waiting for Pop -o

So I must be excited about my father's visit because I could have sworn that it was today that he was arriving. Now I have a feeling that he will be here when I am billeting the lecturer from the other campus for this bloody conference. So anyways I rush home at three because I had been held up by proofreading the program of the bloody thing, I caught a taxi in case pops was already there, and I had a ferw last minute things to finish off. That would be called tidying. okay spring cleaning. So I mopped and all that stuff that seemed like seconds ago when I did all that for the last visitors.
I wait. I watch a bit of the Olympics. I finish making the borshch just in case Pops has transformed himself into a dedyushka, which would be nice, I would like Russian speaking dad, moj djadja samy chesny pravil.... is for the first line of Evgeny Onegin is it not?

I digress, so nyet papa by 5:30. Maybe he stopped off tikitour about to show his English wife something about something or rather. (I know she is technically my stepmother but she has never mothered me since I met her just before Dad married her. But anyway, then the kayaking final is on so I don't worry. Then I get hungry and want to eat the borschch so I start to worry. Then I go outside for a cigarette because I am illogical and embarrassed that I smoke despite the fact I refuse to stop. I told you I was illogical... probably hadn't mentioned it here before even... So naturally I don't want the house to stink of smokes so I have left all the windows and doors open for the lasrt 24 hours even though it is only about 5 degrees... Then I notice that the path below the kitchen is wet. I notice this big metal lid thing that I have never really registered in anything but my lizard brain before. So I lift it up and there is this primordial ooze blupping and blooping and bubbling. I believe this phenomenon is called a blocked drain. And it stinks to buggery. So here I was worrying that my house would smell of smoke, and just outside the window is an incredible stench of well god I don't really know. Thanks to smoking I have failed to register this for months. So now I worry about my father's arrive and this stink.... And how to get rid of it. I prod it with a stick, and what looks like corn kernels floats to the surface. This is really disturbing as I refuse to eat corn. Why eat something that looks the same when it comes out as it did when it went in. This means that it has been here before I arrived truly primordial.

In the failing light I am aware of the awful consequences of not doing this right, so I decide to abandon the drain to its own gurglings and disturbing bubblings and go inside and settling on just worrying about my Dad, though a small part tries to think up ways to disguise the stench. Come up with nothing. Decide then to check my email to discover that my Dad is not due till tomorrow. Doh!

petulance and contrition? Is that by Dostoevsky

I have just been lacking in graciousness in a meeting about this fucking conference. And now I am thoroughly ashamed of myself.

I am ashamed for plenty of other reasons too at the moment. My frustration with this bloody conference is eating up any remaining motivation I had to finish the two book reviews and the three articles I am struggling to write and instead spend most of my time reading blogs. Despite it being my procrastination tool (TM Bitch, PH.D) of choice, I am feeling rather ambivalent towards this medium at the moment. It has become my cyber equivalent to shouting into a well. And well, to be frank, I think the bandwidth could use a break from this. I was thinking about how blogging could be both monologic and polylogic and was thinking this was going to be a wonderful new way of both expressing an identity that doesn't get much airtime in this city and build links and communities with those beyond. But it does not seem to be working out this way. By falling down the monologic well of moaning, ranting, and venting, I doubt that I have invited any fellow bloggers to share points of contact.
So I will reign in some of those tendencies to sullen-ness and petulance as displayed at the meeting.

Our school had its research seminar today, which was interesting on a number of fronts the late of which was the actual research presented; Fried and the so-called Tasmanian genocide and literature and identity during the Japanese colonial period in Taiwan. The most interesting aspect was the Silver Fox's silence. He didn't roll out his question about research and publication like he did for me and Peter. Apparently someone had a word with him about the inappropriateness of his behaviour. So we got a polite perhaps contrite silence.

Well I will be walking home soon. I was going to go for a swim but by the time I get home get something from the supermarket and back it will be too late. There is marking to be done. Olympics to be watched. Cheap plonk to be drunk. Now there's an idea.

a little bird told me

Oh and also my heart-felt thanks to my colleague who went and told my boss that I was unhappy with all this. Communication is what you need. So then my boss comes into my room and just tells me about all the good that will come of my doing this, which dioesn't allievate the workload issues. Yes maybe so, I will become a star, lol, but that doesn't help me do the job any better and what with output measurement, our ability to organise a conference is not going to rate all that highly!
So my reward for my hardwork appears to be the opportunity for more hard work. Let that be a lesson to us all.

blackshirts on parade

I know another moan. I have just found out that apparently I am supposed to feel grateful for the opportunity to organise this conference. So thank you very much for increasing my workload, halting my opportunity to get anything else done and generally leaving me floundering out of my depth in organizational responsibilities. Apart form also having the heaviest teaching workload, having to do the high school visits stuff which also meant extra teaching..... Beware when opportunity knocks at your door... It could be a home invasion.

In other news, Destiny Church marched on parliament to protest the civil union bill. I wish that they had put more thought into their presentation because they give free speech a bad name. Radically conservative Christians are very hard to take at the best of times, but I think their rights to advocate their views must not be tampered with. But dressing up in black pants, boots and black t-shirts did themselves no favors. If you want to convince a poof like me that I am not capable of loving, marching as fascist shock troops is not going to work. In fact they were frightening. A 7000 strong contingent of largely Maaori men and children under ten who probably are not fully aware of sexuality in general never mind their own desires is pretty hard to take. Maaori have fought hard for their rights in this country, and have dealt with a lot of resentment regarding land claims and issues of the treaty, and yet here are some of that population wishing to deprive rights from others.
counter-protestors including a very sweet contingent of high schools held up their banner, 'hate is not a family value.... How I would like to believe that despite the fact that it appears to be untrue. Hatred must be taught in the home, and homework is set in the shape of domestic violence and abuse.

sleep of the just?

If you saw my desk you would believe me when I say I am up to my ears in work. There's the conference; there's the teaching, the research and now the marking.... on top of this, I have just discovered I have houseguests this weekend to interrupt my ongoing romance with the television. Worse than that they arrive tomorrow and I don't have a bed for them to sleep on! I guess I could throw a blanket over the mountain of marking and it could double as a mattress.

God I have turned into a moaner. I apologise for all that. Let us dwell for a moment on the positives. My field methods class is going well. the informant/consultant is excellent and she brings along her kid who is very cute, and for a couple of the members of the class they are learning the ropes very well. One of them has an advantage in that he speaks a related language. One of the other potentially good students in that he has to communciate in his second language to find out about a third and sometimes his meaning is unclear. Unfortunately there is one struggler who is just not keeping up.
And now joy of joys the silver fox has called a meeting about one of his two main topics of discourse, luckily the slightly more interesting one, office admin

what the dickens

I have no interest in the whole damn conference organising. I do not have the organisation gene! If I did I might have become a conference organiser. I am still a fledging academic can't aI learn to do that part well without having to do this as well. APrt form that our draconian admisntrator and her good buddy the silver fox seem to think that admin is the core business of all academic institutions and make all the decision, ight down to which typist we get to things. This is all getting out of hand, Our school is run by a specialist on Dickens! They are novels!Tey are not guides to contemporary management practices.

take the pills, ludo

I feel I should begin to be concerned about the incredible highs and lows I have been feeling lately. The unnatural love of the world that I felt for the world on Thursday instantly evaporated on Friday. I struggled through work on Friday, Had a lot to do, recreating an exam that my computer swallowed on Tuesday. I am having, and I should have admitted this a long time ago, h a really difficult time concentrating on work. I have a lot to do and don't seem to get nations done. I am now not sure it is just procrastination. I think I have to admit to long a history of depression, a state that seems so natural to me that I never thought there should be anything to be done about it. But the stakes are getting higher. I put a lot of work into somehow effortlessly ending up here in this good-ish job in this hellish town, and there seems no point in throwing it all away. I have to bio the bullet and do something about it.....
My friend Nelly who had some similar troubles in the past warned me that depression is not necessarily the pay off for the luxury of living in late modern society. So in my own slow-assed way I have come to this realisation. But realisation and actualization are different things aren't they.

I should be working on my lecture for my next trip to Wgtn. I want to keep on the sweet side of Prof. Janet so I can ask her for a relief teaching job if things get to bad up here. Its on a topic that I am very interested in and related to my research.... I hat that expression ...as if I own some kind of take on knowledge, I am beginning to feel the weight of 'research' round my neck these days in the hypercritical discourse of my institution and in particular the silver fox. Research research research the whip cracks over our heads, but you must teach, relentlessly teaching bowing to the many presumptions that students have about the role of the lecturer in higher education, in the learning process, in their degrees. My most evil student thought it was appropriate to track down her lecturer in the library where he was engaged for chrissakes in his research and demand a one on one consultation on the spot. Not make an appointment, not even leave a note on his door under his saying that he was in the library. But no stop everything and teach me personally, because it is entirely your fault that I do not understand rule ordering.

The same student thought that it was appropriate to track down the native speaker of the language of the data set and ask her to do the work for her. Even though said native speaker had no idea what an EXPERIENCER role is.

I better stop this rant and kick myself in the ass to go do something about it all, first of all the lecture, and then the other shit.

In related news I read in the paper this morning that a local sports journalist celebrity has owned up to depression. As a rugby reporter first and foremost it is his job to uphold the hegemonic masculinity of the rugby playing male, short hand for all that is good about men, testosterone, courage, homophobia and misogyny that the sport stands for, as a symbol of this nation. So he turned on John K, a popular big lug of a guy who published a book about his various mental health crises during his tenure as an all black. In today's piece which lauded the bravery oh to be brave in this country of owning up to his own depression the journalist only mentions his reaction to JK's admissions. 'I thought it was a silly thing to do', he remarks. This is left unexamined by himself or the interviewer perhaps not wishing to tarnish this new sort of bravery Deaker has found in himself. We should be question ing him on this. Why was it stupid that JK not only admitted to depression but wrote a book, or published some photographs to be more accurate in some attempt at both catharsis and attacking the stigma of mental health issues. Deaker, a particularly virulent conservative at times, he gives no personal response to the attack he made on JK and does not see him as some forerunner to his own issues and salvation through writing. Does he not realise that he is implicated in the difficulties of owning up to depression in his fervent devotion to the particular kind of masculinity that rugby journalism constitutes. Doesn't he see the hubris in it coming back to cripple him.

doh! the king of France

I made a stupid error in class today. I was so tired and and ready to teach the particular topic of the day thatI got completely flummoxed by a question about a topic from two weeks ago. I am going to have to bite the bullet and go back onMonday and make amends, make myself look stupid... oh well quite used to that. why can't I get them to write down all their questions on a piece of paper for me to think about and answer. I could tell them it was like setting me an exam. they should go for that.

the philospoher's haircut

Back in wgton, and you can tell, the wind is so strong it blew the breath out of my mouth. I am feeling in love with the world, and the wind has blown humanity with its curiously sweet faces (for today only) my way. I am in the middle of an online tutorial for which only 1 person has turned up so I have this window open as well.
i saw a philospher that i used to see all around the place crossing the road from the best book shop in this town. He is an odd mixture of social and surly, probably the requisite mixture for his profession. I wonder if it is just my in love with the world mood that makes me think that perhaps his haircut has changed his worldview....

Back again, the tutorial ended after an hour. The client's only post was 'yes I am still here' and thanks very much that was useful.

Gave a lecture here and the students clapped. I have got to get out of Palmengrad, not just for the job thing, but life in general. I feel like an alien up there, adn I certainly cop a lot of homophobic abuse (and an apple!) while walking on the streets. I have no socialife, the biggest no-mates you could meet. It certainly has eroded my self confedence, not to mention my social skills. People down here have personality, particularly hospitality staff. I went to Olive today and lent the waitress my glasses so she could explain the menu. I also saw Rachel M and her baby (looks like her, which must be gratifying if you are the leave a kid for posterity ty pe, which I don't think that she is, but she was pleased that I mentioned it. After that though we had nothing to say... too long in between times I guess. that means, that my friends here consider a Palmengradek .... I can't remember the Russian citizen of suffix is it -itch? Maskovitch Palmengraditch... which means horror I am a visitor to the city. A visitor from the provinces... But my identity is still bery much that of a city kid.... I feel like I am on some exchange program to some remote village adn my parents have sent word that they don't want me back.... Is his culture shock?

apologies, blossom

okay so I have been using the blog to rant and vent... I know that's no crime but perhaps a little dull to read. So I shall try here to say something nice about something... umm... Dawn was beautiful this morning. It has since clouded over and started to rain... Okay that didn't work, what about some things I like about the world....
I like men who carry handkerchiefs.
people who eat apples in the street.
seeing people's clothes caught in car doors. That always makes me laugh.

This morning on the way to work I saw this female jogger running in her sport bra and knickers and I am sorry but I really think that is just attention seeking. It was about 9 degrees this morning so I can't believe that she was that sweaty/hot... Whatever to warrant running through the city streets in her nike-flavoured underwear.... Okay so that is off the topic of nice things...

I have some Daphne in a vase on my desk. It smells beautiful. It reminds me of my mum.

Okay clearly positivity isn't working out for me today. I am giving a lecture at my old institution tomorrow so I may go down there tonight and hang out that should cheer me up.
So once again I apologize (to myself) about the lack of interesting/charming/heartwarming moments inthis entry or any other recent posts ...


Newsflash the wind just blew the blossom off the cherry tree in front of my ofice window. after eddying the petals fell like pink snow just liek they might in a an eighties music video. Beauty... you just have to wait for it to happen

weep while you sweep

I have to teach a class now that is detined not to go well. I will be blamed for this, though i feel that things would have helped if they had followed my instructions last time. But the clients never take responsibility for this. Had a miserable weekend. Literally. I moped and wept my way thourgh Sunday which made mopping the floors exhausting as my eyes blurred over. Maybe its time for antidepressants.

The recent spate of vandalism in the Jewish cemetaries in the capital have been all over the news. The Jewish population of the city is really big about 3,000 people, so threatening to these ridiculous anti-semites. I don't understand racism, I hope it is the fear of the unknown but that doesn't explain the racism in this country towards much larger minorities including the indigenous Maaori. But it seems bizarre to focus on this small community as the bullseye of your hate. You would have to learn this hate from something other than experience. You would have to believe the lies you are told about Judaism because in this country there is no opportunity to test them for yourselves. There are no Jewish neighbourhoods, there are no Jewish business districts we you could easily discover the truth, you would have to go out of your way to ensure that your hatred was not misdirected. You would have to knock on the door and ask politely excuse me, are you a Jew, No sorry to bother. Yes you are. Good as you were, I am just off to get me mates to come back and harrass you! So hat might be a bit interactive for most hatemongers, so what's left? The Jewish cemetaries. that's nice and easy just wait for one dark and stormy night and off you go kicking hte headstones over adn scrawling your filthy swastikas on the walls. The police and the governmnet are linking the latest attacks to the refusal to give Irving an entry visa.
But wait, picking on the dead.... what message are you sending? Graves are sites of memory, places to remind you of the sorrows of life. You kick a headstone over you, achieving what? obliterating memory, the right of a people to remember? You are stirring up memories, taking private sorrows and making them public. The next day the Maakara cemetary was visited by families of the interred and the gentile masses alike. You reminded everyone of the suffering of the Jews. These people lurking in the graveyards and their spokesman, Irving the master eraser of history by their very methods will always fail.

my mission to missionary

Well the timetable to this bloody conference has finally been set. I feel like I am doing the whole thing, though I did get a note from my boss explaining why she has not been at all with it over the last few days. I am down in Wellie now, and have just been to the National Archives to ready the steamy heh heh diary of the nineteenth century missionary to my village. His christian fervour and his belief in his 'good works' just comes across a hundred years later as arrogance. I am hoping to make a copy and translate it for the village as they have very hazy history of this period. I am hoping that the diary will explain exactly where the people who became the community came from as they all say they lived up in the mountains. This could explain why there territory is surrounded by land owned by families that they now dominate.
Am giving a lecture down here today. It should go okay as I have give it a few times before, but that tends to mean I try to wing it without re-preparing.

tried to catch up with the beautiful Jess, but she was in a meeting I could see her nodding her head wisely with her dark long hair. Oh well away away ... fly my pretties

frustration + cresendo = frustatendo

I am reaching a frustatendo or a frustrendo I don't know but I guess I am about to find out. My students today acted like their heads were leadfilled ballons, so hard to keep off the desk so hard for the messages to get through or their thinking to get out. A colleague has been sitting in on the course too and he was shocked at how little they remember from semester to semester. Nut I have to say he didn't throw me any lifelines. Do the words 'help me I am dying up here' not mean anything to him?
I am being bombarded by emails regarding the conference they foolishly assumed I would organise. Have I not mentioned my tragically missing organsation gene chromosome thingy?
Oh well. Giving up for one day.
laters!