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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I\'m an opinionated, snarky, gay academic with a predilection for the history, the Arab world, languages, photography, food, and music. I live in Austin, Texas. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

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So … now what?

Wednesday, December 9th, 2009

What if you threw a wave and no-one came?

I’m usually not one of the first adopters of new technology.  Ray does not have this problem–he had a PS2 when they were still camping outside of Best Buy based on rumors that there might be one with a dented case stashed somewhere in the back.  We did get the Samsung Instinct on the day of launch (and … I won’t say we’ve regretted it ever since, but it didn’t live up to the hype).

So, when Google announced its new “the future of e-mail” product, Google Wave, I wanted in.  I begged, borrowed, and pleaded for someone to get me an invitation.  It just looked so cooool.  Plus, it took its name from the communication system used in the much beloved (by me, anyway) Firefly universe.  What’s not to love?

After putting out feelers via Facebook, I eventually got an invite from a friend I haven’t seen since college who now lives in Brazil … and shortly thereafter was offered one by the husband of a friend I haven’t seen since high school, and I excitedly signed up.

And this is about what I saw:

“Helloooo?” I echoed into the empty void.  “Is anyone in here?  Is this thing *squeal* on?”

Indeed, far from being the future of e-mail, Google Wave has turned out to be this thing I look at every couple of weeks just to see if I have more contacts than I did before.  I tried sending out a test wave to people that I know who are on it, just to see what the heck it does, and apparently they (*coughChristinecoughWillcough*) never check it either.  Google Wave is supposed to be your primary communication system, but it doesn’t sync or notify your other e-mail accounts, and, of course, you can’t configure another e-mail program to check Wave since that would defeat the purpose of it being all Web 2.0-y.  You have to log in regularly to see if you have another wave (funny, I don’t recall this ever being a problem on Firefly), which is easy to forget when you’re staring out at a vast, empty desert.

Googling (ironic, in’nit?) reveals that this, along with not understanding how the bloody thing works, seem to be the two most common reactions to the Future of the InterWebz.

Seriously, it’s starting to look like the biggest tech failure since HD-DVD or BetaMax.  There might be a good idea in there somewhere, but half of us can’t figure out what the stupid program is for, nor do we know enough people with access to actually use the program appropriately.  I think Google might have shot itself in the foot with the limited number of invitations.

Well, until yesterday.  Now I have 20 more to distribute.  E-mail me if you want one, but you have to promise to add me as a contact … and explain to me what the damned thing is for.  OK?

OK, seriously…

Monday, December 7th, 2009

Khowaga is having a bit of a rough Monday morning.

I woke up from a bizarre dream in which I was in the company of Lisbeth Salander (the anti-hero and “girl” referred to in the titles of Steig Larsson’s best-selling novels The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played with Fire (and next year’s The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest)) being pursued around Stockholm (a city I’ve never been to) by the police.  And, yes, and one point we did go to IKEA.

On my way out of the house this morning, I grabbed oatmeal and a couple of things that I needed for work, among them a Tide pen (I had to throw out a Brooks Brothers shirt over the weekend because I finally had to admit that a stain acquired at work was just never going to come out).  And I’ve managed to misplace both.

It’s frustrating, because I have pretty clear memories of putting the oatmeal in my jacket pocket, but it wasn’t there when I got out of the car–nor did it appear to still be in the car.  As for the Tide pen–God knows.  I put everything down on the antique card catalog file outside my desk (which bears absolutely no resemblance to the collection that may or may not be on the reading room shelves).  When I went back, it was gone.  I checked the drawer in my desk where I intended to put it and it’s not there.  What did I do with it?  Beats the crap out of me.

Am I starting to wonder if there’s a connection between the shell-shocked heroine I dreamt about last night and my newfound forgetfulness?  Yeah, just a little.

On another note.

Picture 1My silly post liveblogging the “blizzard” on Friday earned a lot of hits, thanks to the newfound power of the Twitter.  I went from my usual 50 or so readers each day to over 600.  Nice for me!  Sadly, my attempts to popularize my Egypt theme for Windows 7 were not as successful, and there was scant interest in my crop of habanero peppers, so I am back to my handful of dedicated, loyal readers who hopefully aren’t there just because they haven’t gotten around to clearing their newsreaders of the feeds they don’t actually look at in a while.

Last but not least in this Monday morning roundup of things before I set my sites on worthier (and more work-related goals): Ray and I watched Brüno on Saturday.  While it was cringe-inducing, as I had suspected that it would be, a good number of the cringes came from people other than Sasha Baron Cohen (and I’m not talking about the obvious ones).  There’s an extended scene of Brüno attempting to cast a baby photoshoot, and the parents of the babies who are auditioning are just freaking insane.

“Your child will be in an SS uniform, holding a wheelbarrow containing bodies in front of an oven,” Brüno tells one mother.
“Great!” she says.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m happy she got the part,” the proud mommy says.

If The Daily Show hasn’t picked that up as its moment of Zen … it ought to.

And on that note … happy Monday, everyone!

LiveBlogging the Great Blizzard of 2009

Friday, December 4th, 2009

Given the extensive coverage the topic has received in major international outlets such as the Austin American-Statesman and KUT-FM radio, I’m sure that you are all aware of the impending blizzard that is set to descend upon the ATX later this morning (assuming the weathermen didn’t get it wrong, again).  In case you’ve been hiding under a rock, here’s the skinny: there is a 60% chance that we may receive up to an inch of snow today.

Naturally, this news has caused panic among some weaker willed individuals.  The University of Texas, for example, felt compelled to issue a pre-emptive notice yesterday afternoon reminding everyone that classes had not yet been canceled, but urged us to check the University’s emergency line before proceeding to work tomorrow for the latest updates.

As you know, here at ROHK we strive for journalistic and culinary excellence of a higher standard, and so, I am sacrificing my own well-being to bring you the latest news about the event that I am sure will be recorded in the annals of history as The Great Blizzard of 2009.

Do check back regularly for updates.

Friday, December 4, 2009

6:10 am: Wake up, get dressed.  In honor of the impending cold snap, I search for a clean sweater, and eventually discover one that my parents bought me for Christmas some years ago.  It was clearly purchased before they moved to Texas because, even before I lost the 10 pounds, it was still at least one size too large and makes me look like a mustard colored burlap sack.  However, today we are going with function above form, following the trend set by world-famous survivalist Jake Gyllenehaal in the documentary film The Day After Tomorrow:

jake-gyllenhaal-london-hat

See?  If Jake can sport an outfit that reveals no muscle definition whatsoever, so can I.

6:54 am: Sitting outside of Beverly’s house.  It takes her longer than usual to come out to get in the car this morning, because she is clearly working up the nerve to set forth in the malstrøm and dodge the sunbeams that are beginning to fall outside.

7:10 am: Realizing that I am driving too fast for conditions, I reduce my speed to 72 miles per hour (114 km/h).  This adds at least 2 minutes to my commuting time this morning, but it’s important to drive safe!  Arrive alive!

7:26 am: Walking from the garage to campus.  It is chilly this morning.  The guy who’s not homeless but wants everyone to think he is who usually sets up behind Einstein’s Bagels is nowhere to be seen.  I hope that he has managed to find a shelter for the not-homeless-but-wanting-others-to-think-they-are.

7:35 am: In the office.  It was a tough last sprint across the West Mall to my building, what with the grounds services golf carts whizzing by, but I did make it here.  Lisa has already begun prepping for the cold weather by cleaning out the oven, which has been left a mess by a previous user/staff member.  This is very wise of her — clearly we may need the electric stove as a heating device if the power goes out once the deluge has begun.

7:55 am: Typing these words.  Outside the window, I can see that it is cloudy.  This is clearly a very bad sign — much worse than it has been on every other cloudy day this week.

8:15 am: The men with the leafblowers are out in the pass-through between my building and the next (which once served as the setting for Café d’Amour in the first Spy Kids movie).  Clearly they have been apprised of the danger that can result from snow falling on top of leaves.  I’m not sure what it is, myself, but as landscaping professionals, it’s their job to know these things.

8:28 am: Discover that emergency provisions are already stocked in the front office: two bags of Chips Ahoy™ and one of Pecan Sandies™.  Skeptics may suggest that they are, in fact, left over from Professor E’s final-class-of-the-year celebration yesterday, but that’s just crazy talk.  Lisa continues preparation of baked goods for this afternoon’s Survivalist Training/Birthday Celebration.

9:14 am: Correction: Provisions are one bag of Chips Ahoy™ and two bags of Pecan Sandies™.  Please make a note of this. This is, of course, in addition to the banana bread that Lisa has made, along with the molasses cookies that are apparently on schedule to be made at noon.

Looking out the office window, I can see that we now have a lower cloud cover than we did earlier.  Possibly this is due to the impending snow.  Possibly this is due to the arrival of the alien/Snuggie™ vanguard that I described in yesterday’s post.  Will investigate further.

The Statesman is reporting that “some” snow flurries have been seen in some parts of Central Texas, and that San Antonio may see a light dusting.  I shall keep the brave people of San Antonio in my prayers.

9:28 am: Discover that #Austinsnow is now being hashed on Twitter.  I have to join Twitter to do this, but the feed is too damned amusing not to share:


10:07 am: Take a break from perusing postings about the first harbingers of wintery doom–is Skol preparing to eat the sun and invoke the long winter known as Fimbulvetr?–to notice that the clouds are looking far more sinister now than they did an hour ago.  At least a five on the Scale of Sinistry, up from a four and a half.

Kim suggests that the gravity of the situation requires that the word “aught” be worked into the title, and that we should refer to this as the “Great Blizzard of Aught-Nine.”  What say you?

10:15 am: Realize that I left my iPod in my car.  In the movies, the guy who goes back for something never, ever lives until the end.  (Well, except in the Final Destination movies, but then Death spends the whole movie trying to catch up.)  Not falling for it.  Take that, Law of Murphy!

11:13 am: Fear not, dear readers!  I remain as fervently committed to bringing you updates as they develop.

It has transpired that one of the bags of Pecan Sandies™ has been devoured by inconsiderate coworkers who do not realize the strategic value that they will play in our survival should the worst be realized and we become stranded in the building.  An investigation with possible court martial is under way.

According to #Austinsnow, the earlier rogue flakes have abated.  We remain poised for a resurgence.

It is very cold in my office.  Am contemplating putting on gloves.

11:32 am: Confirm with Ray that he made it to work safely.  Breathe sigh of relief.

11:47 am: Cabin fever has clearly set in amongst the staff.  Food is being anthropomorphised:

apple

Also, the Chips Ahoy™ are stale.  We will put them on the back burner for now.

12:12 pm: Hearing Christmas carols being sung on the West Mall.  Assume there’s irony involved in any song mentioning snow.  The Statesman is now claiming that the snow is “on the way,” downgraded from the “it’s already falling” that we got earlier.

Am off to dodge air molecules on the way to find lunch.  Pray for me.

12:26 pm: Back from acquiring food.  Bitter cold, grey skies, no snow.

There was, however, a young man in front of Goldsmith Hall wearing what is either a very large paper boat or a paper papal hat on his head.  Not sure what the purpose is, other than to make people stop and stare.  Which we did.

12:37 pm: Have met the first person today who claims to have seen at least several snowflakes.  There is much praising of his survival instincts.  He has clearly suffered emotional trauma (but not enough to get me to cancel the panel presentation in 23 minutes in which he is supposed to deliver a talk in Persian).

12:53 pm: Ray calls to tell me that it is “snowing heavily” in Round Rock.  The office moves to Defcom 2 in preparation for the snow to begin falling.

12:57 pm: SNOW!!!!!!  There’s at least 15 flakes out there.

1:05 pm: Photographic evidence that the onslaught has begun:

snow

It’s kind of hard to see, but you can definitely tell if you look under the trees.  There’s a small possibility that some of it’s dust on the window that I shot through, but some of it is definitely snow flakes.

1:47 pm: And now the sun’s out.

1:51 pm: The Statesman is now reporting that winter weather advisory that had been issued for today … has been canceled.

I didn’t even get to go out in it: I’m trapped in my office because there’s a lecture going on outside.  Poop.  On the other hand, it’s a nice sunny day now!  And I left my sunglasses at home.

2:43 pm: My journalistic efforts have been foiled by the final presentations of one of the Persian classes going on in the room outside my office, however, I assure you, I will continue to cover the story until my last breath.  Or until it’s time to go home for the day, one or the other.

2:56 pm: BREAKING NEWS: the baked goods that have been added to the stockpile of supplies in the office include banana bread, chocolate ginger cookies, and both Irish and English breakfast tea.

I have learned from this blizzard that the primary difference between Irish and English breakfast tea is that the former is caffeinated, the latter is not.  (At least, that’s according to the HEB in-store brand — I can’t help thinking that’s not actually correct, but I’m not a tea-o-phile, so can not confirm.)

I have also learned that the air filter on the LCD projector needs to be changed.  I didn’t know it had an air filter and that it could be changed.  Things our sales reps forgot to tell us.  I wonder if this will affect the quality of the breathable oxygen in the event that we become trapped up here.  There are at least two clouds that I don’t like the look of visible from where I’m sitting right now, and that’s before I turn my head too much.  I have a feeling this isn’t over yet, dagnabbit.

3:36 pm: I am startled to see that there is ice buildup on the roof of Goldsmith Hall, which I can see from my office window.  It’s blue and shimmery and … oh, wait.  It’s someone’s jacket.  In fact, now that I look at the photo I took at 1:05, I can see that it was there then, too.

Never mind.

4:07 pm: Whoa!  I’ve gone viral — 600 hits in the past two hours.  Who knew?  The pressure’s on!  (OK, I know I’m supposed to be all Ocean’s 11-style cool and act like this is so <yawn> boring, but I’m just a touch too neurotic for that).

In weather related news, we’re holding at 39 degrees F / 3 degrees C with bright, practically cloudless skies.  I do so hope that the roads have been plowed and salted before I head home–I’d hate to drive in unsafe conditions.  My palms get a little sweaty just thinking about it.

4:23 pm: Time to start powering things down and head out into the wilds.  I shall check in again once I have arrived in the wilds of Round Rock, across the moors of Pflugerville and the towering craggy peaks of Tarrytown.

Stay strong, fellow commuters!  Man shall always persevere over Mother Nature.  (I mean, just look at the Domain.)

4:35 pm: On leaving the building, I see the measures that my fellow Austinites have gone to in order to protect themselves from the blustery weather.  One young fellow is wearing a dark suit, but has elected for the protection of white athletic socks.  Clearly, desperate times call for desperate measures.  Later, I will see another young man so affected by the cold weather that he has had to pull his boardshorts down in order to cover his mid-calf, exposing a considerable amount of plaid boxer short above the waistline.  I feel for him.

4:50 pm: Apparently, the snow has caused a short circuit in the gate at the parking garage.  One poor woman sits there with a line of cars behind her, and is finally forced to back up and go to the pay station in order to make her ticket work.  It’s very sad that such desperate measures need to be taken in order to complete such mundane tasks.

5:02 pm: MoPac expressway.  Cars moving much slower than the posted speed limit.  Possibly due to the weather.  I can think of no other reason why traffic heading north out of Austin would be moving so slowly at 5 pm on a Friday afternoon, especially the weekend before the Red River Shootout in Dallas.  It just boggles the mind.

5:35 pm: I  arrive home and begin searching for things to cover the plants in order to protect them from tonight’s deep freeze.  I now have a basket full of habanero peppers (seriously, what am I going to do with so many habaneros?  I might have to make salsa for the office Chrismukkah gifts.  But, oh no, I’ve said too much.

5:45 pm: I send Ray out to Home Depot so that I can wrap the Christmas gifts that came in the mail today.  I hope they didn’t get wet.

6:03 pm: Gifts wrapped, Ray happily off at Home Depot, I sit in front of the television, open my laptop, and blog this, the last of my updates.  At 6 pm, the winter weather advisory has expired, and I, for one, am considering myself very lucky–very lucky indeed–to have managed to survive the Great Blizzard of 2009.

LiveBlogging has now ended.  Please remain seated until the vehicle has come to a complete stop.  Don’t forget to search under the seat in front and in the overhead bins of you for any belongings you may have brought on board, and have a nice day in town, or wherever your final destination may be.  Drive safe!

Man, it’s been a shitty month

Friday, November 6th, 2009

The stars need to realign, now, please. This is going to be a lengthy post. Grab a cuppa and sit down.

Let me recap the last week for you.

Thursday

Thursday afternoon, I went up to Dallas to go to a conference. We go to this conference every year, and it’s good for us on a business level.  It is, however, a clusterfuck year after year, because every year a new host committee takes over and there’s no continuity between the years.  In other words, there are no lessons learned from year to year, so if something goes wrong one year, it’s just as likely to go wrong the next.

We always have an exhibit booth.  The chair of the exhibits has proven, year after year, to be the least competent member of the team.  This year was particularly bad.  I don’t know why certain concepts are so difficult — send an acknowledgement when you get my check? — but they are.  The communication this year was a gem: every message from the exhibit guy started the same way: “Exhibitors: Dave here.  Checking in about things.”  Are we in the military?  Did DADT get repealed when I wasn’t looking?

So, we arrive at the exhibit hall to find that the extra table that I ordered wasn’t there, and that the actual exhibition company had no record of the order.  Neither did four of the five people at the exhibit booth have name badges, even though I sent them to “Dave” when he asked for them.  Interestingly enough, I had two name badges for myself, apparently in case I brought along my evil twin with the same name.

The actual conference itself went fine, once we learned that we couldn’t actually rely on the exhibit team for anything and learned to troubleshoot stuff ourselves.

Cut to …

Saturday

My session, which I was presenting by myself, was the last session of the day at a teacher’s conference … on Halloween.  So, I considered the 17 people who turned up a blessing.  It wasn’t my best presentation, but they seemed to enjoy it, so wah.  Natalie and I were driving back together — the other two members of our consortium had pulled rank because they have small children and needed to get home for trick-or-treating.  I packed up my stuff and left the room, wondering where Natalie would be, since I hadn’t actually arranged this in advance.  I found her standing at a table not far away, with her cell phone in her hand and a confused look on her face.

“I just got the strangest call from Sue,” she said.  “Neguinho just died.”

Neguinho do Samba was a musician from Salvador da Bahia, in northeast Brazil, who is probably best known in these United States as being the founder of the samba-reggae movement, and one of the founders of OLODUM, the drum corps featured heavily on Paul Simon’s album The Rhythm of the Saints and in the video for Michael Jackson’s They Don’t Care About Us.  (If you click through to the video, Neguinho is the guy in the green shirt with the white hat and long hair leading the drum corps.)  More recently, Neguinho founded Banda Didá, the first all-female drum corps in Salvador, which focuses its work among lower-class, black women (Salvador being the most African of Brazilian cities).

Natalie met Neguinho and his partner Viviam in 2004 when she took a group to Salvador for a month long seminar, and has been working with Didá extensively since then.  She brought them up for a residency a couple of years ago, and she’s been back to Salvador several times, always spending part of the trip with Neguinho and Viviam.  She was planning another seminar for the summer that would work more exclusively with Didá (and I had already invited myself along).

I met Neguinho once — literally, “Hi, nicetameetcha” — and I was shocked, to say nothing of Natalie and her friend Sue, both of whom have cultivated a close working relationship with Didá over the years. Sue had been contacted by a friend who saw the ambulance pull up at Neguinho’s house in the Pelourinho and heard the news from Neguinho’s daughter, who was with him when he died, and she had called Natalie right after with little more information than that.

I wound up driving home so that Natalie could make and receive phone calls from various people — and there were various people calling from as far away as São Paulo.

Cut to …

Monday

I took Monday off, partly because of the conference, but mostly because Mom had asked me to go with her while Dad had eye surgery.

Backstory: a couple of weeks ago, I called Mom on a night when (unbeknownst to me), Dad was back in Columbus doing a training session for a group up there.  She mentioned that she had had an ocular migraine.

“Oh, yes,” said I.  “I’ve had those.”

Lemme ‘splain if you’re not familiar: a migraine is a constricting of the blood vessels in the head.  The most common is the type that involves the constricting of blood vessels around the brain, which causes the massive pain that most people associate with migraines.  However, it can also happen in the eye, which tends not to involve pain.  Instead, you get a bright flashy light that devolves into a ring that looks like the “marching caterpillars” you get whenever you select something in Photoshop.  The ring usually widens out–now, here’s the tricky bit.  Until the migraine wears off (usually about an hour or so), you have only peripheral vision functioning, giving you the bizarre sensation of not seeing things that you’re looking directly at.

Over the course of this conversation, it transpired that she had been having these daily.  “Have you seen the doctor?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, “my GP is on vacation, but I’m going to see the eye doctor again.”

Anyway, the reason this is relevant is that Mom wanted me around on the day of the surgery in case she had another one and wasn’t able to drive.  And, sure enough, while we were sitting at the house getting ready to leave for the surgery center, she had another one and Dad had to drive to his own surgery.

While we were waiting, I asked about the doctor visit.  “Well, my GP is still on vacation, but my eye doctor wants me to get an MRI.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said.

So we went back to the surgery center and we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Dad’s surgery was scheduled for 2, and it was supposed to take an hour.  At 4:05, Mom went to the front desk because no one had told us a bloody thing.

“Oh,” said the receptionist (who, I might add, had the sort of personality and work ethic that makes Amanda from Ugly Betty look like a superstar), “they’re in surgery now.  The doctor is running late.”

When we finally got to see the doctor (4:30), he apologized and said that the surgeon who had booked the room in the morning had overrun his schedule by 2 hours.  “They should have let you know that,” he said, “I gave them strict instructions.” — thus sending my opinion of the receptionist through the sub-basement.

We finally got out of there around 5:15, just in time to sit in rush hour traffic and take an hour to get them back home.

Tuesday and Wednesday

Tuesday morning I came in to work, started my e-mail, and realized that I wanted to leave again immediately.

I’m on a volunteer committee that seems to be as determined as possible to make things as complicated as humanly possible for no other reason than they can.  Furthermore, I’m not really supposed to be running it — I agreed to be co-chair this year with the idea of easing in my replacement, but somehow it still seems like I’ve done all the work.  So, there was that drama.

I’m also working on a project here at work that I’ve been co-opted into, that doesn’t particularly interest me, and that I’ve been dragging my feet on.  I’d been asked to comment on a working document, and every time I open it up, it’s the closest I think I’ve ever come to what some guys refer to as “thinking of nothing.”  I remind me of Steve from Coupling, trying to pick out sofa covers.  “I almost had an opinion about that one.”

And the annoying keeps on coming.  Budget cuts.  Everyone is tense.  People are getting laid off.  If I don’t have someone coming into my office to ask me how to do something that’s not part of my job (“I know, but you’re so good at explaining things.”), I’ve got someone wanting to know what I know about who might get laid off (absolutely nothing), and the occasional student who wants to stop by and have a lengthy conversation about life, the universe, and everything.  Normally I welcome all of this, but right now, I just can’t take it.

I’ve been working with my door closed a lot.

Thursday

Thursday continues much the same as Tuesday and Wednesday.  I’m running another exhibit booth next weekend in Atlanta, and the person I’m supposed to be organizing it with … we’re on the same page.  I think one of us is writing with charcoal, and the other is writing with one of those oversized clown pencils, though.

I finally escape from the office and get home with the intention of laying waste to the pork chops that I made Ray buy the other night.  I just got my Cook’s Illustrated annual, and I started laying out the stuff to make crunchy pork chops (they’re yummy).

I had meant to call my parents on Wednesday night to see how everyone was doing, but Mom doesn’t like it when I call from the car (my therapist is in South Austin, and the drive home takes about 45 minutes — it’s a good time for long phone calls to anyone except them), even though my new car stereo is now bluetooth equipped, meaning that it’s hands free in the truest sense.  I don’t even have to take my phone out of my pocket.

This was funny because when I called and Dad answered, I had the vent hood on the oven running and he asked if I was in the car.  I asked how he was, and my very literal minded father answered the question: he’s fine, the bandages are off, etc.  After about five minutes of the update on him, as I’m thinking the conversation is about to wind down, he says, “Your mother isn’t doing so well.”
“Why?” I ask.  “She had the MRI … yesterday?”
“Yes,” he said.  “It turns out she’s not having ocular migraines.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it seems that she’s had a stroke.”

?whatthefuck?

Long story … and, yes, this is a long story … short: she had a mini-stroke, and it has caused some damage to the part of her brain that controls the vision.  They’re trying to devise ways of keeping the vision problems from happeneing — and I’m unclear about whether she’s having occular migraines that are caused by the damage, or whether it’s something else altogether.  And apparently, as mini-strokes go, it was a mild one, and there is a possibility that she’ll regain function in the damaged part of her brain.

Needless to say, she’s freaked out.  So am I.

By the time I got off the phone last night, I was no longer suspicious — I know for certain: the stars are just aligned badly.  Everyone I know has had a spectacularly shitty month … and y’know what?  It’s time for this shit to be over.

And that’s been my week.  How was YOURS?

Bad Behavior

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

And so.

It’s been a while since I last posted, largely because I was buried under a mound of stress from a conference that I was working, and then sleeping a massive amount trying to recover from the experience.  I took Monday off and spent the entire day, I am not ashamed to say, buried in Uncharted 2: Among Thieves.

The conference was in honor of a long time faculty member who passed away last year, and I dare say that many of the personalities involved were quite accommodating and very low-key.  This was not the case with all of them, unfortunately.  I already ranted about the difficulties of Professors A, B, and C, and the drama kept on coming–at some points more visible than others.

Professor C deigned to show up only for her own panel.

You will recall that Professor C, whose sole raison d’etre is to make certain that people know that she’s in the room, and I had been at sparring odds rather frequently because she added herself to the conference program somewhat late in the game and would, when confronted with outdated publicity that did not list her, send me a caustic message inquiring whether she was no longer speaking and had not been informed of this.

The last occurrence of this was on Wednesday when the university-wide events bulletin was sent out and it did not list her specifically as a speaker.  It did not list any of the other 19 people on the program (it simply mentioned that the conference was taking place and gave the location and link for more information) however, this was completely irrelevant as the only person Professor C would have deemed worthy of mention was herself.  I may have sworn out loud in front of 35 or so high school students that I was hosting at the time when I saw the message — it’s all a bit hazy to me now.

When I briefed the panelists that we had discovered in the previous panel that the table microphones were extremely sensitive and that they would be best left in place, she piped up to make certain that I knew she was short.  (…. I don’t, either.)  As she was the third speaker on the panel, she took the time of the previous speaker to leave the dais and go somewhere else for 15 minutes.  And when I say left, I mean with clanking chairs and fumbling about for her handbag such that her co-panelist actually paused.  God knows where she went, but I assure you that even in academe, this is not terribly acceptable behavior.  One does not leave one’s own panel unless a) there are visible signs of seepage and b) we are already to questions.

Finally, we arrived at the time that Professor C was to give her paper.  I was, all things considered, eagerly awaiting this — for all the wrong reasons, naturally (or all the right ones, depending on your perspective).  I wasn’t disappointed.

Despite the fact that the conference was given in honor of a professor who had passed, those of us on the organizing committee knew full well that she (the late professor) would have considered it a phenomenal waste of time for people to gather and talk about how great she was (which she was, for the record).  So, we had made a conscious decision to get people together, but for the purpose of talking about the fields in which she worked and presenting original pieces of research that moved the scholarship forward.

So, when Professor C spent the first 20 minutes of her alotted 20 minute presentation time rehashing our late professor’s career and works to a room full of people who had been part of said career and works … well, it was a little funny. I particularly enjoyed her lavish fawning over a book that our late colleague had co-edited because, had Professor C attended any of the prior events, she would have known that a) the co-editor was sitting right in front of her and b) that she was mispronouncing the co-editor’s name (and badly).

She then spent the last 10 minutes of her 20 minute presentation recapping her own book (now 9 years old) and actively ignoring the panel chair’s attempts to cut her off.

None of the questions were directed to her.  So sad.

That evening, I got a little toasty over the reception which is why I was a bit surprised to discover that I was hosting the entire slate of guests for dinner at a nearby restaurant because none of the rest of the organizing committee decided they wanted to go.  This in itself would have been fine had not Professor A spent the entire reception inviting people to attend because “we have plenty of room,” whereupon 32 people showed up for the private room that we had reserved based on the fact that Professor A had assured everyone that we would not exceed 25 attendees.  Things got awkward.  There was drinking.

And Professor E, who I know slightly and may have mocked on occasion for her astoundingly fake and inconsistent British accent but is, all things considered, a nice person and a phenomenally gracious hostess, saved my ass by rising to the occasion and delivering a knock-out of a toast that totally removed the awkward feeling from everyone else and got spirits flowing and the good times rolling, and I take back everything snide I’ve ever said about her and then some.  Hell, I’ll start speaking with a Welsh accent if it’ll get me down that road of social ease.

And so, I have lived through the experience, am starting to recover, and am even happier not to be going out of town today like I was originally supposed to.  All things considered, things could have gone much worse.

Now it’s time to refocus and direct my energies to that which I have neglected, including this blog.

And yes, children, I do know where the hidden “strange relic” is located on level 6.  And I’m not telling :D

 

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