The View From Kalamazoo

Library of Alexandria discovered

So. This afternoon the boss suddenly announced to the office that we should write a limerick that included the rhyme flotilla and Totila.

Seriously.

So this is what I came up with (note I was the only one who did as bidden…). He has suggested I do 5-10 in Leavenworth for impersonating a poet, ’cause it didn’t start “There once was a…”, but I think it’s pretty darn good considering I don’t do Goths (or anything else that early). So there.

The 6th century Gothic flotilla

sent by that plunderer, ol’ King “Totila”,

would take Greece (he thought),

but a eunuch he got

so that was the end of Baduila.

Everyone’s a critic…

5-10. Bah.

I got this joke from a 20-something with ADD. It’s very funny if you live with ADD/ADHD in some way. It’s Emma dead-on.

Q: How many kids with Attention Deficit Disorder does it take to change a lightbulb?

A: Let’s go ride bikes

I’ll post more about my last week later – it’s time for a little catching up with commentary and more navel contemplation. For those who are following along at home the result of my ingesting many empty calories and suffering under the yoke of fried foods in the caf was my weight holding steady despite my brief interlude last night with Ben & Jerry. I’ll write it up, call it the Guinness diet, make millions. Considering where I am and where I’m not it may be a viable career option, hm?

I already posted a bit about the recent and dire Village Voice warning and acknowledged the departure of IA from both academe and her oft-read blog. Since the point I stopped having much time to catch up with the blogs I read IA has been joined by Erin O’Connor of Critical Mass. Lots of discussion all over, including Easily Distracted responding to last Wednesday’s entry at In the Shadow of Mt. Hollywood , and a reaction to it all at CM. Lots more out there, I assure, you, I’m just not linking to it all.

This all doesn’t begin discussion of the Issues Within the Profession – the same problems invoked in the last week are the same blogged about for months and months before at these linked, and other, academe-focused blogs. I admit I had reacted sharply when Erin O’Connor commented in her announcement “It is agreed that there is a massive overproduction of Ph.D.’s, and that departments that are contributing to this massive overproduction of Ph.D.’s are grossly irresponsible toward grad students even as they serve their own needs very well (they get the cheap labor they need to get freshman comp taught, and they get a pool of smart, interesting students to whom faculty can administer narcissistically gratifying graduate courses).” The academy is a mess. Tenure is clearly (no argument from me, at this point, whether this is a good thing or a bad thing) on the way out. Michael Drout at Wormtalk ain’t kidding when he responds: “Sometimes we should be a little Foucaultian about ourselves: reducing the “overproduction” of Ph.D.s makes guiltless 22-25 year-olds suffer the loss of their dreams for the benefit of other people. Fewer Ph.D.s would make for better lives and better remuneration and better prospects for those who already have them: as Foucault points out, self-interest dressed up as humanitarianism has a particularly bad record, historically.” I am feeling the pain of being crushed between that particular rock and that particular hard place. Does my drive to move forward in the face of this mess, in the face of a job market that’s truly heinous, despite advice (or veiled commentary) to [insert scary voice here] “Go Back Before It’s Too Late!” and witnessing the jumping ship of a lot of sharp folks a heckuva lot more brilliant than I a sign of dedication or stupidity? Is it sadism to read regularly about the abuse I will suffer and still have sent out all of those (fruitless, in hindsight) applications?

I read Should you go to grad school? by Tim Burke . His short answer is no, and his long answer sounds a lot like no, as well. He’s happy, he’s successful, he’s certain that grad school leads only to despair so please ignore the man behind the curtain.

Square one.

It’s the last day. For this and strong coffee and many other things I am grateful.

Made it through the Great and Glorious Saturday Dance intact. The DJ played I Wanna Be Sedated for me, as always. ‘Cause, you know, I did. (Hell, I do now.)

I shook my fat ass.

There were witnesses.

Now, of course, like every Sunday-of-Congress I feel wrecked. The dorm bed is awful, I get next to no sleep, and have been working at such a high stress level that I feel wrung out.

I made it to a couple of sessions, a few receptions, had lunch with TG (an honor at this point – there are a lot of draws on his time) and caught-up and that was Very Good. Had a lot of Good, Important, and Fruitful conversations and I appreciate the professional generosity of many. I bought many books. I no longer have any excuses to put off working on my June paper. (I’m the first of the first day of non-concurrent sessions. No pressure.)

Lots of nice folks have wandered by and told me they’ve had a lovely time and offered many thanks. It’s helpful to have positive feedback for the obvious reasons, and a little injection to sprits sinking low the face of crises and crabbiness and sheer exhaustion.

I’ve also been yelled at, emoted to, and accused of insensitivity beyond the bounds of the moons and stars. Yes, the construction is All My Fault. So is the weather, a paper cancelled You Really Wanted To See, and your watch set to central instead of eastern time. Despite the fact that the Program states that badges are required to attend the dance (page vi), the shuttle to hotels with special blocks for the conference is limited (page vi-vii), and we must have firm cut-off date for cancellation with refund, anyone inconvenienced by these and unhindered by foreknowledge of these through a cursory reading of their Program should blame me for these things, as well.

Next year I’m getting a t-shirt made up that states, clearly, “It’s All My Fault.” That will save the inconvenience of having to inform me and free up schedules otherwise bogged down by the responsibility of clueing me in.

I receive all sins. I will be slaughtered for the good of the community Sunday afternoon.

I’m glad it’s over – I always am. It’s a lot of prep and anticipation and planning, it’s here, and then I’m glad it’s done. We’ve already started on next year, so apart from the aftermath and post-mortem meetings I can look forward. I think I’ll not submit a proposal to organize a special for next year – maybe I’ll try to give a paper again. Or not – despite the cost I rather like going away to give papers. I think it’s easier to take a person seriously when they aren’t also the person you complain to when the men’s room is out of paper towel.

And the beat goes on.

Making copies. Many, many copies for tonight’s concert.

Will report more later, but things are Nuts. Crazy. Hectic.

And I need more sleep. And a beer tonight.

Topic of discussion that has come up: a lot of people who I would think may barely know of my existance know of this blog. Ok, entirely possible that it’s more than lot. I blogged about this question before, but I will have to ponder longer. Did any committee use this bit of electronic boredom to weed me out?

Opinions from any of you unknown-to-me readers out there? Bueller?

Ok, back to copies. Toner, ho!

Epact: Scientific Instruments of Medieval and Renaissance Europe

Epact is an electronic catalogue of medieval and renaissance scientific instruments from four European museums: the Museum of the History of Science, Oxford, the Istituto e Museo di Storia della Scienza, Florence, the British Museum, London, and the Museum Boerhaave, Leiden. Together, these museums house the finest collections of early scientific instruments in the world.

Thanks for Mirabilis.ca for the link

Vatican goes wireless

Medieval sea chart was in line with current thinking

“The 16th-century Carta Marina, complete with sea monsters, gives an accurate location for dangerous eddies.

Roger Highfield reports A satellite image of the north-east Atlantic has revealed that medieval cartographers knew much more about ocean currents than was thought…”

Today noticed I’m past the 40-lbs-lost mark since June of last year.

Yay me. *tosses confetti*

(I also note that I Monday I spent quality time with the leg press (180 lbs, in case you’re is taking notes) in the most over-zealous way and that, combined with last night’s belly dance class, means I still walk like an old lady today. I have exceptionally unhappy quads. Today I focused on upper body, as you can well imagine.)

I hope to lose another 10 (at least – I won’t stop at 10!) to get down to my post-Emma weight by my birthday in a little over 2 months. I had rather hoped I might be farther along than this (and so could justify a new Congress wardrobe, heh heh) but stressful applications, holidays, and a 2.5-month-long plateau have not positively contributed to losing somewhat closer to 100-lbs by my birthday. Perhaps impossible goals are my MO. Worse arguments could be made.

(Most women who have had a baby are likely wondering ‘Why on earth is a post-baby weight a *goal*?!?’ I had hyperemesis gravidarum with my first born – I vomited all day every day (and at night.. it was equal opportunity nausea) throughout the pregnancy and barely kept hydrated enough to stay out of the hospital. I lost a lot of weight – so I was lighter after giving birth than I had been in a long, long time.)