Refrain from this refrain.

2007-11-09T08:42:00.000-08:00

The ex managed to get the webcast up, and she says the score is currently 41 to 17 in ORSU's favor. My text response was Noooooooooooooo. And I still can't get the site up. Fiddlesticks.

Webcasts and disappointment.

2007-11-09T08:09:00.000-08:00

I am attempting to watch the Philly game against ORSU in Florida, but the webcast is refusing to work for me. This is NOT ON, usarugby.org! I am hoping it is because the website was not prepared for the popularity of the webcasting, instead of some problem with my computer. I'm pretty sure this is not just wishful thinking, too, since I can get the website's outer frame loaded but not the main frame.

This means I'm waiting for one of my teammates to text me with the results. I exacted a promise from ER to do so - a backup plan in case the webcasting failed, which I'm glad I set up - and she usually remembers these things.

I haven't updated in a little while, which is silly, especially considering that there's been some news. PWRFC traveled to Austin, Texas two weeks ago to participate in Sweet 16s, which is fairly normal for the team. I tagged along, although I was pretty sure I wouldn't get the opportunity to play, and I had a really good time watching and hanging out with my teammates.

And I got to see this in person:

Which you've probably seen on Saturday's A Rugby Day and Put Me In, Coach, but I can't help myself.

We won our game against Chicago North Shore, and continued on to the Elite 8s for the first time in a while. One of our long-term goals, I think, is to start actually playing up to our potential, and we started to do so that weekend. Our game against Berkeley was disappointing in some ways - I think we could have done even better than we did with some minor things taken into account - but the score was still respectable, and I was so proud of Philly for how they played. It was wonderful, even just to watch.

My ex plays for ORSU, and woke up this morning at 6:30 to watch the webcast of the ORSU/Philly game. She just texted me to say I am quite annoyed with usarugby this morning. Think they'll make the match available for downloading? Looks like it wasn't just my computer. And looks like I wasn't the most inconvenienced person, by a long shot. I do hope they'll make the match available, and maybe this will help send the message that women's rugby is a lot more popular than people realize.

There's not much else to report. I'm glad that the season's over for me; I need to rest for a week and take it easy, get my knee back up to speed and this cough out of my system. I'm spending this weekend in NYC with my friend V; I plan on lounging on the couch, eating her food. Don't you wish you could have me as a houseguest?

I'm that girl.

2007-10-27T07:18:00.000-07:00

(Click on the image for a slightly bigger version.)

I didn't write the caption, Goff did. But yes, that's how I feel when they come running at me during practice. Wouldn't you?

I'm at sweet 16s in sunny (but slightly cold) Austin, Texas with PWRFC. We're getting ready for our first game against Chicago, and everyone's seems to be amped up for a great game. Here we come!

Managing stress, being a cracker, and not being broken.

2007-10-19T11:19:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning at eight, cleaned some of my apartment - swept, picked up, but didn't vacuum or mop - organized my assignments, read over a friend's poetry so that I could give her feedback, read a chapter in The White Image in the Black Mind, and realized that I need to cut back on my commitments.

Not that I'm quitting rugby. Heaven forfend I ever not have a hobby while I'm in grad school; I'm pretty sure I would go stark raving mad inside of a week. But I am going to stop taking on projects for the moment. I have two conference applications to finish, a poetry chapbook and a fictional piece I've agreed to read over, letters to write to pen pals, three papers due next week, and a full slate of reading to finish. I need to get better at saying no.

As recovering alcoholics are fond of saying: one day at a time. My vow today is to refuse to take on anything else. I know, you don't believe me. But I think I can do it!

One of the reasons why I've taken on so much is that I feel a lot more capable this semester than I did the last. A lot of this has to do with what I went through this summer, which was long and arduous and tremendously good for me. Some of it has to do with what I'm taking this semester, too; there's nothing like a slate of good, interesting classes to make me feel like taking on the world.

One of my courses is a women's studies class that's almost too intense. Women's studies classes in general have an unfortunate tendency to devolve into identity politicking, and this class is constantly on the brink of doing so. I clashed a little with the professor at one point, where she seemed to make a joke at my expense, but I actually like her quite a lot as a teacher. The class has been really wonderful for the way that I think about identity.

The other night, a young man walking with his friends said, "hey baby," to me as I was walking by. I was zoned out, thinking about the concert I was going to, and didn't even register that he was speaking to me. He followed up with "what, you're too racist to notice a colored boy?" Which snapped me out of my thought process, though I didn't turn around. "Cracker whore," he said, and his friends laughed. Fascinating on several levels:
- I've never been a "cracker" before. I always associate this with the southern United States - am I the only one? - and I had been called a honky, whitey, white girl, and white devil before, but never cracker.
- There's something really poetic about "cracker whore." Is it odd that I noticed that? Probably, but it is pretty cool-sounding. Try it! Freak out your coworkers!
- More intellectually, I found myself thinking about the way that we use our oppressions against one another. For example, there's a queer white man in my women's studies class who resents one of the straight black women (who, to be honest, is a little strident), and who claims that we are ignoring issues of queerness. The young man who was calling after me used the power differential of whiteness to blackness as a means of reasserting the power differential of maleness to femaleness. It's transparent -- that is, it seems incredibly obvious to me now -- but I hadn't quite conceptualized it before. It's with revelations like these that I realize I'm very lucky to be in grad school. Beyond the personal level, this is something I can bring to my academic work.

To make a left turn away from all that thinky stuff, we're supposed to be taking care of ourselves in preparation for nationals. I have been taking my iron pills, taping my weak joints, and generally trying to avoid looking like a horse ready for the glue factory. One thing that's hobbling me in this effort: I keep falling on my damn elbow.

I iced it last night, and tried to rub out the crunchiness (owwww), but I don't think there's much to be done for it. Ugh. My knee is slowly feeling better, though, and I think my bronchitis is finally on the way out. God, I sound like a bucket of parts, don't I? Oh well.

Marfu results and geeking out.

2007-10-15T15:37:00.000-07:00

This past weekend PWRFC traveled up to Washington, D.C., and played NOVA on their field by the D.C. airport. I kind of liked being underneath the airplanes as they took off - it made me think of all those times I've been in an airplane, looking down at the people scurrying around underneath the plane - but it did create several Wayne's World moments for our coaches. Philly was really, really amped for our game against the Piranhas, and I think it showed both in the intensity of the senior side's play and in the slight problem with ball handling in warm-ups and early in the game. I was incredibly nervous, even though I wasn't playing, and I spent a little more time than I would like to admit with my hands over my eyes, watching through my fingers.

Philly won, though, and now PWRFC is number one in MARFU. I'm so happy about that, I can't even get into it, and I know I'm not the most excited person on the team. I think PWRFC is really showing the possibilities we have as a club this year. It's great to be around for it.

The developmental side did a great job during their game with the Furies' B-side as well. I actually had a really great time during the game, and I did more things right (read: two? maybe three?) than I normally do. My work rate wasn't as high as I wanted it to be, and I need to work on poaching the ball a lot more, but overall I'm not disappointed. I even spotted a gap in the line once. Granted, I didn't pass the ball when I should have, but it's all about the baby steps. I can't remember the score of either game, unfortunately, but they should eventually go up on the PWRFC Website.

Speaking of being way too into rugby, I've been watching a lot of youtube lately. One of my favorites - recently mentioned by Blondie, coincidentally enough - is Sebastien Chabal, who is nicknamed "The Mountain Man." I've never actually followed rugby internationally (never been that serious about it), but I have to admit that I've turned into a fangirl. His tackles! His creepy beard! The fact that he's four hundred and seventy-two feet taller than everyone else on earth! I love it. (That first linked video is a great example of a tackler pinning the ball carrier's body to the ground.) There's also Takudzwa Ngwenya's great try against South Africa that Setanta has been using as part of a promo. (Blurry video, but it gives a better idea of what the phases were like. Ngwenya and Habana talk about it in this article.)

Philly has games against Keystone (senior side) and Southern New York (developmental side) this coming weekend. I have two papers due the week following, which should make me pretty distracted, but I'm still excited to watch and play. Overall I think this season has been a good one for me, although it started off a little rocky.

I would write more, but I'm late for yet another meeting.

[edit: Thanks to PH for reminding me that NOVA is the Piranhas, not the Furies. Whoops! In other news, it turns out that "piranha" is one of those words that I really, really can't spell correctly without resorting to spell check.]

you know its armor was human.

2007-09-30T11:22:00.000-07:00

I was planning on going to a hardcore show today, but woke up this morning feeling as though an entire rugby team had walked over me. Said feeling is not conducive to moshing, and a hardcore show is no fun unless you're in the pit, so I'm staying home instead. I'm a little peeved; Madball is one of the bands, and I was looking forward to seeing them live.

PWRFC played against the Furies yesterday. The senior side game started off badly for Philly, with a lot of handling errors. AM tackled a player instead of diving on the ball. Although it was the first penalty of the game, penalty try was awarded. EH was even sent to the sin bin for playing AM's normal position. After that, though, Philly rallied and managed to win the game. It was a nearer thing than we (or our coach) would have liked, though, and I have the feeling that this week's practices are going to be tough.

Personally - because of course there has to be a self-absorbed paragraph, this is a blog - I was pretty proud of myself for one walking ruck. I have really sucked at them in practice, but this time I managed to get relatively low, feed the ball back, and continue driving. (On a related note, I think we did a really nice job with support during that game - I knew I had people behind me, and that they were in a position to ruck.) One of the things I want to work on for future games is decision-making. For example, I tended to hold onto the ball during this game, when I could have passed and continued our movement forward. I still have a problem with making decisions about going into a ruck or staying out; hovering at the back of a ruck, as Coach has screamed at me during games, does nothing to help anyone. My usual issues with clear communication continue; I really want to become more like JS, who I can always hear and understand on the field. Oh, and I really, really suck at running lines. I still have a horrible fear of coming in between the scrum half and the back line, and tend to hesitate too long. Generally, though, for someone with a cold who hadn't slept at all the night before, I played all right.

The developmental side ended up losing, but there were some really strong performances. Handling errors were again a problem, but the backs had fantastic continuity, and the forwards were playing as a pack the entire time. I told ES that she did a really good job of leading the pack in small ways. I know she was a little frustrated with the game, but I think our forwards have done well with playing together. KP said in practice that everyone needs to stop relying on a small group of people to be the runners on the team, and I think you could see the forwards on the developmental side beginning to respond to that. In developmental side games this season thus far, I've also been able to see (and experience, obviously) developmental players taking the lessons from the senior side and putting them to use. It's impressive.

The Furies games also marked the triumphant return of Winger, and the posting of decorative signs in honor of SW's ~~30th~~ 21st birthday.

I feel as though I've lost the knack of blogging. I haven't updated in so long! (It was a tumultuous summer for me, which isn't much of an excuse, but it'll have to do.) I actually taught a course on blogging to teenagers this summer, for the Temple Writing Academy. It was a wonderful experience, and I plan on doing something with them next summer, but it made me incredibly self-conscious about my public writing style.

You got to move it, move it.

2007-07-26T13:57:00.000-07:00

Ghetto Feminism, by Amber Dawn, is a really fantastic article on sex workers and feminism.

I've been listening to a lot of Cat Power lately, which I normally only break out around fall (her music is incredibly autumnal). Two of her CDs are among the five I haven't packed yet, though, and I cannot express how much I am not in the mood for Rancid, Wilco, or Kenny Chesney.

It's been kind of fun, packing. It gives me an excuse to throw things out. Normally, when I clean, I think about throwing things out, but then I convince myself that one day I'm going to want to know something about electrical engineering, or I'm going to use that fabric to make a hat, or that I might somehow run out of shampoo, and will need a half-empty bottle of Suave raspberry-scented shampoo. Now, though, there's an excuse. I couldn't possibly move a half-empty bottle of Suave! Into the bin it goes. I have a lot of romance novels to get rid of, which is a pain. I may have to wheedle my mother into driving me to a thrift store; I dislike leaving books on the curb. To quote a (admittedly much younger) me, "what if they get cold?"

Some other observations from my life as a packing madwoman: I own six dictionaries, for some reason. I really do not have a great deal of furniture (I'm only moving a desk, a bureau, and a bookshelf), but I have ten boxes worth of printed material, holy hell. At some point, at one of my roommates' parties, my scrum cap was apparently tossed behind the rabbit's cage.

I am pleased to be leaving, though. I'm looking forward to living by myself, though I will doubtless find new things to loathe there. Such is (my) life.

The rugby season approaches full steam. I was telling Leslee all of the news I knew on the phone, and she started giggling halfway through. She doesn't know any of the names, so it comes across as a litany of random names and events and injuries; it doesn't help that I'm teaching teenage girls, and have picked up some of their phrases. I genuinely told my mother that she was "trippin'" the other day.

I'm not playing in Saranac - Family Values Tour volunteers, what what - and I'm sure I'll be super-sad when I hear what shenanigans I missed this year. Enjoy yourselves, you reprobates.

Sisyphus says:

2007-07-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

Does this make you want to travel to Paris? The Regional Tourism Committee of Paris Ile-de-France is betting that it'll make Londoners want to do so. (Click on Ad Option 01, the kissing rugby players.)

I've been having a pretty good time teaching at the Temple Writing Academy this summer. My students range in age between 14 and 17, with various degrees of knowledge and writing talent. All of them have a lot of interest, though, and during this two week session I've grown quite attached to them. I have a brand new crop for the next two weeks, and my success from the last session will be put to the test.

My mother is working on a curriculum that she can continue to use throughout the school year, which I find pretty exciting. It's based on the intersection between poetry and grammar, and the rationale behind it is that her students are more likely to learn grammar and actually understand it if it's being learned to some purpose, or with some interpretive goal in mind. I'm not explaining it very well, probably, but I'm very excited about the progress she's made and the work she's done thus far.

The next few weeks are crazy for me, so there might be radio silence again. I move at the very end of June, and then my students have a performance on August 4th, after which I'll be volunteering at the Family Values Tour for the rugby team. I'm going to New York, and then to Boston, and then I'm starting school. Whee! I won't be teaching this semester, though, which I'm unduly excited about, and I'll be living by myself for the first time.

I've been packing books today, which is a back-breaking process that feels Sisyphean (even though not even half of my books are in my apartment). I don't even want to think about packing my clothes.

Radio silence.

2007-07-13T06:21:00.001-07:00

Over the past three days, I've run into more than a few rugby teammates, and they've all said a variation of the same thing: where have you been? you fell off the map! More like I fell off the internet. I've had a quiet summer thus far, and I've been focused on negotiating the straits of some personal problems and getting into better shape. Neither is really worth posting about. What really caused the radio silence, though, was that I spent the past month dog-sitting for a professor who lives out in Mount Airy. There are two dogs, a Jack Russell terrier and a golden retriever. The dogs are slightly spoiled, but sweet on the whole, and I ended up enjoying my stay there more often than not. I didn't go on the computer all that often, which was a new and slightly-unpleasant experience.

There were a couple of mishaps during my time there. This one is my (and PH's) favorite:
Around six am on the last morning that I was staying there, I went through my usual routine, started the coffeemaker and took the dogs into the backyard. The backyard is huge, and the dogs like it; it's great to have them run off a little energy before I take them out for their morning walk. After a couple of minutes, I ran back up to get a cup of coffee. I was walking back down the porch stairs when I heard the terrier's frantic barking, filled with that kind of whining panic that means the dog might be trapped or hurt. I couldn't see him in the yard.

I slammed the coffee down on the step beside me, half-fell down the stairs, and sprinted across the backyard, towards the noise. It sounded like he was somewhere beyond the chainlink fence that lines the back of the owner's property, so I hauled myself up over the fence. I dropped over the other side, landed on a short stone wall, fell off it, and started running again. There's a weird wooded area beyond this fence, with litter and dumped refuse. I hurdled a washing machine, dodged around some rebar, and sprinted over a mattress. I vaulted over one fence, ran across the cement floor of someone's garage, and vaulted over another. The barking was coming from above me - the houses are weirdly overlapped in Mount Airy - and I didn't think there was any time to waste, so I stood on the fence I had just gone over, grabbed the balcony above me, and dragged myself up by bracing my feet on a nearby tree.

There was a cat in the tree, I realized, when I'd gotten over the balcony. It was washing its ears and looking at me curiously. I stared at the terrier (who was still barking like he'd lost a leg) and had the adrenaline-killing revelation that the those barks were not HELP I'M HURT but HEY I WANT THAT CAT.

"OH MY GOD I HATE YOU" I said back, and picked him up. He shut up, and tried to lick my face.

Luckily, there was a fence by the side of someone's house that was unlatched, so I didn't have to try and climb a chainlink fence barefoot with a terrier under one arm. I was not putting that little jerk down for a second, you can be sure.

Later, talking to my professor, it turns out that a tree blew over during one of the past week's storms, and it smashed a hole in their fence. He blocked it off again, and it seems to be fine. And at least I know that I can complete a truly awesome obstacle course in pretty decent time! I have never vaulted anything before in my life, for the record. I still can't believe I did that.

Oh heck, while I'm at it: the golden retriever didn't want to get up and leave after bothering the next door neighbor's kid. I grabbed her around the middle, picked her up under one arm, and carried her off. "Whoooooaaaaaa," said the little kid.

"Hahahaha," I said to the dog, "I am bigger than you." Clearly I am four years old. But now with stronger arms!

Anyway, random and highly stressful fitness tests aside, I hope that this marks the beginning of actually updating my blog on a regular basis. I'm actually teaching a blogging class to high schoolers right now, so I really don't have an excuse.

Finally, an update.

2007-06-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in this blog for a while, mostly because there hasn't been much to say. I've been training a lot (or at least a lot for me) in the off-season, and really enjoying myself.

When I saw AD at Best Fest this past weekend, we talked briefly about a week-long no-sugar diet she'd gone on recently. I'd been eating a lot of sugary foods over the past month or so, and it sounded like a good way to give my eating habits a bit of a rehaul. I'm on day two of seven. I've had the urge to buy a chocolate croissant about 3,284 times, but thus far I have refrained.

AD mentioned that she was surprised by the amount of sugar many foods had, even foods you might expect to be non-sugary. I've been shocked by the number of kinds of foods I had to give up for this, not because I didn't expect them to have it, but because I didn't realize how many of my meals were so high in sugar content. I always eat a couple of bowls of cereal in the morning, with soy milk, both of which have low fat content but pretty absurd levels of sugar. I have to admit that I hadn't even looked at the sugar content before. (I've switched out an egg-white omelet for the cereal, which takes a while longer but actually keeps me full until lunchtime.)

Mp3: Ladytron - Sugar ('M' Ladytronomy Mix)

Something else worth mentioning: I have a new hamstring exercise, which I love. If you work out by yourself, shove your feet under something to hold them down, put your hands behind your head, and lean forward from the knees, keeping your butt tucked in and your back flat. Hold it for a second, then use your hamstrings and the tops of your calves to pull yourself back upright. I could only manage about an inch the first time I did it; if you have to, you can pike up or use your hands to return to start.

If you're doing it with a partner, you can either have them hold your ankles for you, or you can go for the full range of motion. For the latter, have them lie down opposite you (their face is below yours, but upside down), and put their hands up. They do something like a bench press, and you get a little bit of a boost to keep you from collapsing face-first on the floor. (My workout partner came up with this version, so kudos to her.) I've been doing three sets of ten, once a week, which is more than enough for me.

Academia is sort of on hold right now, as I recuperate in preparation for beginning the PhD process. I say sort of because there are a few projects I have to work on: I'm going to the Academy of Natural Sciences on Thursday to do some research, I have a book review that is hideously, hideously overdue, and I have a syllabus to write for my summer teaching gig. Otherwise, nothing doing; I'm not even reading books from my areas of specialization. I'm hoping that this vacation will save me from the dreaded burn-out, but only time will tell.

The noises of a brain in recovery.

2007-05-08T07:19:00.000-07:00

Court to rule if chimp has human rights. From a different case (and a less sympathetic source), Chimp denied legal guardian. In the second source, the author writes, "Animal liberationists and others are ideologically driven to destroy human exceptionalism as the reigning value of organized society." He's writing from an exasperated perspective, but I find the negotiations of the 'human' quite interesting. The people who act for these chimpanzees - since the chimps are certainly not the ones bringing suits in court - are asking for these chimps to be treated as humans. In "making" them human, we either have to revise what we consider to be human, expanding the definition of the word and therefore ruining its current meaning and value in our society, or we have to equate them to us, saying that we are the same as chimpanzees. (This seems to be the tack taken thus far, as the activists repeatedly stress that chimpanzees are our near relatives, and the judge in the Austrian case said he could not make a chimp the same as humans under the protection of a legal guardian.) I don't think the activists will ever succeed, no matter which approach they take, since although language is notoriously flexible in meaning, people are very defensive about the word "human" (giving us as it does our right to "exceptionalism")¹.

This whole business resonates with me in the same way as the negotiations around ethics and morality by queer theorists do. (Well, and half the time queer theorists seem to have one eye on the redefinition of the human, anyway.) When you radically revise what is epistemologically or ontologically allowed, in other words, you deny yourself the bedrock of established assumptions, while still in some ways (since you've been socialized in our society) ascribing to them. How do you then make up new rules for the 'human' or the 'moral'?

Enough mental fiddling. The excuse for the above twaddle is that I am finally on vacation, after a truly awful semester. I have to pick up a job soon enough, but I'm letting myself have a week or so before I do that. It feels as though my mind is coming back from a long illness. I went to the library yesterday, and picked up two books on academic publishing, three books on sports training, and two books on learning the banjo. They have been added to the pile next to my bed, which already had Richard Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, James McPherson's Battle Cry For Freedom, and Hermione Lee's recent biography of Edith Wharton. I want to go to the public library to pick up some romance novels and a book on bike repair (and maybe some Levinas), but NO. I just put a post-it up on the lamp by my desk with "READ WHAT YOU HAVE" printed on it in block letters.

I do still have final grades to tabulate for my students, but I'm feeling rather good about that whole process. I had my portfolio committee meeting yesterday, and my grades generally went up, rather than down. I was also abruptly reminded of why I switched from Signs of Life to Ways of Reading; Ways may be difficult to teach, and at times the students may not like it, but at least their papers are worth reading.

Friends and Family Day is this weekend! Get excited!

1 - I find the term "exceptionalism" as a justification for human existence riotously funny. At some point I may even be able to articulate why.

For the record:

2007-04-22T17:17:00.000-07:00

I've been saying "for the record" an awful lot lately. I often get hung up on certain phrases, and it appears that "for the record" is my latest one. SP tells me that she says "ftr" instead, but that doesn't have quite the same ring.

This Saturday PWRFC faced up against Chicago/North Shore. It was something of a vengeance match for Philadelphia, since our senior side had lost a hotly contested game against theirs at NashBash in March. I wasn't in Nashville, so I didn't get to see the first game; the second game was more successful for our team. I believe the final score as something like 18-5. The first half was solid enough, but it was really in the second half when things got moving.

I don't know the score on for the developmental side's game, since I came out early for an injury. I do know that in spite of a few messy moments, the team played pretty well, and I think showed a great deal of cohesiveness as a side. If anyone has thoughts about the games and/or knows the scores, please email me or comment here. I would appreciate it.

Saturday's games were something of a wash for me as a player. I fell awkwardly on top of an opposing player's boot early in the first half of the developmental game, and did something strange to my left hip; soon after that, I fell again, screwing up my right hip. It was really quite painful, and still is. (Thanks again to SB for making sure that I got ice on it.) Walking is better today -- I've been applying arnica and icing the area every hour or so -- but both hips are noticeably swollen, and there's still a lot of pain. I am really, really displeased. I was hoping that I would be better by Tuesday's practice, but I don't think I'll be up for contact by then, even though I plan on only lifting upper body and not doing my usual runs or sprints.

Speaking of sprints, part of why I'm so annoyed by my injury is that I had grand plans to test out some fartlek work this week. I've always been told to do intervals by my fencing coaches, since they improve lunge and fleche speed and general conditioning, but I can't say that I ever had the dedication to do them on a regular basis. Rugby has made me more open to the idea; to quote Stumptuous, intervals help you to "handle a heavy workload and high levels of intensity."

I don't think there's a real distinction between intervals and fartleks (Swedish for "speed play.") I've seen some sites distinguish them based on the length of recovery time, or the spontaneity of the high-speed intervals, but that seems inconsistent from source to source. Personally I prefer to have a recovery period that is as long or longer than the period of high-intensity work, mostly because I can do more reps and work on my form at the same time.

Believe it or not, I prefer using a treadmill to do my intervals. A lot of the people I've talked to about intervals have been surprised by this. It's because I can up my sprint speed to a level that is genuinely difficult, without slackening my pace unconsciously when I get tired. (This is the "either run faster or faceplant on the belt" approach to intervals.) I've been doing the interval set-up that SS told me about, which is a 3/6/9 breakdown: level 3 walking for a minute, level 6 jogging for a minute, and level 9 sprinting for a minute.

There are a few others that I want to try sometime soon. I want to do the Art Museum stairs as an interval set-up, of course, and I've used Temple's indoor track to do intervals and want to try again. These involve running up the stairs or sprinting a length of the track, then walking back down again. They seem like the simplest kind of interval.

My workout buddy does intervals with small plyometric or bodyweight exercises: she'll do a minute at a slow jog, then do a set number of burpees, star jumps, monkey jumps, and baby feet to get her heart rate up. (This is the kind of interval I'm most familiar with from fencing.) I'm intrigued by Brian Mac's Gerschler and Whistle fartleks, as well, because they play so much with times: the Gerschler has different ratios of sprint to jog (30/90, 30/75, 30/60, 30/45, 30/30, 30/15, 30/15/30), and the Whistle creates a pyramid of sprint to jog times (4m/60s, 3/60, 2/60, 1/60). Sounds miserable, but kind of neat at the same time. I would love to be able to sprint just a little bit faster, so miserably neat seems to be in my future.

Any thoughts?

Credit where credit is due: the above is cobbled together from Stumptuous, RunTex, and Brian Mac.

In academic news, today I realized just how quickly the deadline for my papers is approaching. My paper for American Literature and Photography is at least doable -- in fact, I wrote six hundred words in about an hour tonight -- but the Victorian Novel paper is still a shambles. My goal for the rest of the night (and for every night after this) is to produce five hundred workable words for that. At this point all I can do is set small goals and do my damnedest to achieve them.

For the record: blah. Oh well, at least I had a good time on Saturday night. And the end is in sight, even if it involves a mad dash for the finish line.

Raleigh trip.

2007-04-16T04:57:00.000-07:00

The trip to Raleigh for my van was a twelve hour affair; we arrived only a half-hour in front of another van that left three hours after us. The traffic was dreadful. During one particularly bad stretch, and after repeated instigation from SB, SP hung out of the side of the van and peed on the road. The man behind us honked and gave her a thumbs up, though his wife was decidedly less impressed.

I wrote the blurb for our team's website on the ride home:

PWRFC took a long road trip to Raleigh, NC this weekend for a full schedule of games. The first match of the weekend was Philadelphia's senior side against Raleigh Venom. PWRFC had a frustratingly slow start, allowing the Venoms to drive up the score. While Philly rallied in the second half, it was ultimately a loss of 27-32. After the senior side game, PWRFC developmental played a scrappy match against a mixed side of Raleigh and college players. This was a more successful showing for Philly, with a ?-? win.*

On Sunday, Philadelphia returned to the Venom's pitch to play against a mixed side of players from various area colleges. PWRFC had a strong first half, but gave up one try; inclement weather forced the game to be called after the first half, denying Philly the chance to gain the lead. Luckily, the weather cleared in time for eight Philadelphia players to play for MARFU. Following an unexpected cancellation by the South, the game was held between two MARFU sides, Blue and Red. MARFU Red won the game, 27-5. All of the Philly players did well, and had the opportunity to demonstrate their versatility, changing positions and even sides during the course of the game.

PWRFC would like to extend their thanks to the Raleigh Venom players for their gracious hospitality this weekend; they were wonderful hostesses, opening their homes for Philly players and making us feel extraordinarily welcome.

Please let me know if you spot any mistakes. Not included in this blurb: EH was sin-binned in the third game, just at halftime, for punching someone in the back (in a hilarious and non-hurtful manner); AM slapped at a Raleigh player for refusing to let go of her wrist during a ruck; and SS took on a random Raleigh player in fight club at the Saturday night barbecue. We are a violent and uncivilized group. I had a good time, both playing and socializing.

The "inclement weather" that forced the third game to be called followed us all the way home, but SP still made excellent time. She drives like a maniac; if you ever need to get anywhere quickly, give her a call. I got home at 11:30, did some work on the lesson plan I had to teach this morning, and faceplanted into bed. When I woke up at 5:30 to finish up my lesson plan, Temple had already put up a weather alert, cancelling my class. I am rarely excited about cancelled classes, as they screw up the timing of my schedule, but it was really, really welcome this morning. I did a dance and went back to bed for an hour. Delicious. My workout buddy also cancelled our weightlifting session, but I'm going in and doing some work anyway. I don't want to, though. Just so you know.

I am really suffering from academic burnout this semester, which explains the way this blog has veered away from the school side of my life. I have a twenty minute presentation due tomorrow, and two twenty page papers due on May 1st, and I have been making only the most desultory efforts at doing the work for them. I'm going to go to the library after I finish working out, and I'll put together my presentation there, and hopefully get through a few books for my paper for 901. I'm feeling very blah about it, but I hope that with some effort and a little concentration, I can get myself back on track.

At the barbecue this weekend, I had a conversation with MM about this blog, and I would like to note that she is an excellent and valued member of this team and therefore deserves recognition beyond her busted hand. I hope she's happy now.

Oh, and the reason why I use initials and (occasionally) first names is for privacy; that is, I consider this to be public speech, but I know some of my teammates might not want their names to be google-able.

* - Does anyone know the score for this game?

Entertainment.

2007-04-07T13:43:00.000-07:00

Alanis Morissette's cover of "My Humps," complete with video:

Fatboy Slim did a video competition for his song "That Old Pair of Jeans," requiring only that there be juggling at some point in the video. He awarded a "non-juggling" award to a hula hooper, Angela Humphries, who sent in a truly awesome video. Watch it here.
(The juggling winner was Gus Tate, featured here.)

My friend Sarah sent me a series of videos that she dug up from YouTube to make me laugh. The best one, by far, is B4-4's "Go Down," which is perhaps the funniest boyband music video I've ever seen. It also features, as she noted, the couplet "I'll make you come tonight/Over to my house."

Sarah was the one responsible for my obsession with Liam's Show, especially Shoes. Worth watching if you haven't already run into it. (Language not safe for work.)

Back to reading Middlemarch!

EDIT: Jungle is massive from Ali G Indahouse - this is what I was singing at practice the other night. (Ali G is the former persona of Sacha Cohen, the man who plays Borat.)

Practice and Lancaster/Doylestown.

2007-04-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

We practiced scrummaging on Thursday, which was highly informative. I have a (very natural!) fear of learning new things, and so I was suspicious of Lisa's assertion that the second rows should not a) bind on to one another before entering the scrum, and b) kneel at all during the preparation to scrum down. Instead, she asked that we crouch down, bind on to the prop, and that we only bind on to one another after we had securely attached ourselves to our props. This emphasizes the importance of the connection between second row and prop; as she told us, the connection between the second rows is negligible, but the connection between lock and prop is of paramount importance. My suspicions were completely unfounded - as per usual - and I actually quite like that way of doing things. We practiced going up on the balls of our feet, as well, which I like. One of the things that clicked into place for me during the game this weekend was how the second row can simultaneously hold the prop back when they go up on the balls of their feet and keep themselves in the same position. Balance and body positioning are important, imagine that.

PWRFC played two games this Saturday, one against the Doylestown Women's Rugby Football Club, and one against the Lancaster Thorns. We played two mixed sides, which worked out surprisingly well. The team was apparently not playing as well as they had in Nashville - I am once again kicking myself for not going - but they were still good games, and a lot of fun.

In the first game against Doylestown, ball retention and lineouts were generally thought to be pretty poor; however, I was really excited to see how well the back line played. I think there's a noticeable difference from last season; the back line got the ball more often, and as a result we were able to score more tries. The back line players seem to be having more fun, too. Travis had some really spectacular runs, and a fantastic tackle that stopped the player dead in her tracks. VM made a huge contribution. One of the tries was a pass from KTrain to VM on the try line, which is not something I would have ever predicted to happen.

Afterwards, there were apparently some complaints that we had played too strong a team against Doylestown, and that the players were playing too hard. I will admit that I would not want to go against a team that has SB on it, as she has a tendency to throw people on the ground by their faces; these sides, however, were thoroughly mixed. If we had brought anything but our strongest game to the pitch, I think it would have been an insult to ourselves and to the other team, so I'm glad we came out as hard as we did. Granted, I might be a little bit biased, and I didn't hear the complaints firsthand.

I played in the second game against Lancaster at lock with PH. I was very nervous beforehand, since it was my first game of the season. The weakness in the second game was generally thought to be the defense. We had particular trouble with #13, who was a fantastic runner and very hard to bring down. We drove the ball in with a scrum, which was very exciting, and showed that even with a mixed scrum we can work in concert. SW had a couple of great runs; she said afterwards that she had consciously been working on her attempts to evade, and I think it was noticeable. We told her that the next time she cuts in front of another player, she should say "www.footworkcamp.com" as she runs by. I hope she takes the advice. Everyone on the teams played very well, and I'm really excited about the progress that we've made. I think that because people had seen a better series of games in Nashville, they saw this weekend's games as worse, but to me they looked marvelous.

I was annoyed with my play, for various reasons; one very obvious one is that I nearly scored twice, but through poor decision making did not actually make it. I can acknowledge that my fitness has improved, although I still need to work on intervals more regularly and my endurance in general. (I was definitely fading a little in the second half.) I was more conscious of off-sides this game, and I worked a little bit on thinking about the field; a little improvement in those areas goes a long way with me. I was not, however, successful in not growling, which will continue to be a thorn in my side.

I've been dog- and housesitting this weekend, and the dogs have followed me everywhere. My clothes are coated in the terrier's fur. The dogs are sweet, though, and the house is lovely; I am deeply envious of my professor's study. I continue to dream of the day I get tenure. I've gotten a lot of work done while I've been here, though there's still quite a ways to go. I'm sick, too, with a slight fever, and the resulting lightheadedness and stuffed head are not helping me get much done. Oh well. Back to the grind.

Introspection and NashBash.

2007-03-27T21:18:00.000-07:00

I love that Buffalo, NY is called a "Queen City." Isn't that name better left to a city that was named after a queen? I suspect Queen Buffalo would not have been so popular at diplomatic events. (Wikipedia tells me that a queen city is "used to describe the capital city of a province or state, where that country observes a monarch (typically the Queen) as the 'head of state.'" Is Buffalo under monarchical reign? Because that makes the idea of moving there pretty appealing. I've always been hot for queens.)

I'm pretty sure I'm going there next fall, which is a little scary. My advisor and I had a long conversation today, and he was marvelous, calm and reasonable about all of my options. (And complimentary; it means nothing to my teammates, but he's a very hard guy to impress, and he seems to think well of me.) He reminded me that the difference in money between Temple and Buffalo isn't very wide, when cost of living is taken into account, and that professors in my subject areas who are tenured and well-known are more necessary to my future career than my affection for the professors I've already worked with. Essentially, if I choose to go there I'll be making a sacrifice for my career, something that sounds repugnant to me, but which is increasingly necessary in the field I'd like to go into. I find the idea of leaving the city, my friends, and my various teammates pretty awful, too, but. Well, I don't have a good way to end that sentence. Imagine a shrug there.

I managed to (finally) get hold of Kellen, and he reminded me that every great development in life has been and will be preceded by a period where it's impossible for me to conceptualize what my life will look like afterwards. When I was working at the video store and doing secretarial work, I couldn't fathom what graduate school would be like at all. I can't narrate my life in advance, in other words. Boo to that, but them's the breaks.

Blah blah introspection-cakes, as my friend Christine would say. I've been really insufferable lately, and I'm hoping that when I finally send in the paperwork for my decision I'll be a little more bearable. My apologies in the meantime; just ignore me.

PWRFC did extraordinarily well in their NashBash games this weekend. I heard nothing but glowing reviews of how it went in general, and how the team worked together in particular. AF told me that the backs and the forwards were working together, and that the backs were making plays, instead of relying on the forward-heavy game the club has depended on in the past. Anyway, the nitty-gritty, as recorded by our coach:
Philly vs Indianapolis 29-0
Philly vs St Louis 42-5
Philly vs Chicago North Shore 14-19.
We didn't have too many injuries. RL separated her shoulder - then offered to play out the rest of the game - and MH sprained her ankle. As far as I know, those are the only game-related injuries.

In practice today we talked about defense and practiced things like rucks; I was scrambling and confused, as per usual.

Emily: here's the link I mentioned. Congrats again on your success with comps!

Airplanes and a few notes.

2007-03-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

I was on one of those flights from Boston to Philadelphia where everyone is a business traveler. It was delayed, and then the plane had to drive around for a while before we took off, and there was turbulence, and then after we landed the jetway was too far away because the pilot hadn't hit just the right mark, etc. ad nauseum. It's US Air, it's air travel in general, these things happen. (I tend to take a bizarrely Buddhist approach to airflight. I know it's hard to imagine.)

This time, though, I was near to choking someone. It wasn't the delays. It was the rolling jokes. One business person way up in first class would say something incredibly urbane like "Hey, are we going to drive there?" About thirty seconds later, having somehow missed this first iteration, another person would make the same joke. And so on, and so forth, back to the last seats of the airplane. I heard the same complaints thinly disguised as witty comments from the front of the plane, working back to the rows in front of me, next to me, and behind me, movnig back to the end of the plane, rolling like waves. Not as cooling or refreshing as waves, though. Just annoying.

I was seated next to a man who works on flu vaccines. Apparently the vaccines are made in the summer before they're needed, and there's a lot of business around guessing exactly how much flu vaccine they'll need. The science is sort of neat, especially since I hadn't thought about it before; there's a new strain or a different strain of flu every year (which is why you have to get the shot every year), and they use things like the experiences of other countries in order to predict what strain they'll have to deal with and how problematic it will be. After that, he asked me what the journal article I was reading was about, and then very sweetly segued into a conversation about women's basketball when it became apparent that I study complete horseradish. (I was reading an article on the intersection between Badiou's concept of the event and Lacan's definition of the object a. Hell, I don't even understand it.)

In the flight from Buffalo to Boston, our flight attendant was very new. She was very sweet, very polished looking, older. Her nails were absolutely perfect, but her shoes were just a little bit too big, like she'd had to buy them last minute. She forgot where we were travelling from at first while she was on the intercom, then stumbled over the rest of the speech and said something like "I hope you enjoyed your fright with us."

The visit to Buffalo was informative, high-intensity, and only made my decision harder. That's all I'll say about that for now.

I wanted to post to say good luck at Nashville to my teammates, and I hope you kick butt and enjoy yourselves. Don't forget sunscreen.

A few brief notes.

2007-03-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

Kate and I were both loopy with exhaustion today; she went through the motions of her leg routine, and I biked at a slow steady pace, glaring out the window at the sleeting rain. Afterwards, I walked to the el station and was informed that it wasn't running. The 30th Street station was open, thankfully, and I managed to get home with only a four block walk. Sleet and hail are still my two least favorite weather conditions.

Speaking of unfavorable weather, practice last night was outside, in the rain. (Better than in the sleet! she says brightly.) We talked about defense, mostly, and did some full-team scrimmaging. For some reason, the defensive discussion actually clicked for me, and I started to understand why and how you should turn your hips when you're on defense. I understand these things eventually, it just takes seven or eight or a hundred repetitions. I'm playing flanker for developmental this weekend, which is pretty scary; I'm (more) unsure of myself in that position, and afraid I'll do something completely idiotic out of confusion. That being said, it'll be fun to try it out and give things a shot. I'm really excited about playing with my developmental teammates again - you know who you are.

I'm missing practice next week for a trip to Buffalo. My advisor told me yesterday that Buffalo is probably better for my long-term career goals. I hadn't realized how unwilling I am to leave Philadelphia, but it turns out I am. All the same, I may be moving, come fall; a lot depends on the visit. At the very least, anyway, it will be nice to have a three day vacation. The missed practices are annoying, but at least I can spare them, since I'm not going to NashBash with the rest of the team. I may fence in the open epee tournament at FAP instead, get my butt kicked a little bit.

I turned in my master's essay, and my book review for jml got postponed. I'm having a rough time right now, for various reasons, and it's nice to have them off of my plate for a little while. I'm waiting for my advisor to finish reading the essay, and send me his comments; a little nervewracking, but everyone assures me that I'll be fine.

I'm writing this mostly as a means of delaying leaving the house; I have to go get some x-rays taken, and I really, really don't feel like going to the hospital in this weather. I have a feeling it's going to be swamped, too. Oh well. I'm going to bring a school book and a romance novel, and hopefully I'll be entertained enough that the wait won't bother me so much.

Anti-bibulous.

2007-03-10T08:24:00.000-08:00

Thursday night, after a full day of working on my master's essay, and just after finding out that I'd been rejected by the University of Pennsylvania, I piled all of my things together and left to catch a ride with PH to practice. I'd forgotten about spring break, however, and found myself locked out of building where she works. I'd also managed to forget my cell phone, so I had no way of getting in touch with PH to let her know that I wasn't going to be able to meet her. I loitered around for a little while, hoping to catch her, and then trudged down the street to catch the bus.

I took the bus instead of the subway because I like the bus – it's warmer, and a nicer atmosphere – and I felt like giving myself a treat. The reason why I don't usually catch the bus is that I usually have to wait for it. This time, however, the bus came very quickly, before I was able to dig out my transpass. I put down the printed copy of my master's essay work to get it, and the wind promptly blew my paper into the street.

I stared after the paper, scudding across Broad Street, and barely kept down a temper tantrum. I have other copies of the paper, of course, but there was something cruel and sadly symbolic about having that particular copy blown out and run over.

Which was when someone came in and saved the day. "Oh my god!" yelled the bus driver, leaving the bus idling in the bus lane and hurling herself out of the door. "Your notes! Honey, get your notes!" I scrambled after the ones that had blown farthest into the intersection, and managed to snag them, while she ran around behind me. "My daughter had this happen the other day, and she was like 'Mom, my notes! I need my notes, Mom!'" She handed me her fistful of dirty paper and climbed back on board. I staggered on after her, feeling a little wobbly. "I'm in school," she told me as she closed the door. "I know how it is." The rest of the passengers sat, undisturbed by the delay; two ladies in the back continued their conversation about those btches at Pay/Half who do they think they are I know I am sick of that isht.

Before that happened, I was working myself up into a righteous gloom and doom attitude, sure that this rejection was indicative of a larger mediocrity on my part, sadly wondering (as I am wont) what purpose I have on the planet (mope whine sigh &c), but I couldn't maintain it in the face of such genuine goodness. It was driven home at the next stop, when someone who was not entirely there got on the bus and - unprompted - proceeded to tell the driver all about her three seventy year-old boyfriends. It's pretty amazing that someone can listen to diatribes about elderly lovers all day and still have room in her heart to catch some idiot student's runaway paper.

Back to the narrative: practice was indoors, and we worked on lifting, which is perhaps my favorite part of rugby. There's something about a) getting to go that high in the air, and b) lifting someone up over your head that is utterly awesome. Lisa is really focused on decision-making, which is a little scary for me. I think I want to remain a lifter, and let those other people do the thinking. I'm not sure what that says about me as a person/member of the body politic, but that's how it is.

I spent last night out at GG and CK's birthday party, which was loads of fun and entirely bad for me. I ate and drank a lot of things that do not fall under the auspices of my diet, and sang three karaoke songs that most certainly lost me respect in the eyes of my teammates. (I don't think there's anything better than a soulful duet of "Leather and Lace" with TLC, though.) I have a headache and a little bit of a hangover this morning, which is embarrassing and, sadly, no excuse for not doing work. I dragged myself out of bed at seven, and my master's essay is plodding along. It's based on a paper I've already written, which should mean that the writing is easier. But when have I made anything easier on myself? As my parents like to tell me, I live on stress. Thank heavens for grad school, I guess.

Youch.

2007-03-07T06:41:00.000-08:00

Link of the day: You Don't Have To Be Pretty.

Practice last night was pretty rough. It was 21 degrees and felt like 10, according to Yahoo! weather; according to me it was about -2 degrees and dropping. The ground was frozen solid. We did some great basic drills to improve explosiveness in the tackle, but I had a hard time keeping my attention on the movement. I was focusing on my knees. And my elbows. And my hipbones. As MH said, during a little break, "at least now we know why we don't play on concrete."

I felt ancient when I rolled out of bed this morning. I warmed up for a long time before weightlifting, though, and now I'm feeling close to human. I just have to remember not to lean on my left elbow, or kneel for any reason, and I should be fine. The elbow is bright pink, very snazzy. It matches my top. That'll teach me to stick out my elbow when I fall, won't it? Hopefully.

My master's essay is trucking along, and as long as I remind myself that I'm not expected to craft a work of art, I should be able to get everything for that done by the end of break. I'm a little behind on the reading for the book review I'm meant to be writing, so I have to spend the next few days catching up on that, and I should spend a few hours on lesson plans at some point. All very manageable, in other words, as long as I get away from the internet and get back to work.

Right. I should do that, huh?

If you were looking to lose all respect for me, look no further:

2007-03-04T07:17:00.000-08:00

I bought a Glamour Magazine at 69th Street, on my way to visit KH. I have my problems with Glamour -- their persistent objectification of non-American women under the guise of activism, their supposed commitment to "plus-size" while continuing to feature anorexic models and celebrities -- but of the choices I had, it was the least offensive. (Reading material that offends my personal principles isn't that foreign to me, anyway; I am the Romance Novel Queen.) For their March issue, David Barton designed a leg workout, which I did yesterday after my run. It was surprisingly tough, and a nice break from the plyos I've been doing.

-- Forward and backward lunge.
Stand with feet hip-width apart. Step forward with right foot and lower into a lunge; return to start. Step right foot back and lunge again. 3 sets of 15 each leg.
-- Plank with leg swing.
Get into plank position (like a pushup, but with forearms on the ground). Lift right leg two inches off floor and slowly bring it out to the side; return to center and repeat, without lowering the foot. 3 sets of 15 each leg.
-- Bridge.
Lie back on the floor, with arms by sides, left knee bent, left foot flat on the floor and right leg extended toward the ceiling. Lift hips off of the floor as high as you can, squeezing your glutes; lower and repeat. 3 sets of 15 reps each side. (We did this at the rugby circuit training in Feb.)
-- Push back.
Get down on all fours, lift left leg off the floor and, keeping knee bent and foot flexed, press heel up as high as you can; lower and repeat. 3 sets of 15 reps each side.
-- Squat jump.
Hopefully you all know how to do these. 2 sets of 15 reps. ET's coaching on plyometrics at the collegiate clinic reminded me that a lot of the focus in plyometrics should be on landing lightly, which has helped with my squat jumps.
-- Single-leg squat.
Just what the name says. 3 sets of 15 each leg.

In other, less Glamourous news, I bought a coffeepot yesterday at Target. I've been needing a new one for quite a while, and I splurged on one that has a timer. I woke up to freshly brewed coffee this morning, and nearly married the coffeepot right then and there. Color me a bourgeois success story.

I have an interview for a summer position on Monday. It's two two-week courses for high school students looking to improve their writing skills, intended to combine creative and academic styles of writing. Instructors who applied were asked to propose a course subject, and I created a course around blogging. Each student would create a blog (probably on blogger.com), and would be linked back to a central course blog, which I would maintain. Blogging is actually an excellent way to prepare students for thinking of writing as writing for an audience, as well as encouraging the idea of writing as a means of constructing community. There's all sorts of fun things to be done, too, like writing blogs around a picture, or experimenting with hypertext. Even with all that, though, I didn't expect to get an interview, since the course requires that a certain level of technology be available to the students, and since I have little background in creative writing. Shows what I know, I guess I hope I get the position; it sounds like a really fantastic opportunity, and I do love teaching high schoolers.

A whole bunch of random, plus first practice.

2007-03-02T11:20:00.000-08:00

i. onward and upward.
Last night was the first practice of the rugby season. It was appropriately muddy, and I was appropriately idiotic: I managed to forget my cleats. I did, on the other hand, remember to bring approximately four frazillion bottles of water, so at least I was hydrated.

It was an all right practice. We did a warmup, then ten-minute progressions: tackling (which was hilarious and fun), evasion (which I'm awful at, kudos to MH for trying to give me some tips), and spin passing (which I keep forgetting I sort of know how to do). A brief game where we didn't really demonstrate what we were supposed to have learned, and then back to ten-minute progressions: scrummaging (I was useless, due to lack of cleats), quick hands, and kicking (I felt really, really bad for my partner). We finished up with the two minute game, and a scrimmage. (I'm trying to remember the order, but I think maybe I'm off.) For both I was my usual flailing, confused self, but such is rugby. Puffy told me afterwards that she could hear "the usual Jess noises." Awesome. Great to know I'm starting early in the season. I've got to quit that somehow.

Weightlifting today was lame. Kate sat and talked to me, since she's tapering down in preparation for Atlanta, and I grudgingly did leg exercises.

ii. memories of fencing.
I was walking across campus earlier today, and I saw a kid who looked just like Gilad, a saberist I fenced with at Brandeis. I was a little distracted, and a lot tired, and I almost walked up to this poor kid and said "what up, slvt?", like I would have if it had been Gilad. Kate laughed when I told her that, but I was perplexed and disoriented when it happened; who knew that I still had all those old behaviors? The team went through a phase of using that as a greeting after K woke up on the bus and greeted Coach that way. Hilaaarious stuff, to a bunch of jock a--holes. I was one of the worst about it, after K and AH, but I dropped the act after I left college and the team. Didn't know I still had it in me, to be honest.

I had a really odd conversation with DB yesterday, a girl who left FAP a little while ago. She's like I was at that age, angry at Coach, bewildered at how no one else seems to see the problems with the club, all of those things. She's started playing rugby with the school team, to keep herself from getting tempted into joining the fencing team. I'm pretty proud of her; I wasn't ever brave enough to quit. She'll probably get over all of that stuff a lot faster.

iii. my roommate is amazing.
Last night, I pulled an all-nighter to get my grading done. I spent the entire time out on the couch, feverishly grading papers. My roommate drank a bottle of wine, and then stumbled off to go to bed. Around three am, I hear a crash from his room, and a string of muttered curses. Another crash, and he opens his door. He goes into his bathroom, and I hear something dropping into his sink before he shuts the door. He comes out, I hear him fiddling with his bedroom door again, and then the door shuts.

This morning, I finally went into my room to grab a few things for school, and I notice a lump on my bed. "...Chris?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Nnnnh."
Two minutes later, he sits bolt upright and says "Oh my god, why am I in your bed? What? Wait -- oh my god," and stumbles blindly out of my room. "My doorknob is gone!" he yells. Awesome. Turns out he'd accidentally removed it the night before, put it in his bathroom sink, and then requisitioned my bed when he realized that he couldn't get into his room.

I managed to fix the doorknob before he could freak out about his ballroom clothes. I love that kid.

iv. seriously, stop dicking around.
I'm going for a run. It is gorgeous outside.

Rejections, school, a college clinic, and a question.

2007-02-25T07:17:00.000-08:00

I didn't get into Berkeley. I found out yesterday, and though I obviously spent a little bit of time pouting, I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. It helps that the rejection wasn't entirely unexpected. I only have to hear back from UPenn at this point. I don't have a guess as to whether they'll accept me or not, but it's possible, if not probable.

School is a little rough right now, what with hearing back from graduate schools and trying to organize my graduation from the MA program. I have teaching duties this semester, and two fairly high-load classes, all of which is keeping me from doing the work on my master's qualifying essay that I would like to do. The essay is only a formality, anyway, but I really enjoy the research and writing I'm doing, and I wish I could find just a weekend -- just two days! -- where I could sit and think about it and write what I want to write. This is why graduate students get frustrated with coursework, anyway; you start to develop your own interests, and suddenly you realize that classes keep you from having the time to actually do what you're interested in. It's a pretty well-organized system... if frustrating as hell.

PWRFC hosted a collegiate clinic yesterday in the morning. I hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before -- up late marking papers, my usual glamorous life -- but I ended up having a lot of energy. It was pretty well wasted at the clinic, since we weren't doing the drills alongside the college women. I ended up running back and forth a whole lot along the side of the courts where my group was doing drills, and I spent some time discussing workouts with AlM and SS. I need to join Temple's gym on Monday; talking it over with them reminded me that my intervals have been seriously imprecise. I lost my digital interval-timing watch (pause for a moment of silence here), and so I use an analog watch and have to keep checking it as I'm sprinting; I think intervals are better, anyway, if there's something maintaining your pace for you.

It'd be nice not to do plyometrics in the back parking lot of my building or out by the river, too. I get embarrassed easily. What? I'm a delicate flower!

Today there's more marking to do -- about ten more papers to put marginal comments on, and a bunch of end comments to type up -- and I need to write at least three pages of a paper due Tuesday, and edit another paper due Tuesday, and. Ugh. School. I've made myself a little schedule, though, and it's pretty realistic; I think I can stick with it, especially because a long run is built into the middle. And I slept a lot last night. I feel like a brand new person.

One last note: what's your feeling on long runs and rugby? Uh... I have a total of two readers, and I could probably ask you in person, but whatever. I know GS yelled at SS for doing too much endurance running, saying that it's not necessary for rugby fitness. I'm going to keep doing it, since it's an important part of weight management, and because I enjoy running. But is it really that ineffective in a rugby workout schedule? I would think that it would help build the endurance necessary to keep from crashing during forty minute halves.

Completely random.

2007-02-17T17:38:00.000-08:00

Two random tracks, from the Top 25 list on my iPod:
- MIMS: This is Why I'm Hot (Remix)
- Young Love: Find A New Way

I've recently been obsessed with FineTune, a website where you can make playlists and listen to music for free. It's like your own little radio station; in fact, the way that they stay legal is by forcing you to choose forty-five songs per playlist, which I believe is what makes it "internet radio." My friend Ray made a rap playlist that I'm crazy about.

I went to circuit training for rugby today. I was surprised by how sore I am, though I suppose that's what comes from training the day after weightlifting. The circuit was fairly simple:

squats on a bosu

upright rows

box jumps

rows

bicep curls

side lunges (with resistance band)

cable pull

squats (with medball and resistance band)

snatches (with dumbbell)

lunges with a twist (with medball)

one-legged glute presses - not sure how to describe this

dynamic pushups - these are crazy - start kneeling, fall into a pushup, and try to come back up in one smooth motion without bending your torso. I did one round of these (bending my torso like crazy!), then switched to a different style of pushup that AM showed me.*

bicycles

planks

We did one round at 1 minute on/30 seconds off, one at 45s/15s, and one at 30s/15s. I liked this circuit, and the squats were great; the IBC at LaSalle, where we've had these practices before, has a really great set up for circuits. I still prefer KT's circuits, though, since they're really incredibly tiring and involve a lot more sprinting and agility. There's probably a special joy in having a circuit set up especially for me, too.

Afterwards, our team captain, Travis, EH and I went over to our coach's house to talk about practices. I felt a little awkward and strange being there, but I guess I contributed. It turns out our coach was at one point a fencer, and I'm trying to figure out if that's why she seems strangely familiar. That would be a damn funny thing.

Speaking of fencing, I didn't get to go at all last week. I'm looking forward to doing some stupid bouting on Tuesday next week, just playing around. I think the junior elites will all be off training for Junior Olympics, so it'll just be the adults. That's actually preferable; the juniors are a little bit much some days. It's still so strange to be back at fencing, doing these things that I've done since I was eight years old. I had a really strange body experience at practice one night: I parried seven and flicked to the back. That's not a move you do in epee; it's a move Coach taught me when I was thirteen and still fencing foil. I was just starting to make a dent in the national points list, and I had to learn how to flick in order to rumble with the big girls. Somehow it stuck. It was a little miniature version of how I feel about fencing in general.

Congratulations to JB for 55 total kipping unmodified pullups on Thursday! I'm so impressed... and envious. Great job, hoosemeet!

* - Do a pushup, then go to side plank on your right hand. Return to both hands, do another pushup, and go to side plank on your left hand. AM said that if this gets too easy, you can add small dumbbells.

News.

2007-02-16T20:56:00.000-08:00

I went to a lecture on Thursday, and decided to go to the little coffee klatsch afterwards. (Tiny blocks of cheese! Free coffee! Sign me up.) While I was there, Peter Logan saw fit to inform me that I had gotten into Temple. I was in the middle of taking a sip of my (free!) coffee, and my sinuses are still recovering.

That's two parties heard from, at least.

Fol-de-rol.

2007-02-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

This follows from an idle remark made in my previous post.

People often assume that I learned to read at a young age, but I didn't. I learned in first grade, with my classmates, neither early nor late. I remember faintly feeling bitter about my ignorance, how sure I was that everyone else understood, and that I was the only one who would be left behind. Once I learned, though, I moved from picture books to chapter books with bizarre speed. I amassed stacks of homework notices from my teachers, spent more time at recess on the detention wall playing, suffered through countless attempts to make me more organized. My fifth grade homeroom teacher, upon reviewing some reading tests, told me that I had "potential," and that my mediocre performance in school was unconscionable. She didn't understand. I was too distracted to fill in dull worksheets or practice equations; there were books to read. I still feel the strange panic I felt as a child when I enter into a library today: there is no way I can read all of these, and yet I know I am going to try. At ten, I began reading the non-fiction books in the "young adult" section of the library, left to right, top shelf to bottom. (I still remember startling things sometimes, like palm reading or breeds of cats.)

Sometimes I miss the passionate fervor of that early obsession. I would read for hours, until my eyes felt hot and sore, until my head swam. I would speak, even think in the author's language for hours afterwards; when I discovered the stories of Sherlock Holmes, I spoke in the detective's voice for days. Late in middle school, I came around to the idea of friends, and doing well in classes, perhaps even dating, and reading stopped being so all-consuming. In high school, I was introduced to the realities of academic pressure, and I began skimming books, forcing myself to read faster so that I could get all of my work done. English classes had obligatory sessions of close reading; I was skilled at getting to the "right" answers, but quickly tired of my classmates' interpretations and daydreamed about other things.

I've found that graduate school has brought back some of my old habits of reading. I don't read as much as I used to, since the books I'm required to read are a little more challenging than the novels I devoured as a kid. Lately, though, I've realized that I've sunk into books, come out speaking in another person's style and feeling disoriented, raw and sensitive. It's a little scary, almost like a madness I could slip back into. My early years do not hold fond memories, either of myself or the world that surrounded me; I would rather not go back to that. In spite of that, though, the envelopment in a book is as pleasurable as I remember. Just as inconvenient, though. Yesterday, I read John Dos Passos' Big Money for five hours without realizing the time, and afterwards, I couldn't write without Dos Passos' voice creeping in, reforming my words.

Creepy.

I went for a run on Sunday, as promised, thirty minutes. I'm skipping fencing tonight, in honor of sleep and a night indoors, but I plan on doing a short plyometrics routine in the living room tonight before dinner. (The only thing geekier than this would be if I tried to learn a foreign language at the same time.) After the long, blah-filled January, I'm happy to be working out again.

Define "sporadic."

2007-02-10T18:57:00.000-08:00

A couple of people -- whom I assume are my only readers -- reminded me to update today, and so I shall. I've just spent the past four hours in a coffeeshop, reading John Dos Passos' Big Money, though, so I am a little wobbly on my pins and am guarding vigorously against writing in his style. Apologies in advance.

I am remarkably pudgy right now, the result of very little cardiovascular work in my schedule. I've been fencing once or twice a week, which requires a great deal of explosive energy and certainly makes me sweat, but can't quite be called aerobic. Weightlifting has given me results in strength, of course, but doesn't do anything for body fat. As with anything, though, the solution is to take things one day at a time; tomorrow, at two pm, interested parties will be able to see me jogging down to the river and around for a bit. There will possibly be intervals. I will have a pained expression on my face for the entire time, guaranteed.

Today was the first day of practice for rugby. We were vetting a new coach for PWRFC, Lisa Rosen (who blogs at Put Me In, Coach!). It was an enjoyable practice; I was particularly pleased with Rosen's style of instruction, which involved simple explanations and a great deal of flexibility. During team discussion after practice, AM brought up her reliance on a whole-part-whole instruction style, meaning that she moves from game to drill to game, intending for players to use skills learned in the drill during the second game. I can't say that I'm particularly good at using the skills (some might even say I'm dismal at it), but I like the theory behind it.

At the bar afterwards, CK was very kind and listened to me talk about my master's essay and rant about the history of "queer." KA and ER were similarly harangued, simply by their unfortunate placement in between CK and I. Apologies all around. Sometimes when my friends ask me about school, I can feel my animation level start to skyrocket, and I want to clamp my hands over my mouth and shake my head wildly instead of letting myself start to talk.

On the application front, I've been accepted to SUNY Buffalo, with a nice offer. I'm going there in March to attend a few days of recruitment, which may put the kibosh on Nash Bash. The graduate admissions director nominated me for a fellowship, which is decided in a few weeks; after that happens, they'll send me the proper offer, contract, &c in the mail. The director, whose work is extremely interesting, chatted amiably with me on the phone, and either was interested in my own research or is a good actor. Either way, it pleased me to actually have the chance to talk about what I'm working on.

My classes and teaching this semester are stressful. I turned in a paper last Tuesday where I tackled a subject too broad for the limitations (an eight-page paper in five pages, hooray), and I know the professor will be sour-faced in class this week. There is a great deal of reading, as always, and I occasionally am having to pull late nights in order to get it done. My teaching has been rather bad, in my opinion, a little slapdash. Mostly I am adjusting to teaching difficult essays to freshmen; this is my first semester teaching with Ways of Reading rather than Signs of Life, and the transition from essays on pop culture to works by Said and Anzaldua is (perhaps understandably) rocky. Meanwhile I am meant to be working on my master's essay and a book review, neither of which are coming along with any speed, and both of which are due mid-March. Cue panicked screaming.

Oh, never mind. I'm going to go read Queer Forster in the bath, and then go to bed. I really am remarkably easy to soothe.

Class, omigod oh no, and a link.

2007-01-31T13:15:00.000-08:00

On Monday, frazzled but finally well-rested, I came into class prepared to teach Susan Griffin's "Our Secret." Unfortunately, my lesson plan rested on the wrong draft of my syllabus, which I learned only when I looked at my kids and said, "Well, what did you think of the Griffin?" and they responded "Uh... don't you mean Pratt?" Whoops! Oh well. I actually just cancelled class, then and there.

Today was much better, not least of all because I actually prepared the correct article. I gave them a possible way to organize their first paper, which they all dutifully copied down, and then did a fun and stupid activity that my roommate and I came up with the night before. Since Pratt (and the readings we're doing after this) is interested in language communities and power, the ways that different identities intersect, I asked them to "translate" the sentence "I just got hired at the men's clothing department at Sears" into the language of a:
a) Member of British royalty
b) Professional bodybuilder
c) Eight year-old kid
d) News anchor
e) College professor
This was the first time I got to be the way I usually like to be in class. We talked about what assumptions they made, and even got around to talking about Pratt a little bit. I asked them about the gender, race, and sexuality of each person, which I think finally got into their heads the kinds of concerns I'm interested in.

I also used the phrase "doing the nasty" about four times. Ahhh, teaching.

Now, though, I'm sitting in my office, still in my workout clothes, typing notes on Northrop Frye for a paper due next Tuesday. I have to plan my lesson for Friday, finish reading The Isherwood Century, clean out my Temple email inbox, and print my readings for next week. There's other stuff, too, but I'm just not thinking about it at the moment. Yeah, that's a good plan.

There's a rugby workout this weekend, I think. I am in kind of crappy shape, where I've been lifting regularly but running only semi-regularly. I'm a little nervous about it. Iiiiii don't wanna.

Recommended: Liam Show, which includes the truly rockin' video "Shoes." Be prepared for the weird.

Fencing, weightlifting, and the daily grind.

2007-01-21T18:25:00.000-08:00

Authentic liberation--the process of humanization--is not another deposit to be made in men. Liberation is a praxis: the action and reflection of men and women upon their world in order to transform it

Paulo Freire, from "The 'Banking' Concept of Education."

Long time no post, and I'm sure no one's reading this old thing anymore. There's something restful about writing here, though, so I might as well continue.

I went to fencing for the first time in a long time on Thursday. I'd gone back previously, for one practice here or there, but after I'd gone I'd never feel like going back. I worried that I was done with fencing, that I was no longer a fencer, that thirteen years of practice had been abruptly finished off by the last four years of intense competition at the collegiate level. Happily, this last visit proved to be the one that took. I came out of it flush with excitement, ready to come back on Tuesday night. Something clicked back into place, and I remembered why I had done it for so long.

The muscle memory is still there, which is exciting. I'm not precisely in fencing shape -- I'm still sore from Thursday -- but I was able to fence without too much thought of where my feet were, or what my arm was meant to do. I took prime at one point and stepped into the attack, and even though I got hit I felt like yelling in triumph. It's still in there, somewhere, and I can pull it out when I need to.

KT and I are back in the weightroom consistently now, which is fun as well. I'm not doing the weight plan that my captain sent out this season, as I've already gone through it once, and I a) get bored easily and b) have a few issues with the structure. I'm doing another weight/plyo program that I found on our yahoo groups website, and I'm pretty happy with it thus far. I may actually alter this one, unlike the previous one, just to give myself a few more Olympic lifts. Why not?

School continues. I'm a little tired, a little overworked. Business as usual. I was a force to be reckoned with this weekend, though, and finished nearly everything for the rest of the week. Unfortunately, this did not include my lesson plan for Monday morning, so I'm doing that before bed. Never let it be said that I excel at prioritizing.

Take this loop off.

2006-12-31T16:42:00.000-08:00

I was thinking about doing a complete rundown of the MLA experience, but I've got my notes for my own future reference, and there isn't much that I want to talk about. I did come up with an essay idea, something that I want to try to write during next semester if I can find the time. I didn't come up with my syllabus for my class next semester, though I'm going to work on that all day tomorrow and the day after. I submitted my application to SUNY Buffalo, and I started getting my Temple application into shape. A successful couple of days, altogether.

I called KT, and I'm emailing her my schedule later tonight so that we can get back together to weightlift. I think I need to be obsessed with fitness again; my days are centering on academia just a little too much for comfort at the moment.

Nothing much to say, which I suppose is evident. Mostly I just want to say happy new year to my sole reader! :D Enjoy your festivities, whatever they may be.

Exploding Coke, and MLA Day 1.

2006-12-26T19:13:00.000-08:00

Both ER and Best Week Ever put me on to EepyBird.com, where young men in lab coats produced fine "experiments" with Mentos and Diet Coke. ER texted me yesterday (yes, on Christmas) to let me know that she'd done it herself, and I was inspired to pick up a two liter bottle of diet Coke and a package of mint Mentos the next time I was at the store. I went out to my apartment building's parking lot yesterday and did it, and was surprised at just how high it went. My sweatshirt -- which I had already spilled coffee on, in my usual fashion -- got splattered with diet Coke, but it was totally worth it to see a flume of diet Coke vent out the top of the bottle. There's something about explosions that is just cool.

Some guy was climbing into his car while I was still giggling, heading back inside, and he said, "That's creative." I kind of wanted to holler at him, but I just shrugged and said, "yeah, well, y'know." I'm wondering what he does for fun, if everything's got to be creative. Does he fill a sock with lima beans and strap it to his thigh? Yodel in increasingly softer tones? What? And what's so bad about uncreative diet Coke explosion?

I went to the first night of the MLA (Modern Language Association) annual conference tonight. The MLA is a bit much; it's the center of the job market, so there are applicants everywhere, looking tense and uncertain in their black wool topcoats, chattering nervously with one another about interviews. Everyone else is sort of vague and random, milling around and talking at one another about their research. I like it for the panels. I try to go to panels straight through from 8:30 in the morning until 10:00 at night, all four days. My brain feels like a car turning over in the cold at the end of each onslaught, of course, but it's a good feeling, like there's stuff in there instead of just space.

Tonight was the first night, so there were only three sets of panels, starting at 5:15.
5:15 (Auto)Graphics.
Two papers (the third presenter, Dragoslav Momcilovic, didn't show up), one on Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis by Carine M. Mardorossian, and one on zines by Anna Poletti. Gillian L. Whitlock was presiding. This was my favorite panel of the day. Mardorossian's presentation was forthright and interesting, and caused some contention among the audience attendees. She argued that Satrapi needlessly binarized the relationship between good/intellectual/non-devout Muslims and bad/low-class/devout Muslims in the book. Discussion mostly centered on terminology. One attendee said she might use "Islamist" instead of "Islam" to indicate the fanatical branch of revolutionary Islam current in power in Iran. A few other attendees took issue with her black and white (pun!) reading of Satrapi's portrayal, arguing that it was more critical than she made it sound. I think the most effective critique of her presentation was one attendee's note that she was unwilling to read the book as an autobiography. There were several issues raised with this; one that wasn't raised, but that I felt should have been, was that the book is received by Western audiences as autobiography, and this is part of what gives it its ideological weight. Said weight was central to her argument that there should be greater diversity in Satrapi's representations of Muslims! Following Mardorossian, Poletti gave a really interesting and provocative talk on autographics, a model of reading (or perhaps even reading strategy) that could be used with zines. She differentiated zines both from private autobiography, such as the diary, and the mass produced autobiography, and talked a great deal about the materiality of the zine, and the valorization of the amateur appearance in zine culture. An attendee took her to task for her use of the term "mass-produced," which she acknowledged was a sort of short-cut term, though she was interested only in limited edition works. I asked her if she thought that autographics could be used as a model of reading for mass-produced items such as the graphic novel, with an eye towards acknowledging the often-unacknowledged materiality of the mass-produced text. Her answer fell a little short of what I wanted to hear, but it's a complicated question (or at least it was in my head), and I wouldn't expect her to be able to answer it completely.

I liked that paper in particular because I liked the idea of autographics. Poletti didn't flesh it out a great deal, but I saw a lot of potential in the concept. Poletti and Whitlock are co-editing a special edition of Biography that will focus on autographics, and I am really looking forward to reading it. Too bad it comes out in the winter 2008 edition. (Such is academic publishing.)

7:00 Poetries.
Three papers given, one by [name] on the origins of the avant-garde and modernism in nightclubs and bars, one by Michael Davidson on cosmopolitan poetics, and one by Rachel Blau DuPlessis (my professor last semester) on the ways in which disjunctive poetics had been read by cultural studies. An impressive lineup, marred only by the fact that the presentations were a little hard to follow. I still enjoyed myself a great deal. I did a book review for my paper for Rachel on Davidson's Guys Like Us: Citing Cold War Masculinity, and it was a little bit of a thrill to see him in the flesh. (It's a great book.) Davidson's presentation had some technical difficulties, but he made some interesting points about public acts of poetry (using as his example a poet who posted poetic signs at the border between Mexico and the US) and how that affected the status of the author and the reader. [name]'s presentation gave me a lot to think about, but it concentrated mostly on history, examining how the "underworld" became a space of origin for poets; the phrase that struck me the most was his central one, "the spectacle of obscurity," which he meant to express how these poets spoke nearly entirely in their own dialect, one that would not have been clear to the reader, but that these poems were still enjoyed, perhaps because of their indecipherability. Rachel's presentation was chock full of great phrases, as she often is, but was structured around a critical intervention with three (mis)readings of poems by three different cultural studies icons, Jameson, Bhabha, and Eagleton. What drew the most comment was her claim that what differentiates poetry from prose is segmentivity and sequence. This emphasizes the gaps and the space in poetry, rather sound or line or form. Very cool, and very fraught.

8:45 Academic Fashions.
Five short papers, done in essay fashion rather than as critical academic works. One by Jane Gallop, arguing against the decline of close reading; one by Joanna Stalnaker, arguing that the advent of "global thought" (which emphasizes interdisciplinarity and the study of globalization) should not make divisions like French out of date; one by Joseph P. Valente on titles of academic papers and books, talking about what political purpose these titles serve; one by Paul Morrison, discussing the Freudian conception of the body and the academic predilection to believe that discussing the anus is somehow daring and new; and one, finally, by Elisabeth Akhimoff Ladenson about academic clothing.

A light, fluffy panel, which still managed to go over by a bit (at 10:00 pm, this is a problem, since I am secretly an old lady and desire to be in my PJs by 10:30 at the latest), and which had some moments in the discussion afterwards that neared rumble-in-the-streets territory. (Well, for an academic conference it was near a rumble in the streets, which essentially meant that one person told another person she was wrong. Yow! Stand back!) I think I embarrassed poor Paul Morrison; I went up, afterwards, to ask if Thomas King was in attendance. Paul said that he hadn't come -- I didn't expect that he would, but I thought I would ask -- and he asked me how I knew Tom. "He was my advisor," I said, "and actually, you were the second reader on my undergrad thesis," and he was suddenly flustered and apologetic. For no reason at all, mind you; I was on a panel with him once, where I didn't speak very much at all, and I think I met him face to face one other time. He was my second reader entirely as a favor to Tom, and he mostly just skimmed the thing, anyway. It was sweet, though. He wrote my name on the back of an envelope so that he could tell Tom I'd said hi, but I doubt he'll remember. Oh well. The Effort Was Made.

I doubt I'll be able to do such a full recap for the next few days. I might make a list of the books I buy (or resist buying), though. Oh book exhibition! How I fear and love thee! At some point, too, I should keep working on my application to SUNY Buffalo. Oh yeah, that. Aaarrrghhghghgh.

The end of the semester, a trip, and no exercise at all.

2006-12-18T10:38:00.000-08:00

Stress, as I'm sure everyone is aware, makes you self-absorbed. The best way for me to articulate the way it affects me, though, is the way I've recently been making fun of myself while on the phone with my mother:
"I'm really stressed, [blah whine blah list blah]," I'll say.
"I understand, it's a stressful time of year," she says. "I'm really worn out, myself."
"No! I'm the only person who's stressed! This has only ever happened to meeee."
Which is the long way of saying that I haven't been posting because I've been insufferable. One of my mottoes growing up was "you're not the star of the movie," and when I start acting like I'm the lead character, I know it's time to take a break from talking to people.

But I've finished with my semester! Glitter falls from the ceiling, angels appear blowing trumpets, et cetera. Lo, I return to my usual self. Still insufferable to some people, I'm sure, but rather less self-centered.

I turned in my twenty-five page paper on Thursday. I was pretty happy with most of that paper, though I could have done a slightly better job, I'm sure. I think that there's a lot to work with there, and if I had more time I would have integrated other critical sources a bit better into the overall flow of the paper. After I turned in that paper, I turned immediately to my long poem final. The lack of time I had to work on the latter definitely showed in its organization, and I knew (even as I turned it in) that there were huge holes in it that I could have fixed if I had only had another week. Such is life and academia, unfortunately. That paper wound up at thirty-eight pages. That's oddly reassuring; thirty-five to fifty pages is roughly the length of a dissertation chapter, and a chapter a semester is actually quite good. If I managed to write sixty-five pages (all told) while still doing coursework and still TAing, there might actually be hope for me to complete my PhD.

I'm not sure if I'm going to do well on either paper; I think Dr. S will like my Hopkins paper, and I know Dr. dP liked the pieces of my paper before I stitched them together and wrote more, but who knows? Both papers are definitely end-of-the-semester productions, full of messy bits and missing connections. I guess I'll have to wait and see.

After I turned in my long poem paper, I had an acute attack of nerves, and I actually threw up, which was the first time that had ever happened. I was displeased. I sat down and watched a clip of Justin Timberlake on last year's SNL to calm down, and went to turn in my application to the University of Pennsylvania. Speaking of waiting and seeing... why do I have to wait until March to hear from schools again? I'm not precisely a nervous wreck about it, but I'm a little woebegone. I tend to assume the worst, and I keep playing out rejection scenarios in my head whenever anyone asks me about my application process. If I keep telling people I'm applying to schools, then everyone will know! And they'll ask if I got in! And then I'll have to tell them that I didn't get in to a single school! Auuuugh.

My parents and I are going for a trip to New York City this week. My mother likes to vacation around Christmastime, and the idea is beginning to grow on my father and I. We're all very excited about the trip, I think; my father and I are planning to go to the Tenement Museum, and I want to visit Obscure Antiques, various bookstores, and maybe go out dancing. My mother will probably spend most of her time between buying CDs and visiting art museums. We may not actually spend all that much time in each other's company, which for my family is fairly typical. I think part of why we're so absurdly close is because we understand that the others are profoundly introverted.

Every semester at finals, I usually torture myself about how little I exercise. I tried to be more reasonable about it this year, which means that I still feel like a lump, but at least I don't feel like a failure as well. I'm hoping that I'll get to exercise a little at the hotel -- at the very least, I'll swim some laps -- and then once I get back, I can get into the swing of things again. I'm not too worried; my team's new captain only just sent out an email about workouts, and I've been working out since the end of the season.

Sick and showing it.

2006-12-07T17:58:00.000-08:00

I mailed my application materials to Berkeley today, which was a scary experience. I was muttering to myself the entire time I stood in line at the post office, which I'm sure put off the people standing around me. I had to do it, though, or I would run off to check my writing sample just one last time, and the thing would never get mailed.

Today and tomorrow are Study Days at Temple, which is supposed to mean no classes. My poetry class is meeting tomorrow at nine to present on our final papers, in spite of this, so after I sent in my application materials I had to go home to keep working on that. I have no clue if it makes any sense at this point, for the same reason that I have no clue if this entry makes any sense: I'm sick. Yes! At the end of the semester, precisely at the most inconvenient time! It's not so bad, though. This is the first time I've been sick since August (when I was teaching Summer Bridge, and in contact with germy teenagers), and it's relatively minor. I'm sneezing a lot, and I'm more than a little woolly-headed, but that's about it. That may be enough, though, to make my presentation more farcical than I want it to be.

I'm excited to be done with this presentation, no matter how random it may be in execution. It's the last assignment I have that's been distracting me from all of my other work, and once it's done, I can start focusing on the other stuff I have to do. I think that once I get a few more books read and get an outline fleshed out, my paper for the seminar on character should be fairly painless, which means that (depending on how fast those two things go) I could be writing by Friday night. My paper for the poetry seminar is scarier, but only because I care about it. I have about twenty to twenty-five pages written for that already, and really all I have to do is edit those, add about fourteen more pages of close reading, thread it all together, and write an introduction and conclusion. That's really only a couple of (really hardcore) days. I have to keep in mind that my application for Penn is due the same day as my poetry paper, though.

Man, my head is swimming. I really loathe being sick. Apologies (to my one reader!) for any lack of sense.

As for fitness, it's sort of at a standstill for the moment. I've been pretty wretched, what with all this work and getting sick, so my lifting has suffered (or hasn't happened at all - I didn't do anything today). I think I'm going to give myself permission to take the weekend off, and possibly even the week. Once the 15th comes around, I'll be free! Freeee!

Wow, I really am loopy. It would be fun, if I didn't have a snot factory for a nose.

Two World Days, Academic 'Disappointment,' and Updates.

2006-12-03T15:21:00.000-08:00

1. Two World Days.
December 1st was World AIDS Day. The day before, a friend sent out a cryptic message, asking for his friends' prayers and support. On the 1st, he told us that he'd been diagnosed with HIV. "I have nothing if not perfect timing," he said.

I don't much mind the idea of my own death; I talk a mean game about overpopulation and the scourge of the human race on the earth. I've been rehearsing for my parents' death since I was very small, preparing for the eventuality that they might leave me. The idea of a friend's death, though, hit me unexpectedly, and my reaction left no room for reason. I burst into tears at my computer. I drank at a recent rugby meeting. I broke a plate in my room.

HIV these days is like the old gag on NewsRadio (my roommate has been mainlining episodes of late): Phil Hartman's character, Bill, is told by a psychic that he will die in thirty-six years (at the tender age of eighty-something), and in reaction to the horrifying news he is depressed, then wildly hedonistic. HIV is something like that psychic. It isn't a death knell; it's more an indication that you'll die sooner, rather than later, and that you'll be sick when you die. Still, to be infected, to have the knowledge of how sick you might become, is horrifying. But wringing my hands seems inappropriate, and he lives so far away now that I can't even really be there for him. There isn't anything I can do.

Today is the International Day of Disabled Persons. The theme of this year's day is E-Accessibility; there is a very fine guide on how to make one's livejournal more accessible here, some of which can be used in other blogs. It's a lot of guidelines, but I assume, as with most of these sorts of things, that it is better to attempt a few strategies rather than to ignore them entirely.

2. Academic 'Disappointment.'
I recently took the English Literature GRE again. It was excruciating, in the sense that it was high stakes and completely bizarre, and fun, in the sense that since I was fairly well-prepared and relaxed, it seemed like nothing more than a scantron version of Trivial Pursuit. I took it in a room full of trembling nervous undergrads, most of whom were completely bonkers by the end of the test. I finished fifteen minutes early and spent most of the time thinking about Jane Austen in Space, stifling my giggles. (Wrt the Jane Austen in Space daydream, it's better not to ask.)

I called to check my score tonight, and it was solid. I scored in the 93rd percentile, at least, which means that my masters work and my efforts to plow through the canon in my spare time have not gone to complete waste. The 93rd percentile, in fact, is quite admirable on such a difficult exam. I am still disappointed. I am, as my mother has informed me, a useless goofball. Grad school may have removed some of my high-strung perfectionism, but it can't take it all away! 99th percentile or nothing!

Sometimes I wonder how much of that is inherent to my personality, and how much was the influence of my hoity-toity prep high school. I seem to remember not really giving a sh-t in middle school; as long as my teachers didn't notice that I was reading underneath the table instead of dissecting my frog, I was happy. (Of course, reading over my comments from high school -- applications to grad school unfortunately mean digging around in my files -- I see that even then I was kind of a f-ck up. "Jessica, I was disappointed in your logs. Many were not turned in, and those that were were incomplete. Good luck in college!" Oh, physical education. How I hated you, and all your attendant wonders.)

3. Updates.
My applications are going fairly well. One is due December 8th, which of course is the most difficult one, and of course is the most important one. I finished most of the online application today. Tomorrow I am going to revise my statement of purpose and upload it; revise and upload the "personal history statement," which is intended to reveal how I will contribute to their diversity and which I have nicknamed "OMG I'm a HOMO who teaches BLACK KIDS"; and keep working on edits to my writing sample. Ideally, all of this will come together, and I will be able to overnight the package with various bits of paper they'll need to the department. Then I will be ready to turn back to the other craploads of work I have. Tell me again why I'm applying while I do graduate coursework? Oh yeah, I couldn't bear the thought of being away from school. I think someone took out my brain and poured in some week-old tapioca.

Fitness is kind of stalled out. That is, I've been lifting dutifully, but I'm still maxing out on my last set of squats at 135lbs., and I'm still maxing out on my last set of military press at 95lbs. I've figured out the workout that I'm turning to after my six week schedule is up, though, which is exciting. It features plyometrics, sprints, and lifting, and should make me cry like a tiny little boy. Awesome.

I saw my teammates last night at our annual general meeting. I thought I might actually bolt during the elections, when I'd been there for five hours and people were still talking, but the rookie skit saved me. It was pretty hilarious, and I got off really, really lightly. I started drinking, I think partially from emotional reasons and partially from recognition that the entire night was a wash, anyway. I was sensible about my drinking, but my tolerance is low, and I still was pretty drunk by the end of the night... though no match for my teammates. I went out with a few people to get pizza, realized the bar was about to close, and chose (I think wisely) to head back, gather my stuff, and take myself home. In bed by 3, awake by 8 to do work, with only a sticky mouth to show for the night spent out. I'm glad I did it, I suppose, but now it's time to buckle down. Why did finals come back, by the way? When did I ever say I missed them?

An academic update.

2006-11-30T08:07:00.000-08:00

Stereogum recently posted the new Matt & Kim video for Yea Yeah. It made me smile, so I'm passing it along.

There are a number of comments on Stereogum about how annoying Matt & Kim are, how much they suck; they still seem to be making the blog rounds, so I'm pretty sure the obnoxious comments are the product of a vocal minoarity. I've been following music blogs more attentively than I ever have in the past lately, and it's funny how vicious the comments can be about nearly every artist. It's very much a mentality I associate with the indie scene, and thus far that's held up pretty well; the popular indieblogs are the ones with the most hateful material in the comments section. I'm very glad I have such disparate tastes in music; if I were a dedicated indiekid I might have a very hard go of it indeed.

I haven't updated in a little while, primarily because of the sudden onset of finals. On paper, this semester looks low-key, but it's surprisingly busy. Applications are a large part of that, though I'm nearly finished with those. Two classes is still full-time for my program, and since I am taking an 800-level and a 900-level capstone, the workload for two is certainly enough to keep me busy. I'm not teaching, though, and while I miss my students, I can only be thankful. If I were teaching I would have had to quit rugby and working out, I think, and hopefully it's obvious how crazy that would make me.

I have to make a decision about next semester. I'm signed up for three classes: Renaissance women writers, photography and literature, and the Victorian novel. I'll be teaching a harder version of English 50 (I've switched to a much more difficult book), and I'm scheduled to be a research assistant as well. Finally, I have to write my masters qualifying paper, which, though it's based on a previous seminar paper, is going to be a lot of work. (If I take on the paper that I think I'm going to take on, it's going to involve travel and archival research.)

The decision I have to make, in other words, is which class I'm going to drop, since there's no way I can handle that schedule with any sort of aplomb. I'm thinking that I may audit the class that I drop, so that I can get the benefit of the reading without the stress of the papers. I may drop the photography and literature class, since I hear there's a 3 - 4 page response paper every week, plus the usual 500 pages/week workload, plus a seminar paper of 20 - 25 pages. Funny how the 3 - 4 page papers are the part that makes me wince. Unfortunately, that class is the one that applies generally to my research interests (sort of), whereas the Renaissance women writers class is completely outside of my specialty.

Of course, it may come down to which professor would be amenable to auditing.

I read a few days ago (in Kate Bornstein's excellent "Hello Cruel World," which I bought for my office) that stress scars the brain, and that learning new things helps to heal it. Grad school should keep me at about even keel, brain-health-wise, don't you think?

Actually, I've become relatively unflappable about school-related stress since I've come to graduate school. It's been one of the very real benefits of the amount of strain I'm under during the semester; whereas before I reacted very badly to stress, I now find that I do better with it, and I'm a lot less emotional. Of course, this means I'm a lot less emotionally engaged, but that's another worry for another time. (Say, after I get my PhD. When I'm in my thirties. I can't think about that too hard, though, or I'll have the vapors.)

I have to go TA a class; more on fitness later!

A few updates.

2006-11-25T23:03:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is a heavy workload day. I plan to sleep in, since it is the last day of my vacation, and I plan on seeing a movie with my workout buddy KT... but I also plan on getting a lot done. I've drafted a personal statement, and I'm hoping to edit it and customize it to Berkeley tomorrow. I've got a bunch of notes and research to copy down for my seminar on character, and I have to reread the book I'm working with.

I'm really boring right now.

I've had a nasty sharp pain in my lower back for the past couple of weeks. I thought at first that it was a pulled muscle, but it didn't improve with stretching or massage. It's better today than it has been, but I still have trouble bending down to touch my toes. Inconvenient, to say the least. I'm going to see the doctor on Monday, I think, since I have to ask him about asthma medicine anyway. I even multitask at the doctor's office! (I'll probably even read an article on Pauline Hopkins in the waiting room. Envy me.)

I still cannot do a pullup. The bar mocks me. I am squatting 135 pounds for four sets of five reps each, though, which is something. I want to get to 160 by the time I hit next seasons. (160 is my body weight.) I emailed a bunch of interval and speed workouts to myself to print out when I go to my office on Monday. KT showed me some interesting plyometrics exercises already set up at fencing, so that's taken care of. I'm going to make myself a little 10 square speed ladder out of duct tape, so I can do explosive sprint work anywhere I want to!

My god, what has my life become?! I swear I'm not much of a jock. You'd never think I am, to look at me. I look like a mousy, pimply teenager.

Marathons of various sorts.

2006-11-19T12:07:00.000-08:00

I took Friday off. My workout buddy, KT, was in the same sort of mood as I was in, and there was a large dog in our workout space. (The dog belongs to my fencing coach, and is normally muzzled. This time his muzzle was off, and we were really nervous about being in the same space as him, since he's a big dog and known to bite.) I don't feel very badly about taking a day off, particularly a Friday, but I don't want to skip another day in the next three weeks. I doubt I will, anyway. One of the things I like best about the six week strength program I'm on right now is that it changes pretty drastically at the three week mark. I always have to ride the line between knowing what I'm doing (which requires experience and familiarity) and not being bored (which requires new exercises or a change of venue). I think three weeks at a time is actually a good measure of how long I should do one routine.

I spent most of this morning watching the Philadelphia Marathon. Two people in my cohort were running, KG and RG. I got to the five mile mark at eight am, and spent about an hour cheering people on; then I went down to the finish line to see if I could catch them as they came to the end. I managed to spot KG, and the giant sign I made from an Allstate poster went to good use. In the end, I spent about five hours out walking around in the cold, carrying a giant sign. (I think I've shown sufficient dedication for them to come to a rugby game.)

Watching the marathon was much like when I went and watched RG's triathlon. After the first hardcore athletes went by, there followed more and more average people, who were achieving something remarkable by even finishing. I got a little choked up, as I always do. (Hell, I got choked up watching Miracle, I'll get misty-eyed over anything.) There's something so great about people who attempt to do things just to see if they can.

I need to start thinking about interval training and so on. I'm obviously going to continue lifting, but I need to start thinking about training for speed at some point. I know I'll probably never make it out of developmental lock with this team -- particularly if I'm leaving town in a semester -- but at least I can be faster once I finally pull my head out of the scrum.

Jo posted this workout, which looks a little painful (like all of Jo's workouts) but also pretty quick:
4 Rounds: 30 sec rest between rounds:
100m run
10 pushups
100m
20 squats
100m
20 situps
100m
10 burpees
I might see if I can't get on the outdoor track at Temple over the break, to do this.

This week is a really tough one. Thanksgiving used to be a break week for me, I remember, back in high school and college, but now it just signals the beginning of seminar paper season. I have a twenty to twenty-five page paper to write for Dr. Salazar's class, which is still in the planning stages. I'm focusing on Pauline Hopkin's Of One Blood, and hoping to explore the role of incest in the machinations of race (and character?) in the novel. My other paper is a thirty to thirty-five pager, which I'm afraid will be even longer, for Dr. DuPlessis' course on the long poem. I'm focusing on Charles Olson's Maximus. Dr. DuPlessis does an interesting modular approach to the paper. We had to choose our poet very early on and write on the same subject throughout the semester. I have about twenty pages written as a result. Sounds like it's in the bag, right? Well, some of that writing is sub-par, at least in my opinion, and all of it has to be reread, rethought, and broken up so that the paper will flow as a whole. It's more intimidating than the paper I have to start.

In addition to those papers, I have applications to finish. Over the break, I want to write my personal statements, and begin the process of selecting my writing sample. I should also do the basic administrative stuff, like sending in my GRE scores, and ordering transcripts. My goal is to be completely done with the process (save for checking up on my applications) by November 30th, December 2nd at the very latest.

This blog is so boring. I'm pretty happy with that.

Misrepresentation.

2006-11-17T13:20:00.000-08:00

Philadelphia Weekly recently did a report on my rugby team, which you can read here.

Text of the article, plus responses from members of the team and board here.

2006-11-13T21:37:00.000-08:00

i. pain in the ...
I realized about a week ago that there were no tricep-specific exercises in my lifting routine. I added them on Monday, and today they've been very sore. I don't use my triceps for much, I've noticed. The soreness only flares up every once in a while, and I'm surprised every time when it does.

I've had a sharp pain in my lower back for quite some time now, just above my hip. I'm not sure what to do about it, but it's persistent enough and distracting enough that I'm considering taking some sort of action. But what action? I'll probably end up making an appointment at the health center at some point, I guess.

ii. fight or flight.
I took a quick, last-minute trip to Austin today, leaving in the morning and coming back the same night. I met up with an old friend, met her kid and took a stroll with them in a park, ate dinner, and came back. It was disorienting, but it excited the blood (as my 19th century authors might say). The banality of chatting with a two year-old and drinking coffee in their home contrasted with the official business of climbing on and off a plane, getting the shuttle to and from the airport. I was surrounded by commuters on my flights, people making the quick hop from Dallas to Austin, real estate brokers making deals on their cellphones before the seatbelt sign could be illuminated, businessmen sniping at each other over their diet Coca-Colas.

I forget that with makeup on and a blazer over my band t-shirt I look like a middle-aged yuppie mom. The security guards at the airport love me when my hair and makeup are done, especially now that my hair is nearly chin-length. I blew it dry this morning, in a hurry to get to the airport and not in the mood for wet hair, and the man at the metal detector flirted with me. I forget that I look older now, and thinner. My haircut is respectable; before it was always buzzed short or chopped into ugly layers, a sort of defense against respectability.

I thought about getting a haircut before this weekend, but not to chop it up, just to neaten it, make it cleaner. This is practice for the long haul; that is, the conference this weekend was stressful mostly because it was practice for what I'll be doing the rest of my life. This is it, this is the route of academia: flying places and networking, presenting ideas and asking pointed questions, eating catered food and making awkward conversation. There are a lot of clauses in this post thus far, and I think it's because it's the kind of rhythm I've just started to feel in my life, the relentless ba-dump ba-dump of routine. Never mind the possible move to another state, because it's more of the same, another step towards a career goal.

Someone asked me earlier if I would move for someone I loved. I couldn't say. She asked me if I would move for my job. "Of course," I said, without thinking. Academia is apparently more important than love, right now. Odd that that doesn't make me run for the hills. It ought to. I always did have more determination than sense.

Maybe I'll fall in love with a security guard at the airport and settle down in Topeka, though. Never rule it out.

iii. speaking of which.
KG and I were driving the other day, and I said something about how I half-heartedly wanted to be in a relationship, but I didn't see it happening in the next couple of years (five to seven, by my estimations).
"Please," Kellen said, "like we could have a relationship with anyone."
"Hey! I'm not so bad, and you've got your selling points."
"No, I mean--" He slapped the steering wheel. "I mean, look at us. We just talked about schoolwork for fifteen minutes on our night off."
"Okay, point."
"If I had a girlfriend, I'd never talk to her. My perfect woman would disappear for weeks on end, and come hang out every once in a while when I'm lonely or I need to go grocery shopping." He paused for the turn onto Spring Garden. "That's not a relationship."
"Shut up, I hate you," which is our slang for yeah, yeah okay, you're right, let's let it go or I'll get cranky.

iv. home again.
I'm headed home tomorrow. I have to polish up my paper for my poetry seminar (my extension comes due tomorrow), and start writing a poetics summary (due Friday), and read the rest of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (for Wednesday's class), and continue my work on personal statements, and and and--

It'll be good to be home, though. I am in a state of yearning for my narrow little twin bed, which is a good sign that it's time to return.

Film & History Conference: Ft Worth, TX 11/9-11/11

2006-11-12T16:51:00.000-08:00

I'm staying at the American Airlines Training and Conference Center, which is an isolated hotel complex right near the airport. I don't like being so far from the city -- the train ride to Fort Worth was about thirty minutes, and Dallas is supposed to be the same amount of time -- but the amenities are excellent. I was able to easily approximate my fitness routine using their weights, which is usually a very difficult task, and their cardio equipment is top notch. I lifted yesterday (which keeps me on track with my six week lifting plan) and ran today on a treadmill. It's been really great to have a place to work out.

I'm going to Austin tomorrow to visit a friend, just a quick hop there and back, and I have to remember to get up early to lift, or I won't get the chance. I really don't want to fall off-schedule! I'm really obsessive right now, I admit. It'll probably drop off a little, but in the meantime I'm enjoying myself.

I'm interested in the stuff that's posted on "Put Me In, Coach!" (link in previous post), but it's a little rough to read. The athletes she works with are already at such a higher level than I am, and I get tempted to change my workout. One of my problems during the off-season is that I tend to shift my workouts a little too quickly, though, and I want to stick with the current one until the cycle is finished.

I sound like every jock a--hole I hated in high school. Awesome.

I haven't gotten any work done during this trip, mostly because of the big emotional buildup and letdown of the conference presentation. The presentation went well enough. Not tremendously -- I blithered a bit during the talk, lost track of where I was in the presentation, and probably sounded like a raw newbie -- but also not awfully. I didn't get the chance to go to very many panels, but I did see Hanson speak about their new documentary (along with Ashley Greyson, the director, who was charming but had some odd ideas about cinema), saw D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus, and went to an interesting short panel on mockumentaries.

One of the more productive things to come out of the mockumentary discussion was the reality effect in movies that deal with scenes of the past (as opposed to movies that deal with the future or the present). The presenter particularly addressed the opening credit text, where the audience is given background information or historical context. Text is really explicitly deployed as truth in those opening moments of the film. He made some good points about the ways in which the audience uses that text as a base for knowledge about a period (like the Medieval period); I brought up the possibility that it might be a movie-specific knowledge base, an education that is used expressly in movie contexts. (Though there's no way to prove that.)

I had a good vegetarian meal tonight, for the first time since I got here. Nearly everything has meat in it here. Kind of understandable if you consider the dynamics of Texas (and the dynamics of hotel food), but hard to take when I'm hungry and tired. I found out tonight that the conference hall dining room has veggie burgers and french fries, which means that I was set for dinner tonight.Previously I just ate very small amounts of food (a cup of soup for lunch, for example) or ordered something with meat and picked it out (which I hate doing, since it negates the whole purpose of my vegetarianism). When I got in my first night here, I tried to order one of the salads at the bar without meat, and the bartender looked a little offended. Poor guy. Poor me. Hah.

I'm happy to be done with the presentation. I have officially presented at a conference! Great stuff. Now, of course, I have to catch up on all the work that I've been avoiding...

2006-11-10T03:36:00.000-08:00

I'm taking advantage of an extension for the first time in grad school today.

It's the result of poor planning, I'll admit. I have a conference presentation to give tomorrow, Saturday, at the Film and History conference in Texas. Today, Friday, a three page critical summary is due in my Long Poem seminar.

The poem assignment is part of the professor's modular approach to the final paper, where different sections of the final assignment are written at different stages in the semester. Instead of developing and researching an idea at the end of the year, in other words, you make a decision on topic and begin developing it quite early, even in the first month of the semester. She's very lax about deadlines, since the real due date is the end of the semester; all she usually says is that if you need to turn something in late, it shouldn't be a week, or whatever, since that will start screwing you up for the next due date. I'm not turning my paper in at 9am on Friday, as I usually do, but probably on Saturday or Sunday.

That being said, I feel awful about taking the extension. I used to need extensions all the time in college, and I guess I associate them with the kind of irresponsible behavior I used to demonstrate, particularly my freshman and sophomore year. I don't think this is the result of irresponsibility, but rather the result, as I said, of poor planning. My presentation for Texas is a mess, and I didn't realize how much of a mess it was, so I thought I would have time tonight to put that in order and put my critical summary in order. Not so much.

In more successful news, I'm pretty proud of myself for going to bed last night. I have a tendency to try to stay up and get the work done without sleep, and if I had stayed up much past midnight I think I would have talked myself into trying to get the critical summary done with an all-nighter. I don't want to do that, and there's no reason to do that, but tell that to my irrational brain. This time, though, I packed my stuff for Texas and managed to convince myself into bed. And now I've woken up very early, and I'm feeling much more more like the presentation can actually be organized. (Last night I was pretty sure that it would never end up working, I was destined to give a horrible reading, &c &c. I'm such a beacon of positivity when I get tired at night.)

I'm going to Texas for four nights, and after Saturday I'm done with my presentation and can enjoy my time there. Monday is purely for sightseeing (aka doing homework at various coffeeshops... but at least they'll be coffeeshops in Fort Worth).

Rugby blogs, deep-seated dorkitude, and academics.

2006-11-08T12:49:00.000-08:00

First, a couple of blogs that address rugby. My teammate Emily has her own blog called Seriously; another teammate, K-Train, has one called A Ride on the K Train; and K-Train gave the heads-up recently that Lisa has started a coaching blog at Put Me In Coach.

It's funny that I write this as though someone might be reading it, when I know in fact no one is. The results of self-surveillance? I'm sure Michel Foucault would have a field day with the blogosphere (as many academics already have).

The deep-seated dorkitude mentioned in my header comes from two things that have been bothering me recently. The first is how much I miss rugby this winter. This is a new experience for me. Last winter, I was sticking it out on the team more from stubbornness than from anything else, and I saw the winter as a respite, a chance to get the hell away from my teammates and away from ego-wrecking practices. Over the summer I elected not to play sevens because I was in something of the same place, though the team was slowly growing on me. (To be fair, I had a nasty sprained ankle and I hate sevens.)

In fact, I don't think I've ever really missed a sports team in the off-season. My varsity fencing team consisted of a bunch of "personalities" (they elected me captain three years in a row, which should tell you something about the type I was dealing with) and the season was so intensive that when I was done I was overjoyed at the idea of rest. The game of rugby was incidental to the time I spent with the rugby team, so I didn't miss them socially, and I didn't have much prospect for improvement in the game itself. Now -- I guess this is what is most disorienting -- I don't just miss my teammates, I miss practice, even with all my screw ups and Sue's "I'm so annoyed by your play" face.

I went out this past Saturday to a teammate's birthday party, even though I rarely enjoy parties. I ended up having a good time in spite of myself, because it was so awesome to see them all again. This season has been a difficult one, with tempers running high, but I'm still much happier with the team than I was these previous two seasons. I'm in better shape, but not by much, and my understanding of the rules hasn't improved at all (that is, practices are still an exercise in busting my ego down a peg or two). What is it that made me get so attached so quickly?

It might be the prospect of moving to California or New York if (IF) I get into Berkeley or SUNY. Losing something makes it suddenly hold more worth? Or it might be the teammates, again, that I've started making friends on the team. I think I started considering myself a part of the developmental side this season, as well, instead of just a substitute or a sidelined player. It might also be that I finally reached a crisis point this season, where I sat down and decided whether or not I would remain with the team and with the sport. Making the commitment, which sometimes I'm hesitant to do, made the team a real part of my life. I still don't know for sure, though.

The second thing that's been very dorky for me is the dreams I've been having about doing a pull-up. I'm serious! Actual dreams! I think this has finally turned into an obsession...

Speaking of that goal, I've started doing pushups and modified pullups whenever I'm bored or distracted from work, and it's been really good for my arm definition. I need to get more dutiful about going for runs three times a week, though, or I'll be too bulky to lift myself by the end of the winter. :D The desk in my office is the perfect height for modified pullups. I sound like twenty-six kinds of dipshit when I say stuff like that, so I'm just going to leave it.

Academics-wise... man, I'm toast. I have a three page book summary due Friday (which at this point looks like it's going to be five pages), and then I'm flying to the conference I'm presenting at in Texas. OH MY GOD. I've been reading the book I'm summarizing and revising the paper today, and all I want to do is hyperventilate and think superficial thoughts. (Evidence: this post.)

2006-10-31T13:47:00.000-08:00

Link of the day: A thoughtful discussion of the necessity of affirmative action.

Fitness: goal setting.

2006-10-30T07:47:00.000-08:00

ER, a player with Philly Women, sent me a text last night that read "U just misd stacy b n k train in fite club." Sounds like the end of the season to me! She didn't tell me if anyone won that particular face off in Fight Club, but really, does anyone win when that game starts up? When Stacy B found out that we were playing fight club a few weeks ago in Sugar Mom's, she asked "Are you punching the face?" and when everyone said no, she shook her head, gestured to her stomach, and said "Oh, I can only play if we'll hit the face. This is my moneymaker."

I'm still a little woebegone about missing our Sweet 16 games. We played well, from the reports I've heard. A little slow in the first half (in spite of scoring, the first time a team has scored against Berkeley in the first half of a nationals game since 1998), and then held them off for thirty minutes in the second half. Final score 49-5. I haven't gotten back an official report yet, but it sounds like it was a strong game against Austin. I'm hoping to get some more details at our annual meeting.

My rugby season is over! This season has been really fun for me, which I wasn't expecting it to be. True, I still can't play rugby worth a damn, and I'm still an injury-prone idiot, but I feel like I adjusted to the team (and to playing a team sport) much more than in previous seasons.

I hate to admit it, but the prospect of leaving this team next fall really bothers me. There are particular people who I could take or leave, but as a whole these women have been a major part of my adjustment to grad school and life after college. Strange.

Okay, enough sap. Here is my schedule for the next few months:
M - weightlifting with KT (+ plyometrics?).
T - 3 mi. run, fencing practice.
W - weightlifting with KT.
R - intervals and other agility work, fencing practice.
F - weightlifting with KT.
Sa - fencing practice.
Su - day off.

It looks full, but it's less than I was doing before. Maybe now I'll have time to get things done. Heaven forfend. KT and I are planning on discussing what plyometrics we want to add to our routine once she goes back to strength training, and I need to do a little research about what kinds of agility and speed training I should do. I might steal a little bit from CrossFit -- again, this is all stuff I need to sit down and work through one night when I'm done my homework.

I'm in a serious strength phase for the next couple of months, which is kind of exciting and kind of scary. Fewer reps, hooray, but lots of weight (or at least a lot of weight to me).

Okay, finish up. My goals for the next few months:
- one real pull-up, from a hanging position.
- wear my legs out every time I lift for them.
- continue to work out for the entirety of the winter.

English Institute, 10/20 - 10/22.

2006-10-23T18:34:00.000-07:00

Today’s media: Early Day Miners – Autumn Wake. I was listening to this song on the train as I was composing my post. We passed a town in Rhode Island that had those peculiar sherbet-colored houses, and the leaves of the trees that lined the train tracks were deep red and orange and brown in the sun. There was a girl across from me, sleeping slumped over, her head resting against the side of the seat next to her, and the sun through her window lit up the curves of her ear a deep pinkish-red.

I went to the English Institute at Harvard this weekend, and my mind is still a little tender from the experience. I would love to go again, given the opportunity and the proximity, but I think I’ll mean that more once I have a little distance from the event. I was fed well, which I dearly appreciate, and the presentations were fascinating. It was, however, a colloquium of acquaintances and colleagues, for the most part, and I felt like one of a handful of odd men out. I’m not very talented at networking, I admit, and I feel badly for not trying harder, but there’s something discouraging in eating your lunch seated at a folding chair in the presentation hall while everyone else talks with easy familiarity out by the table. I was too intimidated to really speak up during the question periods, though several times the question I’d thought of was asked by another attendee, so at least I know I was on something like the right track.

What was really excellent about the conference was the level of discourse, which was much higher than other conferences I’ve attended. There were no fluff papers or panels. The presenters had forty-five minutes to speak, and forty-five minutes to answer questions, which was still almost too little. There was a corresponding depth to many of the papers, which was exciting.

I recognized many of the attendees; first their names, and then, slowly, their faces. It was jarring to encounter someone whose work I’m familiar with, like when I first saw my middle school teacher at the grocery store. In this case, it was the peculiarities of their persons that struck me. The first joint of Michael Lucey’s right thumb is very short, almost dwarfish. Ann Carson has a very thin nose, like a living manga character, and she snickered with her partner during the roundtable, their shoulders bumping companionably. Peggy Phelan sat in front of me during a presentation on the second day, wearing a thin knit polo shirt that had pilled slightly at the shoulder seams; she braided her hair twice, keeping her eyes on the presenter, balancing her notes on her knee. The braid was sloppy, and the warm smell of shampoo and hair distracted me from listening to the talk. I based much of the first chapter of my undergraduate thesis on her work. To know that she uses a thick red hair elastic is disorienting to me, too personal. This isn’t a particularly novel realization, but when has that mattered? Revelations seem to work only when I come to them on my own time.

The major downside of the conference in general is that I missed two rugby games, a practice, and didn’t get to exercise from Thursday to Sunday. I did get to go to CrossFit with Jo this morning, which was quite an experience. Crossfit uses a very short, very intense style of exercise. We did eight rounds of 20 sec. on, 10 sec. off (which they call Tabata). We did thrusters (push press), pushups, pull-ups, and sit-ups. The sets of exercises were broken up by a 400 meter run. I’m sorry that I was only able to go to this once. I didn’t know how short it was going to be, so I held back the tiniest bit, which I’m regretting now. In my last round, I made it to nine thrusters, three pushups (no joke), six pull-ups (very modified, jumping with a significant boost from a box), and ten sit-ups. The pushups were murder. I was nauseated and whiny afterwards, which I guess means I did something right.

Day one:

Carolyn Williams gave the opening address for the first set of panels. She notably defined genre as historical discontinuities and differences against a background of formal continuities. She noted that genre is used to mean too much in the modern academy: it can mark both epic and Hollywood screwball comedy, a stretch that would undo any word, I think.

Michael Warner gave a rather dense lecture on 18th century sermons, which was exciting but a little difficult to follow. I think I would enjoy it more if I were able to sit down with the text; he used ‘a great many big words,’ to the point that I wished that he’d given us a copy to read along with him. I did like the distinction he made between the audience of the sermon, the sermon as it was given, the sermon as it was printed, and the readers of the sermon. It’s reminiscent of Barthes’ work on photography, that effort to distinguish all of the participants and what their participation means for the text; I’m not sure of the effect that that effort has, yet, and I think I have to work on that quite a bit more.

Christina Zwarg gave a talk on Frederick Douglass, black reconstruction, music and psychoanalysis. It was a little disjointed. One of my fellow participants complained to me in the bathroom that it seemed pasted together, based mostly on coincidences, but I think that’s a little harsh. Zwarg's observations were significant and effective, but her presentation of those ideas out loud was a little hard to follow, and her choices of emphasis made it seem like the paper was built around the little revelations that I think she used just to embellish her paper. I’d like to read her work on Douglass, when it is published. She made some interesting connections between Mesmer and Freud that I hadn’t thought of before. Again, like Warner, I think I would do better at following her work if I had a hard copy and could look more closely at the connections she was making.

Ann Carson gave a performance of fifteen sonnets on pronouns, in concert with a recording done with three dancers. It was more engrossing than other similar art pieces I’ve seen, and I enjoyed the sonnets very much, even when I couldn’t necessarily follow their meaning as well as I wanted. In poetic tradition, Carson answered most of the questions afterward with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. At one point, an attendee made the lovely observation that the rocking chair that briefly appeared in the video may be intended to stand in as “it” among the pronouns, and Carson began her response with, “Well, it was in the garage where we were working, so we thought we’d stick it in there.” It didn’t come across very badly, though, just sarcastic and rather honest about the element of chance that took place in the production of the art piece.

I particularly liked Michael Lucey’s presentation on Beauvoir and Sartre and their imitation of John Dos Passos’ distant third person. He focused particularly on Beauvoir, and how she used the distant third person to give a voice to and denote a sexuality she did not want to name. Lucey was funny and had a wonderful way of presenting, even though he claimed that he was working from rough notes near the end of his talk. There was an interesting moment that I’m still thinking about, when he said something along the lines that the Simone de Beauvoir in the letter to her lover Sartre about her liaison with her girlfriend was different from the woman who sat at the table with that girlfriend and wrote the letter. Much like Warner’s differentiation of the participants in a sermon, it’s easy to forget that there can be different perceptions/realities of the self in different contexts or different texts. I so very much want to find coherency in the authors I read, and I forget that they are (coherence again! transcendental truth!) just like me, contradictory little bastards.

Day Two:

Margreta de Grazia started off the day with a lecture on Shakespeare's sonnet 104, and made a series of claims about Shakespeare's use of time in the sonnet. It involved a very careful close reading, as well as a series of quotations pulled from the sonnets. Ultimately her claim was that Shakespeare had been speaking to a future age, 'thou age unbred,' to quote the sonnet. She made the lovely observation that the sonnets engage in a "prudential or actuarial" mode of life, which got a big laugh; essentially Shakespeare was always engaged in the act of inuring himself against decay and (inevitable) misfortune. I loved the line "the lyric now is saturated with a lyric hence." I liked where my mind turned after this piece; de Grazia pulled attention to the temporal space that I forget all too often when I read literature. This was the real benefit of coming to this conference, the reminder of the important

Bruce Smith presented a strange and exciting talk on Shakespeare’s sonnets and the interpretation of parole (Saussure’s term for diachronic semiotics, in this case the performance of language in time and space, the physical reality of speech). He did a really interesting reading of Bulworth’s Chironomia and Chirologia, moving beyond what the texts are usually used to point to (the mannered aspect of eighteenth century gestures), and instead showed how they demonstrate how the hand came first at that time, that the hand demonstrated emotion before it was felt. He connected this (somewhat tenuously) with a beautiful American Sign Language interpretation of Sonnet 29 and a Latin translation of the same sonnet, pointing to the pronoun differences from modern English, sign language, and Latin. I’m still not sure of how those three connected, and how the comparisons of languages connected to his other arguments, but I still found the talk informative and thought-provoking. I couldn’t tell whether or not the disconnectedness was because I am still somewhat unskilled at following verbal presentations of arguments (entirely possible) or because the connection was not adequately explained.

Shane Butler gave a presentation on Vergil and Ovid’s versions of the Orphic myth, including their re-writing of the myth in the figures of other couples. He offered first what he said was a facile reading, that the poet may be Orpheus in that his look back is the backward glance of imitation, the reliance on what came before in poetic work. This is not helpful for literary critique, however, because you can see this all over the place in poetry, and it does not help you to interpret. Instead he turned to the claim that Orpheus may represent the figure of the poet who, in looking back on his own work, experiences the ultimate loss. He argued that this is especially true of the poetic line; once the poet finishes a line, looks back and reads it, then he has lost it to the printing or the reading. He finally took the Orphic myth as a model for the lecture, using Poliziano’s lectures in verse as a starting point, and making the point that the lecture can be seen as an act of mourning. This was the point that much of the audience focused on; a number of audience members pointed out that mourning is only one lens for the lecture, which he accepted readily enough. He said in response to one of these comments/questions that the pose of mourning is one kind of pedagogical ruse, which I thought was really interesting. Another ruse suggested by an audience member was that of the intervention.

My question was whether or not he’d thought about the significance of the gendering of this model. Marjorie Garber brought this point up in a different way by asking what would happen if we used Eurydice as our model, rather than Orpheus, explicitly putting it in a Gilbert and Gubar framework. I addressed it afterwards in a conversation with Butler which was ultimately a little unsatisfying. He made the point that Latin is a gendered language, and that the text in Latin is female, so there is no possibility of the male text or really the female poet. I think I was a little unclear in asking the question (and that he might have confused me with Garber a little), since my question was not whether or not there was any basis for this in the Latin texts, but rather whether he had considered the gender implications for using it as a model for things like the lecture in contemporary contexts. The impression during the question and answer period was that the Orphic model was being offered as a contemporary possibility.

The final presentation was by Rei Tomada, who was very confusing to listen to. I really enjoyed what she had to say when I was able to keep up, but that ability was perpetually in question. She discussed the psychoanalytic and linguistic purpose of making the third person speak (giving a voice to the third person). I think I would have been more familiar with the terms of her talk if she had been approaching it from a political perspective (a perspective she briefly mentioned at the beginning of the presentation). That is, there are particular subaltern or Third World ramifications to the idea of giving a voice to the third person. (See Spivak's "Can the Subaltern Speak," obviously.) I think I got confused by her mentioning then diverting this possibility, and that that contributed to my lack of understanding (other contributions included fatigue, lack of familiarity with the psychoanalytical framework, and the complicated nature of her ideas). Again, a beautiful talk, but I felt like I'd floundered the entire time.

Day Three:

Alan Sinfield’s talk on Shakespeare’s sonnets and the love of the boy went in a direction I was less interested in, after an exciting start. At the beginning of the presentation, he made some interesting claims about the reader. He noted that a degree of interpretive maneuvering is necessary for the reader to identify herself with the text. The reader must either wrench the text to create an identification, or wrench herself. If she does not take part in this wrenching or maneuvering, she risks the shame of disidentification. He made the claim the “death of the reader,” not in that we are dead, but that the position of the reader cannot be generalized. I’m always excited by claims like that, in part because they are so untenable. Didn’t you just make a series of generalizations about the reader in positing that she must wrench herself and/or the text? Sinfield followed this up with a claim that the “gay reader” might produce a “better reading and a better history,” which further complicates the death of the reader. I wanted to ask/offer that if he meant that the general idea of the reader was dead, and instead the place of that universal reader was taken by a reader marked by their identifications. That has its whole host of problems, though, particularly in the way that it reifies categories of identity. Interesting stuff, and I’m certainly going to keep thinking about it.

After that introduction, however, Sinfield went into a presentist argument that I found less interesting. He discussed the “off-stage action” between the sonnets, and made some interesting claims about the shift of gender in the relationship between the author and the boy. I was interested (as were other members of the audience) in the narrative continuity that this would insist on between the sonnets. To paraphrase Margaret Gratzia’s response, I think the connections he made were revelatory, but I’m not sure of the justification for thinking of the sonnets of part of a larger arc. Sinfield responded that he was thinking of the sonnets along identity groupings (sonnets about the boy constituting a group, for example), but I’m still not sure that he wasn’t positing a direct link between one sonnet and the next.

His responses during the question and answer were hilarious, and Peter Stallybrass (he of the gloriously loud laugh) kept everyone chuckling, but I didn't think they were particularly responsive or illuminating. I may also have been disgruntled by that point.

The last part of the conference was a roundtable on Derrida’s “On Lyotard and Us,” a chapter of his book The Work of Mourning. I should have left beforehand. My mind had been taxed to its limit, and I found that I couldn’t quite pay attention. I think it might have been more successful if the seats had been arranged in a circle, or if we had broken into small groups first and then reconvened. The chairs were left in rows, and it led to a kind of hodgepodge of disconnected responses, most delivered as short stand-alone orations to the front of the room. I was agitated and distracted by fatigue, and left midway through the discussion to sat outside for a while. I ate a bagel and contemplated the furnishings of the Barker Center, and when I came back, I was able to sit through the remaining comments a little more calmly.

I think my goal for the next conference I attend (Film and History, in Fort Worth TX) will be to work on my active listening and how I construct questions. I’ll be presenting for the first time, too, so I want to get myself into the swing of the convention as much as I can. I’m missing three days of it for class, of all things. Bleah.

NYOIL and the lynching debate.

2006-10-19T06:08:00.000-07:00

Today's media: Redman - This Don't Make Know Sense.

This is old news, but YouTube caused a stir in the rap community when they removed "Y'all Should All Get Lynched" from their site. There's a fascinating interview on unkut.com with the artist, NYOIL.

"People been lynched for real in the name of securing you the freedom to act like this, people have been mauled by dogs and blown over by water hoses so you can act like this? There are people that have been locked-up, and are still locked-up right now, in the name of liberating blacks in this country. Where the f-ck is the outrage for them? Nooooo, f-ck them right?! But God forbid I should say of the people who sh-t on the spirits and souls and sacrifices of my ancestors that they should get lynched…aww well, then all the sudden motherf-ckers are real sensitive."

There's a lot of discussion and motion around the use and reuse of slurs in the black community in America; this is one of the most overt redeployments of a term (and historical event) that I've seen in a while, though. It reminds me of the debates over "n-gga" and "queer" that continue to flare up every once in a while. How much does the positive power of a term rely on the fact that it was used as a slur? How much does the power of "lynching" in the video rely on the fact that it was a means of racist murder? More importantly, I guess, is what the ramifications are of the redeployment and reassignment of that power by a black artist against other black artists.

It's particularly interesting when I think of it in terms of something my boss this summer said to me: prejudice is discrimination without power, racism is discrimination with power. That is, a white person can be racist, because they have years of oppression and the influence of society behind them. So when a black person deploys "lynching," it avoids the power dynamics of when a white person uses it... but what about your listeners? There's no way to limit your audience to just black people. And as the comments to the linked interview show, half the time people won't understand you even if you state your point boldly and with no dissimulation.

It seems like NYOIL has actually thought a little about these things, and some of the stuff he had to say impressed me. The song itself doesn't do much for me - the word seems to be the primary motivation behind the song, and there's little else to distinguish it - and as he mentions in his interview, the video is just a series of images and videos that are roughly cut together.

I'm also interested that he invokes black women and the way that they're treated in his interview, but then in his video there is the exploitation of sexualised images of women and the invitation for the women he's criticizing to "suck [his] dick." This is the problem I have with a lot of critical hip-hop; women are just sexual beings, no matter whether you approve or disapprove of them. How sad is it that the biggest dis you can use is to suck your dick? (What's so nasty about your dick, kid?) It's particularly irritating in this case, because he's so aware of the power relationship of lynching, but seems to be unaware of the power difference he's replicating between men and women.

first, catch your hare.

2006-10-17T10:39:00.000-07:00

Antagonyms are words with two meanings that directly contradict one another. For instance, "refrain" can mean the repetition of a certain phrase (the refrain of a song), or to stop (would you refrain from lighting your sister on fire). This page has a list of antagonyms, as well as an explanation of the term.

Subject line is a quote from Isabella Beeton, the notorious first step of a recipe for a dish involving rabbit meat.