hydroelectric dam, all in the same valley system -- and all operated by foreign multinationals.

Dr. Pat does research on health, especially women's reproductive health, and she uses a style of research called Participatory Action Research, which directly involves affected communities in visioning, planning and carrying out research that matters to them. Where a lot of sociological and anthropological research has been historically top-down, focusing on the interests and goals of an arm's-length "objective" reseacher, PAR recognizes that both objectivity and arm's-length approaches are not only false, but they can also be detrimental to the people they study. Instead being a detached observer, the (ideal) role of the researcher is considered to be one of collaboration and empowerment.

In any case, I'm going to Peru as a field research on a project that is not of my own devising. As I've blogged recently, I feel like more of a hired gun. I have a sinking suspicion that what we will produce through this research will be one-sided and will feature a very limited view of what is really going in the area. In essence, we've been hired to tell a very specific story, and it's not a story that will empower the communities that have already been so dispossessed of land, livelihood and health. It's not a good feeling.

And despite this, it is an opportunity to go to places and see and hear things that as an outside, "independent" researcher, I'd never have access to. Sure, I have to sell myself to the devil a little bit. I struggle with that, but at the same time I feel that if I can make this work useful down the road then it will be worth it.

So I'm extraordinarily grateful to have stumbled across this anthropologist who has responded in such a positive way. She's offered help in getting me set up with language training and a place to stay in Huaraz (and since she teaches at the university, possibly even a student who could act as a translator for community visits). The interweb is a beautiful thing sometimes...

In other news, I'm back at Job #2, editing legislative debates. I'm only working part time (2 days a week), but I wanted to keep my foot in the door, just in case. I am still waiting to hear about my doctoral fellowship application -- but it should be this month. I hope it's sooner rather than later, not just because the suspense is starting to kill me. But if I don't get the grant, it's back to the grindstone. I'll have to cut the extra two weeks in Peru (which would really suck -- no language training) and stay here to work instead. I'm still planning on taking the kids up to my parents to spend the month with them in Little Hippy Town. Both the kids and my folks are really looking forward to it -- it's been hard having them so far away since they moved to Hippy Town, and the kids really miss them. Besides, it will give me an extra two days a week to work, which I'll need if the funding doesn't come through.

I don't even want to think about that possibility, though. It's too dire to even consider -- I can't imagine dropping out of school now, not when I finally have a publication coming out and my research ideas are starting to crystallize and new exciting things are coming up on a daily basis.

So with that in mind, perhaps it's time for a little gratitude. Some readers might remember that last spring I was in pretty desperate straights over finding a place to live. I'd just watched "the Secret" -- pretty cheezy/flakey, but I was willing to try anything. And what the movie said to do sounded pretty okay anyways -- be grateful for the good things in your life, and be open to abundance of good things. In other words, believe in it.

It's pretty basic theological-style faith. But hey, I have no problem with that. And it's a far sight healthier (and more pleasant) than stressing and worrying about bad things, like possibly not getting the funding and having to drop out of school. So here it is: I've been practicing my crude version of openness, which just involves thinking to myself, "yes, bring it on, universe" whenever I begin to wonder about the funding. And I have lots to be grateful for:

1. This home has not ceased to be an amazing place -- so much more than I'd even hoped for. It is warm and bright and comfortable and full of plants and books and the most incredible people.
2. I love living so close to the ocean. Little black dog & I went for a fantastic walk today down to our favourite beach, where she swam for close to an hour. Although she got into the garbage yesterday (my fault, I left a bag sitting in the hallway), she's still a solid gold sweetheart. And she knows how to play dead now too (fun! if a little morbid...)
3. I love my people. The kids are consistently awesome. Somehow, miraculously I have ended up with a sweet smart boy who I love like crazy. I don't know how it happened, but I'm damn grateful. I have a circle of incredible friends & although my family is pretty dispersed & I don't get to see them much anymore, they're still the best.
4. I love riding my bike. And the weather is starting to warm up so soon I won't be freezing my ass off when I ride.
5. I finished the paper that was really killing me. I still have two papers left to write, but it is enormously refreshing to be working on ideas that are challenging but mind-blowingly important and relevant (just finishing a section on Beck & risk society -- good stuff).
6. I am going to Peru (on someone else's bill), and getting paid for the research I'm doing. Wow.
7. I'm teaching a new course this summer in the Faculty Much More Suited to my Interests. I can't wait.
8. I'm learning to play the banjo. It rocks.
9. Spring is coming.
10. I'm still healthy. Somehow I avoided a nervous breakdown this winter, again.

Bluegrass, banjo for beginners & other good things

2008-03-24T23:12:00.000-07:00

I just watched Oh Brother, Where Art Thou, for about the 3rd or 4th time since I first saw it in the university theatre in 2001. My first time watching it was one of those fantastic times when you go to a movie knowing nothing about it and end up in cinematic bliss for 1.5 amazing hours. It's something like great sex -- there's even an afterglow that lasts for the rest of the evening (or even into the next day, in that rare, mind-blowing occasion). My most recent cinegasm was this past fall when I saw The Lives of Others at the very same theatre up at Alma Mater U., but Oh Brother still holds a special place in my heart -- probably at least partly because the soundtrack quickly became a favourite for me & the kids. I don't think I can count the number of trips we've taken with that thing on repeat, hollering "You are my sunshine" and "Big Rock Candy Mountain" (a personal favourite of both boys) at the tops of our lungs.

So, as regular readers might already know -- I have just begun learning to play the banjo. Although my first real introduction to bluegrass music was back in the early 90s through a tape-trading Grateful Dead-loving boyfriend who turned me on to Grisman & Garcia's mind-ripping mandolin-banjo melodies, I haven't listened to a lot outside of "Shady Grove" and a couple of Bela Fleck's newgrassy albums ("Daybreak" and "Places" are the only ones I've owned, and pretty much the only stuff of his I've heard). After thoroughly overdosing on my two Bela Fleck albums, I fell in love with the Be Good Tanyas (and also Po' Girl, Trish Klein's collaboration with Alison Russell). I've never seen either band live, but my affinity with their music stems from more than just the fact that it's kick-ass rootsy shit. When they first started playing together, the Be Good Tanyas were treeplanting girls from the rival planting company to the one I worked for, right at about the time I got knocked up and quit planting to go back to school. They were pretty much just like me & the girls I knew -- and they took a classic old-time (and pretty much male dominated) sound and made it resonate like crazy for a new-time girl like me. Now, I don't have anything at all to say about the old guys who make up the musical genealogy of the style and are clearly masters, etc. -- but there is something powerful about hearing a girl do it better (dare I say... for me, anyways).

So while I've appreciated bluegrass for a long time, and have probably always had a latent desire to make music myself, it wasn't until listening to the Be Good Tanyas that I really could imagine myself picking up the banjo. I feel ravenous now that I've started learning -- it's been about a month and I'm pretty solid on a couple of very easy songs, but I want to learn to play everything I hear. I find myself following along and picking out banjo lines every time I hear anything the least bit bluegrassy -- and it's terribly frustrating to realize that it will take me a long, long time to get to the point where I can play anything at a recognizable (let alone accompaniable) speed and accuracy.

Despite the fact that I'm still a relatively bad new player (although my banjo teacher says I'm picking it up quickly), it's so super fun. Less so for my boyfriend, though: I pretty much just play the same two songs on repeat (I'm working on a third). But the reward is palpable: every time I play a roll (or lick -- both banjo lingo for the repeated melodies that make up the music) it feels smoother and easier. My fingers are starting to learn where things are, although far from perfectly, and I can concentrate on improving the quality of the sound (ie., trying to avoid buzzing or damping out the tone with my fat fingers on the fretboard -- how do those old guys do it? They must have fingers at least as stubby as me...).

So all this banjo on the brain has made me think about Oh Brother for a few weeks now, and this took on a sort of urgency once I learned that my poor long-suffering beginner-banjo listening boyfriend has never seen it (!!!). There's something so great about sharing something you love with someone you love, although I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised, nor upset, that his response was a luke-warm, "meh, it's not bad" when I enthusiastically reaffirmed my love of the film after it finished tonight. Sigh... Perhaps it's unfair to ask a loved one to share all of your musical/cultural preferences -- especially if they tend to be as twangy and old-timey as banjo music. But hey, that's why we have kids, right? Kid #1 watched with us and loved it (how could he not, after growing up singing every song on the soundtrack?) -- and so I got to feel the warmth of sharing an appreciation with him. These are the moments that I'm so full of gratitude for being a parent, especially to kids as amazing as mine. Is it not truly wonderful that my 11-year-old boy digs the same movies & music that I dig? Okay, some of the same movies & music. But still. Lucky, lucky me.

It's March already?

2008-03-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

I feel like the past month just got sucked into an enormous vacuum represented by a paper I didn't really want to write, and that turned out shitty anyways. Let this be a lesson: work on your own stuff, or at least stuff that you can believe in and be inspired about. It's not worth it otherwise.

I just got back from Bright Lights Big City after a week at a mining industry conference, and meetings over some research I'm working on which is very uncritically pro-industry. At first, I was pretty excited about this research because I thought it will help me learn about the industry (not to mention travel to Peru). That's still true, but now I realize that it will help me learn about the industry much in the same way that being swallowed by a whale can help one learn about the ocean -- from a rather limited and uncomfortable perspective. And on top of this, I'm having some conflict with the lead researcher over the aforementioned black-hole paper. This whole project is becoming a major pain in my ass that I'm not sure I want to take on. Oh, oops, I already took it on before realizing how draining it would be. Damn.

Maybe I can still extract myself from it, and thus save some sanity and moral integrity. I'm still in a bit of a wait and see mode right now. One good thing, though: spring is here. I spent most of the day yesterday outside putting around in the un-yard (our entrance pathway and little container garden area). I moved the part of the wood stack and got the kids to help 2nd roomie chop wood and bring it upstairs to make room for a shelf I use for the worm bin, which I brought out of the laundry room to make it more accessible (I'm still having trouble with getting the worm bin in balance and productive -- it's fallowing now, so I'll have to start over in a couple of weeks). I also found a whole bunch of tulip and daffodil bulbs which were in a pot under a bench and had grown in all kinds of weird ways trying to find the sun. I repotted them, so hopefully they'll do okay. I also repotted some plants from inside and cleaned out and completely organized the laundry room. It felt great to be outside doing productive work that I can actually see and enjoy... a much needed change from the past couple of months.

In other news, we'll be getting a new roomie soon. 2nd roomie is moving back to where he came from because he couldn't find work out here. If he moves back home he'll be able to get a $27/hr job at the nuclear power plant. Ugh. I guess it's better than being half-employed and broke, but I'll miss him -- he's been a great roomie. Our new roomie will be great too, though. She's a friend and also an academic sort, so it should be a great fit.

I woke up early to do some work and I have half an hour until the kids need to be up. I am so going back to bed for 30 minutes.

Yes You Can (I really hope...)

2008-02-12T02:56:00.000-08:00

I've been madly at work on a conference paper over the past week and a bit (in between teaching, marking, traveling to Big U, hanging with the kids, playing my new banjo, etc.). I won't get into details, but the paper has been a huge slog (I'm working with 4 others: 3 students from Opposite Coast University, and one prof currently on sabbatical in Puerto Rico). Our Skype meetings have been characterized by lots of long pauses and proclamations of defeat by a rather unwieldy and ill-defined thesis. All the disjointed and sketched-out parts landed on my plate last weekend (the scourge of being identified as writer/editor), and finally today I had the first breakthrough of the whole damn process where I can now, suddenly, see what's been there all along. Of course, it requires pretty much rewriting the whole damn thing, but all the research has been done, so it's more like a fun puzzle now than the minotaur it seemed last week.

So, one writing breakthrough and way too much coffee (and green tea) too late in the day has reminded me of what writing-related insomnia is like. The goddamn brain will not shut off.

On the upside, my insomnia has allowed for some quality blog-surfing time, so I bring you this, found on one of my favourite new (to me) blogs, The Chutry Experiment. I don't have much to say about the video at the moment, except: "wow" and "neat" and "I certainly hope you can for the sake of my children and all the other children that populate this planet, dammit." Hey, it's late and I've been writing all day. But despite my lousy political analysis, I have to say that I'd vote for Barack if I could. And not just because this little video is very cool/well done...

... Because otherwise, this is what we get (but at least we'll all go down laughing... ??)

And for a few more laughs, check out this one. (Thanks, Chutry - your blog rocks)

Up in the air

2008-02-03T22:53:00.000-08:00

Late last week it struck me -- I have no idea what my life will look like in 6 months. Again. And I began to wonder how long it had been since I had that kind of stability... this kind that comes from knowing where you are going, and that everything won't get just swept out from under your feet.

I am in the middle of work plan negotiations at Small U -- and this means figuring out what courses I will teach in the next fiscal year, what committees I will sit on, etc. The problem is that my contract is completely illogical under the current collective agreement (the first for our new little university), and so if it were to be interpreted literally for my position... it would mean I'd be teaching 3 courses instead of my current 1.something.

It might seem like one course is a pretty light load, but I am only .75 of a full time position, and this course is worth at least 2 typical 3rd-year level courses. That's just the expectation at our small teaching university -- that you put in 150%. And, typically, that's what is necessary, and it's been accounted for in previous work plan sessions. But now we have a new dean and things are a bit different. He's following the book, for one -- and that means that I have a contract that, realistically, I can't fulfill.

Right now, my priority is research, and my PhD. These are both taking me somewhere that my current teaching position will not. And so I'm faced with having to take a leap -- I'm considering taking a leave of absence from my current position until they work their shit out (meaning: until I can get reassessed at a higher ranking so I don't have this silly teaching load that prevents me from doing research). I'm not sure exactly what this means, but I have to figure out what I can do... I've already decided what I want to teach next year (one on-line course), and if I have to quit to do it as a contractor, so be it.

The frightening thing is that the doctoral grant decision won't come down until April. So between now and then I'm living in limbo -- my future is completely unknown. But, it worked before, and so I'm just going to go with a big, Yes. I am ready for a $35,000 doctoral grant. Yes. Universe: Bring. It. On.

Film slam: Hot Nuts

2008-01-28T15:22:00.000-08:00

Here it is -- the results of the 24-hour scriptwriting slam. We wrote this in about 2.5 hours, after 21.5 hours of drinking, darts, and subsequent hangover recovery period. Thanks to Denver & his team for making a fantastic production out of a truly silly script.

Slam & banjo madness

2008-01-27T23:30:00.000-08:00

Last weekend the roomies & I entered a film slam run by one of the independent filmmakers co-op in town. This is the second time I've entered the 24-hour scriptwriting competition -- the last time was a couple of years ago -- and so the crew at michigan street madness (as I've dubbed our 3-level, 3-roommate, 2-dog, 2-kid house of insanity) spent last Friday-Saturday writing a 5-page script for two characters.

The contest works like this: last weekend, the writers were given two "magic" words and had 24 hours to write a 5-page script. Then 7 of the scripts were chosen by a panel of three judges and assigned randomly to 7 different production teams, who each had 48 hours to shoot and edit a 10-minute film. The all films had to be submitted at 6pm tonight and the screening started at 7:30om. Hot off the press... it was a wicked event with a really impressive (and enthusiastic and exhausted) crowd of indie filmmakers & fans.

It was pretty exciting to have a script selected again for my second time entering the contest (and also to find out that it was one of 7 out of 24, which is way different from 7 out of, like, 10). But when I did the slam last time a couple of years ago, the rules were way more restrictive (like, the 5-page script could only contain dialogue -- no direction), and I think as a result the production quality ended up being more varied. This time around I was blown away by the quality of the end products -- although some of them had goofy/rough or just way too indie elements to be more than just silly, they were all acted and produced incredibly well for the 48-hour timespan. It's always inspiring to be a part of something like that...

And the team that got our script did a fantastic job. Unlike the last time I slammed, this time they chose the 2 actors based on the scripts, and we lucked out with two perfectly cast and played characters. Other than the sound being a little off and losing some dialogue (and this can be easily adjusted), the direction and editing was fantastic -- down to getting original music from some musician friends of the director. I'll get the director to put it up on YouTube so I can put it up on here. It's silly and hilarious. You'll love it.

So great fun was had by all tonight at the film slam. I met (and re-met) some great people who have inspired me to get excited about film again -- and really, this is the point of events like the slam. I wish I didn't have to be forced to do stuff I love, but it's nice to be forced, too. Otherwise, sadly, it might not happen. But more than that -- it's good to be reminded that there is a community of great people doing fun stuff, and that I'm connected to that community, however loosely. I've spent a lot of time in the past couple of years figuring my life out, and it's good to be reminded how much fun it can be to just live it. Damn, I'm ready for that.

And so on that note, two exciting fun-related things, and one less fun (but interesting) research-related thing: I'm getting a fellowship this semester, so instead of putting it all on my visa like I should, I've decided to (1) buy a banjo and take lessons so that I can learn to play some wicked old-timey tunes and (2) buy a good used mac G5 and some editing software so the michigan street madness crew can start playing with our camera and learning how to edit. Both of these fun-related initiatives have me jumping in my boots. And one less fun (but interesting) research-related thing: I've just found out that I will likely be spending two weeks plus at two different conferences way across the country in Really Big City and Cold Capital City. That's two weeks away from my methodology class (ah, well) and two weeks away from the boys (that sucks, but my parents have already agreed to take them). I'll also really miss Little Black Dog and SLB (I've decided to re-pseudonym sweet boyfriend to sweet loverboy -- it's a well-deserved promotion).... But enough of the sappy, that's still a month away and I'd better get used to missing my people because there is likely more traveling coming up...

So good & fun & exciting stuff, but there's also a lot of work to do in the meantime. Tomorrow I'm writing my sections for the conference paper I'll be (maybe) presenting in CC city, and then I need to start on my way over-due paper from last semester. There will be a bit of overlap, however, so it's not all totally bad (although tomorrow is still going to be a very very long day...)

Almost spring

2008-01-22T07:29:00.000-08:00

This Lovely City has been basking in a crisp sunshine over the past few days. It's still pretty cold, but if you can find a place to sit in front of a south facing window, you will be reminded of what we've missed in the last three months: sun rays warming the vitamin D-starved skin. It's made me crave spring -- I can't wait to be warm outside!

I also can't wait to get my bike back on the road. The bus commute to Big City is killing me -- and even more so in beautiful riding weather. It's tempting to get insurance this afternoon so I can avoid a dreadful day of public transit on Wednesday, but I want to take my bike in for a tune-up before riding any distance. It will be next week at earliest (provided the weather holds).

I just searched my folders for a picture of my bike to post and came across this detail from one of the Beehive Collective projects:

The Beehive Collective is an amazing group of artists, designers and public educators focusing on grassroots social and environmental justice. Most of their work focuses on Latin America, and they have this new blog focusing on their work in Columbia. Good stuff!

Speaking of Latin America: I had a long conversation with J yesterday about our upcoming field research in Peru. After some doubt whether the company would cooperate, it has come around again and so the trip is on (yesss!!). However, J has just informed me that she is too ill to travel, but she has absolute confidence in my ability to conduct the research on my own.

I still don't know the timing of the trip, but my plan all along has been to try arranging a two-week language immersion program before the research begins. Although I'll pretty much be "imbedded" with the company and provided with a translator when I'm traveling (objective research this is NOT), I'm really motivated to improve my (very weak) Spanish, and I'm convinced that immersion is the only way to do it. I wish I had more than two weeks to spend, but it is better than nothing.

I'm excited and intimidated. My first time traveling, ever -- but that was a large part of my motivation in taking on a research topic that will require travel. How else could a debt-ridden perpetual student see the world?

This spring is going to be a great one. I can't wait!

On winter storms

2008-01-16T17:48:00.000-08:00

I've just finished a very long research methods class at Big U, and now I'm killing time until I can catch the bus that will take me back home to Lovely (but too far away) City. I won't get there until about 11:30 tonight. Ugh.

For some reason my alarm didn't go off this morning, so I woke up with only 45 minutes to get from bed to the bus depot. And truly, the only reason I woke up is because I was so completely squashed between Kid #2 on one side, Little Black Dog hogging my footspace, and a soundly sleeping Sweet BF on the other side. The bed really isn't that big.

Kid #2 has been getting up almost every night for the past month (or maybe even more). I'll go to wake the kids up in the morning and his bed will be empty and I'll find him curled up on the couch in the living room instead. Recently he's been waking up because of his cold, but most of the time it's the weather. For some reason Kid #2 is deeply, deeply concerned about the weather.

I first noticed Kids #2's weather obsession (with some amusement) when he started asking me for weather predictions on an almost daily basis this summer. We'd have a bit of rain or some wind and he'd be glued to the windows, watching for the first signs of the extreme storm of his imagination. At first I thought it was just some kind of phase, but it's persisted over several months, even to the point where he can't stand seeing extreme weather shows on TV (which unfortunately provides Kid #1 with the opportunity to taunt his little brother).

In any case, this creates a bit of a problem in our little Seaside Neighbourhood where we get a lot of winter storms. It's our first winter here, and I'm amazed at the power of some of the winds that blow in from the ocean -- they literally shake the rafters. And poor Kid #2 cannot get to sleep with the wind rattling the upstairs bedroom windows -- he's completely terrified that the roof will blow off or something.

It's made me really aware of the weather, too, though. Just before the end of last semester, as I was taking the bus home from Big U, a huge thunder-and-lightening storm hit (this almost never happens in our part of the world -- rain and wind, yes, but not lightening). My first reaction was, "oh no, Kid #2 must be terrified," so I called just to check. Luckily the storm hadn't hit Lovely City at all, but he wanted to hear all about it.

In a way, Kid #2's weather phobia reminds me of how vulnerable we all still are, regardless of the assured assumption that we won't be swept away by a tsunami or a hurricane or swallowed by the fault line we straddle. Eventually (I hope & trust) Kid #2's fears will subside, and, like everyone else, he'll surrender to the practical realities of a fragile existence. In the meantime, however, I'm savouring every opportunity to banish fears (both his and mine) with a reassuring word and a hug. If only it could always be so simple.

On the other hand...

2008-01-15T14:28:00.000-08:00

I realized today that I'd be crazy to take on a full time faculty position. What was I thinking? I want less work, not more.

I spoke with one of my colleagues from the Department Much More Suited to my Interests, and while he was encouraging about the position, he also pointed out that you only get to do a PhD once. I think I just got carried away thinking about teaching in this department (which I still really want to do, but just not right now). But, after finding out that the teaching areas aren't really all that interesting to me, and reflecting on the fact that I'm stressed out enough as it is, it's pretty clear to me that the timing is not right at all. And that's a relief.

It's funny that I'm so hard-wired to jump at any opportunity for work that falls across my path. When I actually stop and think, however, that impulse is completely contrary to my greater goals in life. So right now, I'm putting all my eggs in that basket making its way to Capital City and the Selection Committee that Will Decide My Future. They will love my proposal and shower me with cash. Selection Committee, I will make you proud -- I promise.

This stupid cold and a new possibility

2008-01-14T20:38:00.000-08:00

My low-grade cold has blossomed into an extremely aggravating respiratory ailment. Today as I was attempting to conduct a telephone interview with a research contact and having to suppress my spasmodic coughing fits in order to hear what she was saying, I realized that I should probably get some medical intervention. I should probably also spend a couple of days in bed, getting better, but -- bwaahahahaha! -- like that's going to happen. (She says, secretly wishing for a strict order from the doctor to spend a week on bed rest...)

So, today I got a new posting in my Small U work email. The posting is for an Assistant Professor (not tenure-track, cuz we don't have tenure at my uni) in a Department Much More Suited to my Interests than the one in which I'm currently teaching. In fact, part of the reason for me choosing my PhD field was (originally) based on my thinking that if I stay in This Lovely City, I'd eventually like to switch to the Department Much More Suited to my Interests. The thing is, I did teach one class at DMMSTMI last year, but it didn't go that well (less my bad teaching and more a really bad course design that I unfortunately inherited). Because of my rather negative experience with this course, and because I was too busy this year anyway, I turned down the course when they approached me about teaching it again. I hope they don't hold it against me.

I know people in the department, and so I'll make a few calls tomorrow morning to find out more about the posting. I'm curious about who's leaving (it is a replacement posting), and why. I'm also curious about what area the vacancy is in, and whether it's an area in which I'm qualified to teach. Although I'm not yet ABD, I'm wondering if they'd consider me, given my strong teaching record at Small U and the fact that my PhD in progress is in their field and... god, I'd love that position...

It's a bit of a dilemma, though. I've heard a rumour that my fellowship application was approved by the Big U committee, which means that it's jumped 2 out of 3 hurdles to funding-ville. However, if I get the fellowship, I can't hold a full-time faculty position. But, if I get an assistant professor position (just dreaming, here), then I get 40% research release...

That's all pie-in-the-sky, however. It's a pretty big surprise that the Department Much More Suited to my Interests is posting a position, and I have no idea if they have a preferred candidate in mind, or if it would be a good idea for me to pursue, or what. I do have a great relationship with the faculty I'm currently teaching in, although I'm pretty burnt out from teaching the same course for four years running. Even if I don't make a move to the DMMS to my I, I've already decided that I need to step back from teaching this course (although I've considered doing the online version, which I think might be enough of a change to keep me going). I am also frustrated at my ranking -- as a Senior Instructor, I have no research time and I'm also not making enough money to fund my doctoral studies.

Ack. I don't know what to do. Hopefully I can find out a bit about this new posting tomorrow. In the meantime, I will keep trying not to cough up one of my poorly-functioning lungs in the hopes that I can survive long enough for my professional life to sort itself out.

Quote of the day

2008-01-11T17:48:00.000-08:00

"Globalization is not a choice. It is a nobody's rule. No one is in charge, no one started it, no one can stop it. It is a kind of organized irresponsibility. You keep looking for someone who is responsible, you can complain to. But there is nobody on the other side of the phone, no email address."

Ulrich Beck, from "The Cosmopolitan State: Redefining Power in the Global Age" (2005)

Where can I get some Adderall?

2008-01-10T15:28:00.000-08:00

I survived my first marathon Wednesday, but I'm realizing that the Tuesday-Thursday stretch of my weekly schedule is going to be brutal. I teach my class at Small U on Tuesday/Thursday afternoons, so going to Big City and back on Wednesdays ends up being a major pain in the ass. On a happier note, though, I think I can do all of my prep and office hours on Tuesday and Thurs, so that leaves Monday and Friday more or less open for research and coursework (although I might just be dreaming about that...).

Also good news from Big U: my overdue paper from last term is not as big a deal as I thought. Uncle G (my prof and also the grad director -- not actually my uncle, but he kinda looks like one) is pretty relaxed about the whole thing, although he encouraged me to *try* to get it in by the week of Jan 20. That's a huge relief, especially because I have to research and write a draft for a conference paper due mid-February (which I haven't started) and with classes starting and this stupid never-ending cold, etc, etc, etc....

Anyway. I just stumbled across this article, which describes the rather common use of amphetamines for non-medical purposes. I've never tried them, but I have a character in my Untitled Novel That I Will One Day Write who is a grad student trying to finish her dissertation and gets hooked on her son's ADHD meds (meds that she refuses to give him because she is ideologically opposed to medicating her child). Of course I will have to try some for research purposes one of these days... I'll keep you posted.

Note to self: 6 hours is not enough

2008-01-08T11:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, so morning #2 wasn't so successful, but it probably has something to do with the fact that I didn't go to bed until around 12 last night. That's okay -- I'm cultivating an experimental, curious mind-frame here. Observation: sleeping in makes me grumpy because I hate being rushed (and missing breakfast).

Tomorrow is a very long day: my full day commute to my class at Big University in a nearby city (which is actually not really all that close on public transit). I leave at 8am and won't get home until after 10pm. Tonight I put the kids to bed early (just after 8) because they were really hard to get up this morning. I'm putting myself to bed early too (aiming for 10), in the hopes that I'll be able to leap out of bed at 6am again. That would be really nice, but I'm not holding my breath for it.

This is a week of beginnings: I taught my first class of the semester this afternoon. It went well, but I'm exhausted (why is teaching so draining?). The class I'm starting tomorrow at Big University is a research methods class, which I'm quite looking forward to because I've never taken research methods (not a requirement for my literature MA), and I'm involved in some research this spring -- in Peru! I'm planning to tailor my assignments to this project, so it should be pretty interesting/useful.

Anyway, I have to go to bed now. How boring.

I am a farmer at heart

2008-01-07T16:13:00.000-08:00

And this morning I proved it to myself by getting up at 6:15am. Granted, it wasn't 4:15, and I wasn't going out to milk cows, but I am not being too picky about the details because I am not usually a morning person. Normally my day begins after hitting the snooze button about four times and calculating in my half-sleep the latest possible minute I can stay in bed. Then, of course, things generally go downhill from there as I race around trying to get the kids up, dressed & fed, lunches made, mad dash to school, etc, etc -- and by the time I arrive at my office, I'm a mess of nerves (running on coffee and no food).

It's amazing that I've taken this long to realize that my morning routine has got to change. I guess that's the power of denial. And laziness. But just before the holidays, Sweet BF put his foot down -- no more hitting snooze for 30 minutes, and now it's intelligent talk radio instead of that annoying soft rock station (one too many mornings waking up to Phil Collins....). And to tell the truth, it is SO MUCH better. I had time to sip coffee, eat toast, read the news and ease myself gently into the day. And I got to see the sun rise on my walk around the block with Little Black Dog.

I always wished I was a morning person. Who knew I could be?

The world's worst trivial pursuit player

2008-01-06T21:29:00.000-08:00

You'd think I'd be a little better at Trivial Pursuit, what with the number of years I've spent in institutions of higher learning and all. But, no. I suck. I am the uncontested loser in our after-dinner game (granted, the kids with kid question cards and the grownups with regular cards, but it still smarts to be ousted by an 11-year-old).

I blame my tv-free childhood for my complete and utter lack of trivia knowledge, especially trivia relating to popular culture. It's been a lifelong source of shame, knowing hardly anything about tv or movies or sports or much of anything else most normal people experience as good old everyday north american boob-tube culture. No, give me a question about canonical literature or the f*&$ing bible, and I will rock the board. Movies? Sports? Forget it.

There's a pretty specific brand of cultural knowledge associated with any trivia game, I guess, and it's just one more way we demarcate the lines between in and out. I've been out most of my life, but damn it feels good to get a question right every once in a while (which is why it sucks that, unlike the old American version, my Canadian Genus 5 edition doesn't have a literature category. What gives?).

Anyway. How is the paper going? I finished one more article today and will get through another (the final one) tonight. After that it's all writing, which is the hard part. I'm planning on mapping it all out first, though -- kind of like I teach my students to do but hardly ever really do myself. I'm trying to bring together ideas from some rather disperse theories/disciplinary approaches, so I think it will be necessary to visualize where I will place the different approaches and how I'll relate them together.

Tomorrow: the first Monday of the new year. I've been savouring my lazy mornings lately, so it will be a bit of a shock when the alarm goes off in the morning. Wish me luck.

Another day embracing unproductivity

2008-01-05T17:31:00.000-08:00

I think my cold is getting better. I won't go into details, but my cough has been far more productive than its host. I worked last night after Kid #1 went to bed (we watched the new Harry Potter until about 10pm because Kid #2 was at a sleep-over) and I got in about two hours of good work while Sweet BF was out celebrating his highly productive day (see yesterday's envy post). Then we slept in late this morning and I read part of an article at the breakfast table (a good article, however), before starting the day's run-around, which involved picking up Kid #2 from sleep-over A and taking him home, feeding, repacking and dropping him off at sleep-over B, some tidying around the house, a long dog walk and .... wait, that's it? It's already dark outside and I have nothing to show for this day except for tired dogs and a clean kitchen.

In any case, Sweet BF drank a lot of coffee and played a lot of guitar today so I expect he'll want to have a working night tonight too. He's at the grocery store stocking up for our fabulous home-cooked meal of the weekend. I'd better get off the computer and pretend like I'm doing something useful.

Sick and pathetic...

2008-01-04T11:15:00.000-08:00

... is really no way to start the new year, but it seems I'm not the only one experiencing a difficult first week. I woke this morning to the news, not focused on the strife and struggles in Pakistan or Kenya, but rather on the iconic tragedy of paparazzi pop-culture that is Britney Spears being hauled away from her mansion on an ambulance stretcher.

I'm sure you've all heard the story by now, even if you don't read the celebrity blogs. Two things about this morning's Hollywood tragi-news shocked me: (1) it was featured on a supposedly reputable news program, just after the analysis of Obama and Huckabee's respective wins in whatever American state that was and (2) the shocking images of swarms of paparazzi following the ambulance, vying for the latest shot of Britney's weakened state. Both made me feel mildly sick to the stomach (a feeling only accentuated by my ridiculously out of control coughing fits).

I'm not particularly qualified, nor even interested enough, to add to the reams of blogiture on paparazzi and celebrity culture, but I do have to make the admission that I read a few celebrity blogs (regularly) and so I'm complicit with the pathological voyeurism that drives this culture. I've made a few half-hearted attempts to rationalize this to myself as pop-culture education, but I know it's really a lazy kind of passive-aggressive entertainment. Not only that, but a ravenously destructive form of entertainment that objectifies, deifies and then desecrates those sad individuals who offer themselves up (either voluntarily or not) to the illusion of status and stardom. I'm sure the comparison to the spectacle of Roman gladiators has been made a thousand times, but the images of Britney's ambulance and the piranha-like paps this morning drove it home in a pretty visual way.

The spectacle figures prominently in cultural theory. Guy Debord, theorist and author of The Society of the Spectacle suggests that the spectacle is both ruling motif and primary production of western industrial society (he was writing in the late '60s). Essentially, the spectacle is the ideal capitalist commodity: it not only entertains but also pacifies, alienates and distracts. Who wants to seek to understand what is happening in Pakistan or Kenya or (god forbid) the never-ending disaster zone where Iraq used to be when we can witness Britney's spectacularly sad fall from grace on the morning news? Well, probably lots of people.

Anyway, that's the sick part of this post. Now for the pathetic.

I have (another) admission to make: I am an envious person. I admitted this to Sweet BF yesterday, after returning from a meeting at a colleague's home: a big beautiful character house in the heart of Rich Old People's Neighbourhood. Nice houses always get me, for obvious reasons, but I'm also envious of other things: people who have lots of time to do things like bake cookies for school fundraisers and generally be involved parents, people free of money-worries, people who read books and travel for fun... the list goes on. In fact, after Sweet BF reminded me that envy is one of the seven deadly sins, I also became envious of the fact that he does not suffer from envy. Now I am envious that he is upstairs cloistered in the office and getting work done while I am sitting here with my cold and my envy, blogging instead of writing my way overdue paper because I keep getting interrupted every five minutes by a bored kid or a whining dog.

I am a sick and pathetic and envious bad mother/dog owner who is getting no work done. But at least I'm not as bad off as Britney, right?

Happy lucky good fortune year

2008-01-02T17:27:00.000-08:00

One of my Chinese students recently told me that the number 8 represents good fortune, and folks will go to great lengths to get this number on license plates, in phone numbers, etc. I have the good fortune to be born on the 8th day of the 8th month, so this year my birthday is 08/08/08. Sounds lucky... maybe this year will bring me great riches (one can only hope!).

Actually, what I most want for this year is funding for my PhD, a less stressful workload (meaning: teaching on-line instead of in the classroom and not having to work a 2nd job), and to get rid of this terrible cold that's been plaguing me for the past week. I actually have back pain from coughing so much.

Cold or no cold, though, I did go out on New Year's Eve this year. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing ever, but it's been years since I've welcomed the New Year in a partying way and I'm glad I threw both caution and better sense to the wind. Not only did I have a rocking good time, but I also reminded myself why I don't generally drink to excess more often: hangovers really suck. I don't know how alcoholics handle it.

In any case, it was great to ring in the new year with good music and fantastic friends. The year 2007 brought some great things: some great new friends, a wonderful home, my beloved motorcycle, a thrilling (if strenuous) start to doctoral studies, and probably most exciting (and least blogged) of all: an amazing and unexpected new love.

Although my future remains uncertain (will I get funding? will I have to quit my PhD? will I change careers?), I have a feeling that 2008 will be exciting and full of good fortune. I'm looking forward to whatever this year brings.

end of 2007 retrospect: where I am

2007-12-29T10:54:00.000-08:00

It's been a little quiet and lonely around the blog lately, but that's not an indication of the state of my life in the past four months. Going back to school has been madness. A good madness, because I love the intellectual stimulation and all I really want to do is immerse myself in those ideas, but also a frustrating madness because I have so many other balls up in the air and it's so goddamn hard to keep them there.

A typical week this fall looked something like this: drag myself out of bed at the last possible minute on Monday morning, leaving just enough time to wake up the kids, make lunches and breakfast, take the dog out for a pee, and then jump in the car and race for school. Drop them off (hopefully not too late), then drive out to the university (about 45 minutes), prep for my class, teach for 2 hours, then rush back to pick up the kids late from school. Tuesday repeats the same morning routine, but instead of the university, I'm at my second job until 5pm (and my Sweet BF picks up the kids from school). Wednesday: morning routine, then back at the uni all day for marking, prep, some research and a late workshop until 6:30pm. The Ex picks the kids up from school & keeps them until Saturday, so Thursday - Sat. morning routine is a little more relaxed. Thursday is another teaching day at the uni, and I try to do some reading for my class on Friday. Fridays are spent commuting to Big Nearby City for my class. I rode my motorcycle over until my insurance ran out in November (and the weather turned nasty too), but for the last 6 weeks of class I was up at 5am get to school via public transit, a 3-hour class on the history of Communication theory, then public transit back again and arrive home by 11pm. Then the weekend (thank god), stir, shake, and repeat.

I knew going in that it would be tough, but I've never really doubted my ability to pull off the impossible. It's a kind of arrogant and stupid bravado, but it's helped me get to where I am today. And sometimes it's good to stop and reflect on how far I've come. When I first moved to this city, I was 21 years old, alone with a 3-month old baby and a german shepherd dog. I had one year of university under my belt and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life other than write, knowing full well how impossible it would be to support myself.

Now, at 32 I'm not exactly where I thought I'd be (by 30, I thought for sure that I'd have books published and would be a celebrated up & coming young author). But I'm not in a bad place, either. I was lucky to get through an undergrad and a master's degree, although it was far from easy and it's left me with massive debts. I got a job teaching at a university right out of my last degree, and that's given me an amazing start to an academic career. It seemed like a natural next step to start a PhD, and use the academic path to set myself up to do what I really want to do: write and make films.

Seen from above, my life feels like a remarkable series of impossible and synergistic accidents. That's what life is, I suppose. Both of my children were scary but wonderful accidents, and their appearance has shaped my life's path in ways I can hardly comprehend. Being a young single parent for most of my 20s was tough (although I was a young married parent for a couple years in there, and that was tough too), but I've had help and some luck. My parents never withdrew their love and emotional support. The Ex battled enormous demons and came out on the other side a loving father and dedicated co-parent. Getting into subsidized housing saved my life and made it possible for me to finish school. A lot has gone right for me.

And despite all of this I've always struggled with the desire for more. Not more stuff (although I do really love clothes and shoes), but more stability, more opportunity, more time, more freedom to to the things I want to do, rather than just the things I need to do for survival. I keep waiting for the big payoff for all that work -- that point where I can sit back with a sigh of relief and say: I finally made it.

Anyway, I'm not there yet. I went back to school without funding, knowing that it was a gamble. I figured that I could keep working and make enough to last until the funding came in, feeling confident that the school would come up with something for me, or I'd be able to get external funding from somewhere. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened. It's partly my fault because I've been so busy working that I haven't put as much time into hunting down the money and publishing, presenting, etc. as I should/could have (if I wasn't working all the time). And it's also partly a lack of judgment, because it's cost a lot more to be at school and live than I'd initially thought.

So now I'm watching my debt increase month by month and I'm not sure that I can keep it up. I feel like this is one of those times where I am watching the fault lines in my life grow, and all it will take is one sharp jolt for it all to shatter and fall to pieces. I've been here so many times before -- sometimes it all falls apart and you are left with only the fragments to piece together, but sometimes something miraculous happens and what seems like immanent disaster is somehow narrowly averted and everything works out in the end.

There's a part of me that wants to say: forget it, this is stupid, I'm not the superhero I pretend to be. But then I realize that there aren't any very realistic or attractive alternatives, and it seems like the only option is to hold out for that miracle (which has really always been the case for me). And there's still the possibility that it could come, although I'm terrified to want it too much. I applied for a doctoral fellowship last year and was rejected (although I hadn't really expected to get it, the rejection was still a blow). This year I applied again and got really positive feedback on it from the department head. Although it still needs to go through a university committee, I'm hopeful that it will have a chance for funding. There are two levels of awards: $20,000 and $35,000. I need the latter to stay in school, so I'm keeping that number surrounded by light. You could do it too, and so maybe.... just maybe things will work out that way.

If not, though, I'm reminding myself that there are other options, and doing my PhD isn't the end all and be all. There are plenty of other fantastic things I could do with my life, especially if someone out there wants to give me an advance on my first novel (it will be a best-seller, I promise...).

And two months later...

2007-10-08T22:47:00.000-07:00

It's shameful to make promises that you don't even try that hard to keep. I'll refrain from promising not to do it again, though. I'm pretty sure I'll do it again.

The coastal fall has set in for real now, but today was a reminder of what we're leaving behind. It's been bone-chilling cold for a week or two -- solid grey overcast punctuated only by rainstorms and wind. But today the morning came blue and warm, and the sun warmed it up enough to have the kitchen door open in the afternoon. Mmmm, thanks-worthy weather on Thanksgiving. We had our turkey dinner yesterday, so today it was a hike with the dogs and delicious leftovers.

Yesterday's turkey was the first I'd ever cooked. It's been amazing, living in this house with two roommates who are around and like to cook. I think I haven't eaten this well in... ever, really. And so we've begun a new tradition: soul-food Sunday, spending the day drinking wine and cooking slow food that nourishes body and spirit, and also provides a couple of days worth of delicious leftovers. It's a good tradition.

There is something calming about spending time thinking about and preparing food. I hardly ever did it when I was living alone, but then it didn't seem to be worth the energy (especially when I knew that an order of pad thai and red curry could get me through a couple of days). But now that there are people other than just me who will eat and enjoy food before it goes mouldy in the fridge, it does seem worth it, and I'm realizing that it would have been so nice to cook more when I lived alone.

So other than cooking and eating great food and loving my new home, I've also been working like hell for the past couple of months. It kind of took me by surprise -- after the relatively easy, relaxed spring and summer, I'd almost forgotten how busy it gets when the kids are back in school and doing things (two different soccer teams/practices/games this year) and I'm getting ready for the fall course I'm teaching, and also commuting to Big Nearby City once a week for my class at Big University in a nearby city (it's a survey of communication theory this semester -- lots of great foundational readings, which I do primarily on the commute). Ayeee... And now I'm thinking that I also need another job because I can't afford it all anyways... ha. ha. ha. damn.

Anyway, I hope that October will be a little less crazy. On Wednesday I'm flying to a conference in Ontario to present a paper with A (the craigslist-found third roommate who turned out to be an amazing guy in general and brilliant intellectual collaborator in particular). Once the conference is over, I'll be getting into a routine with more time for school/research -- I'm only teaching one class this year, compared to the hellish three I taught last year (150 students in total -- the marking was a nightmare). Now I've got a cushy 43. The temptation to procrastinate will be great (but marking for just 43 is easy!).

I have pictures to post, eventually, and more news about the conference and other assorted exciting research stuff. Today I sat down and pounded out the introduction to our paper and it felt so good to get words down on the page that I wanted to keep going. No promises, though. (At least, not this time.)

What history tells us

2007-08-15T13:39:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'm back. It's been a busy summer but I think I'm getting my shit back together enough to start posting again. For now, though, I'll just be throwing little tidbits of interesting things your way. There's this: Dick Cheney in 1994 explaining why invading Iraq would be a bad idea. Guess things change, though.

Then there's this website, which looks like it's got some fun stuff. I haven't explored it much, so check it out and tell me what you think.

That's all for now. Check back for new stuff in the next few days, though. Promise.

The real news

2007-07-17T16:00:00.001-07:00

It's an independent global non-corporate news network. Check it out!

July updates

2007-07-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a good and eventful week. First, my little sister's baby X made her grand appearance into the world on Monday (July 9) at 5 am in the morning. She weighed in at a hefty 4 & something lbs (not bad for a 7-week too-early baby). On Thursday, my sister & the baby were flown up to Bigger Northern City (where her husband & the other two little ones were waiting for them), but not before I got to see them on my weekly Big City run. I'm so glad I got to have that quick visit -- it could be another 8 or 10 months until I see them again.

On Wednesday, I also got my first paper back from the class I'm taking. It's my first class in a completely new field, and I was a little worried because I'm still trying to figure out the expectations and logics of the discipline. I was pretty happy with the comments and grade, although I later found out that the prof gave everyone the same grade -- I suppose I'll have to make an impression with my next paper, which is due in three weeks. I'm planning on writing an extension of the first paper, which explored the documentary form as an alternative medium, using Bourdieu's field theory to map out some of the possibilities and constraints for documentary film to mobilize a politically engaged public sphere. For the second paper, I'm planning on taking a more detailed look at activist documentary and visibility. This will involve a considerable amount of reading & research (I have a stack of about 8 articles to get through in the next week, and a hopelessly huge pile of books which I probably won't even get to...).

This weekend has been beautifully lazy, though, and I don't regret it one bit. We had our housewarming party on Friday, so yesterday was a complete write-off (other than a good walk, two movies and a burger at the neighbourhood pub). Today was breakfast and hanging at the beach with old friends visiting from out of town, and my latest baby-fix. Now everyone's just chilling in the late afternoon sun filtering through the windows, lazily waiting for bedtime. Sunday funday. It doesn't get much better than this.

L & S on the beach

The Cutest Baby

After the beach walk (the best baby-carrier I've ever tried. Where were these things when I was breaking my back hauling my guys around in silly hippie-slings?? That and cool maternity-wear -- I had my kids 5 years too early, I think....)

New neighbourhood

2007-06-19T22:34:00.000-07:00

First an update: Sister A is doing fine. She and baby X are still in the hospital, but in no immanent danger. For the time being, baby seems content to stay put and A is just resting, and counting down the time until 34 weeks rolls around. The kids are back in the Big City with Brother-in-Law and everyone is taking it one day at a time.

My roomate just reminded me that it is Solstice in a couple of days, and that reminded me of how I am just taking things one day at a time right now too -- hardly looking ahead to see what's around the corner. I am starting to feel a little more organized in the new place, but I still have a long way to go until I'm completely settled. I'm amazed that it's Solstice already. I don't know if I'm quite ready for the days to begin to shorten again -- I was just starting to notice & love how it stays light out until almost 10pm.

I wanted to write about my new neighbourhood tonight, but I'll start at the centre and work my way out. I'm living in a 3-level townhouse in a lovely part of this Seaside Neighbourhood, just half a block from the ocean. The kids and I have two bedrooms and a bathroom on the top level -- it's a beautiful space with loft ceilings, two huge skylights, a small balcony and a fireplace. We have our own small bathroom and lots of storage and light. We share the rest of the house with two other roommates: G is a lovely friend who's been in my life for so long that she's almost family. A is new to us both -- we found him (or he found us) very randomly on craigslist, but we couldn't have asked for a better roomate. He's a grad student at Alma Mater University studying a lot of the same stuff that I am, so it's great to have someone to talk theory with. And he also likes a lot of the same music that G's into, so it works well for all of us.

The neighbourhood is interesting. We live right in the heart of This Lovely City's tourist-land, surrounded by its excessive architecture and gaudy attractions. Just half a block away is Fisherman's Wharf, where all the fishing boats come to hawk their wares. Two blocks away is the Coast Guard and naval base, and another half a kilometer past that is where the cruise ships dock. But this is truly a residential neighbourhood -- the streets are packed full with an eclectic 100-year span of development: 19th century houses flanked by decaying 60s apartment blocks, 80s-style townhouse developments (like the one we live in) interspersed with new houses that are all stucco and soaring windows and as much square footage as the tiny lots can hold.

I love the quiet and calm and trees on the streets around here. At night, Little Black Dog and I explore the neighbourhood and see it in a light completely different from the broad colours of daylight. This is an ancient place -- populated by first nations and their ancestors' spirits long before the white men claimed it for their own. I can remember hearing stories about how this area used to be a scared burial ground, the bodies of the dead hoisted high in the trees with a view to the west and the horizon. I don't know if it's a true story, but I'd like to find out. Even thought the ancient forests are all gone now, I like to imagine a view from my balcony before rooftops defined the skyline -- a time when the bones of the ancients still hung suspended on the cusp of eternity. It's still the same sky, the same wind blowing in from the ocean, and I know their silent stories still permeate the earth lying under these streets.

Baby, stay put

2007-06-18T03:12:00.000-07:00

Tonight after I left my parents' house, my sister started to go into premature labour. It sounds like it stopped before too long (she's not dilating), but they airlifted her from Little Northern City to the hospital in the Big City anyways. Hopefully she will not go into labour for real any time soon -- my dad says they will keep her in the hospital on bed rest for as close to 34 weeks as they can get. Unfortunately A & her husband are set to move up to Big Northern City in a week -- it looks like Sean might have to go up alone while the kids stay with my Mom & Dad... but then my Mom & Dad are also moving in a month. Hmmm.... I might end up with two cuties staying with me for a while.... Please send good strong stay, baby, stay vibes for my sister. That little one needs a few more weeks inside.

The problem with afternoon napping

2007-06-18T02:21:00.000-07:00

... combined with tea is this: not tired at 2 am. I just came home from a weekend in Small Northern City with the family -- the last before the great diaspora of 2007, as I'm starting to think of it. My parents are moving up to Small Granola City (10hrs west) and one sister to Bigger Northern city (12+ hours north) with her husband & two little ones (plus a third in the making) -- this is after all of us living only a 1.5-hour drive or ferry ride away for the past 5 years. Luckily my baby sister S is sticking around, but I'm worried about how long that will last (her boyfriend lives in LA).

It was a great five years having all the family so close, but we've always been a restless bunch and so it's not a great shock that things change. Both moves away are to great opportunities & new beginnings and all that jazz, and it will get me out travelling the province again. I admit that I do miss the lakes & mountains of the interior (and the seasons -- maybe I will even be inspired to ski again....).

So this weekend was a sort of a last celebration together for a while -- my dad turned 60 today (Father's Day!), Little Niece turned 2 last Wednesday, and Kid #1 turned 11 exactly one week ago. Of course Mom got presents for everyone (I got a lovely bar of soap) and we had a great turkey dinner (the ideal family meal that takes us through an entire weekend and leaves soup to take home when we go). The kids swam all weekend, despite the grey weather, and otherwise we all hung out and did not much of anything but chat and read and nap and cook and eat. An excellent weekend with the ones I love the most.

Turkey dinner action shot

Little Niece practicing perfect cuteness

impish Little Nephew

All four cousins (funny, you can only get them sitting like this when it's in front of the tv)