Found this website quite accidentally today: All Conferences dot com. The idea is that scholars can find conferences worldwide to submit papers to. That’s intellectual globe-trotting, I guess: just click on the country you’d like to visit and see if there are any conferences on your subject of interest this year. Then mail your proposal and if you’re any good, you’ve got yourself a trip.
Now I wonder if I can come up with a paper on Sport, Race, and Ethnicity. A visit to Barbados could be wonderful at this time of year.
Happy Thanksgiving everybody! I am thankful for bagels, even though they’re not good for the figure.
My usual day, made into a brief list of dilemmas:
- Get up on time and feel sick or hit snooze and be late to work?
- Splurge on tasty coffee or frugally have icky tea?
- Lunch break or leave early?
- Assignment[1], assignment[2], assignment[3], assignment[4], or procrastination?
- Wallow in self-pity or invite someone over and be bored?
- Have enough hours of sleep or sit late into the night?
A brief list of things that I’d like to buy or get:
- A cool bike
- Some new clothes
- Some great gifts
- A never-ending bag of cat food
- Any cool new gadget
- A vacation
A list of people I’d like to hit or have disappear:
- Everyone boring and annoying
- Everyone involved in keeping A. in Russia
- Everyone involved in cutting my grandparents’ pensions
- Everyone I owe work to
So. I’m home, covered in piles of kittens, quite worried, and the last hour has just run away in an unknown direction. Which is why this is all I’ll say today. Hello So You Think You Can Dance season 2 finale! The time has come for you to nom-nom-nom my brains away!
Update: Oh, Benji! A deserving winner. But I was crying my eyes out after this dance (yeah, I know I said contemporary was not my thing; I’ve changed my mind):
It’s raining in my Gmail inbox, which means it’s most likely raining outside. Through my window I can see workers pouring water off the roof of the building they are constructing. Such is the view from my office window: a construction site. It used to be a sheer wall (which, in fact, was not sheer at all, unfortunately, you could see bugger all through it). Now they’ve made windows in it, and seem close to completion. Perhaps one day I will be able to see people through those windows. Like this, one of my favourite short films:
Work is progressing very slowly, and I am feeling frustrated. This is not a day to give myself any pats on the back. Sadly, as much as I love translating, it does not seem to be my calling today. To top it all off, my tea sits cold and stale-tasting on my desk before I ever finish it. On the other hand, it is lovely to actually have a work desk. There are scissors and pens in a cup right before me. What a sight for the sore eyes of a stationery freak!
I brought some music from home. It brightens my mood somewhat. The current band is called Fitness Forever, which gets me thinking fondly of the days spent at the gym. What if I renew my membership when my worker’s wages come in? (That jolly day may very well be tomorrow.) Some physical activity could be nice in this weather. Naturally, thinking about it is probably as far as I will get.
Update: This is a bit of a pointless post, isn’t it? Just thought I’d update whomever is reading this on the current affairs. Of which there aren’t much. It’s not like anyone’s asking me out to any fun events or anything. I’m just sayin’. I miss everyone. Sigh. (Is it bad taste to end a post on a sigh?) (Do posts show up numerous times on RSS readers when updated?) (I do enjoy parentheses.)
Watching So You Think You Can Dance season 2. It’s great, and I much prefer the new host and the new structure of the show. However, America doesn’t know what it’s doing with its votes half the time, and one more thing: when they are announcing the results, every time a new group of dancers comes up, the host says: ‘Are you ready for the results? Let’s dim the lights’ – which, can’t they teach the lighting crew that ‘Are you ready for your results’ is their cue? Why does she have to say it every time? Anno-YING.
Other than that, I am having quite an enjoyable day, even with some work under my belt. I wish A. was here and that I weren’t stuffing my face with so much chocolate, but for tomorrow at work I have a smart plan all set out, my friend is back from her trip to Malta (why does everyone always leave at the same time?) and as long as everything goes smoothly, this next week may be much easier on me than the last one. We’ll see.
Today, Lorca and Oscar are my blogging fodder. To keep with the grim tone of things, here’s a picture of Oscar with rolled eyes. He’s just several weeks old, but already a teenager. Soon he’ll be requesting a car, a phone, and to be left alone in his room at all times.
Lorca, meanwhile, is being nice. This morning I sat down at the computer as he wobbled in having just woken up. As soon as he saw me, his ears pricked up and all sleep was off. He ran towards me, jumped into my lap and purred and kneaded until it was time for me to go.
In other words, happy Day When Religious Jews Aren’t Even Allowed To Talk To Their Wives Over Text-Messages Even Though They’re Far Away And That’s About The Only Consolation To The Wife. I know you’re not supposed to work on shabbat, but the prohibition on using the phone and public transportation I will never understand. Honestly, I just feel as though it’s people not knowing where to put their Prohibition Energy. (Newsflash: Blogger, 23, Victim of Stoning Following Outrageous Remarks Against Religion).
Oops, got a bit distracted there with all that capitalization. All I meant to say was, happy whatever you want to call it. I’m sorry for being such a horrible sourface. Hope your weekend is peaceful and beautiful.
This is actually a blessing. It’s not easy to come up with thirty different topics to blog about in the course of one month. Things don’t even happen every day. So this would have been very difficult to do, were it not for A. leaving. Now there is a vast richness of sad things to talk about that will last me almost until the end of the game.
For instance, the litter-box race my kittens appear to be having. I came home today to a house reeking to high heaven and a box fuller of shit than any given politician or advertiser. Wait, is this disgusting? Is it too much? I said the same thing, only it wasn’t my screen that was suffering, it was all in my face and I was the one responsible for shoveling it all out.
Or take the fact that I just wrote an entire paragraph about some real feelings, with real serious words, and erased it all just because I realized that I can’t have anyone read it? Nor those other three sentences I just typed and then backspaced all over them. I’m choking on my own words here, can someone perform a virtual Heimlich maneuver?
My verbal shortcomings aside, the truth of the matter is I have been granted an opportunity to become the most insane, misanthropic, cat-hating (mysofelic?), and above all, self-hating (and self-hurting) person on Earth, and blog through it all. And I’ll be damned if I don’t. Watch me.
The truth is if it weren’t for NaBloPoMo, I’d probably be silent as a fish all month. I don’t even like talking to real people now. But here, look, this is a post for November 18th 2009.
This very useful website has just told me that were I to realize my dream of moving to New Zealand, I would be living almost precisely on the opposite side of the Earth to where I was born. I must look into the possibilities of drilling a tunnel. It would have to curve just a tiny bit in order to avoid ending in the ocean, but this is a mere technicality. The project might take a while, but have I not time to kill? I am young, with energy to spare, and there is nothing better to do anyway.
When it’s time to retire, I’ll be just about ready to stretch my legs on the beach and enjoy the green-ness and tranquility of it all, as well as all the sheep. I like sheep. When I was a little girl, my brother and I were taken for tea to a lovely, if a bit on the tedious side, house in Oxfordshire, where as children we were entertained by a demonstration of sheep. It was highly enjoyable, and I remember it clearly to this day. The sheep had blue and red dye markings on their backs. The host seemed quite proud for owning so many, and such good ones.
This post has been brought to you by the letter d, thoughtfully removed from my keyboard by Oscar the little gray kitten (currently acting as a pillow for Lorca, the slightly less little red kitten). I have been trying to navigate my words all night, while writing several letters for business and leisure, and even doing a little translation job. Now it has hit me that I needn’t become enslaved by the shortcomings of my machine. After all, I am a majestic human being who will soon begin a major drilling project.
Everything scares me (I’m considering sleeping in a chair because I’m so afraid of being in the bedroom alone), the stupid hygienist frightened me with possible surgery, I’m too messed up to be writing really, but at least this obligation is something to hold on to.
By the way, my prediction for today was quite accurate – the day was sucky to the extent that when I came to work, the receptionist yelled at me, and when I called my expected lunch date, she said ‘Oops, I’m so sorry, now I remember we had plans, but I’m actually out of town.’
I was sort of pissed, and had some Ramen noodles instead of going out for lunch. Oh, and those noodles were all I ate today, because there was no fucking time before the hygienist and now I’m not sure what I’m allowed to eat without my teeth turning red or falling out or whatever.
Is this the most annoying teenage blog yet? Wait and see what comes next.
Updated to add: lovely, now the stupid kitten broke out a key from my laptop, which I’m not sure is fixable. Last time that happened, A. fixed it for me, but this time something seems to have cracked, and A. is not heeeereee!
A’s gone to bloody Russia again, I’m alone and scared of every sound, and can’t concentrate enough to do any work, so I’ll probably just watch some more TV, eat some instant soup, and then go to sleep at a childish hour so I can be at work in time tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to be a sucky day. The rest of the two weeks will probably be just as sucky. Nothing more to say on the subject.
This is a sort of a meme I came up with: I’m going to list all of the songs on my phone (man, this does sound much lamer than ‘my iPod’!) whose titles begin with the word ‘I’, to make up a sort of portrait of a fictional person created by the music I listen to. Or something. And so it looks as though I worked at least a bit over this, I’ll add links to YouTube videos of all of them so you can check them out if you like.
Some of the videos are less than impressive, but that’s just YouTube for you (seriously, since when one photo imposed on a song is considered a video? Pull yourself together, providers of gratuitous video content for my blog!) – and for some reason, most of these are either by Newton Faulkner or Monty Python. It is up to you to work out which.
- Hi, Radio Too Much Information is back from commercial break, and we’re glad to report that the Internet is, actually, sometimes wrong. For example, when it makes generalizations about the sort of pain/discomfort everyone is likely to feel when getting braces removed. Recent studies have shown that each individual procedure feels different to each and every patient. Surprise, surprise. Our field reporter went into a clinic this morning to investigate. Over to you, Ted!
- Yes, thank you, Kevin. My hands-on investigation started off with the doc telling me to remove my glasses because, and I quote, ‘there may be some splashing’. One hell of an introduction, isn’t it? Cut to blood-splattered latex gloves wiggling in front of my eyes, needless to say, I was mortified. However, by the time they got to polishing, there had been no significant pain to report, and I had almost relaxed. Which was a mistake, because, and this is the conclusion of my research, THE POLISHING IS THE BITCH. So to our listeners at home, if you ever have to face this procedure, be prepared to grab the nearest thing and hold on for dear life. Of course, that’s if you’re anything like me, because like Kevin said, it’s different for everyone.
- Thanks Ted. That’s what I call dedication, everyone! I bet Ted is now relaxing at home in his pajamas after a grueling day. By the way, did you know that pajamas were discovered by the British, when they adopted Indian native dress to replace nightgowns? This little tidbit brought to you by the wonderful blog, Ancient Industries. This concludes today’s broadcast. Thank you for being with us, right after the break it’s What My Cat Threw Up on Radio TMI.
Well, there’s some variety in life after all. Because of the limitations on brushing that come from wearing braces, there has been a bit of trouble with my gums, and the theory is that this is relieved by seeing a hygienist. So today was the day (or rather, night – 7 p.m.) when our scheduled meeting was to take place. Naturally, before that time I had to go to work and then a Danish class. All of these activities were accompanied by a feeling of dread and a knot in my stomach; the prospective sensation of someone taking a jackhammer to my teeth is not one that puts me at ease.
Having gotten a bit closer to broke by paying the cab fare, you know, to be on time, we sat down in the waiting room to the sound of drills or water jets or maybe mating orca whales next door. Of course, I was reading a magazine quite nonchalantly and couldn’t care less about the freaky, terrifying noises. However, the magazine was soon finished, and another one, and soon (not soon actually, half an hour later) we were almost ready to flick open the local equivalent of the Daily Mail, when the hygienist came out and said ‘Hi, I hope you aren’t, like, mad for the delay!’ Another quarter of an hour later I was in, only to learn that she couldn’t clean my teeth with the braces on and my gums swollen, so would I kindly come on Monday (8 p.m.) after my braces have been removed and I have spent a few days rinsing my mouth with Very Expensive Mounthwash TM, conveniently available for purchase at the clinic.
If that wasn’t enough for a foul mood, tomorrow is Braces Removal Day and of course I’ve watched enough YouTube videos and read enough Yahoo!Answers to know that it will hurt like hell, smell like crap, be seventeen kinds of annoying, and take two hours. Not to mention the Ridiculous Amount of Money it will cost and the ruined day between the time they remove them and the time I get my retainers and can be free as a bird. A bird with neatly aligned, freakishly slimy-feeling teeth. Possibly with ugly brown glue marks on them. Perhaps I’ll go to bed right now to bring closer the glorious moment when I get to feel that my teeth are being popped out one by one with giant pliers sans anesthesia. And my behest to my non-existent children will be: NO GOOD comes of reading Internet testimonies when you’re already scared. Shiiiit.
