Now that I never leave the apartment, the arrangement of my surroundings seems to direct my daily activities more than ever. Like lately, I’ve been watching a little more TV than I should, and I became quickly convinced that there were certain Feng Shui related reasons for this.
Our TV, a 40 inch HD gleaming hulk of polycarbonate sat squarely in the center of our home. It was the first thing I saw coming out of the bedroom each morning. A trip from any one place to any other in the apartment meant walking past it--and by any place, I pretty much mean the bathroom. To even just sit on the couch for a short break meant staring into its inviting vastness. It’s even the first thing to greet us when we enter the front door, except of course for her lordship our cat.
So, on a whim yesterday, I decided to rearrange the entire apartment.
On requesting permission from my wife—which I was told later sounded more like a statement of intent—she replied, “Can’t you clean out the closets or something instead?”
But even she admits that things are much nicer now. Our living room is now oriented towards the large sliding glass window, which offers a lush treetop view that mostly cancels out the appearance of a Schoeps Ice Cream factory. Another added benefit is that we can again see our plants, which have struggled over the years through a combination of neglect and the unsupervised access of the cats.
Of course, we’ll have to figure something else out when the Wisconsin winter leaves its annual six foot snow pile on our balcony. It might get chilly staring at the wall of our igloo all day.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Saturday, January 09, 2010
An auspicious first week
And there goes the first week of 2010! What might the events foretell about the new year?
Well, I did make a remarkable effort to stick to my New Year's resolution of scaling back a few bad habits. With the help of other bad habits, like pastries and pizza.
Jobs dropped again in December, spawning another round of irony-free debates about what letter of the alphabet will best describe the shape of the economic recovery. Will it be a V, a W? A writer for the economist recently went so far as to say that no letter will suffice, and in fact the recovery will take the shape of a reverse square root sign!
This week I managed to rewatch the first six episodes of Glee. Now if this is any sign of what's to come, I'll have watched every episode of the first season 26 times by 2011. It's also a sign that I'm going to be really, really happy.
Oh, I almost forgot, I learned how to play "Mexican Train." And since there was the usual talk of how the game probably has racist origins, I thought I'd google it. Besides a boring copyright origin and a bunch of people saying "probably racist origins," there wasn't much out there. Whatever you do, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT read the definition at urban dictionary.
So Happy New Year!
Well, I did make a remarkable effort to stick to my New Year's resolution of scaling back a few bad habits. With the help of other bad habits, like pastries and pizza.
Jobs dropped again in December, spawning another round of irony-free debates about what letter of the alphabet will best describe the shape of the economic recovery. Will it be a V, a W? A writer for the economist recently went so far as to say that no letter will suffice, and in fact the recovery will take the shape of a reverse square root sign!
This week I managed to rewatch the first six episodes of Glee. Now if this is any sign of what's to come, I'll have watched every episode of the first season 26 times by 2011. It's also a sign that I'm going to be really, really happy.
Oh, I almost forgot, I learned how to play "Mexican Train." And since there was the usual talk of how the game probably has racist origins, I thought I'd google it. Besides a boring copyright origin and a bunch of people saying "probably racist origins," there wasn't much out there. Whatever you do, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT read the definition at urban dictionary.
So Happy New Year!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Famished!
Billie--our tiny, smart, and feisty tuxedo cat--had to be rushed to the vet this week. Over the past few months, we noticed a change in her behavior. Her once precious trait of mewing at us when she had something to say had since escalated into a shrill and constant yowl that we just couldn't bear any longer. So slowly that we almost hadn't noticed, she had morphed into some little Hitler or diminutive Darth Vader, parading and barking orders around our nice, quiet home.
To make matters worse, she had become totally fixated on food to the point that much of my life at home (where, by the way, most of my life takes place) had become an ongoing battle against food scraps. If I failed to remove a single crumb, Billie would discover what was in her mind a feast and redouble her efforts at prowling through the kitchen. We even once caught her licking the droplets of oil off the dials on the stove.
So we finally wised up and carried her off to the vet, where we discovered that Billie had dropped three pounds. She went from being a tiny eight pound cat to an even tinier five pound one. We had no idea. After a day's worth of tests looking for things like a tapeworm and hyperthyroid disorder, we learned the true cause of the problem. Jen and I were basically terrible owners who were slowly starving our cat. Okay, so we're not that despicable, but it turns out that, a few years back, when the vet switched Billie to a hypo-allergenic brand of kibble, she forgot to tell us that it contained fewer calories.
This whole time, I had been attempting to deter her by shaking cans of pennies, cleaning non-stop, and carefully sealing anything with a smell. I even almost succumbed to purchasing a motion-sensor spray-can online, and I won't deny that I took a cruel pleasure at the thought of Billie flipping out when this thing activated without a soul around. When instead, what I should have done was just opened the fridge and said 'here you want some ham, how about a turkey.'
Anyway, she's better now. We're feeding her a half can of the heaviest, fattiest, stinkiest cat food I've ever had to dish out. It didn't take but a day for her behavior to revert back to normal. She's like, "aah, that's better, now I can go back to my life of sleeping and opening all the closet doors." The answer was that simple: she's hungry, feed her. Sometimes, I wish Billie could speak, I think I could learn a lot from her.
Before
After
To make matters worse, she had become totally fixated on food to the point that much of my life at home (where, by the way, most of my life takes place) had become an ongoing battle against food scraps. If I failed to remove a single crumb, Billie would discover what was in her mind a feast and redouble her efforts at prowling through the kitchen. We even once caught her licking the droplets of oil off the dials on the stove.
So we finally wised up and carried her off to the vet, where we discovered that Billie had dropped three pounds. She went from being a tiny eight pound cat to an even tinier five pound one. We had no idea. After a day's worth of tests looking for things like a tapeworm and hyperthyroid disorder, we learned the true cause of the problem. Jen and I were basically terrible owners who were slowly starving our cat. Okay, so we're not that despicable, but it turns out that, a few years back, when the vet switched Billie to a hypo-allergenic brand of kibble, she forgot to tell us that it contained fewer calories.
This whole time, I had been attempting to deter her by shaking cans of pennies, cleaning non-stop, and carefully sealing anything with a smell. I even almost succumbed to purchasing a motion-sensor spray-can online, and I won't deny that I took a cruel pleasure at the thought of Billie flipping out when this thing activated without a soul around. When instead, what I should have done was just opened the fridge and said 'here you want some ham, how about a turkey.'
Anyway, she's better now. We're feeding her a half can of the heaviest, fattiest, stinkiest cat food I've ever had to dish out. It didn't take but a day for her behavior to revert back to normal. She's like, "aah, that's better, now I can go back to my life of sleeping and opening all the closet doors." The answer was that simple: she's hungry, feed her. Sometimes, I wish Billie could speak, I think I could learn a lot from her.
Before
After
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The reality of the job market: you find yourself drawn to the simple, happy things. Seriously, the other day I was watching Glee and my eyes nearly welled up with tears of joy. There's also the fact that I can't stop singing neighties* music in the car and the shower. Also, blankets. Because being swaddled helps too.
*A neologism I coined to express my nostalgia for music from the eighties and nineties.
*A neologism I coined to express my nostalgia for music from the eighties and nineties.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Now I See What Mid-Western Cabin Culture Is All About
When I ask my class composed mostly of students from Wisconsin where they’re going on vacation over break, one response comes up more frequently than any other: “a friend/relative of mine has a cabin in the woods.” At this I always wonder why one would want to take a vacation somewhere less comfortable than where one currently is. Instead of sitting in the bug-free, perfectly temperate climate of my apartment, I’m supposed to choose of my own free will to be too hot, too cold, covered in bugs and/or rodents of various sizes in a cabin with very little in the way of insulation between myself and a semi-wilderness? I also wonder what there could possibly be to do out in the middle of nowhere. When I ask, my students usually tell me that they drink, a lot. So the answer, basically, is nothing.
About a week ago, some friends of mine managed to lure me out to one of these middle-of-nowhere retreats. The lure came in the form of hours of board games to which I have recently become addicted. I figured suffering through the cabin-part wouldn’t be too bad if it meant playing games like Dominion and Agricola to my heart’s content.
While there, something remarkable happened. Like some sort of revelation in the tradition of Ebenezer Scrooge I was overcome with the spirit of the cabin vacation. When I could have been playing board games, I was out foraging for kindling with which to build the evening fire or just enjoying a beer on the porch. What I discovered is that there is nothing quite so awesome as doing absolutely nothing. The full effect of it didn’t hit me until I returned home to realize that I hadn’t checked my email in three days!
You might say that I had a fever and the only cure was MORE CABIN. Of course, thinking of Christopher Walken anywhere near that cabin gives me the willies.*
*If you don’t get this reference, go watch the SNL “more cowbell” skit. It is an essential part of any cultural education.
About a week ago, some friends of mine managed to lure me out to one of these middle-of-nowhere retreats. The lure came in the form of hours of board games to which I have recently become addicted. I figured suffering through the cabin-part wouldn’t be too bad if it meant playing games like Dominion and Agricola to my heart’s content.
While there, something remarkable happened. Like some sort of revelation in the tradition of Ebenezer Scrooge I was overcome with the spirit of the cabin vacation. When I could have been playing board games, I was out foraging for kindling with which to build the evening fire or just enjoying a beer on the porch. What I discovered is that there is nothing quite so awesome as doing absolutely nothing. The full effect of it didn’t hit me until I returned home to realize that I hadn’t checked my email in three days!
You might say that I had a fever and the only cure was MORE CABIN. Of course, thinking of Christopher Walken anywhere near that cabin gives me the willies.*
*If you don’t get this reference, go watch the SNL “more cowbell” skit. It is an essential part of any cultural education.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The other day I picked up some "Habanero Horseradish Mustard" put out by the Mt. Horeb Mustard museum. I think I've fallen in love.
Three independently kick ass ingredients brought together at last. Plus, the label reads:
"Your chances of finding a better mustard are Slimm and Nunne."
Oh yeah! Yet another brilliant invention from the think-tank of Poupon U.
Monday, April 13, 2009
clothes reading
This is another post in the spirit of conveying something about grad student life to those of you who are for the most part unacquainted with our kind.
Saturday night, I decided to invite a few friends over to play Mario Kart, two of whom brought their 6 month old along (baby James, as I like to call him). Since my guests arrived all at once, we of course started things off by cooing, smiling, and generally giving all our attention to the amazing baby James.
Okay, so far so good, right? Nothing out of the ordinary here.
But then, someone points out that baby James is wearing a rainbow striped onesy with a picture of a giraffe driving, of all things, a backhoe. After quickly noting its odd cuteness, we slid naturally into a discussion of what crossed the designer's mind when he or she chose to combine these two specific objects.
Here's a quick selection of answers:
"maybe since the animal is exotic, they thought the vehicle ought to be as well"
"I'd like to attribute the backhoe to a desire to toughen up the child, but the rainbow background rules out that possibility"
"hmmm... a giraffe and a backhoe... an animal and a vehicle... are they making a point about nature and technology?"
In literary studies, this is what we like to call "close reading." Things don't, as the great Young MC once said, just make us go hmmmmm. Instead, they make us totally geek out. All the while baby James mainly thinks that we're mesmerized by his cute little baby belly.
So there you have it, a pretty typical example of what us grad students (as well as their spouses and partners - unless they're faking) consider to be a good time. For another example, I invite you to go back to the title to be either amused or slowly tortured by my attempt at a pun.
Saturday night, I decided to invite a few friends over to play Mario Kart, two of whom brought their 6 month old along (baby James, as I like to call him). Since my guests arrived all at once, we of course started things off by cooing, smiling, and generally giving all our attention to the amazing baby James.
Okay, so far so good, right? Nothing out of the ordinary here.
But then, someone points out that baby James is wearing a rainbow striped onesy with a picture of a giraffe driving, of all things, a backhoe. After quickly noting its odd cuteness, we slid naturally into a discussion of what crossed the designer's mind when he or she chose to combine these two specific objects.
Here's a quick selection of answers:
"maybe since the animal is exotic, they thought the vehicle ought to be as well"
"I'd like to attribute the backhoe to a desire to toughen up the child, but the rainbow background rules out that possibility"
"hmmm... a giraffe and a backhoe... an animal and a vehicle... are they making a point about nature and technology?"
In literary studies, this is what we like to call "close reading." Things don't, as the great Young MC once said, just make us go hmmmmm. Instead, they make us totally geek out. All the while baby James mainly thinks that we're mesmerized by his cute little baby belly.
So there you have it, a pretty typical example of what us grad students (as well as their spouses and partners - unless they're faking) consider to be a good time. For another example, I invite you to go back to the title to be either amused or slowly tortured by my attempt at a pun.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
market blues
Anybody remotely connected to an English graduate program knows how horribly shitty the job market was last year. Today, there was a headline in the New York Times that went "recession anxiety seeps into everyday lives," accompanied by the picture above.
You might not think it, but the hiding under the covers is pretty accurate, though we have yet to stoop to cowering together in groups. Then again, what goes on in those shared graduate residences is beyond my knowledge. You also have to love how this picture illustrates economic woes with a picture of people attending a what is probably a pretty pricey relaxation seminar.
Seriously though, I have noticed that a general malaise has fallen over our department. Conversations periodically turn towards the subject of the market, since it's what we're all thinking about anyway. Knowing that two of, say, ten students who applied for jobs last year actually received them makes things look pretty dour. When the subject arises, there are varied levels of dispirited talk with fun facts like "1/3 of the jobs I applied for were cancelled mid-search." These discussions are often followed by a chorus of sighs or a prolonged moment of silence. Luckily, since we're for the most part used to being penniless, we mostly just resign ourselves to waiting things out till the situation improves.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
I am getting the sense that it's become fashionable to be a critic of the oscars. And since it is also fashionable to be fashionable, I'm going to do just that.
The jokes about putting on the oscars in the midst of tough economic times were a little hard to take seriously when delivered on a stage bedecked with hundreds of thousands of dollars in the form of the Swavorski crystal curtain. Maybe someone should have told the writers that the budget concerns were a tad overinflated.
While they're at it, they should also talk to the group of editors who choose the clips that best illustrate the award category. At least that's what I thought was the purpose of these clips.
For "special effects," the clip from Dark Night featured a few of Joker's clown-masked minions posing maliciously inside a freight truck. Okay, Freight trucks are admittedly not cheap, probably even to rent. But what exactly is "special" about this particular effect? How about the bat-mobile turning into a bat-bike? That was pretty special.
One of the clips from the nominees for the screenplay award (for those who "don't just write screenplays, but movies") went something like this: "What are you having sir?" "The steak" "And you, mam" "I'll just have what he's having." Now I can see including this in a movie. People are required to place orders when at restaurants, after all. But if this is Oscar-quality writing, then I think I found an occupation that requires even less effort than being a disserator.
At least Benjamin Button didn't win best picture.
The jokes about putting on the oscars in the midst of tough economic times were a little hard to take seriously when delivered on a stage bedecked with hundreds of thousands of dollars in the form of the Swavorski crystal curtain. Maybe someone should have told the writers that the budget concerns were a tad overinflated.
While they're at it, they should also talk to the group of editors who choose the clips that best illustrate the award category. At least that's what I thought was the purpose of these clips.
For "special effects," the clip from Dark Night featured a few of Joker's clown-masked minions posing maliciously inside a freight truck. Okay, Freight trucks are admittedly not cheap, probably even to rent. But what exactly is "special" about this particular effect? How about the bat-mobile turning into a bat-bike? That was pretty special.
One of the clips from the nominees for the screenplay award (for those who "don't just write screenplays, but movies") went something like this: "What are you having sir?" "The steak" "And you, mam" "I'll just have what he's having." Now I can see including this in a movie. People are required to place orders when at restaurants, after all. But if this is Oscar-quality writing, then I think I found an occupation that requires even less effort than being a disserator.
At least Benjamin Button didn't win best picture.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
class cut short
The apology I emailed to my students says it all:
Hi Everyone,
So first of all, sorry that you had to witness the breakdown of my vocal chords in class today. I'm sure we can all agree that that was kind of unexpected. In case you're wondering (some of you did look a little worried), I'm not seriously ill in any way. The bad part of this cold passed a week or so ago. My recovering throat was just agitated to the point that it became difficult to speak. I'll make sure to bring some water to our next class, at which my throat should be back up dispensing writing advice, rather than broken raspy speech.
Thanks so much for understanding.
For now, enjoy the free time and your much envied ability to use your voice.
Best,
Kevin
p.s. You should know that I resisted the temptation to place throat-clearing "ahems" throughout this email.
A colleague (Dubs) helped me feel less embarrassed about it when he said "It could have been worse. At least you didn't vomit phlegm all over them"
Hi Everyone,
So first of all, sorry that you had to witness the breakdown of my vocal chords in class today. I'm sure we can all agree that that was kind of unexpected. In case you're wondering (some of you did look a little worried), I'm not seriously ill in any way. The bad part of this cold passed a week or so ago. My recovering throat was just agitated to the point that it became difficult to speak. I'll make sure to bring some water to our next class, at which my throat should be back up dispensing writing advice, rather than broken raspy speech.
Thanks so much for understanding.
For now, enjoy the free time and your much envied ability to use your voice.
Best,
Kevin
p.s. You should know that I resisted the temptation to place throat-clearing "ahems" throughout this email.
A colleague (Dubs) helped me feel less embarrassed about it when he said "It could have been worse. At least you didn't vomit phlegm all over them"
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Follow Up
Yeah, so, the humidifier turned out to be a piece of junk. Its so called humidistat was more like a timer that turned it on and off at intervals. I'm not exactly sure how that gauges a varying quantity like humidity. Its also not fun to have next your bed. At one point, I asked Jen to turn on our wave soundtrack, and she replied that it was already on. I just couldn't hear it over the loudly whirring fan.
After quite a bit of research and a little shopping I discovered that all the good units are sold out just about everywhere in Madison. We opted to overnight a nicer Honeywell model which will be here tomorrow. Meantime, I've taken Katie's advice and am using Jen's "facial spa"--it's like a small portable humidifier that's intended for cosmetic purposes. Not only is it a mask that you hold over your face, but Jen recommends I throw a towel over my head to keep the steam from escaping. I imagine I look like a cross between darth vader and the emperor. The cats seemed a little freaked out and wouldn't stop staring at me. I'd be tempted to say I look twenty years younger if it didn't make me ten.
After quite a bit of research and a little shopping I discovered that all the good units are sold out just about everywhere in Madison. We opted to overnight a nicer Honeywell model which will be here tomorrow. Meantime, I've taken Katie's advice and am using Jen's "facial spa"--it's like a small portable humidifier that's intended for cosmetic purposes. Not only is it a mask that you hold over your face, but Jen recommends I throw a towel over my head to keep the steam from escaping. I imagine I look like a cross between darth vader and the emperor. The cats seemed a little freaked out and wouldn't stop staring at me. I'd be tempted to say I look twenty years younger if it didn't make me ten.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
making water
I don't need to remind anyone that winters in Wisconsin are cold. Lately though, the freezing and frequently subzero temperatures are not my biggest concern. My biggest winter bugbear is the dry air that settles in my apartment after running the heat for weeks at a time. The complete absence of humidity lays waste to my respiratory system leaving the surface area of my sinuses, throat, and lungs a cracked and barren landscape--an environment unsuitable to all life except maybe the occasional virus that happens by.
Lately, I've been waging war against the dry air in my apartment by setting out the humidifier at night and sometimes during the day when I'm home. The one we had was made by honeywell. Somehow I got it in my head that that was a good brand. I'm not sure where I picked up that information, or if it's even valid, but the name just seemed to inspire confidence--probably something to do with the word honey. Recently, though, the honeywell stopped working, most likely due to my own incompetence. I left it on while empty and never really scrubbed off the minerals that had completely overtaken the heating coil and grown to nearly a centimeter in thickness.
So today, I ventured out to Target to purchase a new humidifier. Let me start by saying that this is something I refuse to research on principle, since I have a tendency to research every other little detail of my life. Completely random, I know, but I've decided to draw the line at humidifiers. Plus, if it's going to break in a year or two anyway, I probably shouldn't think too hard about it.
The only brand they had at Target was called Holmes, a name that (to me anyway) doesn't sound nearly as trustworthy as honeywell. Something that's intended to create moisture probably shouldn't have such a dry name. It should probably be something, you know, juicier. But like I said, I'm not being picky. I also went in for "cold mist" instead of "hot steam." When I pulled it out of the box, I noticed that it's much bigger and more complicated looking then my last one. It kind of resembles a Frank Gehry building. It has several sections that don't look as if they should fit together but somehow manage to. Instead of just an on/off switch, this one has a full blown panel, with settings. When I told Jen, she asked if it "goes to eleven." It turns out there's a built in "humidistat" that not only detects the current humidity level but automatically turns the machine on and off to keep the humidity at the level that you desire. The technology is a little crazy, actually. It's just reservoir filled with stagnant water with a fan over it. Honestly, I would never expect something like that to work.
All this gadgetry convinced me that I should probably know something about humidifying one's apartment. So I got over my ridiculous research aversion and checked the internet. I learned that a "humidistat" is practically required among those who know about these things. Without one, you run the risk of turning your apartment into a tropical rain forest where all manner of mold, spore, and bacteria can grow. As you can imagine, this has me a little nervous about my history of humidifying to my heart's content. I guess it's okay. I mean, I'd rather create life than destroy it, right? Anyway, thanks to my new mechanical friend (the cats also seem to have taken to it), the humidity in my office is holding at a comfortable 50%, well within the recommended range. Now I just have to contend with the cold, dry world outside my apartment. I'm seriously tempted to carry it around with me. Maybe, with my big hair and all, people will think it's a boom box if I carry it on my shoulder. That way, instead of an invalid, I'd just be that guy who never recovered from the 80s.
Lately, I've been waging war against the dry air in my apartment by setting out the humidifier at night and sometimes during the day when I'm home. The one we had was made by honeywell. Somehow I got it in my head that that was a good brand. I'm not sure where I picked up that information, or if it's even valid, but the name just seemed to inspire confidence--probably something to do with the word honey. Recently, though, the honeywell stopped working, most likely due to my own incompetence. I left it on while empty and never really scrubbed off the minerals that had completely overtaken the heating coil and grown to nearly a centimeter in thickness.
So today, I ventured out to Target to purchase a new humidifier. Let me start by saying that this is something I refuse to research on principle, since I have a tendency to research every other little detail of my life. Completely random, I know, but I've decided to draw the line at humidifiers. Plus, if it's going to break in a year or two anyway, I probably shouldn't think too hard about it.
The only brand they had at Target was called Holmes, a name that (to me anyway) doesn't sound nearly as trustworthy as honeywell. Something that's intended to create moisture probably shouldn't have such a dry name. It should probably be something, you know, juicier. But like I said, I'm not being picky. I also went in for "cold mist" instead of "hot steam." When I pulled it out of the box, I noticed that it's much bigger and more complicated looking then my last one. It kind of resembles a Frank Gehry building. It has several sections that don't look as if they should fit together but somehow manage to. Instead of just an on/off switch, this one has a full blown panel, with settings. When I told Jen, she asked if it "goes to eleven." It turns out there's a built in "humidistat" that not only detects the current humidity level but automatically turns the machine on and off to keep the humidity at the level that you desire. The technology is a little crazy, actually. It's just reservoir filled with stagnant water with a fan over it. Honestly, I would never expect something like that to work.
All this gadgetry convinced me that I should probably know something about humidifying one's apartment. So I got over my ridiculous research aversion and checked the internet. I learned that a "humidistat" is practically required among those who know about these things. Without one, you run the risk of turning your apartment into a tropical rain forest where all manner of mold, spore, and bacteria can grow. As you can imagine, this has me a little nervous about my history of humidifying to my heart's content. I guess it's okay. I mean, I'd rather create life than destroy it, right? Anyway, thanks to my new mechanical friend (the cats also seem to have taken to it), the humidity in my office is holding at a comfortable 50%, well within the recommended range. Now I just have to contend with the cold, dry world outside my apartment. I'm seriously tempted to carry it around with me. Maybe, with my big hair and all, people will think it's a boom box if I carry it on my shoulder. That way, instead of an invalid, I'd just be that guy who never recovered from the 80s.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Yesterday I taught my first class of the semester: intermediate composition. The group of students who signed up are continuing a tradition that has been established over the last four semesters. Every semester, my students seem to alternate. They are either entirely white, like blankets of Wisconsin snow, or heavily multicultural, [I don't think it would be appropriate to use a metaphor here]. For example: last semester, most of my students were white and midwestern. In fact, they were mostly men from Wisconsin. This semester, my students are hailing from all over the world. Cultural representation in my classes has swung back and forth like this for the past four semesters. It must just be the luck of the draw. I mean, I guess it is. It's not like they plan it, right? Do fraternities and sororities target classes? Have I become a guinea pig some kind of F-ed up segregation experiment?
On a lighter note, here are some short cuts I took while making soup of which I'm proud.
1. When told to cook squash two ways and combine both, I just roasted it all!
2. Instead of a bouquet garni, I just dumped a bunch of dried herbs in the pot! I always thought bouquet garnis were a little pretentious - and not just because they're French!
3. When I was supposed to filter the soup through a sieve, I just bypassed the sieve all together!
For some reason, the exclamation marks seemed necessary. Sorry if you felt shouted at. And guess what else, it tastes exactly the same!
On a lighter note, here are some short cuts I took while making soup of which I'm proud.
1. When told to cook squash two ways and combine both, I just roasted it all!
2. Instead of a bouquet garni, I just dumped a bunch of dried herbs in the pot! I always thought bouquet garnis were a little pretentious - and not just because they're French!
3. When I was supposed to filter the soup through a sieve, I just bypassed the sieve all together!
For some reason, the exclamation marks seemed necessary. Sorry if you felt shouted at. And guess what else, it tastes exactly the same!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
what I've been watching
To respond to t's request, here's a list of the various movies and television shows that I've been watching the entire week I've been sick. Having been medicated during the viewing of most of these films, I will refrain from commenting on their quality.
Gone Baby Gone
Ben Affleck's directorial debut.
Next
An action-thriller in which Nicholas Cage can see two minutes into the future.
Tropic Thunder
Exiled
A Johnny To Spaghetti Western set in Macao, Portugal. A group of thugs find that their bonds of friendship are stronger than their loyalty to their boss.
Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End
Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
I only watched the first ten minutes.
The Constant Gardener
Black Book
About a female agent for the Jewish resistance in Nazi Germany.
The Duchess
Mad Men
Last two discs of season 1.
Babylon A.D.
Two words, Vin Diesel.
Star Trek: Voyager
Season 1
Gone Baby Gone
Ben Affleck's directorial debut.
Next
An action-thriller in which Nicholas Cage can see two minutes into the future.
Tropic Thunder
Exiled
A Johnny To Spaghetti Western set in Macao, Portugal. A group of thugs find that their bonds of friendship are stronger than their loyalty to their boss.
Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End
Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
I only watched the first ten minutes.
The Constant Gardener
Black Book
About a female agent for the Jewish resistance in Nazi Germany.
The Duchess
Mad Men
Last two discs of season 1.
Babylon A.D.
Two words, Vin Diesel.
Star Trek: Voyager
Season 1
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
not so hard to swallow now
Oh the woes of being ill. Three days ago I came down with a sinus infection. At first it wasn't so bad, just some congestion and some tiredness. Nothing, I thought, that a few hours on the couch in front of the teli couldn't cure. But then last night happened. My throat grew so sore and swollen I could barely swallow. Being something of a hypochondriac, I decided to page a doctor, who recommended I head to ER! She scared me a bit with her concern for a long wait due to accidents on the iced-over roads. Luckily, the horrific scene of crushed and bleeding victims being wheeled through the emergency room door was not a reality. As far as we could tell, Jen and I were the only people there. The only evidence of other patients were the handful of cars, neither dented nor totaled, in the parking garage.
All around, it was a highly uneventful visit. Two nurses checked my vitals and threatened to do a strep test (of which I'm terrified). An unconcerned-looking doctor then came and countermanded their order, basically dismissing the test as worthless. He also assured me that I wasn't going to suffocate any time soon. In the spirit of House, he skipped the diagnosis and went ahead with treatment. Now, I figured they would give me antibiotics, but what I did not see coming were the prescription-strength pain relievers. That was an unexpected delight. When going over my list of prescriptions, the nurse asked,
"Have you heard of vicodin?"
My initial thought was "Have I?!"
I went with the somewhat more considered answer of, "yeah, that sounds familiar."
So here I am the next day. My throat slightly less sore and swollen and I am experiencing a dizzy-woozy feeling, which is markedly improving the quality of the crappy movies I'm downloading from netflix.
All around, it was a highly uneventful visit. Two nurses checked my vitals and threatened to do a strep test (of which I'm terrified). An unconcerned-looking doctor then came and countermanded their order, basically dismissing the test as worthless. He also assured me that I wasn't going to suffocate any time soon. In the spirit of House, he skipped the diagnosis and went ahead with treatment. Now, I figured they would give me antibiotics, but what I did not see coming were the prescription-strength pain relievers. That was an unexpected delight. When going over my list of prescriptions, the nurse asked,
"Have you heard of vicodin?"
My initial thought was "Have I?!"
I went with the somewhat more considered answer of, "yeah, that sounds familiar."
So here I am the next day. My throat slightly less sore and swollen and I am experiencing a dizzy-woozy feeling, which is markedly improving the quality of the crappy movies I'm downloading from netflix.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Great...
The moment I finally build up the nerve to do work and people start pounding on the building with hammers and shit. This of course has riled up the insane barking dog across the street, who is now calling for every neglected backyard dog in the neighborhood to join in.
Now I have to change into something winter-proof, pack up all my things, and drive to a coffee shop. If all goes well, the desire to be productive will not have passed by the time I get there.
On a lighter note. Here are two headlines from "The Capital Times" that illustrate why I love local news:
"Dog that bit man sought." - nothing to do with said dogs above.
"Couple did not fall for scam." - I like the implication that couples always fall for scams. And that at last, finally, one particularly perceptive couple managed to slip the noose.
Now I have to change into something winter-proof, pack up all my things, and drive to a coffee shop. If all goes well, the desire to be productive will not have passed by the time I get there.
On a lighter note. Here are two headlines from "The Capital Times" that illustrate why I love local news:
"Dog that bit man sought." - nothing to do with said dogs above.
"Couple did not fall for scam." - I like the implication that couples always fall for scams. And that at last, finally, one particularly perceptive couple managed to slip the noose.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Seriously, Stanley Fish?
Groundhog day? One of the top ten best films EVER?! Double Indemnity and Vertigo I can handle. But "Groundhog day"! This is the only movie worth mentioning in the last 20 years?! Why not "Ghostbusters"? And "What about Bob?" I'm beginning to think you really are insane.
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