Things Go Well in the Life o' Rex

1. I got a verbal promise to teach for Great Books next year! It was a half-assed thing I asked about because I really didn't want to teach for Sports in the Ancient World (jock class), or Latin (I would have broken down and cried), and though my own background is totally perfect for the course, I knew that the professor gets along much better with boys than with girls, so I thought it was kind of a long shot, especially when he murmured something about departmental politics in assigning GSIs, but I should go ahead and send in my CV anyways... It happened that I didn't have a CV, so I took my time with it. Imagine my surprise when I get a phone call this afternoon, and it's the professor urging me to hurry up with my application! He told me that the job is mine as long as I get the paperwork done. Later today I mentioned this to Boom Boom, and he said that it was actually a pretty big deal for Prof. Cameron to give me the green light - you know, what with the XX and all. I give credit to my conference paper last week (Cameron is the one who called it "very smart"); it's good to know that my efforts were not in vain, but already have saved me from a fate worse than death.

2. I think I may have found my home for next year (barring the credit problem resulting from Comcast's incompetencies). It's bigger than my place now, and cheaper, still close to downtown, and even closer to campus. I really hope this Comcast thing does not fuck me over.

3. All indications from that streak of personality tests (taken yesterday, before 1 or 2 came to light) say that I'm generally a very happy person. Isn't that funny? I feel angry and depressed a lot of the time, so I can't imagine how terribly excruciating the whole circus of life must be for the people who are truly unhappy. I almost can't understand why they would go on living...until I think of death, and how it is a graver horror than any hell-vision I could imagine (no consciousness!). In fact, it's the only thought that truly makes me feel ambitious, as per the white room test. A (different) personality test mentioned that I'm a person of low agency (so true!), so if I ever achieved anything that my mom didn't do for me, it's because of my fear of death.

For those of you who are interested, here's my whole profile for the one test. Surprises include: openness, empathy (ahem, Que-Ni), femininity, and aesthetic.

Ramen

Ever since HDG mentioned it tonight I couldn't get it out of my head. So I succumbed...and it was delicious.

Personality Quiz

1. Think of your favorite animal. Write down three words that describe why this is your favorite animal, without using physical characteristics. For example if your favorite animal was a frog, one of your reasons could not be "green." If your favorite animal was a fox, some reasons could be "clever, fast, resourceful."

2. Now imagine yourself in a white room. The walls, ceiling, and floor are white. There is no furniture or other objects, and there are no windows or doors, or any other way to get out of here. Write three separate words describing how you feel in this room.

3. Now you are at a waterfall with a blind/deaf man. Write three words that you would use to describe the waterfall to this man.

My answers:
1. loving, clumsy, independent (K-Man, obviously)
2. bored, cold, ambitious (interesting word choice, I realize; it was my one-word way of expressing my eagerness to get it furnished)
3. powerful, cool, free

Analysis

- The three words that you used to describe your favorite animal also describe how you want others to see you.
- The words that you used to describe the all-white room also describe how you see death.
- The words that you used to describe the waterfall also describe how you feel about love.

Question 2 was DEAD ON for me (pun!). Question 3, not so much. Question 1 I'm not so sure about because my animal was very specific, but I guess I can see how I love K-Man for the same reasons I love myself.

Robert Kaufmann is a Motherfucker

I just had a flashback of all the boneheaded things he used to say as I was browsing through the old critical theory textbook we used to use. God, the man was an idiot. Moreover he didn't know he was an idiot, so that eventually I just decided to get through his class by keeping my mouth shut, writing down every retarded thing he used to say, and spitting it back out for the final. I don't remember what grade I got, but I think it might have been an A-. Because, you know, he thought his own ideas were so brilliant and rewarded regurgitation.

When I think back to past decisions, it occurs to me that I shouldn't have been such a good sport and put up with so much bullshit. A week into that class I should have walked out and said, Peace out I'm taking an independent study. Why am I so convinced that life is tough for everyone? In the Kaufmann case (and probably the current Jay Reed case) my life was probably difficult only because I didn't put my foot down and tell him to jump in a lake.

State of Discontent

I know my posts have become more rare and less interesting. Somehow you lose the will to write when all you have is bitching, and you know all your bitching is futile. I hate my coursework (Apollonius of Rhodes - worst poet ever), I have to start a paper about Cicero and I have no idea where to go with it, I don't know when I'm going home because I can't decide if I want to try taking the German exam before I leave, I've come off a month of feuding with one of my professors, at least, I hate Latin, my credit is ruined because of fucking Comcast, I have to find a new place to live, and most importantly, my new Netflix DVDs are not being mailed! I can't wait until this circus is over.

On an unrelated note: I just remembered that I saw Snakes on a Plane a few weeks ago and I forgot to write about it. I think a conversation that happened during the viewing nicely sums it up:

"Wow, I can't believe this one scene has lasted for twenty minutes."
"It lasts for pretty much the whole movie."
An hour later:
"You're right, that WAS the entire movie."

Stranger Than Fiction

A little too implausible to be funny. Or good. They really should have done something about Dustin Hoffman's character. I get the sense that Hollywood has a very warped idea of what it is that professors actually do.

True What They Say About Sleep Debt

I've had sleep debts before, but never one that lasted for a month. Not surprisingly, it took a lot more for me to make it up last night: I woke up at 7 this evening! That's a new record, even for me. I guess I didn't go to sleep until about 3:30, because I went to an 11pm show of the Crucible because my friend was in it (and ps, has anyone ever noticed how misogynistic the Crucible is?)...that would make it 15.5 hours of sleep, which I suppose I've outdone before.

Anyways, the part I can't explain is why I feel all achy today, like I spent the day surfing, except worse because my legs feel all achy too, like i spent the whole day doing ballet. It's weird. Maybe it has something to do with me falling on my butt twice yesterday.

Pride Hurt, Pubes Hurt

Twice today, because I was dressed up in my fancy spike-heeled shoes with no traction, I slipped and fell on my butt. That means that I also dropped Pubes, and I was hoping the damage was minimal (it looks like it is), but now the right side of the screen has fuzzy stripes. It's a good thing I got the AppleCare.

Why was I dressed up in impractical shoes, you ask? Because today was the big day of my conference paper! It went over beautifully; I had a great turn-out and one of my professors said the paper was "very smart." I feel so much gratitude to all the support I got. I even had two of my students show up at 9:30 in the morning, and they stayed for the whole hour and half panel. Even I didn't want to stay for the whole hour and half.

Life Lesson from a Surfer

I've been having a week from hell. In addition to all the stress that's been going down for a whole month now, my professors have started to get on my back about really, really stupid and unreasonable and, frankly, INSANE passive-aggressive issues they have about me, and I feel like they're all just out to get me when they really should be supporting my ass. It's very frustrating, and if you haven't heard about it yet it's only because the shit pile is so high I wouldn't even know where to start.

So anyways, I was reading my TransWorld Surf magazine (I have a free subscription) in the bathroom and I came across a little Q&A from some random surfer I don't know and don't really care about, but it was interesting to me because a lot of his responses had to do with disappointments and humbling moments, and the times when he ate it and stuff, in the world of competitive surfing. He also got the question, "What was the last lesson you learned?" to which he answered: "Acceptance." That got me thinking. I should stop being so angry about everything. That knowledge comes so clearly to you when you're in the ocean, and you're a suck-ass surfer like me, and the waves do whatever the hell they want and there's nothing you can do about it except try your best to keep up. Outside the water you get this false impression that there is something you can do about everyone trying to bring you down, but in the end I know it's going to be a losing fight and I'm just going to make myself furious resisting all the assholes in my life, who are immune against anything I can do. Maybe acceptance is not the can-do attitude right now - and all the advice my friends have been giving is that I should stand up for myself more - but what do you do when everyone in your world is talking crazy? I would love to have a fair chance, but really, people suck so hard in general that it's like fat chance of that ever happening.

Well, like surfing, it wouldn't be fun if it weren't humbling.

New Slang

I've been waiting for my students to say something I didn't know.

"...if you ask me, he was just acting like a PAB."
"PAB?"
"Punk Ass Bitch."

Something Once Happened in London, Ontario, After All

I just got back from a scary trip to London, Ontario, to deliver my first conference paper. The conference went well enough (I was told I did a goot job responding to questions), but it was totally in the middle of nowhere, and the heart within you just sinks to think that the world can be this lonely. Leaving London on the country road after dark, I was constantly nervous about missing my turn (the signs are not well-marked at all) and never finding the major highway again, until I drove all the way to the Pacific coast or got picked up by aliens or a cannibalistic cult. I can't tell you how many times I retraced my steps, just to make sure I didn't miss the road.

Then I watched Walk the Line today, which sparked a little wikipedia research, which revealed that London, Ontario was the place where Johnny Cash proposed to June Carter. Huh.

Sore Throat

In case you missed it, I've been sick and tired for what seems like forever now. Except as of this morning, that sick has become literal. I was wondering as I went to bed last night how this all-work-no-play marathon hasn't broken me yet (and what would happen if I did break???). My eyes are withering in their sockets and my posture is atrophied and I feel dead inside. Back in my college days, I surely would have been bedridden by now. But somehow I'm still turboing through. I like to think it's because of the herbal junk I had to take this summer; maybe it really does make you stronger. Besides, I'd be in so much deep-fried shit if I drop the ball now.

Then I woke up this morning with a sore throat and an achy feeling, and I thought, Of course! - but I had to go to school so I went to school...

...so you can imagine my disbelieving rage when I get an email from my professor that I've been grading my students too hard on their papers. Little brats are lucky they got they're papers back at all! I barely have time for me, and I certainly don't have time to coddle their dumb asses this week. Not to mention that my class average was 85! I was ready to rip out the professor's spine for that. How dare he turn on me for taking my job seriously, instead of giving everyone an A. Yeah, I'd gladly blow it off too. I should be getting fucking medal because I didn't.

GreekKeys: A Rotten MF

I just spent like an hour + $40 downloading the program for a Greek font (with accents) and trying to figure out why it wasn't working. Then I learn that the download is fitted for Microsoft 2004, not Microsoft X, which is what I have. And everyone knows that Microsoft is as expensive as hell, so I'll be damned if I'm going to shell out some more of my livelihood on that mess. I'll just have to work around the system by using the crappy ole TextEdit.

Insomniac AGAIN

I thought the hardest week was over. But I'm up now with another anxiety attack. I just want to go to sleep so that I can get a good start tomorrow, and actually do what I have to do instead of worrying about it. But it looks like I'm doomed in this cycle, not being able to concentrate because I'm tired, not being able to write because I can't concentrate, not being able to sleep because I haven't written anything, and finally, being tired all day because I couldn't sleep. Damn, I'm so boring.

Stupid, Stupid!

The more I'm working on this paper for Friday's conference, the more I find I disagree with a major article written by one of the professors who will be in my audience. Hot Karl! And I thought I was so clever when I referenced the article in my abstract, convinced that it was a strategic bit of ego-stroking. This is why it doesn't pay to be a tool.

You Know What's Worse Than a Nerd?

A nerd who thinks his nerddom is cool and so doesn't give you the courtesy of trying to hide it. You'd think by the time you became an assistant professor you'd feel self-confident enough to stop flexing nuts about how "cool" you think you are, but goddammit, some people are just like born to never get it.

Meanwhile, I seem to be born to make enemies in high places.

Ominous Dream

I dreamt last night that there was a huge gray dog that looked all friendly, but when I went to play with him he mauled me and chewed off the buttons on my sweater.

MST3K: I Accuse My Parents

+ a short on Truck Farming.

So good, so funny! It's about a pathological liar who wins an essay contest, sells women's shoes, and gets mixed up with the mob, all because of his lush parents.

Postscript - Conference

I forgot to mention that the conference is taking place at the University of Michigan on Friday, March 23. I'm going first at 9:30am, and I'll be talking about Aristophanes and the role of mimesis in comedy. I think it will be a big deal, since theoretically I'm supposed to be presenting alongside faculty...!!! And the conference itself is interdisciplinary, focusing on drama and performance; so I feel like I'm doing a good thing for my field to branch out like this.

I Rock

I got a paper accepted to present at another conference this month, my lecture was a big success (as far as I care, ie I didn't mess up), I finally got some sleep and some food in my belly, and in the process I'm sure I'm pissing off my whole department beause this week is perspectives week and I was in much, much too crabby a mood to be the team player. I've had a week of insomnia, for chrissake. Oh well, I'll try to make it up tomorrow, after I de-stress.

I also owe apologies to everyone I snapped out, including my mom, who doesn't read my blog. I feel pretty sick about that, even though my mom of all people is probably so used to putting up with the mean Rex that the nice Rex is probably like a stranger to her.

Hmm, I guess this post isn't really about me rocking. I just got carried away the excitement of item 1. For family and friends who care, this would be the one to attend...(hint-wink!)

Uncharitable Thoughts

I want to shoot the guy sitting next to me. Not only did he plant himself at my ELBOW when there are a dozen other seats in this coffee shop that are not quite so breathing down my neck. He also keeps trying to start stupid conversations about the internet connection here, my computer, the music that's playing. Even it were a slim young guy, outside the borders of my personal space, I'm still not sure I would welcome conversation just now, what with the stress and all.

I bet as soon as I get out of here I'm going to start feeling bad about making fun of this guy for being chubby and middle-aged. I always do that. Guilt makes me think that maybe it isn't me who's not the unreasonable one.

No Reserves

Out of the 19 hours of my day today, I spent about 17 doing work (down time spent grocery shopping and showering)...and I realize that it's almost been like that since last Wednesday...and I'm still not close to finishing everything on my hellish to-do list. I did manage to write my abstract (!!), but teaching took a dump in my lap and I have grading, peer evaluations, and lecture all in one week (not to mention the writing of the new exam, which we finished on Tuesday). I can't drop the ball anymore on teaching, not now; and yet I'm so close to dropping the ball on everything!

Cut my losses. I think I have to take a personal day tomorrow (after teaching) because I'm so out of resources and there's no other way I'll fit it all in. I mean, regular classes and homework (except for prose comp, which dumps the whole week's work into each Friday) - it's one day, one assignment out of 30. The other stuff can't share the burden.

Holding it together barely. One anxiety-insomnia attack away from mayhem.

(Yeah, it's my problem, my time-managment issue. But I think the same OCD tendencies that (sometimes) enhance performance are hoisting my fucking petard right now. I should just know better than to try.)

Is This Rude and Weird?

I've developed a certain habit that recently occurred to me might seem off-putting. When people say, "Hey, how are you?" I respond, "Fine, thanks." I don't ask them how they are doing. I started doing this because people always ask me the how are you question like when we're passing through in the hall, and I just don't think it's a good place to be getting into a whole discussion; if they really wanted to know how I was doing, they would suggest going out to lunch or something, not expect that I collapse all the myriad of my constant woes into a sentence. Thus, I don't feel obligated to reciprocate the question.

I've developed this habit so long that now I just don't ask how people are, period. I wonder if people think that's weird.

Something I Thought I'd Never Seen Again, Ever

I was at the airport yesterday totally zonked out because I had taken some sleeping pills...and I barely woke up in time to board the plane. I was just about the last one to board, but I still got held up because some couple in front of me was embracing passionately and crying on each other and stuff. I pushed ahead of them impatiently and went through the gate, and as I was waiting in line there the crying woman came behind me and I could hear her sniffling and talking on the phone: "I'll call you when I land *sniff!* I'll talk to you soon *sniff!* I'll call you as soon as I land..."

Chah! Talk about co-dependent...

!!!

That's when I realized that I had witnessed a total anachronism: the tearful parting at an airport gate. Why don't we see them anymore? Because after 9/11 only ticketed passengers are allowed to get through as far as the gate. That means that this woman's boyfriend or whatever BOUGHT A TICKET HE DIDN'T USE JUST SO HE COULD SPEND THOSE EXTRA FORTY MINUTES WITH HER before they absolutely had to say goodbye. Meow, unless one of them is going to die in the next month, I'm deciding that those two are completely mental. Of course if they are dying, I'm going to hell...still.

Meet My New Computer

Publius "Pubes" Fortunatus. Aka Lucky.

I have some dread that it may be ill-omened to give my computer a Latin name. But I really wanted to name something Pubes, and I know I'll never have to guts to do it to a child or a pet. And perhaps I can think of it like Heracles, who was named after Hera in a propitiatory way, because she was the one who hated him most.

On the other hand, I already feel some resentment toward this new computer (I can't help it!) because I had to retire Lolita before her time and there's this irrational transference of negativity going on...to this innocent babe, Pubes. If the resentment becomes too distracting I will have to drop the Roman name and go exclusively by Lucky.