Because Apparently When I Am Productive, I Blog

So far today I have:

• taken kitty to get his nails clipped. Problematically, there are a bunch of baby kitties currently hanging at the Vet. One was a little moo-kitty like my childhood cat Penelope, and one was a little white kitty and one was a calico. But there is one kitty in particular (a little gray and white baby kitty with blue eyes who was all purry and "I LOVE you, Crazy!" and who was Mr. (or Ms., not sure) I shall mark you with my little mouth and court your affections) that made me feel like, "hey, should I be a person who gets another kitty?" But then, when the Man-Kitty's nails were done, I took the Man-Kitty over to introduce him to the sweet baby kitty and the Man-Kitty didn't seem too interested. And I know I shouldn't be a two-cat person, and especially not when I'm about to leave town for July, leaving the M-K with my parents. So anyway, my heart is broken, but I suspect Sweet Baby Kitty is a whore and will do just fine without being rescued by Crazy.
• tricked myself into going to the gym by going to the bank next to the gym.
• tricked myself into working out for a full half hour with various fake bargains that I made with myself. It occurs to me that this strategy was not unlike the strategy I used to make myself do my math homework when I was 9.

And so now I'm off to the pool, and then I'm off to food and the movies with BFF. Will I do work today? It is difficult to know. I have high hopes, though, since I've been so good about doing the other things on my list. Feeling sleepy - must head to pool before I end up deciding to take a nap in the home instead of to bask and doze in the sunshine.

Bad Dream

The dream is this. You are in your bed sleeping. All of a sudden you feel like somebody is in the room, watching you. And you bolt upright and you turn on the lights (in the dream), and the fucked up thing is that you are being watched, but the person is invisible. Then the dream becomes more fucked up because you know who the person is, and you try to make the person reveal himself but nothing, and so you convince yourself that it's a dream. But when you turn the lights back off this person talks to you. And you're freaked out. And you bolt upright in bed again, turning the lights on, but again, the person invisible and silent and he won't reveal himself. And it's your real bedroom, not the dream bedroom that is and isn't your bedroom. So then when you really wake up, bolting upright and turning on the lights, totally freaking out your peaceful little cat, I might add, which your little cat does not like, you're not entirely sure if you're still dreaming or if you're awake (though you are lucky that you have a cat, because he brings you to your senses).

In Which I Am the Most Boring Person Alive

Well. You know, it's a good thing that tomorrow is another day, because today was pretty much a wash. Things accomplished:

-sleeping
-reading 1/7 of the novel that I'm supposed to be reading
-reading half of a CRAP Anne Rice book that I've read before.
-a 2-hour long bath (but in the lovely lavender bath oil, so that was quite relaxing and nice and now I smell like a flower)

Tomorrow, in contrast, MUST be a more productive and less isolated day.

On the agenda:
-take man-kitty to get his nails done (and while the people at the vet claim he's very charming, when I've tried to do it myself, let's just say that he's not so charming to me)
-bank
-gym
-pool
-meal out and movie
-and, I hope, some work. But really, I probably won't do work.

I did get work done on the paper last night, but I just don't have it in me to start writing it. This is ironic, as I just sent an uplifting email to a former student who is finishing up her first year in an MA program and who is wigging out with the typical questions, "why am I doing this to myself?" "how do I write this paper when I'm afraid it will be ripped to shreds?" "Why do I feel so lost in my program?" I think I gave her good advice, but I also think that I'm the pot that calls the kettle black, in that I still ask myself all those same questions and just as she is not writing her seminar paper I am busy not writing my conference paper. And the sad fact is that even as I didn't do crap today and I did do some quality napping, I still don't feel like doing anything really now other than crawling into bed, even though I'm not really tired. Ah well - I'll try to make it an early night tonight, and I'll try to be chipper and all of that in the morning.

Now, to respond to some emails and then to shut down computer communications for the night. Maybe I'll reread some Potter. Hmmmm.

Things I Don't Feel Like Doing

• working out
• going to the pool
• writing my conference paper
• straightening up my bedroom
• unloading the dishwasher
• taking my kitty to get a mani/pedi
• going to the bank
• reading the novel I'm supposed to be reading for my other conference paper
• doing laundry

This Is Not About Love

So Lina did a great post about the possibility (or impossibility) of having a love affair with an online person. This post has got me thinking, in that I'm a pretty practical girl and I'm not one to fall in love easily even in the most conventional of scenarios. Can one fall in love with a person whom one has never met in real life?

Huh.

I definitely think that one can become infatuated with a person whom one has never met. Or whom one has met but whom one doesn't actually "know," which I think is another side of the same coin. What is the Imaginary Boyfriend if not that? But this question of love... well, it's a question of what we talk about when we talk about love, isn't it? (And if you've not read the Carver story, or listened to the Old 97s song, you should.)

I remember a conversation I had with a friend a couple of months ago in which we were talking about what love is, and his shtick was this whole "love is ephemeral and cannot last" thing. And I remember I got into this big debate with him in which I said to him (or, probably more accurately, kind of yelled at him) that he was full of shit - that love was something you decided to do every day. That love wasn't something that happens to you, but rather something that we choose - and that it's only when one or the other person stops choosing that love stops. Now, this may surprise you, but I actually believe that. I know it surprised me, when I realized it as I vehemently made my case. But apparently, with all experience to the contrary, I do actually believe that lasting love is possible. But I believe it's something you jump into - not something you fall into - not some accidental slip that happens when you're not paying attention to the icy sidewalk, but rather a willful leap. You might end up on your ass in both scenarios, but I'd rather make the leap and fall on my ass than slip on a bit of black ice.

I'm not sure which of these two ways of thinking is more romantic or more cynical. On the one hand, if one believes that one "falls" into love, that's the traditional romantic definition, right? We are powerless over love, and it happens when we least expect it. This can be comforting, when one is one of the Lonely People - "Hey! I could fall in love tomorrow! It could happen!" Kind of like how one time a bird shit on me as I was walking with my mom. (That analogy should tell you what I think of that idea. Just because it happens, out of your control, doesn't mean it's necessarily a positive, yeah?) On the other hand, though, my theory, the "you choose it every day" theory, while not the most conventional romantic way of thinking about love, certainly is romantic, because it reveals a kind of faith in "true love and love forever" (I think this is a paraphrase or perhaps even a quotation of Lawrence but I can't be bothered to look it up) that my readers probably wouldn't expect of me. But yes, it seems that I do believe in that, even if I don't believe in "soul mates" or any of that crap (which is also totally passive). It's not about finding one's soul mate but about choosing one's PARTNER, flaws and all.

The fact of the matter is, when one hasn't met a person, it's easier to construct a person as one's soul mate. It's easier not to see the whole person but to manufacture the person into a character that fits one's idealized version of what one might want in one's life. This is one reason why it's weird to meet bloggy people in whatever context: we all have our ideas about who "Crazy" is or who "Profgrrrrl" is or who "Medusa" or who "Horace" or who "Dean Dad" are, but those are identities that we build out of the words and information that are provided for us. And maybe we "know" those people through emails, too, but even that is the same situation: we're "reading" these personae. Even if one has talked to somebody on the phone, one can, depending on the circumstance, make the other person up. Elide the flaws in favor of the fantasy.

But isn't that true in real life, too? If one believes that one is going to happen upon one's one and only One True Love, won't one try to construct each and every person one meets according to that agenda? Regardless of who the person really is? Now, I've had a One True Love in my time, but that's exactly what he was - a construction based on fantasy. I didn't "know" him (though I did, in the conventional sense, know him). In contrast, one might meet a person in an online context and get to know that person for real in a way that I never knew my OTL. Which is more real? Which is love?

Lina's verdict in her post is that, ultimately, one "can't have a true love affair with someone you've never met." Her reasons relate to the physicality of true love, the intimacy of snuggling after sex, etc. I think what I'd say is that one can't have a meaningful, intimate relationship without that physicality. Now, one can be intimate, and one can have meaningful interactions, and one can have a relationship, but one can't have all three simultaneously without the physical. The thing about being stuck in language (which is really what all this is about, I suppose) is that there are rules to follow, a grammar, a syntax, a linear structure. In spite of the best efforts of great writers, there's just not a way out of that. No, not even for Joyce in Finnegans Wake, though he makes a valiant attempt. And the thing about love affairs with those whom we've not met is that they are bound by the grammar, syntax, and structure of language. For me, that doesn't mean they're not love affairs, but it does mean that they don't translate into the physical reality of one's life unless one makes the big leap into the physical world. And perhaps that's the thing: they might be love affairs, but they're not being in love. There are finite lines that wrap around the affair and close it off from the realities of one's day-to-day existence. And it doesn't matter how much one talks about one's day-to-day life: the person still isn't in it.

But then, it's not even as simple as that. With all of this technology at our fingertips, it IS possible for a person to be "in" one's life even if they're not local. I mean, take my A. for example. We talk every day. She is "in" my life as much as BFF who is local is in my life. That said, hanging with A. in person this weekend was so important. So as much as she's "in" my life all the time, being with her was different, and a good different. So in thinking about that, here's what I'd say about the technologically enabled love affair that does not cross the line into the physical: for me, it's the deliberately limited thing. (And I feel like I'm quoting something with that phrase, too, but again, too lazy to look it up, as whatever it is, it is obscure, though I think it might be Doris Lessing.) The technologically enabled love affair is safe. One's beloved is always at a distance. One doesn't have to deal with their irritating habits; one doesn't have to, ultimately, compromise. But it's also less than what it is when one has to deal with the risk, when one has to deal with the irritating habits, and one has to compromise. It is both more and less intimate, and it is both more and less real, but always, there is a limitation.

Does that mean one doesn't love? I don't think so. It just means one doesn't love with her whole heart. And if she did, she'd be an idiot.

Productive Evening? Not So Much

So things were going along great. I worked out, I went to the pool, I started thinking about the paper for my conference and making more concrete notes into a word document, I IMed with a friend I've not been in touch with in a while....

And then. The evening, it has become less and less productive because I've got a friend who's stranded in an airport and so I keep having conversations with this friend every 20 minutes or so. I probably shouldn't indulge this friend, but well, I can't seem to help myself. So now I'm thinking that perhaps I should just say screw it with the work and maybe have a glass of wine and just accept that I'll be talking on the phone until I go to sleep tonight. But no! If the friend ever does get to fly home, I'll have time to do work! Ok, let's think: if I drink the wine, will that assist in some work (as it can sometimes) or will it make the work impossible (as it sometimes can)?

And I probably should eat something, because I've not had dinner.

My life is very confusing and hard.

Oh hell, it's summer. I should not have to work at night. So there.

Rusty

Ok, so I've not really been doing the blogging first in order to warm up for my day thing since the academic year ended, but I feel like I need to do that today if I have any hope of getting substantial work done on this conference paper today, which it becomes clear I really need to do because I may have something come up in the next few days that means I won't be able to work on the conference paper later rather than sooner. As I give the paper in just over a week, I really should knock the thing out today and tomorrow, so as not to be writing it the night before I give it.

I did do some planning last night, and I think I'm saying something interesting (maybe just regular interesting but incredibly interesting to me). The structure is starting to take shape in my head, and I do think that I will be able to turn this paper into something provocative, evocative, whatever. I'm NOT certain about how the ideas will be received, but they do build on the ideas I'm exploring in other areas of my research, and I really think that what I'm talking about here is something that adds to the discussion of this talked-to-death novel.

So yes, I have to work on the paper for at least three hours today. That's the pact I've made with myself. In addition, I'm going to go to the pool for a bit (sunburn has dissipated - see, A. and I totally were right about the "our base" thing!) and to the gym (made five new playlists last night for gym-going to help to inspire me) to read for my other conference paper next month, and to obsess about things over which I have no control. Yes, obsessing is on the list of things to do, because that's just the way I roll.

You know, I hate the Tuesday after a holiday weekend even when I'm on summer break.

Update: Well. So I have already gone to the gym, and now it's time to go to the pool, where I will take work so as not to waste time just by lying around but where I will actually think while lying around and basking in the cancer-causing rays of the sun. And yes, this counts as productivity. It is summer, after all.

Quiet

So, my house, which for 3 days had been filled with maniacal giggling and chatter, has been virtually silent. Well, with the exception of the few phone conversations I had and infrequent conversations between me and the darling Man-Kitty. I've caught up on some sleep, done some non-essential reading (Bad Crazy!), watched about half of You've Got Mail, wrote in my journal, and took a nice relaxing bath. I also went to the grocery store (with a list, so it was a productive trip) and made myself a delicious dinner. And I made a list of things to accomplish tomorrow, too, complete with how long I should spend doing some things, so it looks as if I'm ready to get back in the routine of summer. Or to get into the routine of summer, as I'm not sure I'd really established the routine prior to A.'s visit.

The quiet today has been kind of nice, which is not to say I didn't enjoy the maniacal giggling and chatter. It's just that's not real life, and real life is sort of nice in its own way, too. At any rate, it's much less tiring. So I've got a conference in just under two weeks, and the main thing on the agenda between now and then is to write the stupid conference paper. Actually, my real plan is to try to get the paper mostly written over the next couple of days so that I don't have it hanging over my head. We'll see how that goes.

But all in all, I'm glad that I had this weekend of sorely needed Girl Time. When you spend time like that with a friend with whom you are really close, it's great because it helps you remember who you are. Who you are aside from your job and who you are aside from dudes and who you are aside from your family and whatever. I've always been a person who has close friendships with women. I am lucky to have as many of these as I do. And maybe one reason I've had this good fortune is because I don't have sisters, or maybe it's because I haven't traditionally been the sort of girl who always had a boyfriend, but I think part of the reason that I've always had these sort of friendships is because they mean so much to me. I'm not sure that everyone needs these sorts of friendships the way that I do. But so I'm lucky that I have them, and I work hard to have them. And that's something that a weekend like this past one helps me to remember: not to take that for granted.

It also helps me to see in myself something that I don't think much about: that I am a really good and dedicated and loyal friend. I take that for granted, too, and I probably shouldn't, because you know, a lot of people really don't possess those qualities. I mean, some people are just shitty friends. I'm glad that in spite of the fact that I've lived a bunch of different places and whatever else that I'm not a shitty friend. And I'm proud of that.

VPW 2007 Has Concluded

A. just got in the car to make the journey back home, and our parting, it was bittersweet. Last night was really a mix of the craziness of Friday and the low-key-ness of Saturday - lots of serious conversation about life and love and whatnot, a little bit of phone-talking, and then before-bed conversation in my bed, just like when we were 20. Both of us have come really far since then, had a lot of life experiences that have shaped us and changed us in ways that neither of us could have predicted, but at the end of the day, what this weekend demonstrated is that A. and Crazy are still the same old A. and Crazy. Well, we are a *teensy* bit more sensible now. But not much.

But so now I have to call my mother (whom I will note has already called me once this morning - at 7:45 AM) and return to my daily life. I think I might take a nap before returning to my daily life for real, though.

Random Bullets of the Final Night of VPW 2007

• The Emotional Cave-Dweller of the Day Award goes to Accidental Husband, for not only did he call us this afternoon, but opened the door for us to call him this evening. AH is fabulous. We love him.
• Right now, A. is on the phone with Crazy Jonathan. He's a pseudo-ex of A.'s, and he truly is crazy (though not in the good way that I'm Crazy), but it is indeed a boon that he called, as we didn't even know how we'd evaluate the world anymore if he didn't respond to us. I mean, if you can't get a crazy pseudo-ex to respond, whoever will? That said, A. just said on the phone to him, "are you talking to your girlfriend's dog or are you talking to me?" And now they're arguing. N-i-i-i-c-e. Ooh! A. just hung up on him! Vagina Power!
  
• I did hear from the lap-dance-receiver. He apparently went to a man-spa with his imaginary friend today. While he is not the Emotional Cave-Dweller of the Day, I do think he's fabulous.
• We're on the computer now in order to finalize the Empowerment for A. Mix. This has been dubbed by AH the "Thank God for Vaginas Mix," before we ever conceived of Vagina Power Weekend. Now, Vaginal Power Weekend came about because the lap-dance-receiver alerted me to the Vagina Power things on the Internet. This makes both A. and I a bit uncomfortable, as it means that the Vagina Power comes from the Patriarchy, but we've decided that we're going to ignore that fact and instead appropriate the patriarchally inspired Vagina Power and make it our own. But still we're uncomfortable.
• We still feel really badly about chastising our readers for not commenting. We feel as if we've terrorized you a bit, and that is just so uncool, as we really do love you all. Again, though, this is part of the A. and Crazy Special Time. We are both fabulous and sort of assholes. We apologize.
• You might be interested to note that we are out of wine. We are now drinking the Fake Lemon Iced Tea from a Powder. This depresses us.
• Puff Daddy and the Family RULES. In the words of Lil' Kim, "Get your own shit! Why you ridin' mine?"
• In other news, I did buy some things today. I bought two pairs of sunglasses from Forever 21, and I also bought a great slutty tanktop. I'm quite pleased with my purchases.
• But yeah, so we've had some very quality A. and Crazy time. I'm not even sure how to write about this, because we exceed the constraints of language. Really and truly. You've only experienced a pale reproduction of our awesomeness.
  

Perhaps more later, though what that might include I've no idea. Though I should probably add that A.'s new name (in honor of her sunburn) is "Fire-Tits."

Vagina Whiners*

*The title of this post is courtesy of Dr. Medusa, whom A. and I rudely did not provide with a shout-out when we were busy telling off the people of cyberspace for not giving us comments. Medusa, who is manifesting her destiny through Vagina Power, did comment last night, and so we must offer her the sincerest thanks.

So yes, it is Crazy and A., and while we have been Vagina Whiners of late, we are now in much better spirits. Today's activities included:

1. lounging poolside (oh, the stupidity of this)
2. showering
3. watching the end of Sixteen Candles and excerpts of Prozac Nation.
   
4. meeting up with Earth Mama and the babies of Earth Mama and then doing some shopping (a very important activity for the VPW, although we didn't buy much).
5. dinner at Panera Bread
   
6. And now, drinking some wine. Who knows what the night may bring!

Oh, we also heard from AH while we were at the mall. That was awesome. He also gave us the go-ahead to call him later. Mwahahahaha! And yes, we are approximately 14 years old, plus wine.

In other news, I feel like we laughed about some very important things today but I'm having trouble recalling what they all are. One thing that made us roar with the laughter was our recollection that in our early 20s every night that we got ready to go out we chose a Spice Girl whose style we felt best mirrored our own for the evening. We also would characterize people who seemed too old to be out as things like "Old Spice," and there were other Spice categories, too, like "Ugly Spice," "Whorey Spice," "Slutty Spice" (the distinctions, they are fine), and "Scummy spice." Clearly, we were nerds. As you might suspect from reading this blog, we still are nerds.

Ok, we need to go spend some quality time with one another. But we shall provide further updates as they are necessary. Peace out.

A. and Crazy

Ok, Now We Feel Bad

Hello, all! A. and Crazy here. (I'm doing the post because I'm a quicker and more accurate typist than A., but she is here and consulting with me on this post.)

So anyway, sometimes when the two of us get together we get a bit petulant and hostile. We blame the hostility of the morning on the Combos and the sunburns. Of course, this did not stop us from going to the pool for a bit (we took care not to cook the burnt bits, but rather focused our attention on the other areas). Also, we suspect that we will be in an even more chipper mood later in the day, for this afternoon we are meeting up with A.'s sister Earth Mama and her three kids (who are in town visiting their paternal grandparents) for some good times with the kiddies.

But so yes, we should also note that we love the blog people, and we will not deny you tales from this, the final day/night, of VPW 2007. Really, we lashed out at you because we sent some text messages that have not received responses, indeed, they may not have been read, and we feel that this is lame. But so we apologize blog people. That said, look, we need comments! We need to know that you are enjoying our efforts to include you in the VPW! It's really important! Constant affirmation! That's what we need!

But so now we must take showers and go to meet Earth Mama and the kiddies. More later! And thanks for reassuring us!

Fuck Right Off

A. and I resent everyone for not paying adequate attention to us. That includes you, blog readers. So we will NOT keep you up to date on our activities, even though they are totally entertaining. Instead, we bid you Good. Day.

Powered Down

Well, my dears, tonight was a much lower key night (or has been so far - I hold out hope) than last night. First, A. and I kind of blew our collective wad with the madness of last night and second, everybody can fuck right off because the phones have remained silent and the email in-boxes and even the comment boxes on this here blog have remained virtually empty. This may be because we were utterly horrifying to all last night. For this, we apologize.

So we had our gluttonous feast of Combos, pizza, and strawberry shortcake ice cream bars, and we drank a little (as opposed to a lot of) wine, and we watched some season 3 of Sex and the City. Oh, and we sent a couple or three of text messages, with less response than we might have liked, and A. was falling asleep and so now she has gone to bed and I have taken it upon myself to do some end-of-night blogging.

Can I just say, this weekend has been exactly what I needed. Aside from the idiocy and aside from the stupidity of the fact that we both allowed ourselves in the 21st century to get sunburns, we've had some real quality time. I love VPW 2007.

Except that A.'s Accidental Husband hasn't contacted her at all today (lame) even though she sent a sad apologetic text after she got off the phone with him last night (which of course, she didn't remember) - this text, incidentally, went something like, "sorry I was a bit drunk on the phone, which is true" which I think is hilarious, as what was true - the apology or the fact that she was drunk - but yeah, he's not been in touch. I feel like that has something to do with the fact that he's going to go with his M.O., which is all "right place, right time, last call," which means he'll get in touch around 2:30 AM.

The one person who has provided us with the necessary attention and encouragement even still was not really adequate, but, as we've taken to awarding an Emotional Cave-Dweller of the Day award of late, this person is the default winner. Even though I feel like this person is currently getting a lap-dance, which should mean he is disqualified from the ECD award. Obviously this is not somebody whose attentions my sweet friend A. would entertain. If A.H. calls tonight, though, and if he's sweet, then he may be a come-from-behind winner of the ECD award.

Annoying. We just received a call on A.'s cell phone but it's Vision Board Sister, which is not the kind of attention we seek. She didn't even really call to talk to us, but rather to talk about some "businessman" whom she met at some stupid fund raiser who asked for her phone number. LAME. That's the problem with VBS - she is a victim of the penis power, and she has not embraced the vagina power.

So anyway, we are lame, but the point here is that even as we are lame, we are cooler than most people. That's just the fun of us. And maybe people can't hang - maybe they are horrified by our vagina power. But who are we to judge? I mean, really. It's not easy to hang with A. and Crazy. Not at all. I mean, we're both pretty nutso. Especially in combination. So the plan for tomorrow is more maxing and relaxing, and I think it shall be fabulous.

Oh, and you may be wondering which Sex and the City figures with which we feel we identify. Sadly, I fear that I am most like Miranda. And that is not something I like admitting. A. fears that she is most like Charlotte. She doesn't relish the idea of this either. We're such nerds. However, we watched the episode in Season 3 that was about Carrie going out with a bisexual guy and she went to this party with him where he and his friends were all, "Let's play spin the bottle" and we feel those kind of people are sexual nerds, and while we may be nerdy, at least we are not sexual nerds. So there.

So Sex and the City is still on in the background - still Season 3 - and Aidan just told Carrie to "be good" upon leaving for some work trip. Can I just say how much I hate it when a dude tells me to "be good"? It makes me want to, to paraphrase Ryan Adams, steal all his records and fuck all his friends. "Be good" is such a fucked up thing to say to an equal. Just saying.

I do, however, like it when a boy calls me "pretty girl" as an appellation. I am a mass of contradictions.

By the way, I may have a sunburn (though only a fucked up one based on failure to reapply sunscreen, so not a full-body sunburn and not in any way a "go take a bath in vinegar" sort of sunburn), but the highlights in my hair look FABULOUS.

And the weekend continues...

Hello all it is A. again. Crazy and I are continuing the Vagina Power Weekend 2007. Here's an update!

So since Crazy last posted we have done the following:

• Ran errands - first to the wine store because tragically we seemed to, I guess, lose - well technically that isn't the right word but, ok, drank all of the wine. So we concocted a story that we were going to a party in case we got the weirdy look from the clerks if they happened to work yesterday.
• Went to the grocery store to get some other essentials one might require for such a weekend. So Crazy already mentioned pizza which we did get but, I also had a BRILLIANT idea for other munchies. One word - Combos..... Pepperoni Pizza Cracker flavor. If one has not eaten them clearly they sound disgusting but, on the contrary they are delicious. We also loaded up on humus, pita chips, ranch flavored pretzel bites, mega peanut M&M's (note: Crazy feels the chocolate to peanut ratio is off) those strawberry shortcake bars like the ones you could buy in elementary school.
  

So we have already noshed on many of the treats but, as it is early here we didn't want to put ourselves in a food coma that would later sabotage other important efforts of the evening. Crazy and are also examining our various states of sunburn which all resemble some shade of lobster or "summer whore" pink. This is no surprise, because again it's been happening for the past ten years. We like to think of this shade of pink that we achieve as "our base."

Interruption from Crazy: Ok, if we were to call my mom right now the first thing that she would do would be to lecture us for being total idiots, and the second thing she would do is tell us to do something like take a bath in vinegar because, as Crazy's Mom (who is not an MD but an F-R-A-U-D who likes to dispense free medical advice that usually takes the form of bizarre home remedies using household items to cure any manner of ailment, malaise, disease, or infection) would probably argue, "It takes the heat out."

I should also mention about the activities at the pool, which began with some disappointment because the grown-up pool was closed so these two fabulous single ladies were forced into the dreaded "family pool" area. For anyone not familiar with this sort of place let me just say there were a lot of small children and BIG mamas out there in various states of swimming costumes.... So we had a routine of getting really hot and letting all of the alcohol sweat out of our pores and then getting in the pool while trying to successfully dodge small children trying to initiate strange conversations. We also also seemed to have hilarious conversations while in the water referencing Vagina Power and the like putting us in serious danger of drowning even though we are both good swimmers. Thus relegating us primarily to the edge of the pool where we ran into the oddly talkative children. I mean seriously: is there no such thing as "Stranger Danger" anymore? There was also some dude who felt it appropriate to bring his pet snake out...what the hell? Upon laying poolside Crazy and I also tried to determine which of the other pool-goers were retarded. Because we seriously think some were. Really...

So that's our update on VP Weekend 2007. More later since I know you are all on the edge of your seat!

Random Bullets of Hung Over - Vagina Power Weekend 2007

Hello, readers. It's me, Crazy, again. A. is in the shower at the moment, but I promise that she will blog again later. So, in no particular order:

• It has been decreed that VPW will be an annual event, to take place each year over the Memorial Day weekend, until A. and I are old ladies. We spoke with another friend J. today, who just happens to be celebrating VPW 2007 with her friend Shirley in Miami, and so it occurs to A. and I that we must come up with a plan to spread VPW to cover the nation, nay, the world, in various locations for next year. So call up your best friends, ladies, and make your plans for VPW 2008. (Men will be relegated to such activities as playing golf, fishing, watching professional sports, and drinking large amounts of liquor while they miss their special ladies.)
• A. and I spent some time reminiscing about our New Year's resolutions from 1997. It occurs to us that we failed at them all and that we're still assholes 10 years later.
• We've decided an integral part of VPW will be a grocery-store bought pizza, so that neither of us has to call to order it.
  
• We are also having a hard time believing that it's only around 3 PM. It's been a long 24 hours. We might need to nap, as last night what we called "sleep" really was more like "passing out."
• I wonder who we'll call on the phone tonight. We learned after breakfast that we had called A.'s ex-boyfriend last night and left him a message. That was a surprise.
• Oh, and we also determined A.'s "signature law" from the 48 laws of power: Hers is Law 25, "Re-Create Yourself." For those of you who don't recall, mine is Law 17, "Keep Others Suspended in Terror: Cultivate an Air of Unpredictability."
• So, our activities today included 1) breakfast, 2) laughter, 3) lounging poolside as well as some dips in the pool, 4) watching What Not to Wear, 5) trying to reconstruct our movements from last night, 6) showering. On the agenda for this evening is 1) a trip to the grocery store, 2) a trip to the wine store (for clearly what we need is more alcohol), 3) watching some Sex and the City, and 4) communicating with the outside world through various media, including text messages, telephone calls, emails, and blog posts.

Oh My God. Wow. Just Wow.

Well, Vagina Power Weekend 2007 hit a bit of a snag late last night. Apparently Crazy and A. + Much Wine = Much Drunk Dialing. This is not the Vagina Power, although we did believe at the time it was. Anyway, we're not entirely certain of all the people we called, and we're certainly not certain of what people we actually spoke with, but we are very remorseful for being the same drunken assholes we've been since 1997.

But so anyway, we woke up this morning and it became apparent that we needed to go and eat huge amounts of greasy breakfast food. And now we're going to go lie in the sun and sweat out the toxins that remain in our hung over bodies. Wish us luck.

I'm An Ass

Ok, so A. -she has some major life personal shit that means I should not begrudge her the attentions of a boyfriend. And I don't. Even if it is true that I made out with the current boyfreind in question 11 years ago on his 21st birthday, when A. was making out with his cousin. But A. is now happily passed out in my bed (ok, so I was just alerted to the fact that she wasn't so happily passed out, and so I ha d to give her some Hybrasil to ease the passage into sleep, but whatever. The point here is that none of my late-night, long-distance-callers are calling. And I am sitting here drinking wine and feeling sorry for myself because this is the case. So. The question is, do I call one of these boys up? I could. Or I could let it lie, and I could just say fuck off to the whole idea of it. Huh.

I feel like all of these ideas are going against the very idea of Vagina Power.

Slogans of Vagina Power

• At least he didn't come over to your house, eat all your food, fuck you twice, and then leave.
• A: "Because I am secretly like Crazy."
• Crazy: "USA. USA. USA."
• If you have premarital sex, Jesus will give you a yeast infection. If you keep doing it, next time the Holy Spirit will give you gonorrhea. (This one's courtesy of A.'s Catholic neighbor.)
• A: "You would fuck him if it were the apocalypse. Like if there were a plague of locusts outside your door, you would fuck him."
  
• All I need is Sam Jackson and a radiator.
• A: "There's only a couple of years to rock these bad boys out."
• A: "We had some relations with roommates. But not at the same time. Like not that first night." Crazy: "Not at the same time? Oh, yeah, because I'm a whore." A: "Oh, well also I was on my lady time. And I was Virginy McVirginson."
• BFF: "Lady Time is great because it's also like Hammer Time."
• It's like a moth to a flame!
• Crazy: "It's Law 49: I'm a Fucking Retard."
• Crazy: "Oh God, we're out of the Pinot Grigio!" A: "Well, open up the red!" Crazy: "Ok, I'm drinking this out of the white wine glass." A. and BFF: "Well that's Vagina Power!"
• "Voila! Breakfast is served!"
• A: "I will make my plans happen. Because it's the Vagina Power."
• Friend from High School: "Your family wears its Crazy like a badge of courage."
• "A is for Awesome."
• A: "You know what? It's the Barb/Nancy Conundrum. I'll explain it to you later."
• Right Place, Right Time, Last Call.
• Crazy: "We all date below our class at some pont, A."
• "Hey! I'm Aaron Reese!"
• "There's a lot of Vagina Power going on."
• Crazy and A. "Here's to no more shit!"
  

Ok, look, so the slogans of the weekend are not done. But the slogans of the night are enough, as we need to call weirdo boys on the phone. So, make do with these slogans. We shall provide some more on the morrow.

It is I - A!

Hello to all of you darlings out in cyberspace! It is the weekend of Dr. Crazy & A... So far we have looked at various pics of Crazy and some of A noting the horrific lipstick and dress style of the mid to late 90's.

Perhaps you may wonder how Dr. Crazy and A. became BFF's. Well I'm not totally sure only to say I think we were brought together by early 20'sself-loathing and mutual desperation. Desperation in the sense that Dr. Crazy had broken up with FL and A was in an equally "transitional" place. Needless to say we continued the friendship through a love of phone talking, driving around, smoking, going to the beach etc. Our social endeavors were somewhat stinted as we were not yet 21 (and we were nerds).

Dr. Crazy and A attended different educational institutions so our time was best spent over many holiday breaks and summer vacations (one in particular that we went out EVERY night except 2). Also I should note that summer will live in infamy as the tannest summer alive. So that really is the beginning of our BFFship. Not surprisingly we still enjoy many of these same activities 12 years later. Many of which we will participating in this weekend!

After my arrival I would also like to note that we received a phone message from the Mother of Dr. Crazy - who I truly adore. Mother of Crazy has also endured many days, nights, and holidays with A. Also the step-dad of Crazy is close friends with A's family. The whole thing is truly incestuous but whatev... Ok I digress. Back to message from Mother that says "I'm just calling to bug the shit out of you, but I know that A is there so I will expect to hear from you on Monday." And there are others out there that will be hearing telephonically from Crazy and A. You know who you are.... even if you don't read this blog. Ok that's all I got for now. More later from Vagina Power Weekend 2007.

Only a Little More than 1 1/2 Hours until the Weekend of A. and Crazy!

First of all, can I just say that I feel like "A." should have a better pseudonym? This may be something that needs to be determined this weekend.

But anyway, she's on the road and she will be here in an hour or two! Hurrah! Am so excited! I know you all don't understand this excitement, but we will do our best to convey our awesomeness to the blogosphere in the coming days, so you, my faithful readers, will not be left out. Oh no, you will not. (Though you may wish that you would be, but whatever.)

Now, I need to do some straightening up around the house between now and A.'s arrival, but I'm tragically unmotivated. I did shower and I actually styled my hair - something I've not done in FOREVER. But as A. hasn't seen the hair in person since I got the new cut, I figured that I should make the effort to display it in a way that makes it seem like a good haircut (which it is, but you know, all hair looks better when you, I don't know, brush it).

But anyway, blogging from this point forward promises to be erratic, giddy, and quite possibly insane. Just a friendly warning :)

The Winter Bikini Line of Discontent (Clearly a TMI post)

Lord. There is this passage in Bridget Jones' diary where she talks about readying herself for a date with Daniel Cleaver, and in the process of body hair removal, she notes that women's bodies are like some uncontrollable rain forest - that left to their own devices even for brief periods of time that they revert back to nature. This is so, so true. So I accomplished a total of 2 1/2 things today (as I believe I probably shouldn't count napping and playing Sims 2):

1. I bought my plane ticket for England.
1/2. I began reading the novel I've got to read for my presentation at a conference in July. It is weird and awesome.
2. I dealt with the bikini line.

Now, you might not think that #2 is an accomplishment - I mean, how big of a deal is it to remove some body hair? Oh lord, you have no idea. Ah well - the summer is here and things are back in tip-top shape. Hurrah!

[Aside: this makes me think of the episode of Sex and the City where Samantha decides to grow her pubic hair out, realizes she has gray hairs, tries to die it, and it ends up looking like bozo the clown over her genital region.]

In other, less TMI news, A. shall arrive tomorrow for our weekend of A. and Crazy! It shall be excellent! We have lots of big plans. These include:

• Lounging around poolside.
• Drinking wine.
• Watching girly TV, such as the Sex and the City.
• Drunk dialing.

I cannot tell you how excited I am for this time with my A.! We shall have so much fun!

Imaginary Boyfriends, Not Boyfriends, Fake Boyfriends, Real Boyfriends

So. I've been thinking about this post for a bit. Of late, it's occurred to me that I have various categories into which I separate these "boyfriend" figures that I've had, and I feel like these categories may be of use to others. So I thought to myself, "Self, what better way to disseminate this very important wisdom but through your blog?" Now, it's true that not everyone engages in the idiocy in which I engage, but it must be at least somewhat common. So yes. Here we are with the categories.

Imaginary Boyfriends
Crazy has always (and by always, I mean since puberty) been a fan of the imaginary boyfriend. One might also call this category the category of unrequited infatuation. This is the category that holds those boys whom one loves with a love that is pure and true, a love that inspires one to record in her sophomore year of high school planner the shirt that they wear each day, the category that holds those boys that are sweet and lovely but whom are never to be in real life. Generally, one imagines these boys. Who the hell knows if one loves them with a love that is pure and true for REAL. The fact of the matter is, one just imagines that they would be perfect, and since these imaginary boyfriends never materialize, one is never disappointed. It is my deeply held belief that one should always have at least one imaginary boyfriend hanging around, if only for the entertainment that speculation about the imaginary boyfriend provides, not only to oneself but also to one's inner circle of friends.

Not Boyfriends
The Not Boyfriend is another thing altogether. This relationship often masquerades as a "friends with benefits" sort of thing, but that's not, in fact, what it is. What it really is, in fact, is a relationship in which the dude trades on the supposed friendship to get all of the benefits of a "real" relationship with none of the obligations or expectations. In other words, it's the "I love you but I'm not in love with you" relationship. The "you're my best friend but I just can't be committed right now" relationship. So you're totally emotionally invested, and you have the sex, but you don't actually have a boyfriend. Readers of the old blog will remember Stupid Freud. He was totally my Not Boyfriend. Now, I think Not Boyfriends suck. Imaginary Boyfriends are better any day of the week. That said, every now and then a person ends up with a Not Boyfriend, in spite of herself. The important thing to remember is that the Not Boyfriend is NOT your friend, nor will he be a fixture in your life once you stop having sex. This is a fact.

Fake Boyfriends
This is a category I've only recently encountered. This is a category that encompasses those with whom one actually is friends - indeed, you will probably remain friends with this person - but there is a frisson of something that accompanies the friendship, and you talk for hours upon hours, and you're IN each others' lives AS IF you were in a relationship, but the fact is, YOU'RE NOT. Or, rather, you are, but you're not in a "real" romantic relationship. This is not to say that there are not benefits. But no treaties have been signed and no caucuses have been held. Ultimately, you ARE friends, but whatever else you're playing around with is probably in large part a projection. This then leads your girlfriend to rename the Fake Boyfriend in question "Pinocchio" as in he wishes he "were a real boy." Can the Fake Boyfriend become a real boy? Well, as I'm new to this category, I have no data to confirm or deny. That said, I suspect that the Fake Boyfriend is less malicious than the Not Boyfriend but no more dependable. I leave room to be corrected on this point.

Real Boyfriends
Dude, what the hell are those? But seriously, I HAVE had them. They've just been few and far between. I suppose the Real Boyfriend is not a projection. I suppose the Real Boyfriend is one who captures one's imagination while at the same time is actually a real part of one's life. He's not a friend with a frisson of something undefinable but rather a lover with whom one has a foundation of friendship - or with whom one develops a foundation of friendship. He's not your Ex-Boyfriend who tries to make marriage pacts with you, and he's not your friend who tries to talk about sex-related things with you. He's a person who is in it with you, a person who is on the same page as you, at least for the time that it takes to become, in 7th-grade parlance, boyfriend-girlfriend. Now I drive a hard bargain, and I think I've only had but two of these, really. All the rest have been Imaginary, Not, or Fake.

***

So some poor person (I imagine a girl of around the age of 13) found this blog recently with a google search looking for "what do boys like to talk about on the phone?". Given my experience with talking to boys on the phone, I did feel like I should respond. But then I thought, "Oh god, I feel like what I'd have to contribute will only scar the poor lass." But so. Whether a boy is Imaginary, Not, Fake, or Real really does determine what they will like to discuss on the phone.

Imaginary: Well, you just talk about what they're interested in or you manufacture things that you can talk about with them. For example, that IB whose daily shirt choices I recorded? I tended to talk to him about student council stuff, because he was in student government. I also finagled being on a group project in a class or two with him, which forced him to talk to me. I recommend if you are a fan of the IB that you become a person who writes for your school newspaper. That always served me well.

Not: To be quite honest, they'll talk about anything as long as you remain in their circle of lies. Just act as if you believe that they really are your friend, and listen to their shit, and talk about what matters to them. The Not Boyfriend is the consummate narcissist. He doesn't really care about you, so in order to engage him on the telephone all you need to do is to seem preoccupied with him.

Fake: Well, the FB is different. Apparently the FB does enjoy whatever one has to say about a variety of topics. Really, with the FB, one can say anything. The important thing to remember is that they're not one's RB, even though one can say anything to them.

Real: The RB wants to know about you and to tell you (honestly) about him. Sometimes this may be annoying, as he may tend to ask a lot of questions or to provide more info than you want about certain aspects of his own life, but the thing is, you will love him, and so you won't feel like you need to search on the internet to discover what he wants to talk about on the phone.

Oh, and all of these may talk about pervy sex things on the phone, and you should probably tell them to fuck off if they do :)

The Ethics and Conventions of Blogging While Academic

Dean Dad writes a post today in response to a reader's question about a blogging graduate student. Before you read what follows, I recommend you go over and read the post and the comment thread, though I suppose it's not necessary if you don't have the time or inclination. It's just I'm veering off from the original post, so if you're interested in all that, head over there. To summarize, though, the reader who asks the question (a department chair) is asking about what Dean Dad things is "appropriate" content for (graduate student) blogs and about what he believes are "reasonable" guidelines for students/teachers who blog. Dean Dad provides a pretty exhaustive list in response to the original question, and the comment thread takes off from there, and in my comments I tried to mount a defense for the grad student blogger(s) who inspired the question. Now, do I know the specifics here? No. Is it possible that the grad student blogger is being "inappropriate" on his/her blog? Sure. But what is interesting to me is how quickly people rushed to comment that the content of that blog - which none of us has seen - is inappropriate. And it got me thinking: what are the ethics/conventions that underly academic blogging? And who decides what those conventions are? And ultimately, what is the point of blogging while academic? What are we trying to do in this medium?

Rather than trying to write some manifesto that regulates what I think blogs by academics should do, I'm going to do a sort of free-form speculation that talks mostly about my choices. I'm doing this not only out of laziness (though admittedly, that is a factor) but also out of one of my long and deeply held convictions about one of the most positive aspects about blogging: for me, blogging has been about having a space within which to develop a particular writing voice. If this is what blogging offers - and offers in ways that other kinds of academic writing can't match - I thoroughly resist the notion that we need to or should codify a set of rules that all teachers or students (or professors, who are interestingly for the most part left out of the conversation over at Dean Dad's) should follow. The point is to figure out one's online identity. Whether one writes under one's own name or whether one writes under a pseudonym (however thinly that pseudonym might veil one's real life identity), the point is to come to a voice with which one is comfortable and that allows one to explore ideas that one might not be able to explore in another mode of discourse. Moreover, the point is to some extent about community, and this is why blogging is not merely about keeping an online diary. Part of the point is that writing on blogs is public. People who choose to keep blogs know this.

But there is a period of adjustment to the public nature of blog discourse. At first, I'd suspect that most of us don't really believe that people will read our blogs. We feel as if we are sending off messages in bottles and we wonder whether any response will ever come back. During this period, each of us is prone to make mistakes in judgment. It's not that we don't know that this is a public mode of discourse, but rather that we think our voices in that discursive network are insignificant. But if that's the case, then why write?

Well, I chose to start blogging for a number of reasons, but chief among those was that I felt like my experience as a junior faculty member who was single, who came from an elite graduate program but who now works at a regional state school, who was trying to balance professional demands with a personal life that had been pretty much on hold throughout my 20s, did not have a place in the narratives that describe professorial life. I felt when I started a profound disconnect between what I'd thought my life would be like once I got that coveted tenure-track job and the life that I actually had. And I felt a profound sense of alienation from academic community, in spite of having that tenure-track job. In other words, I felt like the narratives available to me ultimately marginalized me. I felt insignificant, and so I wanted to construct an alternative narrative.

Now, when I started I didn't know what I was doing. And the voice that I started with ultimately could not be sustained by me with any level of comfort. So ultimately I moved house and modified the voice and the kinds of things that I chose to write about so that I would feel comfortable. But that was a valuable learning experience for me, and I'd be reluctant to change that experience and I'd be reluctant to say that some sort of code of conduct should have been policing my behavior, even though in my former guise I was much more likely to write in ways that were angry, frustrated, and identifyingly specific. But I moved through that phase, and I moved out of it. I think that people who keep blogging ultimately do.

I suppose that one of the things that concerns me about this discussion is that I resist the notion that complaint can only happen behind closed doors or that frustration expressed in one medium "counts" while it doesn't "count" if expressed in another. I don't believe that when people blog about their frustrations as students, teachers, professors that they are necessarily trying to effect change. I think it's more often a case of trying to figure out a problem or trying to get support when none is forthcoming in real life. In other words, the blogging is not meant as *action.* But it does not necessarily follow that the blogger is not actually taking action in his/her life related to that which he/she blogs about. The very same blogger who is "complaining" on his/her blog may well be going through the appropriate channels in one's real life to deal with the issue. I think that there can be a place for both ways of negotiating the terrain of academia.

Now, I tend on this blog not to write specifically about students (though I'm sure there are a couple of exceptions), or to write about the specifics of department or university politics. If I *do* write about things that are going on, my tendency is to abstract what I'm writing about, but this is mainly because I want my blog to be interesting to those who read it. It is not because I feel it's my duty to be positive or supportive or some other bullshit. If you read this blog, you don't read it because you're looking for some shiny happy take on academia. You're not reading it because you want to listen to some disgruntled asshole, either, but there really is a middle ground between those two options. And I'm sorry: sometimes students (and professors and administrators) deserve to be mocked. Sometimes ALL people deserve to be mocked. Because sometimes ALL people are idiots. Do I tend to want to use my blog for that? Nah. But I'm sure I've done it sometime or another, or I've written in such a way that others believe that I've done that, even if I don't see it that way.

There is no one way to participate in the community of academics who blog. Some people choose to write purely professional blogs; some people choose to write more personal blogs; some people choose to do a mix of the two. This is both exciting and potentially dangerous. But I suppose it's that element of danger that makes this mode of discourse interesting for me. It's like the difference between writing free verse (blogging) and writing a sonnet (a journal article). Each has its conventions, its defining rules, but in one there is more room for certain kinds of experimentation. If we try to stifle that experimentation, I think we risk valuing conformity in ways that are at rock bottom anti-intellectual.

So what would my advice be to people who choose to blog while academic? Whether these people are students or professors or somewhere in between? Am I even qualified to give advice? About that last question I'm not sure, but for the sake of argument, let's say I am. Here are my thoughts:

1. A pseudonym will never shield you completely. People will always figure you out or you will inadvertently reveal who you are. That said, it is a particular projection of your identity, and you do have some control over it. Who do you want to be? It's good to figure that out and to figure out a way to be somewhat consistent in such a way that if somebody does connect the pseudonym to the "real" you that you're not embarrassed or angry with yourself for that identity that you projected.
2. It's important to take this writing seriously, for it is public. That said, it's also important to feel some measure of freedom, or there is no point in keeping a blog.
3. If all you're doing on your blog is bitching, it's probably not a terribly productive way to spend your time, and it's probably making you miserable. But if you sometimes bitch and you sometimes write about non-bitchy things, well, you're human. And I think that it's positive not to idealize what an academic life is like, and so give yourself a break if sometimes you're not so idealistic.
4. Not all blogs need to deal with "issues" and not all blogs need to be professional documents. I mean, jesus, aren't we professionalized enough? And I don't necessarily follow the rule that I should be "professional" on my blog. Because guess what: I'm not getting professional credit for this blog and I don't want it. And I also think that some who think that they *are* professional on their blogs are deluding themselves.
   
5. Ultimately, all of this is *really* not that big of a deal. Or it doesn't have to be. It only becomes a big deal when a few try to regulate the many. Ultimately, the fact that I blog doesn't mean squat in the broader scheme of my life. It's a hobby. And a pretty lame and nerdy hobby at that. It is not who I am as an academic or who I am as a person. And I wouldn't want it to be.
   

So I don't know if this post is helpful or productive or if it really contributes to the conversation that began over at Dean Dad's, but these are my thoughts. And as for grad students who blog (and many of whom read this blog): if it makes you feel slightly more empowered or if you feel like you get something positive out of it, then I think it's a good thing, but it is useful to be aware that you're not writing in a vacuum.

Most Useless Horoscope Ever

Ok, now this isn't from my snazzy daily horoscope that I get that's based on my actual and specific birthday but rather from the general one. Just take a gander:

"Unnecessary distraction or totally necessary diversion? It's your call. Sometimes you need to give yourself a break in order to get back on the horse. Other times you need to keep plugging on. Which is it this time? "

Totally and completely useless. I mean, it's almost difficult to fathom how the astrology people can think that horoscope gives any sort of relevant information. LAME.

But so anyway, I'm considering what to do with my day, and I think I need to get out into the world to see others and to interact with them. It occurs to me that I'm hitting that point in the summer where I go a bit wonky because of not seeing enough people on a day-to-day basis. Now, I know I complain throughout the semester about seeing TOO MANY people, but see, that's the fun of me. I complain whether it's too many people or too few people. But so in the summer it's really important for me to get into a routine of activities that force me out into the world and that mean I'm not totally isolated from human contact. So now it's time to figure out what those things today will be.

Also, I think I need to work on my one conference paper today. I started looking at the abstract for it last night and it occurs to me that it's too big of an idea for 15 minutes. Ah well. I've had such big ideas before, and I'll figure it out. It's just that because of the size of the idea that it will take longer to write this paper than previously anticipated because I'll need to write a really tight paper. Sigh.

Ok, I must away with myself. I cannot spend the day chained to home and to the internet!

Oh, but also. Check out Medusa's post on the 48 Laws of Power. It will give insight into the Craziness that typified me during grad school (and I think it's totally hilarious) :)

First Love, By Request

Who requested a post about First Love? Well. That would be First Love. Because apparently all he wants is to read about himself. Apparently the mundane details of my life are uninteresting to him because he knows the contours of those already, either because he knows who I'm discussing or because I've blabbed about those details to him on the phone. I have to say, I feel that he is lame for thinking that I should write about him rather than things that are of interest to my broader readership, but I suppose I can throw him a bone.

You see, I revealed the fact that I keep this here blog to him about a month ago (you see, I needed to forward him pictures that I'd already forwarded from my Dr. Crazy email, and I was too lazy to go to a non-Dr.-Crazy-identifying email and to go through the forwarding process full on, and so I decided, "What the hay! FL can know about my super-secret blogging identity!) but so I talked to him tonight for the first time since then, and he was all, "Yeah, I read your blog every day, and it's great, except for you don't talk about me as much as you should." Narcissist!

Dude, how do I get mixed up with these yahoos? Either all they want is to be blogged about or all they want is for me to shut the fuck up about them. No happy medium.

But anyway, FL. What shall I tell you about him? Well, I've written about him before. Actually, from doing a search, it seems that's really the only post I've devoted to him. Here's the thing: FL continues to be my friend because I refused to let him not be my friend, in spite of some very good reasons why I should have not wanted friendship from him (namely, that he was a total dick when he was my boyfriend and slept around the whole time we were together). That said, I invested a lot in him, and I cared about him more than I've cared about most people, so I made him be my friend. And yes, he did protest this, but it's very difficult for a person to resist me when I decide that person must be my friend.

But so FL lives in North Carolina, where all of Crazy's Important Exes live, and he and I talk about once a month or so. And he's... I don't know. The thing that's great about him is that as much as he's been through and as much as he's changed, he really is still the boy that I met when I was 15 at a Dead Milkmen show. It still takes the Spanish Inquisition to make him tell me what's going on with him, and he still makes the same silly jokes, and he still knows the me that I was when I was 15 and he still sees her in me. Now, I've got other friends I've known for as long or nearly as long, who also see that person, but he sees that person in a different way, because he sees me as that girl he loved whom he wasn't ready to love. And so when I talk to him... well, I see that girl he loved, too. And I see him as the boy I loved. And there's something special and unique and awesome about that kind of friendship.

The bitterness that was there is now so far away that I think that he and I just really appreciate each other in ways that we didn't even when we were together. I mean, sure, he is always trying to make crazy Desperation Marriage Pacts with me (I've negotiated to get him up to 38 on this, but I suspect when I get closer to 38 and if I'm still single that I'll probably try to negotiate even higher) and there is that undercurrent of a past that remains, but at the same time, well, there's a total honesty with him that is only possible because he really, truly is my friend. And in fact, there's even a different kind of honesty than there is with my other real, true friends because not only is he my friend but he was also once my beloved.

What's For Dinner?

I know you're dying to know. Well, first I made one of my favorite things in the whole world - Polish cucumber and onion salad. All it includes is cucumbers, some onion, sour cream and some salt. It is DIVINE.

As for the main course, I'm a bit concerned though that my experiment didn't quite work out. I thought I might attempt to make some approximation of Chicken Tikka Massala, but problematically, I didn't bother to use a recipe and just kind of threw some stuff together. Must go see whether this turns out to be edible.

Ok, I made it too tomato-y, but it's actually kind of delicious. I so love cooking for myself. You just can't be as creative or daring when cooking for others, not unless you have a test kitchen of some kind.

Also, though it might seem odd, the combination of the Polish salad with the Indian-inspired main course actually makes perfect sense on this nearly-90-degree day. My cooking knows no bounds! I bring the foods of the world together in my little (less clean than it was yesterday because of the cooking - gah!) kitchen!

-time passes-

This reminds me that I need to begin thinking about some menu options for the 2 visitors that will show up on my doorstep in the coming weeks. A. and I will probably make some menu decisions together, and cook together, but I do feel like it's nice to have some options in mind. As for visitor #2, Mountain Man, I'm not entirely certain about what his plans are yet, so I'm not sure about whether I even need menu options. (He's swinging through for a visit to me but his actual agenda is to visit family who live nearby.) But so anyway, though, since I don't feel like working on my conference paper, I've got a lot of time on my hands and so I'm thinking that I should prepare menu options even if they aren't needed. You see how it is. I am procrastinating, even though it's summer.

That said, I DID haul my ass to the gym today (even though I REALLY didn't want to go), and I also went to the post office to mail off some things and to buy stupid 2 cent stamps, and I finished that reader's report. So really, even though I feel lazy, I am totally not lazy. And so now I've eaten a healthy dinner, and it's time to make plans for what I will do tonight/tomorrow. After I clean up in the kitchen. And after I take a shower. And then there is American Idol, which I barely care about but which I feel it is my duty to watch.

When Was the Last Time I Did a Meme?

A really long time ago, I'm thinking, because I have no recollection of it. I found this Music History Meme over at Anastasia's, and I shall do it while my dinner cooks! Hurrah!

Note: "genre" refers to the marketing/mainstream-media label that would be assigned to the band, not the label (or lack of label) that real fans or the band itself would claim.

1. What's your earliest music memory?
Hmm. Well, I suppose first I should note that I had really young parents, so rock/pop music was part of my life from before I can remember. I know I loved the song "Cat's in the Cradle" as a toddler; I also have a memory of being at the ice rink when I was about 5, stopping in the middle of the ice because Linda Rondstadt's "You're No Good" came on, and giving an impromptu performance of it.

2. What's the first pop song you remember hearing?
First pop song: Chic's "Le Freak." I had aunts who were teenagers and who loved the disco:)

3. What's the first rock song you remember hearing?
I honestly am not sure. Let's just say that Foreigner, Heart, and the Rolling Stones featured heavily in my childhood. Particular favorites were: "Cold As Ice," "Barracuda," and "Sympathy for the Devil."

4. What's the first classical music piece you remember hearing?
Probably something ridiculous like the 1812 Overture. I'm a total classical music philistine.

5. What's the first piece/song you remember that doesn't fit into those genres?
Johnny Cash, my friends, Johnny Cash. I LOVED the Man in Black from about ages 3-5. I'd say my favorite song was Folsom Prison Blues because of the train part at the beginning. I also had a record called "The Sleepy Town Train," so clearly I was into things with trains. Also, there are all the little kid songs I loved. One favorite went: "A peanut sat on a railroad track/His heart was all a-flutter!/Along came the 6:15,/Toot! Toot! Peanut butter!" Told ya I liked trains (and also, apparently, violence). :)

6. What's the first album/cd you bought for yourself/you asked your parents to buy for you?
Michael Jackson's Thriller

7. What's a favorite song from grade school?
PYT by Michael Jackson. Best. Michael. Jackson. Song. Ever.

8. A song that reminds you of school dances?
"Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton. I went to a classic-rocky sort of high school.

9. Which genre do you listen to most now? ("Most" can mean you have one more song in that genre than in any of the others)
Uhhh.... alternative? Indie? Something like that.

10. Which favorite song/album/piece from your musical history are your readers least likely to know?
Any songs/albums put out by bands I went to see in grad school, all of which are now defunct, as far as I know. You gotta love the Cambridge/Somerville music scene ca. 1997-2001 :)

Random Bullets of Crap: Summer Has Begun Edition

Good morning, my readers! As you might imagine, I feel dizzy with possibility now that I have completed the Great Purge. I feel as if the summer is now officially begun and that the world is my oyster. So let us begin with the bullets!

• I wonder what I'll do with my day. It's 9 AM and I'm awake and I might do almost anything. Hurrah!
• Note to High School Ex-Boyfriends across the world who periodically chat with their Ex-Girlfriends from High School: Don't call them up on the phone at like 6:45 AM! Who DOES that? I mean, I didn't answer, but I was still irritated. It's SUMMER, you dummy, and I am NOT awake before 7 AM in the summertime!
• I maybe should go into the office today. I totally don't want to do that.
• I should also maybe begin work on one of my two conference papers, and/or knock out that reader's report.
• I wish that the pool was open. It would be nice to do all of that in the sunshine.
• Oh, and I probably should go to the post office today. I need to buy stamps to supplement the increase in stamp prices (outrageous!) as well as to mail some things to various people.
• Maybe I'll go for a walk now - get out in the sunshine a bit? That might be quite nice actually. Yes, I do believe I will do that. Maybe. I'm actually kind of physically exhausted from all the cleaning. Hmmm.....
• Apparently something quite interesting is happening in the living room. M-K just passed at a trot looking like he was on a major and significant mission. Gotta love that M-K. Always on patrol and securing the different "zones" of the place. (By the way, I think he's kind of sick of me - another reason I really should go someplace today. You know it's bad when your cat is sick of you.)
• Ok, I'm done with this boring and bullet-y post. Time to start with my day! Hurrah!
  

SO CLOSE! But Yet So Far

Ok, so I should just be finishing the kitchen. I should, but I am running out of steam. Even though I'm REALLY close to being done with Spring Cleaning 2007.

So. What have I accomplished today?

• Closet reorganization.
• Yet another bag of crap from the closet for charity.
• Reorganization of kitchen cabinets, which resulted in a full garbage bag of stuff I disposed of as well as a full box of stuff for charity.
• Removed magnets from refrigerator
  
• Cleaned out freezer.

What do I need to accomplish in order to feel like Spring Cleaning 2007 is done?

• Clean microwave.
• Clean inside of refrigerator section of refrigerator
• Clean entire outside of refrigerator
• Clean counters (didn't do that yesterday)
• Clean sink
• Clean top of stove (have given up on oven)
• Sweep and mop floor.

The problem is, I don't want to do any of these things. I want to bail on Spring Cleaning 2007. But dammit, I don't want to have to continue SC2007 tomorrow! I want to be done! Or at least done-ish (still need to vacuum the whole place, but can do that any old time, I feel, and also I need to organize socks and tights into some form that makes sense, i.e., not the laundry basket into which all currently are thrown). You know what the problem is? Cleaning sucks. Maybe I'll play around on the internet for 20 minutes with the timer on and then get back to it. Yes, this seems like a plan.

Update: THE KITCHEN IS DONE! DONE! DONE!
What this means is that all that is left to do is to take out the trash, to vacuum tomorrow as well as to do some organizing odds and ends that I didn't believe constituted necessary actual cleaning, and it will be like I'm living in somebody else's house! (Of course, those organizational things probably will never happen anyway, so it's ok - it's still my home sweet home.)

So. I just took a shower (for I felt like the scum of the earth upon finishing mopping the floor. By the way, I typically don't say "mopping" the floor. I typically say "washing." I think this might be a regionalism - one that only came to my attention when I lived with my ex and he mocked me for it. So now I'm careful to say "mopping." But then when I was talking to A. over the weekend, she said she was going to "wash" her floor, and so now I'm thinking I might revert to saying "wash" rather than "mop" because dude, what's the big deal?

But so anyway, I am clean and my house is clean. And I'm considering going and buying myself a celebratory bottle of wine. And so now, I am DONE with Spring Cleaning 2007! You won't have to read about cleaning any more for a long, long while! Hurrah!

Oh, and I expanded the musical repertoire today, and I remembered that really, the Very Best Cleaning Music Ever is the Violent Femmes. Over, and over, and over again. Why did I think I could ever complete this task without the Femmes? It was just like cleaning my room in high school! (Except without the bitching of my mother in the background.)

(That said, all of the upheaval seems to have upset the Man-Kitty - he hasn't eaten his dinner. I think he doesn't know what to do with all of the activity around this joint.)

Another Bag of Crap for Charity

I have reorganized my closet.

Finally.

And I probably should have gotten rid of more than I did, but as it is, I've gotten rid of a GREAT deal.

It also appears that I have one shirt and one pair of shoes that are missing. I must call my mom and ask her if I've left them there. I also must look and see if perhaps I left both in a suitcase or something. Or maybe my closet ate them?

Now it's time to deal with the kitchen and then I will be d-o-n-e. As I said in an email to my friend A., life's too short to clean this much.

But so what else? I'm not going to the gym today because of the cleaning extravaganza, but as I've been working up a sweat, I feel that this is ok. And so tomorrow I will embark on the work-work that I've been ignoring for the past week, for really I have a lot that I need to do. I do think, however, the week of just focusing on my crap and not focusing on the life of the mind stuff has been really rejuvenating. Perhaps this is why I don't break down and hire a cleaning person - that there's something so satisfying about eradicating one's own filth. This is not to say I like cleaning, for I do not. But I do like the sense of accomplishment when the cleaning is done.

Ok, back to it!

Tra La La! I Don't Have to Go Any Place!

Well, my readers, good morning! I am feeling awfully chipper, even though last night I had a bit of a difficult time sleeping, and I am looking forward to finishing with the Spring Cleaning. It promises to be a long day, but, well, some days have to be long in order to have things the way that one wants them.

So, what else is going on with me? Well. Hm. Not too much, actually. I talked to A. yesterday and all is smoothed over with her and her Accidental Husband. I also talked to my mom, who drives me nuts but who really is fantastic, to Kelly, to Julie - yes, I talked to all of the people in my Inner Circle of Phone-Talking except for BFF. Oh, and it's also come to my attention recently that there's been a new and unexpected addition to the ICoPT, and I talked to that person, too.

My eyes are watering like crazy - must go take some allergy meds. I shall, during the final throes of my cleaning extravaganza, try to determine a topic for a post that will delight and entertain you all more than my recent ones have done. Wish me luck!

Spring Cleaning 2007 - The Agony, The Ecstasy

Ok, so yesterday I took the day off. I went to dinner with BFF, came home and watched the finale of the Coyote Ugly show, the "casting special" for the Real World Las Vegas reunion (I am both tremendously excited for the train wreck that this promises to be as well as horrified at myself for being excited), watched Sweet Home Alabama, complete with commercial breaks, and then talked to A., who had a horrible, horrible night with her current main squeeze. I think I made her feel a bit better, at least.

Then I went to sleep (though I didn't get a very good night's sleep - combination of bed-hog kitty as well as weird dreams), talked to my mom on the phone, went back to sleep, and then began again with the cleaning. I've decided that I just have to deal with the living room and dining room first even though the bedroom still isn't totally done - I think the thing with the bedroom stuff I've yet to do is that it's tedious, and so I think that I'll return to it when I'm feeling close-to-done rather than trying to motivate myself to do it when I'm feeling demoralized about the common rooms of the house. (Although, that's kind of a weird way of putting it, because really all of the rooms in my house are common rooms as my roommate totally runs the show, as he's a cat. There's just no privacy in this place.)

So I organized the big front closet, and now it's time to move the goodwill stuff in there to get it out of the way. Then I'm going to take out some trash, then deal with the living room and dining room. From there, we shall see.

You may be wondering what I've been listening to as I do all this cleaning. Well. The soundtrack has mainly included:

• Bloc Party's *A Weekend in the City*
• Bright Eyes' *Cassadaga*
• Lucinda Williams' *Car Wheels on a Gravel Road*

And I'm not sure what else. Perhaps I'll do a fuller soundtrack to cleaning post when I'm further along. But now back to it.

Update:
Ok, listening to Cassadaga again. One of my favorite songs on the CD - "Hot Knives" - is on. My favorite lyrics:

"When I do wrong I am with God, she thought
When I feel lost I am not at all

So give me Black Light (Give Give me)
So give me Hot Knives (Deep Clean sleep)
On a dance floor no one tells time (There is no time)

Oh, I've made love, yeah, I've been fucked, so what?
I'm a cartoon, you're a full moon, let's stay up"

But so the living room is done except for vacuuming and cleaning the picture window, The dining room is done except for minimal mail sort of stuff on the table and vacuuming. The bedroom remains a tragedy, but I have high hopes. All of the books in the home of crazy are reshelved. Somehow. I need another bookshelf.

Right now, though, what I need more than another bookshelf is a teensy break. This is a mistake, as I've still got the kitchen and the bedroom, but I'm thinking that it's ok if I procrastinate a wee bit as I HAVE NO PLACE I HAVE TO BE TOMORROW! I realize that this is not exactly a newsflash, but I think I'm finally realizing that it's actually summer. I'm so happy that I've weeded so much shit out of my life, and also enjoying finding things as I go through pictures and things. Most awesome has been my review of the many hairstyles of Crazy (am so happy with my hair right now), my review of exes long forgotten (which reminds me of an idea I had once that I'd get a big picture frame and include pics of all of my exes in a kind of hilarious composite-boyfriend art object, though I'm not the sort who actually puts pictures in frames, so I suspect this will never get beyond the "idea" stage), and realizing that as much as I'm a pack-rat I really do weed out a lot of stuff and I don't hang on to the crap that weighs me down as much as I might. Huge sense of accomplishment arising from the weeding out.

So, what else shall I accomplish today?

1) Finish the stupid closet in my bedroom.
2) Finish the dining room table and clean the ceiling fan.
3) Clean the picture window in the living room.
4) run the dishwasher and clean the kitchen counters.

This is a totally doable list. And more than enough to be going on with.

Tomorrow, I'll finish the kitchen (including weeding out and reorganizing of cabinets, cleaning refridgerator, mopping the floor and cleaning the stove). Then, I'll finish the bedroom (dusting, windows), and then I'll vacuum the whole establishment. I really need to get my carpets cleaned, so also tomorrow I will get that scheduled as well as scheduling a charity pick-up of all the crap that I'm getting rid of that's not garbage.

Now, lest you think that I'm the most efficient person in the world, I decided to forgo filing, so I do have some crates of paper shit that are not terribly organized. I figure that all in all this is not the worst thing in the world, and clearly is something I can accomplish once the Major Cleaning is done. Why can I accomplish it later? Because it is summer! Hurrah!

Oh, and another of those tasks I've put off is reorganizing CDs, but again, this is not an urgent matter in the age of the iPod.

So, that's the update on my progress. I feel like it's boring, but people seem to be enjoying the spring cleaning posts, and it helps me to write it all out, so there we are.

Now I'm going to relax for about another half hour, and then back to it!

Woops

Apparently, I'm not doing any of what I had said I'd do in my last post. Apparently, I am taking the day off from Spring Cleaning 2007. After I posted, I talked on the phone. Then I decided to take myself to the bookstore and out to lunch. I arrived home to a message from BFF about going out to dinner tonight, and so apparently, I'm just not doing anything. Whatever. I need a rest.

Spring Cleaning 2007 - Maybe the Penultimate Day?

That is my ambition. I'm hopeful, as already this morning I talked to my mom on the phone and went to the gym, so even if I take a little rest now for about an hour, that still has me getting started earlier than I have any day this week. Yesterday I successfully weeded out the closet, but I still need to do some organization of clothes (the hanging clothes, not the dresser, as that is done). After that, I'll tackle the living room and dining room, and then I'll head into the study to reorganize bookshelves. This really should be do-able. Then I'll do the kitchen tomorrow (which promises to be a bit of a huge task, actually) and then I will be d-o-n-e. And then I can really focus on working out and eating well and all of the academic life-of-the-mind shit that I need to be doing. But so I'm hopeful to be done tomorrow, but realistically I may need to finish up Monday.

So let the day's cleaning begin!

I Hate a Threatening Horoscope

So, I get my horoscope via email each day. It's this great one that is actually based on my specific birthday, and it gives your overall horoscope and then it breaks down specific things about love, energy, and career.

Here was my love portion today: "Make a wish -- but be sure it's what you really want and what you're really ready for, because it will almost certainly come true." Apparently this is what Venus sextile Mars means. At any rate, it really pisses me off. Who are the stars to threaten me with getting what I wish for! That is so lame. And who even knows what I wish for! As for the love stuff of late, well, I don't know. I don't have any specific agenda. I'm just kind of rolling with the punches. And I'm trying to focus on things that I have control over, like cleaning my house and planning my summer and work. So, in sum, screw you, internet astrologer! Just screw you!

In other news, I can't believe the amount of clothing that I've accumulated. Or, rather, I can, because I can't bear, generally to dispose of clothes. I mean, I still have a shirt that my father bought me for my FIFTEENTH BIRTHDAY. (And no, that's not getting donated because I love it, and I still wear it, even if it is ratty ratty ratty these days.) But yeah, this is going to be a major purge.

Ok, now off to change laundry and then to go out for "cleaning supplies" (i.e., wine).

Spring Cleaning 2007 - Oh It Goes So Slow

The study is basically done, although I've still got to organize the bookshelves. Can do this, though, tomorrow. I've decided I must now move on to my closet/bedroom/laundry portion of the cleaning event. So far I've got two big boxes of stuff to go to Good Will, and I suspect the closet portion of things will add to the charity donation. It's time for some major weeding out, as I keep shopping and there is a ton of stuff that I just don't wear.

At any rate, I'm taking a wee break now, and so I thought I'd catch up on some blog related things. First, I've not been responding in comments, but two new commenters have said hello recently, so let me give a shout-out to Fretful Porpentine and to Monica. Thanks for stopping by and saying hi!

Also, re: C. in the post of yesterday. I feel sort of bad, because C. is my friend, as is A. (Really I'm friends with the whole family, as I first encountered the clan when I was 14 and I had Latin with their brother. At any rate, if you're friends with one of this number, you are friends with all four, as well as the extended family. It's just something that one has to accept. And if you fall out of touch with one, another pops up.) C. was around at a time in my life when I really needed a friend - when I broke up with the ex that I lived with, was finishing my diss and getting ready to start this job. So I feel a little bad that I've presented her here as a lunatic. The fact is, I'm really worried about her. The thing with the stalker-like and creepy "vision board" is that she's in this period of desperation in her life, and that's what it's coming out of. The problem is, she doesn't seem to know how to get her shit together and she's the only one who can do that. So here's the thing: C. is a good person and a sweet person and her heart's in the right place. The problem is, she's just really fucked up right now and is making a lot of choices that aren't helping with that. So don't think badly of C. - she's just at a crossroads.

Hmmm.... what else? Well, A. is coming to visit next weekend (hurrah!) and so that's one excuse I've had to be motivated to do the full-on spring cleaning in such a systematic way. Also, as plans for the summer are shaping up, I've got a conference the weekend of June 8th (where I know I'll see at least one blogger! Hi Anne! It will be so fun to see you!) and then I *think* I've got another visitor who will show up at some point in June if the stars align properly. Then, I go to Cleveland to deposit the Man-Kitty at my parents' and I fly to the UK! Hurrah! And that trip is shaping up to be awesome as well, as my friend G. is planning all sorts of shenanigans, including 3 or 4 days in the Scottish highlands and a trip to Wales. What will be a bit weird about the trip is that I'll be totally incommunicado for the duration (aside from sending off postcards). This will be... interesting. Probably good, possibly bad, but definitely interesting.

And then it's the end of July and the summer will be almost over! Clearly this will not be a summer of R&R, especially as what with the conferences I've got two conference papers to write in addition to the visitors coming in June. Busy busy busy. I'm going to try to get one of those papers knocked out immediately after the spring cleaning, and I also have a novel to read (I'm hoping to accomplish a lot of that poolside when A. is in town) for the second conference paper.

So yes, there is actually a lot going on, aside from Spring Cleaning 2007. Or if not going on right now, waiting in the wings to go on.

But now, back to work!

Spring Cleaning 2007 - How Did It Get to Be Friday?

I think I'm like 2 days behind schedule. Luckily, I've got time on the back end during which I can do those tasks that I do not complete between today and tomorrow. The study is mostly done - mostly because I still need to wash the windows and organize the bookshelves. And go through a couple of random boxes of paper. But other than that, done.

Then, I need to do laundry desperately. And to go through clothes and get rid of stuff.

Then, Living Room, Dining Room, and Kitchen, all of which have become pits of despair as a direct outcome of spring cleaning. Maybe I'll be done early next week.

My allergies are atrocious and my eyes are watering in spite of having taken claritin. Life is pain.

Random Musings on Ridiculous Things

Ok, so I'm taking a wee break from the excavation of my study. I should not be taking this break, as I didn't really get going on things until like an hour ago.

But anyway, I went to the gym this afternoon, and as happens when I'm sweating my ass off (I hope literally), my mind wanders to strange things. So the topic of today's musings was soul mates. I think this topic popped into my head because my friend A. is at the start of a relationship and my BFF from high school Disney Heather continues to go strong with her current boyfriend.

Now, I'm not one of these people who actually believes in soul mates. Or rather, I believe in them, kind of. I just don't actually believe in going out with them, apparently. For me, soul mates always are people who are just out of reach for some reason when it comes to things romantic. Thus, my soul mates have tended to be people with whom I am friends, or with whom I've had a brief fling and then they disappear. There's an instant connection, but that connection just doesn't translate into everyday life. So the two great loves of my life? Were they "soul mates" or did I ever think that they were? Totally no. The guy who I count as a half-love? Well, I do refer to him as my One True Love, so I suppose we were soul mates. But I've not talked to him since 1999, so there you have it with that.

But so when somebody talks about a person being his/her "soul mate" I'm always kind of confused when that person about whom they speak is actually the person with whom they are having a relationship. I mean, doesn't the everyday take the bloom off the soul mate rose? Once you get to know somebody, doesn't it become obvious the ways that one is not "meant for" the other? Maybe I'm just too practical. Or perhaps I've got the wrong idea about what a "soul mate" is? Hmmm. Interesting things to ponder while one is on the elliptical.

But then, I came home, and I got an email from A. in which she described the most horrifying thing that she saw at her sister C.'s house last night. Apparently, C. has jumped on The Secret bandwagon. The horrifying thing that A. saw? C.'s "vision board," a collage of pictures of this guy with whom she had a brief thing - never an actual relationship - with words cut from magazines like "true love" and "forever" and "passion" and "lasting love" and "commitment" - as well as pictures of wedding dresses cut out from magazines. Now, C. had told me that she thought this guy was her "soul mate" and while I didn't poo-poo that at the time (I mean, who am I to judge - maybe I'm just cynical?) I now think that perhaps people who believe in things like "soul mates" and The Secret might be totally delusional. I mean, what 35-year-old woman is making collages like that and displaying them in her bedroom? Now that is crazy, and you know it's truly crazy if somebody who calls herself "Dr. Crazy" says so.

Ok, back to the Study of Despair.

Spring Cleaning 2007 - The Saga Continues

So on today's agenda is the study. I use the term "study" loosely, for really what it describes is a room in which I keep all of my books, my filing cabinets, the crappy futon that I bought in college, and all of the crap that I don't know what to do with throughout the academic year. I don't generally actually hang out in my study, as the place I most like to do work is at my dining room table. Because I'm single. I don't eat at my dining room table or anything.

So today, the study. Tomorrow, the Bedroom and Laundry and Such. Saturday, the living room, dining room, and kitchen (consistently the cleanest rooms, as they are the rooms that people actually might see were I to allow them into my home).

I know that it's boring to post about cleaning, but the only other things I might want to post about really aren't appropriate for the blog. I promise I'll try to come up with something more interesting in the coming hours and days. But for now, off to take out a big bag of trash and then to the gym, as I fear if I don't do that first today (and yes, I realize it's 12:35 and I've wasted my whole morning) then I will not do it at all.

Spring Cleaning 2007 - a Question

Ok, so it's 8 PM. I'm on a roll. I've got this idea that I might continue with the weeding out of crap in my study, but if I were to do that I think the whole experience might be improved by drinking some wine as I do so. What are your thoughts on drinking and organizing? Good idea? Not so good idea? Any advice you could give within the next hour would be greatly appreciated (though advice after that will still be taken under advisement for future cleaning enterprises).

Spring Cleaning 2007

My name is Dr. Crazy, and I am a filthy pig. Well, not really, but nothing like spring cleaning to train one's gaze on the stuff to which one normally turns a blind eye. The sad thing is that on Day 2 of Spring Cleaning 2007 I am approximately a day and a half behind. Clearly, I lack motivation. Part of the problem is that not only am I cleaning but also I'm weeding crap out and organizing crap. Paper crap, crap my mother brings into this house on every visit (like BOX-LOADs of things like kitchen towels and such), crap I buy and then forget I bought and so then rebuy it or decide I should buy a slightly different version (razor blades, toothpaste, hair products....).

If I can successfully deal with the bathroom and get started on my bedroom closet today, I shall be pleased. Of course, it's 3:26, so this is not at all a sure thing.

In other news, I've decided not to work out today, even though my aim was to work out every day this week, because I effectively worked out twice yesterday, what with the Walk to the Keyless Car. This should be good for cleaning, but I still feel irritated by this change in plans. Maybe I'll go for a walk in the evening once I'm done-ish with cleaning?

Ok, back to work!

Keys? Who Needs Keys?

Ok, so this afternoon I went and got a haircut (just a trim - we're perfecting the style), I went to the gym, while at the gym I skimmed that article I'm reviewing and then the plan was to go to the grocery store for supplies and then home to clean my bathroom. It was going to be great. I went to the grocery store. I loaded up my cart. I went through the line and paid.

Then I looked for my keys. No dice.

I believe (though I have not yet confirmed this) that my keys are locked in the trunk of my car. If this is not true, then I apparently put them on a shelf at the grocery store or something. Ultimately, I called my office at my apt. complex and somebody came to get me with a key so I could get into my apt. They didn't have time to drive me back to the car, though.

So now (because I've not been able to get a hold of any of my peeps on the phone) I'm going to walk the 2 miles to the grocery store in the 85-degree humid and exhaust-ridden rush hour.

I should note that this is by no means the first time I've locked my keys in my car. In college once I locked my keys in the car WITH THE ENGINE RUNNING. I'd estimate that I've locked my keys in the car approximately 7 times since I began driving at 16, or, on average, every 2-3 years. I was also chronically locked out of my house as a teenager because I would forget my keys places.

Update: The keys were not in the trunk of my car. I had, in fact, left them on a shelf while I was shopping. Who does that? Sometimes I'm astonished that I manage to masquerade as a fully functioning adult. Astonished.

Not Tonight, Honey, I Can't Articulate

So last night I hung out with BFF and C. and C.'s husband G. and the Tasmanian Devil (who is 3, and who loves me with a love that is pure and true, a love which I return vigorously) and Wee Little Chill Baby, and it was fabulous. It's easy to forget, given the current configuration of my life, what it's like to hang out like normal people - in actual person - in a group of cool people just chilling - hanging with the kids, making dinner, talking into the night. That's because, in the current configuration of my life, many of the people with whom I spend the most time I do not actually "see" in person. Indeed, I have all of these relationships conducted over the phone.

This is not all bad. On the one hand, one might argue, it's actually quite great, especially for a person in this profession, which forces us to pull up stakes with such frequency. Rather than falling out of friendships based on distance, just dropping the occasional note or having the occasional timed phone call, it is now possible to stay in very good touch with one's nearest and dearest, to maintain those social networks across vast distances and competing schedules, etc. Between email, the phone, and IM, one really need never be out of touch with people, and one may even meet new people whom one has never actually "met" but with whom one gets along just swimmingly, to create new virtual social networks. All of this is good.

But I've been thinking a lot about what it means to conduct relationships only in language, without the benefit of face-to-face signals. Yes, we are all always already in discourse in all of our interactions, but what if discourse is all there is without more ephemeral physical cues and gestures? What is the effect of that? And what happens when you just don't have anything to say?

Now, this not having anything to say thing is rarely a problem for me, I must admit. I'm chatty. It's the fun of me. And my very best long-distance friends, with whom I talk pretty much daily, well, they are a chatty sort as well. Even when we've got nothing to say, we make up stuff to say. Even with BFF, who lives here, I spend hours on the phone. So the issue isn't that I'm not a phone-talker. I love talking on the phone (for I do love it, in the way of 14-year-old girls across these great United States), but really what I love is talking - it's just the phone is a convenient way to talk as much as I need to when people aren't actually around to whom to talk. And if nobody is available telephonically, well, then email will suffice, because as much as I love talking, I also really enjoy the sending of emails. And in a pinch (esp. with friends in England), IM will suffice as well. Conversations, in whatever medium, are fabulous, no?

But here's the thing. Sometimes one or the other person or even both people are all talked out. If one is in person, this is less of an issue. If you're in person, talking isn't necessarily the point. And as much as I love talking, I often think that talking can really fuck things up between people. Because this is the thing with talking (or emails, or whatever): with the talking comes the analysis. The thing here is that at a certain point all of this talk talk talk devolves into solipsism. It becomes all about one's self, and not at all about the other person. The person on the other end of the telephone line, the other end of the internet, becomes merely a projection of the speaker. One doesn't really need to deal with the other person as that person but rather one constructs that person for oneself depending on one's own needs.

Now, one might argue that this is an issue in in-person interactions as well. But I suppose I think that this tendency is intensified in these long-distance interactions. Yes, it is somewhat lessened if one has a solid real-life foundation on which to base one's telephonic and written correspondences, but even then, at a certain point the "real-life" fades into the background. At what point does not having seen someone more than once a year for a few hours at a pop overcome the years that one had been friends before-hand? At what point does the discourse overwhelm the memory of the physical person?

And what of these people whom one meets through all of this technology - with whom one has never had a real-life foundation? At a certain point, all of this talk becomes the real-life interaction with these people, and that's, frankly, bizarre. And in these interactions, at least for me, I feel like it's a lot more common to find myself having a difficult time making conversation, or to feel like the dumb conversation that I'd normally make is, well, dumb. I also notice that the people on the other end can seem to have the same problem. And so there are strange ebbs and flows, periods of intense presence and periods of total absence, that form.* I'm not sure how to bridge those gaps, those absences. I'm not sure whether one is meant to do so.

Is this a problem of articulation? I'm not sure. But it reminds me of one of my favorite ever lines from The Real World.** Once upon a time, Crazy had broken up with a guy (after Crazy saw him OUT ON A DATE WITH SOMEBODY ELSE ON THE VERY SAME DAY THAT HE HAD SUGGESTED SHE LEAVE A TOOTHBRUSH AT HIS HOUSE BECAUSE SHE WAS SLEEPING OVER SO OFTEN!) and so she and Medusa and their friend Ambiva hunkered down to a Real World Seattle Marathon and eating of Easter Candy. Or wait. Maybe this particular RW marathon happened the day after Halloween and it was with Halloween candy and has nothing to do with the aforementioned break-up? Maybe they did marathons on both occasions? It is hard to know. There was definitely candy. Of that I am certain. At any rate, it was the Real World Seattle. One of the "cast members" that season was this guy Brown-Eye/Green-Eye from Boston, and in one of his interviews, struggling to describe something, he said, "I can't articulate wit' words." Now, this is hilarious, as the definition of "articulate" distinctly depends on the use of words. But I suppose what I'm wondering now is whether that Brown-Eye/Green-Eye was stupidly on to something. Maybe the problem is that sometimes one needs to articulate without words?***



*Or perhaps what I'm really talking about is the present absence, Lacan's objet petit a? Perhaps these people are always both present and absent?

**Another favorite moment from the same season comes from an interview with (I think it was) Steven-the-Guy-Who-Slapped-Lyme-Disease-Girl. He was on the phone with a friend, talking about how he hated his roommates, and the friend suggested he "Kill them with kindness." His response? "What was that again? Let me write that down!" As if it was this brilliant and unbelievable phrase that he had never encountered. Oh, those Real Worlders. They may be pretty but they sure are dumb.

***Don't think that the irony of my writing about this all on a blog is lost on me. I find this particular irony immensely entertaining.

Ok, Enough of This Lazing about

So it's Sunday. With a few brief interruptions related to tying up of loose ends at school, I have done n-o-t-h-i-n-g for about a week. The time for this doing of n-o-t-h-i-n-g is now over. It has to be over. And so, today I shall make my list of things to do in the coming week. (Making the list promises to be exhausting, and so that's the only thing I'm forcing myself to do today.) I will also hang out over at BFF's. Other than that, the week's social agenda includes going out with Naomi on Wednesday (we bailed on each other last night, for we are lame), and I feel like I have some other kind of plans for next weekend but I don't remember what they are. So yes, there will be fun. But there will also be massive spring cleaning and beginning reading a novel I'm apparently presenting a paper on this summer. Then there will be my usual phone-talking activities, and going to the gym daily (which I've really got to start doing, as I'm really out of the groove with working out). So this is a Sunday of forward-looking. It will also be, aside from the list-making and the hanging with BFF and others, the last day of laziness for a while. I am resolved not to stay lazy until June. I firmly, firmly resolve.

Friday Night

So, I started this post abortively before because I woke up my cat with my singing along to Sinead O'Connor's song "No Man's Woman," but then I deleted what I'd written because it just wasn't what I wanted to be writing. At any rate, that Sinead - she kicks ass.

But so, I finished the Great Packing of Crazy's Office, which included throwing a TON of shit in the recycling bin, along with packing 3 boxes with paper that I couldn't face going through and filing. At the time, it seemed like it would be best to go through it at the end of the summer. It seemed that way because I hate filing. I have a feeling that these boxes will stay in boxes for a long, long time, until I ultimately toss them into the recycling bin in a similar institutionally inspired purge.

So, now that all this is done, I'm pretty much free until Monday. I don't necessarily need to accomplish anything between now and Monday at approximately 8AM, when I'll need to throw something together for a 10 AM meeting. This is good, right?

In other news, I talked to my itinerant friend Naomi tonight, and I think we're going out or hanging out or something tomorrow night! Hurrah! I've known Naomi since I was 14, and while we're not all-the-time friends, we are true-blue friends. It shall be awesome!

And then on Sunday I'm hanging with BFF and some grad school friends of hers and their kids. That shall be awesome as well.

So yes, apparently I've got some sort of a social life this weekend. One unconnected with lame dates with dudes. Who knew this could be the case?

So yes, apparently it's summer. All of a sudden, summer is happening, and apparently it happens whether I premeditate it or not. I suppose this is a good thing to know.

Life Is Pain

I'm in my office, packing up everything on my bookshelves as well as all surface matter (papers, lamps, etc.) because my office is being recarpeted at some point in the next few weeks. This is taking longer than I want it to take, for I have far too much crap. Far, far too much crap.

Insert Title Here

Ok, so I was going to do a "real" post, entitled "Small Goals ---> Big Goals" but then I realized that I couldn't manage to organize my thoughts into a "real" post, as the semester is over and I'm busy regrouping for the work that will happen once the Time of Regeneration is done. Here's the thing about me - I need the Time of Regeneration, as does anybody who's going to be productive. I know, you all think: That Crazy, she's a machine! She doesn't need to take a time-out! She has all her shit together! This is so not true. The fact of the matter is, what I do is run myself into the ground and then I sleep for like a week.

See, this goes back to the thing about people being amazed at my productivity. It's true. I do make myself do things that others seem not to manage. Yes, I am the person who managed to organize one allied MLA panel, one special session proposed panel, to write a review, and to finish my book manuscript in a month's time. During the semester. When I was teaching three courses, one of which was a writing course. Yep, that's me. And then I spent the next month catching up on all of the work that I didn't do during that time. And I have an atrocious amount of service that I do. Yep, that's me. But at the end of the semester, I do crash. I am not, though I would like to have people believe that I am, a machine.

You must remember, as I list off all of these things that I'm not in a relationship, I don't have kids, and that I have only the most pathetic of social lives. That said, I'm really fucking productive! Oh yes I am! But here's the thing: all of that productivity is really about allowing myself to take these long (or at least I think they're long) periods of rest in which I sleep every three hours and I don't do crap. See, here's the thing about me: yes, I'm very good at being motivated when I need to be, but I'm also very good at resting when I've accomplished the things on the to-do list. Blame it on being one of the lonely people, blame it on being a totally self-centered only child, blame it on what you will, but this is who I am. I can work myself up into a lather of productivity, but I also am a person who can laze about without guilt. That's the fun of me. (Except clearly there is some guilt, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this.)

Of what has the lazing consisted, since grades were submitted?

• Playing Civilization IV.
• Sleeping (a lot)
• Re-reading The Golden Compass.

Yep, I think that's it. Sure, I've done some phone-talking, and some tv-watching, but that's pretty much the long and the short of it. And, after doing this for about four days, yes, I am feeling a bit rejuvenated. And yes, I realize it's a luxury that I can spend four full days doing this crap. Whatever. The point here is that this is what Crazy does to rejuvenate.

So why am I a good goal-setter? It's because I've got the freedom to crash at the end of it. It's because I choose to be in debt rather than to pay off my debt by teaching summer school. It's because ultimately the "person" to whom I'm ultimately responsible is a cat. (By the way, we've had a lot of qual. time over the past few days.)

(Incidentally, I feel like this is a much more aggressive post than I meant it to be. Maybe I need to go to sleep again. Too bad that with all of the napping I don't actually feel tired.)

Crash (A Rambling and Unstructured Sort of "I'm Crashing" Post)

So I turned my grades in Monday. I don't entirely know what happened to my day after that.

Yesterday, well, I slept a lot. A LOT. Like enough for three full-night's sleeps during the semester.

Today, I went to a "training" for a thing that I didn't really *need* to attend, but as the one junior faculty member from my dept. who went, I think it was good I went. Even if I did arrive late and leave early. Was seen by and saw VIPs so my presence was noted. I hate that I've become this sort of person. While at the "training," I made a big fat to-do list and I made some plans for a feminist theory course I'm slated to teach in the spring. Nothing like a long and winding meeting to inspire one to think about new courses one is developing.

Then I slept some more.

Then I chatted with a friend on the phone.

Then I checked my email, and for the first time ever a journal has contacted me to ask me to be a reviewer for a manuscript that they are considering! Hurrah! But is it really hurrah? I've not yet responded - I'm a little freaked out. On the one hand, this is part of the profession, and I'm now clearly somebody who's got a little bit of respect as a member of it. On the other, this is work. And I'm not terribly (read: at all) familiar with the primary texts with which the article deals, which makes me think on the one hand that I should say no, but then I think I should say yes because from the title I suspect they thought of me because I can respond to what the essay is doing theoretically. Might I mention also that this is a very good journal and one to which I've considered submitting my own work? As you might imagine, I'm probably going to say yes, even though this means that over the next month I will have to....

1) read that article (and the primary texts) as well as to write a reader's report (which I've never done before and so feel clueless about doing even though, really, I've seen them and so I shouldn't freak out about not knowing how to write one).
2) read a novel because I claim that I will speak about it at one of my two conferences.
3) do some research.
4) write two conference papers (well, I've got more like 6 weeks for one of them, but you see).

And that's just the scholar-work of the next month. In non-scholar work, I will need to:

1) pack up my office and dismantle my computer so that my office can be recarpeted.
2) spring-clean the Home of Crazy.
3) make travel plans for summer conferences, including arrangements for Man-Kitty for one of the conferences (for the other he'll be staying with his grandparents).
4) have some semblance of a social life.

But for now, I'm crashing. I think the most I can hope for out of the rest of today/tonight is to sleep some more, to make some more lists (and check them twice), to spend some quality time with my M-K (who is truly the most darling kitty-cat in the world), and to talk some more on the phone. Oh, and I've been rereading The Golden Compass, too, so I suspect I'll do some more of that.

But so all of this is a long way of saying that I feel like I'm heading into a blogging slump. I'm not sure if this slump will really materialize, but just look at what happened last year at this time. No posts from May 17 to June 1, and then no posts from June 2 to June 11, and then another gap from the 11th to June 19. Only this year's blogging slump promises (if it happens) to be even worse, as I've already got a scheduled slump planned for when I'm in the UK the first couple of weeks of July. You'll all still be there when I return from the slump, right, if indeed the slump does happen? You realize that I'm not quitting blogging or something equally as horrifying? It's just, well, when you work at a place with a heavy teaching load, the summer ends up needing to be a time of increased productivity in a lot of areas. (I'm not even allowing myself to think about the fact that when I get back from England I'll have to deal with the book manuscript again. Let's just ignore that for now.)

But so yes, I've got a very full next few months ahead of me. So I suppose it makes sense that I've powered down to neutral for the past few days. A girl can't live her entire life in high gear. She just can't.

You know, though, apparently I live my life (my work-life, that is) in a much higher gear than many people do. I've had many people in my life (colleagues, friends) note with incredulity how much I produce, given my circumstances in this particular job. The fact of the matter is, I usually don't feel like I'm doing all that much. I really believe that a lot of this has to do with the fact that this job has taught me that some things on which I think many in "better" job situations spend huge amounts of time really don't (and shouldn't) require so much time. I'm mercenary for example about the amount of time I will allow for grading. I'm... not mercenary exactly, but very... regimented... about the time that I devote to things like conference papers. As much as I complain about teaching writing, I think it's taught me to "scaffold" the research assignments I set for myself much as I "scaffold" assignments for students in my writing classes, i.e., 3 conference papers build up to one article (or at least that's the theory - I really need to get another article-project underway, if that's really true) - everything leads to a bigger picture thing, and I'm good at setting small goals that lead to bigger picture things and achieving those smaller goals.

Now, of course, a lot of this is possible because I'm not in a relationship and I don't have kids. I get to let things slide that others can't let slide. This can't be the way of me forever. But can it be the way of me until something worth rearranging my life comes along to force me to rearrange it? Perhaps. I can't keep the personal stuff permanently on the back-burner - otherwise that worthwhile thing won't come along - but actually, things on the personal side are feeling more settled lately. This has absolutely nothing to do with dating. It has more to do with the fact that I feel like somehow I'm making more friends who are girls here, which for me is always the mark of a place being a good place for me. Without a posse, I'm not a happy Crazy, and somehow I seem to be slowly but surely developing a posse of friends here. Now, is it the posse of my grad school years, where Crazy had a core of partners in crime? Well, no. It's not like that. But I am feeling like I have peeps, even if all the peeps aren't connected in one big pack of going-out-ness.

The fact of the matter is, I think that kind of posse is unreplicatable given the demands on me professionally now. For you grad student readers, I'm going to say something horribly condescending: have fun now because you will never have this kind of time again! I know, I know, you have no time. I thought I had no time. But let me tell you, when I had no time in grad school, I went out like five nights a week, and I ran around like a Crazy on fire. This is impossible now. It's also not what I want now, but if it were what I wanted now, I'd have been fired or I'd have had to quit my job. Also, I had room to Think Deep Thoughts in grad school in a way I just don't now. Everything has to "count" for something now, and everything has to fit into an elaborate Grand Plan. There's no room for thinking about stuff that won't get me someplace. I look forward to a time beyond tenure as perhaps offering me that kind of space again, but I'm not entirely hopeful about that. It's not that I don't think about cool stuff now, but it's all connected to very concrete and specific stuff that is required of me (teaching, research in my field, etc.) and it isn't as wide-ranging. That's not necessarily bad, this focus to my Thinking - in many ways it's probably really good - but it is less free. Sometimes, like now when I'm crashing, I miss that.

Actually, I think what got me thinking about that today was brainstorming about the feminist theory class. I realized that I haven't read any theory that's unconnected to my research in like a zillion years. And I probably never will again. I'm a worker-bee now. Again, that's not bad - just how it is. I'm ok with it, but I do miss the freedom of just deciding to read Lacan's Four Fundamental Concepts and to use it for a paper because I thought it would be interesting. Those days are long gone.

Hmmmm.... what else in this unwieldy and unstructured post? Ooh! I got some good news today: MORE REASSIGNED TIME NEXT SEMESTER! I feel as if this blog has in some ways been my talisman - since I started it, I've not taught four courses in a semester. Thank god, as if I were teaching four courses and doing all this research and service I might have died at some point in the past six months. There's actually a lot of talk about going to a 3/3 load going on at my university (with various names for it that make it seem like it will not be "reducing" the importance of teaching but rather about "recognizing" all of the kinds of work that faculty do that contribute to good teaching). At any rate, this makes my prospects here, should I remain, infinitely more humane. And it makes me actually pretty glad that I didn't get the job that I campus visited for this year. Because had I got that job and then found out that my current job went to a 3/3 (or some configuration of that), I think I would have regretted the move. If that's all it would have taken for me to regret the move, clearly that place wasn't for me. So it will be interesting to see what the job list holds in the fall, because I'm fairly committed to going back out again should there be something that really catches my interest, but I suspect that what would really catch my interest now will be quite different than what caught my interest last year. I'm also much clearer about the fact that I will likely end up here even if I do try again, and I think I'm more ok with that now than I was at this time last year. At any rate, it will be interesting to see what I do. It will be interesting to see what my criteria for trying again are.

Ok, this is the never-ending post. But since it is, is there anything else? I feel like I may as well just throw every single thing in at the rate I'm going. Is there anything I'm missing? Oh! I know! Remember my infatuation? I bet you thought you'd never hear about him again, didn't you? But no, Crazy's infatuations never totally disappear - oh no, not even if they think they want to! I got a series of postcards from him this weekend! A. How fun is it to get mail that's not bills and B. How fun is it that my infatuation has not forgotten me! Of course, it would be impossible to replicate the craziness of that period over spring break when I became infatuated, and I do think that we are now going to be "message-in-a-bottle" type people in each other's lives - sending the odd missive via actual post - but yay! How fun and old-fashioned is that! I need all of the correspondence I can get, as does everyone, as far as I'm concerned.

In news of infatuations past, FL broke up with his girlfriend and is ever more motivated to plan a visit this summer. He wants me to come to North Carolina, but I've explained to him time and again that NC is my Bermuda Triangle and I really can't go there - you know the song, "All My Exes Live in Texas"? Yeah, well all of mine live in North Carolina. I think it's best if I just avoid the place, even if I submit to seeing one of those Exes. Also, on my trip to the UK I will have, as I think I mentioned before (can't be bothered to find the post), a full 10 days of touring around not with an Ex but with my dear and awesome friend G., with whom I did engage in a fleeting 3-month-long transatlantic infatuation once upon a time in the late-90s. Now HE was a great infatuation. Very attentive, and sent the absolute best REAL letters ever (which I've actually saved, and I'm not generally a very sentimental saver of mementos sort of person). He's much less attentive now that there is no more infatuation, but I suppose it's impossible to keep up that level of attention when nearly ten years have gone by. Also difficult to keep up that level of attention when one's object of infatuation insists on replacing you with new infatuations as well as real-life boyfriends of various stripes.

Coffee Guy? You wonder whether he's still in the picture? Meh. Kind of. Not in a dating way (to my mind). He keeps saying I should call him when I have time. The issue is, I will never have time if you leave it up to me. I need more enthusiasm from the other person. I'm sure he thinks he's being "nice," but I think he's just being lukewarm. Which, of course, is a death knell. That's just the way of me. But so anyway, I'm going to attempt to friend him, for he is fun, but I'm not interested in anything beyond that with him.

So yeah, that's all the dude news, most of which is imaginary (natch), and that which is not imaginary, well, what's the fun in writing at length about that?

I believe, for the moment, that this is everything. Congratulations if you actually made it to the end of this post - I suspect I'd have stopped reading at about the point where I say a girl can't live her entire life in high gear, which is really where this post should have ended :)

Oof - Head Hurts a Wee Bit

But hey - I'm still done with grading! And as I think about it, I could go back to bed right now and it wouldn't really make a difference to anything - absolutely NOTHING on my to-do list is pressing. Maybe I'll eat some ice cream and then decide what to do about returning to bed. Or maybe I'll return to bed WITH the ice cream... and with my kitty-cat. Yes, and maybe some Potter. Excellent.

Another Semester, D-O-N-E!

The exams, they are graded. The papers, they are graded. The final grades, they are tabulated and posted. It is o-v-e-r!!!!! Woohoo!!!! Am F-R-E-E!

(Except I'm actually not, as I've got loose ends crap to tie up in the next week or so, but I'm at least done with the teaching part of things. I had thought I'd go to my office today to get all of this junk out of my house, but it occurs to me now that I am in no way going there today but rather will go tomorrow in the morning so that I will actually be productive. Instead, with all this free time on my hands - for I'm not acknowledging the other things I need to do for at least this afternoon and evening - I think I may go to the gym, or for a walk, or something, maybe to the grocery store, we shall see.)

Now let's see if I get any grade challenges. I feel like I won't, but you never can tell....

Parents, a Singleton, and Now Some Peace and Quiet

A hush has fallen over the Home of Crazy (HoC). The Parents of Crazy (PoC) have made their exit.

Overall it was a good visit. It was not a visit without conflict, but one thing about me and my parents is that, well, we've all got pretty strong personalities, and well, conflict can arise from that. It is not easy having them descend on the HoC (which really fits exactly one Crazy and one Man-Kitty quite nicely, but which does not necessarily accommodate the Strong Personalities of the PoC plus the Strong Personalities of Crazy and the Man-Kitty with ease). This is not because we're not close or because there's some Major Problem with us. It is not because there is something Wrong with my relationship with them.

So why is it? Well, one issue that is primary among the reasons for the tensions on this particular visit is that my finals week just ended. I am not done with grading for the semester, and I have not had time to do spring cleaning and to get my life in order in such a fashion that I felt like I wanted visitors - any visitors. That said, I've not seen my parents since Christmas, and I wanted to see them. So I didn't make a fuss when my mom said she wanted to come this weekend (esp. after I told her she couldn't come when I was finishing up the book manuscript), and I just rolled with it. This may have been a mistake, but there you have it. The timing wasn't perfect, but what timing is?

Another issue (and this is often an issue when I see my parents outside their natural habitat) is that they don't let me control what we do on visits. Both are kind of set in their ways, and so I pretty much have to go along with whatever it is they want to do. This is less of an issue when it's just my mom visiting, but when it's both of them, I'm kind of stuck. In this way, it is not like having a friend come to visit, as usually when friends come to visit, they want you to show them a good time and they leave it up to you - or at least up to you in consultation with them. Not so with my parents. When I've tried to treat them like regular visitors, it generally does not work out very well. And so, it's their way or the highway, and I do my best to accommodate that. Why? Because I love my parents, and it's not their fault that they're kind of stick-in-the-mud-y, and it's not my fault that I've educated myself into a range of interests and activities that is not necessarily their cup of tea. Also it's not my fault that I'm single, and so my regular life is wildly different from their regular lives.

So on Friday night I had my BFF over for pizza with my parents, an activity that recalls Friday nights from when I was 15. On Saturday, I accompanied my parents to a flea market and to the outlet mall (which meant approximately 3-4 hours total in the car - with me in the backseat). By the time we reached yesterday afternoon, I had regressed to petulant 15-year-old me, not in the least because I think that I spent the same weekend with these yahoos when I was 15.

So yes, as Dr. Pion noted in a comment yesterday, I'm not necessarily an adult in my relationship with the PoC. This is not because I'm not an adult, or because I've never been an adult in my relationship with them, but I do think it has something to do with a) the particular personalities involved (all bossy, all a little bit crazy - because, yes, I do get it from somewhere) and b) the fact that I'm not in a relationship.

Now, you may question item b above. Why would being in a relationship of my own make so much of a difference? If I'm an adult, why am I not an adult to them or with them just because I'm partnerless? Let's think about this for the moment, shall we?

Once upon a time when I was in a long-term, live-in relationship, things with the PoC were different. Sure, the strong personalities were there, but they respected me as an adult who was in an adult relationship. And, perhaps more importantly, they respected that the person with whom I was in that relationship wouldn't necessarily put up with their crap. When in a relationship, it was possible to relate to my parents as one couple with another, and sure, I was their kid, but I also had this primary relationship that was not my relationship with them. When that relationship ended, so too did this particular version of my relationship with my parents. I became, once again, their "little child." And that's how they see me, whether I've got a career, whether I live on my own, whether I've got a life outside of my relationship with them.

I also had an ally in dealing with them. I had somebody to support me through a visit with them, and somebody there to deflect a bit of the attention off of me. These were good things. I also had somebody to help clean the house before a visit, to help think of things to do (and to suggest those things, and of course my parents wouldn't poo-poo those suggestions because I wasn't the one making them).

When single - and maybe when a single woman? not sure if it's the same with men - they don't see me as an autonomous person. They see me as an extension of them, and they don't quite get the fact that I might want them to treat me as an autonomous person - that I might want them to treat me like I am hosting them as guests in my home. Here's the thing that set off the spat of yesterday evening. I had been drinking a diet coke out of a can. I went into the kitchen with that diet coke when I went to feed the M-K his dinner. My mom followed me into the kitchen, poured out the rest of her diet coke into a glass, and then proceeded to dump my diet coke which I was still drinking into the sink, because she hates it when there are half-full cans of pop lying around. I then looked around for my drink, and it was gone. I know that this is dumb, but it is my house! I can have half-full cans lying around if I want! And it wasn't just lying around - I was drinking it! And so I freaked out. Was this stupid? Obviously. It's not like this was the last can of pop on earth. But after a day in the backseat of the god-damned car, after listening to my mom tell me I looked "chubby" and note the barely visible PMS pimple on my face as if it meant I had pizza-face acne and any number of other things, it was the last straw.

So I freaked out and she freaked out, and then the PoC went off to the casino, and then upon their return my mom and I had a good talk about everything, and so all was well. (Because while we both are of the type that flies off the handle, we also both get over it pretty quickly.) And this morning before they left it was great, and I'm ultimately really glad they came.

Did I handle everything with aplomb? Of course not. Did I act like an immature little punk? Sure. Was I entirely to blame for that? No, I was not. Do they think of me as an adult and treat me with that respect? Not really. But is that really that big of a deal? Nah. It's just how it is, at least for the time being. And if I'm fair, I'd say that I set it up to be this way, too, as sometimes it's nice being their "little child" and having them treat me that way.

But am I happy to have the HoC back? Yes. Am I glad that they won't be coming back for a while? Yes. Do I miss them even having said all that? I do.

So that is the story of my visit with the PoC. And it was good, if not perfect; rejuvenating, if also exhausting. I'll tell you what, though: I'm much more excited for my visit to them in June/July, as the PoC are much easier to handle in their natural habitat :)

Visiting Parents

I think I've determined the reason that visits from parents when one is an adult are so frustrating. It's because when they show up I feel like I'm grounded, in the way of being 15 and grounded for the weekend. Not allowed to go out with friends, not allowed to talk on the phone, not allowed to do what one wants to do but instead subject to the whims of one's parents.

Needless to say, this makes me feel quite petulant and like I want to sneak out after they go to sleep to ride around in cars, drink Strawberry Hill Boone's Farm wine, smoke contraband cigarettes, and have premarital sex with boys of whom they would not approve.

Poetry Friday - Margaret Atwood

So, there hasn't been any poetry in me for the past semester, and so Poetry Friday fell by the wayside. But this morning I thought I might begin with Poetry Friday afresh with one of my favorite poems by Margaret Atwood, "Variations on the Word Love."

***

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.

Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go. 

Grading, Misogyny, Naive and Uncritical Hope, and Coyote Ugly

As you might gather from the "everything but the kitchen sink" sort of title I've chosen, I am inspired to write because I am *fried* on grading, and yet, there are miles to go before the grading will be done. I still have the hope (though this is not the naive and uncritical hope of the title, even though it may be naive and uncritical) that I will finish the grading tonight. This is a kind of hope against hope, as it is nearly 9 PM, and I just poured myself a glass of wine, in order to ease the pain of the grading that I have already completed. But so, here's what's going on in my world.

Misogyny

And I'm not talking about some kind of subtle and insidious misogyny, but about the full-blown thing. I actually had a student submit a paper in which he asserted that motherhood is the source of women's meaning, nay, the reason for women to exist. This, after 16 weeks with me as his professor, so I was offended on three counts. First, I am offended because I am a woman. I exist, even if I haven't had a motherfucking baby. There are reasons for my existence that are not connected to my womb. One of those reasons that I exist is to be a motherfucking college professor and to teach students about literature. Second, I am offended because this... statement... was ostensibly supposed to be related to a paper about literature. Even if what the student was saying is that the TEXT treats women this way, the student should have had the sense god gave him to actually, I don't know, discuss the merits of this or to talk about why the fuck it matters to a reader. Third, I am offended because a student beyond his/her first semester in college should pay at least a modicum of attention to audience. I was the audience for this paper. I am a) a woman, b) a college professor, and c) an English professor. Think about your fucking audience when you write, students! Think about how they will, I don't know, respond to the idiotic and woman-hating claims that you make!

On the heels of grading this paper, I was leaving campus behind what I assume was a student. On the back of this student's automobile was a bumper sticker. It had a picture of Hilary Clinton. (From this, you might see where this is heading, but wait for it - ) The slogan on the bumper sticker? "Women belong in the house - not in the White House." Don't think I didn't consider ramming into the student's vehicle (though I then realized that this behavior would be self-destructive, perhaps even forcing me to confinement in the house, which would only serve this person's evil aims of oppression), taking down the student's license plate, hunting him or her down, and well, I didn't really get further than the hunting down, or fashioning some sort of explosive from the garbage in my car and firebombing the car before it left my sight. I don't give a shit if you don't like Hilary Clinton. Do not fucking proclaim that women belong in the motherfucking house. Offensive!

Naive and Uncritical Hope (which actually, now that I think about it, might be related to misogyny)

So, in one of my classes I teach the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. For my students, this is the height of experimental film. Non-linear narrative? An allusion to a literary text? You must be joking! But so it's challenging for them, but in good ways, I think, and yet accessible, for it has actors they've seen in other movies. Anyway, the point here is this: no matter how critically they evaluate the movie - and really, they do - when I ask the question - really the only question to ask about the end of that movie - does the movie end happily, they answer with an unequivocal yes. Yes, Dr. Crazy, it is wonderful that these two people who hurt each other terribly and had a totally fucked up relationship get back together! Yes, Dr. Crazy, this is hope in the face of the evidence offered by each and every other relationship in the universe of the movie that it's impossible to have a good relationship! Who cares, Dr. Crazy, that they are doomed to repeat the dysfunction forever because they don't deal with the reality of their differences but rather choose to pretend to erase them! It is a happy ending! It is perfect to go back with somebody who ultimately makes you miserable! Being together is always better than being alone, Dr. Crazy!

Coyote Ugly (which some might argue has something to do with misogyny as well, except I don't think it's so simple, actually)

Ok, so I'll admit, I am fascinated with the various incarnations of the Coyote Ugly show on CMT. First there was the show that documented the opening of the Austin bar. Then there was the Ultimate Coyote Ugly show where they got girls from all over the country and that girl with the two-toned hair won (yay!). And now, in the latest incarnation, they've teamed up some young hopefuls with more seasoned Coyotes in order to see which pair will win the day. So, if you don't know about Coyote Ugly, the deal is that Liliana Lovell opened the first one in NYC, and her ethos, it seems, is one that's all about business. She had a career on Wall Street, turned to bartending, and then decided that she would take all that she knew and attempt to create the uber-bar. Now the "business model" is that "beautiful girls+booze=money," so this might not seem like a feminist enterprise. Or, rather, it might seem like a feminist enterprise not unlike Heidi Fleiss's business. But here's the thing: there is something about the rhetoric of these Coyote Ugly shows that makes it seem like it might actually be feminist and empowering. And this, my friends, is why I'm fascinated. On the surface, what we have is exploitation, right? In order to be a Coyote, you've got to be young, hot, spunky, etc. You've got to be a guy's wet dream, and Lil and her dance instructor friend whose name I forget make no bones about that. BUT, here's the thing. The rhetoric of the whole thing is one in which ultimately all of that is just show(wo)manship. What really matters is good bartending skills and money. So yes, you've got to shake your ass, but the rhetoric is such that becoming a Coyote is "really" supposed to be about becoming the best of the best - it's about skill - with singing, dancing, entertaining, bartending, "flaring," etc. And however suspicious good feminists might be about that rhetoric, the fact of the matter is that this is a business owned by a woman that is about making other women - women who are often pretty dumb, if the show is any indication - some money. And so I'm fascinated, partly because I think it's great that these girls aren't working in some corner bar not making money, or stripping, or I don't know, working some dumb minimum wage job. And I think that it's great that they like this identity that they're acquiring - that they feel special and talented and like they are tops at what they do. But at the end of the day, what they're trading on is pretty fucked up. And sure, it's characterized as a fuck you to The Man, but is it really a fuck you with conviction? I think no. But then there's the fact that at least with Coyote Ugly all of this misogynistic bullshit is at least out front and center, so there is something kind of brilliant about that. Complicit, but brilliant still. But so yes, this is my deep and insightful analysis of Coyote Ugly, with which I am fascinated.

By the way, am now watching the Gray's Anatomy Two Hour Event, and it is a) awesome, b) also deeply misogynist, and c) following it there will be a story on my local news about slowing down one's biological clock. I want to kill myself.

I Can Keep My Silence No Longer

We've got to talk about it. Robin Thicke. I have been doing my best to avoid him, as every time I hear that "Lost without U" song I think that I'm in danger catching gonorrhea through my ear drums, but then, when you least expect it, there he is on American Idol, with his nasty mustache and his white sneakers and his I want it this way I want it that way filth. Does America really support this Thicke character? Do we really want our children listening to him and - god forbid - buying posters of him and having - eeeewww - sexual thoughts either in relation to him or with him as the soundtrack behind those thoughts or adolescent fumblings that are happening in this, the '07? I can't accept that this is who we, as a country, think is sexy or hot. Oh no, I cannot.

(Not) Grading

I had made this goal about how I was going to finish all of my grading before tomorrow morning, then how I would only have one exam to grade, and then I would be able to post grades by Friday morning, thus being for-real done with the semester. This was my dream.

Only apparently here's how I have chosen to go about making this dream a reality:

• Upon waking, decide I must go to the mall in order to partake in the Macy's sale where all of the things are 20 percent off. (Biggest score of the day: a GORGEOUS Wacoal bra for which I only paid 20 dollars.)
  
• Decide that in this week before my lady time that I must have tacos for dinner and that I have a terrible craving for fake sweetened artificial lemon iced tea. This requires a trip to the grocery store.
• Watch last week's episode of Gray's Anatomy online, for I didn't watch it last week.
• Make fake iced tea and tacos.
• Watch 3 episodes of the Ultimate Coyote show on CMT.
• Read Allure Magazine purchased at grocery store that has Lindsay Lohan on the cover. Wow, LiLo is really, really screwed up. I'm embarassed for her that she has to be screwed up in public.
• Glanced at pile of things to be graded, and then decided to write this blog post.
  

I have high hopes that I might grade something before going to sleep this evening, but this hope may not have any relationship to reality.

Random Bullets of Apparently I'm Not Blogging

• So it's final's week. Of course I'm busy with grading and students and such.
• I had CG over for dinner Friday, but then realized that he's not my OTL (One True Love) and also, nearly simultaneously, realized that an entirely inappropriate person is more interesting to me than is CG. I am not saying that this person is an OTL - just saying that in comparison with CG I found him more interesting.
• I love the song "7" by Prince (though I think he was a symbol at that time).
• I think my friend, whom I'll call "Disney Heather," may have found her husband. She's a weirdo, but she's my oldest friend. And it would take a weirdo to be her OTL, but I think that this guy is. I so hope that he is and I so hope that she gets her shit together and ends up marrying him before I figure my shit out - mainly because I think that she really wants that more than I do.
• In other news, I think I'm going to be real friends with a former student. I took her out to lunch last week, but I feel that we will ultimately be real friends rather than professor-friends. She's so great!
  
• While I should begin my day tomorrow with grading, I believe that what I will begin my day with is shopping. Grading, smading, The point here is that I need new jeans and other new clothes, partly for the travels of the summer and partly because I just need new summer clothes. And so I will shop and then grade.
• You know what song is great? Nelly Furtado's Do It. It kind of reminds me of Stacy Q.
• "So don't be a fool. Don't get lied to. Love, you know, was always cruel." Or, if not that, "But me I'm not a gamble, you can count on me to split." There's a person who's not a person who is also not CG whom I'm thinking of with these lyrics, but as he's not a person I'm not really thnking of him. Yep, so that's what's going on with me.
  

And I may end up being a lame blogger for the next short while - not because I don't think of blogging but because sometimes there needs to be a break,