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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 live in Austin, Texas, with my partner, Ray, and our child dog, Mocha. 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!

Tag: ‘faculty’



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because she added herself to the conference program somewhat late in the game and would, when confronted with outdated publicity that did not list her, send me a caustic message inquiring whether she was no longer speaking and had not been informed of this.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

Summer’s End

Wednesday, August 26th, 2009

Summer officially ends today here on this esteemed campus of higher learning.  Never mind that today will likely be the 66th consecutive day of 100+ degree temperatures, and that we’re still in a massive drought.  Summer’s over when classes start.

Most years, it seems that I always have something to say about the massive influx of students.  There is something disarming about the arrival of 40,000 students on campus all at once (and believe you me, they all showed up over the weekend).  Our summer school numbers are pretty low here, something I’ve never quite understood since it’s an easy way to relieve that crowding over the rest of the year, but what do I know?

The Bible pushers weren’t out yet this morning when I came in.  You may recall them from a post several years ago in which I lamented my inability to throw out holy scripture that I didn’t want.  I’m sure I’ll see them this afternoon, unless their precious saved souls can’t quite deal with the heat.  That’d be funny.

When I got to my department this morning, I was surprised to find new fliers up everywhere.

We have this professor–I won’t name him because he actually googles himself on a daily basis (and given his narcissism, there’s at least three or four entendres at work in that statement)–who has declared himself the only expert in the bizarre dialect of a language that he teaches.  He’s declared his office the World Headquarters of studies in this particular language.

So, this morning, there are fliers up all over the place.  He’s running some bizarre contest, and god alone knows what the prize will be.  A copy of his most recent biography, I suppose.  (Seriously: he publishes these random books consisting of his journals through one of those “publish it yourself” vanity presses, like we all need to know what his opinion of the canapes at a restaurant that no longer exists is … )

I saw another professor on my way out yesterday.  We joke around the office that he taught Hebrew to Moses — seriously, the guy is almost 90 and still teaching.  I’ve thought to myself that I suppose that I’d like to be that active at his age.  (The other running joke is that he’s still teaching because he’s afraid that if he retires he’ll discover that, after all these years, he really doesn’t like his wife.)  We have come in on Monday mornings and noticed on the switchboard phone that the receiver in his office is off the hook and wondered to ourselves if he failed to hang up properly again, or if this is going to be the time that we key into his office and find him still in there …

He’s also massively grumpy at times, when it comes to things like only four students registered for his class and it’s going to be cancelled due to low enrollment.  This was yesterday’s drama, and he was complaining about it to everyone.  The problem there is that the person he needed to complain to wasn’t in the office, so the rest of it had to hear about it at some length.  He doesn’t talk very loudly or quickly, you see.

The kicker to all of the pre-semester faculty drama is that I had a meeting yesterday that included the faculty member who sent a particularly nasty message at the end of my trip to Cairo.  She was very nice and sweet and pretended like nothing ever happened.  I suppose that’s one way to deal with it, but … for god’s sake, if you’re going to be that bitchy, own it!  Don’t brush it under the rug.  Seriously, does no one understand the finer points of bitchcraft?

At any rate.  I need to go see how we’re doing on the office pool: the first day of classes we always have a pool to guess what time the first panicked student will arrive freaking out because he/she couldn’t get into the class he/she wanted.  Never mind that registration is over and that we’ve been here all summer long — there’s always a handful of them.  I picked 8:45.

I hope your summer is ending smoothly :)

Ahh, it’s good to be back

Monday, July 27th, 2009

Note: names have been changed to protect the clueless.

On one of my earlier days on this trip to Cairo, I got a random message from my boss, in that weird formal style he always uses.

Dear Chris:

[Name of new faculty member who hasn't yet moved to Austin] wants more information about the upcoming conference you’re working on.  Could you please send her the details.

Hooshmand.

I wrote back:

Hooshmand:

Will be happy to do so, but I don’t have her contact info — can you send it to me?

Chris.

And then I heard nothing.  I didn’t think much of this, as I was out of the country, and also, the conference in question is still months off (and I don’t really have any information to provide yet).

I kind of put it out of my mind until this morning, when I got an unexpected message from the new faculty member in question, in which she gave me her e-mail address. I thought this was a little weird — was she copied on that original message and I didn’t notice?  Sometimes on the Exchange Web access it’s hard to tell.

I went back through my e-mail and was able to determine that the message that he’d sent was only copied to me.

And then I scrolled through the text of the message I’d just received.  And I was able to determine that, rather than just send me her e-mail address, he had, in fact, gone through the trouble of looking up her e-mail, sending my message to her, and letting her respond with the one piece of information I needed … which he already had.

I’m going to assume he did this at the crack of midnight after a difficult night of dealing with the new infant and just wasn’t thinking clearly.  Because the alternatives … are significantly more frightening.

Ahh, it’s good to be back.

For Want of a Shoe

Friday, December 19th, 2008

By now, pretty much everyone on the planet knows about that pair of shoes that were lobbed at the President on his visit to Iraq last week. I’m not going to comment on the propriety of throwing shoes at world leaders, nor on the (apparently poor) aiming skills of certain Iraqi journalists.

I’m going to bitch about the media.

I went to a party the evening it happened, and overheard an acquaintance telling another partygoer, “You know, they said on the news that in their culture, throwing a shoe is the worst insult imaginable.” Realizing that I was nearby, heads turned to me. “Chris, you know those people. Is that true?”

Now, I don’t mean to be awful here, but can we step outside of the box for a second? The media did, for a bit, wet themselves in an attempt to get self-proclaimed culture experts in to discuss the seriousness of the incident as it is reflected in Arab culture. In fact, I witnessed a similar conversation here between two faculty members. “I just don’t think people understand how serious it is,” one of them lamented.

Here’s where Chris would like to offer some “get real” commentary:

The man threw a shoe at the President of the United States, arguably the most powerful man on earth. Who in their right mind would have watched CNN and thought to themselves, “Hmmm. I wonder if that’s some sort of greeting? Maybe it’s a benediction. Yeah, that’s it! I’ll bet that in Iraq people throw shoes as a way to make people feel welcome! Wait, here’s a culture expert … it’s an insult? They insulted my president? I never would have known that! Thank you, Fuad Ajami, for clearing that right up for me! I was about to go throw my shoes at my new Arab neighbors to make them feel welcome, but thanks to your two-bit commentary I know better! Man, that was close!”

Yes, throwing shoes is an insult in Arab culture, as is pointing the soles of your feet at people, but, really. Are we so clueless without the news media that we have to have someone explain the implications at us?

Fortunately, more serious things have come up in the media, such as a lively debate on the gender of Santa’s reindeer.

Times like these … I kinda wonder if the Unabomber had a point …

12 of 12: November 2008

Thursday, November 13th, 2008

It’s time, once again, for 12 of 12!

I was a big ball of stress yesterday (today being the 13th) because I don’t want to be nasty in order to get things accomplished, but sometimes it seems like the only way to get things done. And there were a lot of people at work who really tempted me … On the other hand, my day was significantly better than Brian’s, so I’ll try to keep it all in perspective.

10:30 am: I love the smell of spray adhesive.  It’s supposed to be used in a well-ventilated area, but I did it in a closed room, and I … where was I going with this?

I’m putting together a poster to advertise our sessions at the conference we’re going to.  It’ll go at our exhibit booth.

Noon: The UT Rally for Domestic Partner Benefits.  We don’t get them at the University of Texas (for straight or gay partners), and the group advocating for it took a really smart tactic: they’re really pushing that UT is having problems and recruiting top notch faculty because we don’t offer DP benefits.  Getting them will involve going to the state legislature and getting some laws revised a little, so the idea that UT and Texas A&M are behind other top-tier research institutions is actually a smart tactic.  The Lege doesn’t like gays, but they do like their universities.

This is state rep. Elliott Naishtat speaking to the crowd:

And some of the assembled crowd:

3:30 pm: All this crap has to go in my car today to go to Houston.  Fun!

4:00 pm: Some last minute bureaucratic stuff.

4:45 pm: Christine stops by.  “Why are you taking my picture?”
“It’s the 12th.”
“Is this for that 12 of 12 thing?”
“Yup.”
“You’re not going to put my photo on the Internet, are you?”
“Do you not want me to?”

Sorry, Christine.

5:20 pm: And thus does traffic crawl …

6:10 pm: Quick grocery store run.  I needed to pick up a prescription and some granola bars.  I hate having to stand in line with 3,000 people for an overpriced breakfast at these conventions.

6:45 pm: I arrive home to discover that the new television Ray purchased has arrived.  I kept trying to take surreptitious shots, but the flash kept misfiring and he’d pose before I could take the photo.

6:50 pm: Mocha wants me to take a photo of her.

8:00 pm: delivery of the new TV meant we had to take the old one over to our friends’ place, since they were buying it off of us, so pizza for dinner!

10:30 pm: Mocha, helping me pack for Houston.  Mocha likes to help out by laying on the clothes and getting them wrinkly, and depositing her hair in the suitcase so that everyone will be able to tell that I have a dog…

And that’s my 12th!  Not the most exciting bunch this time, but … well, check out my post from the dog park on Sunday if you want pretty pictures.

 

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