Professional · Disapproval

Cthulhu dogs? I don't know how they'd taste, but I'd eat me a big old bowl of these. Add melty cheese & you'd lose the visual impact, but I bet it'd be sort of awesome. Kids must go nuts.

Fantastically productive day writing yesterday. The momentum has generously carried over into today, which, yay. I'll have to interrupt myself for a teeth-cleaning at the dentist in an hour. The break will give me some time for reflection on the new material, so, not a bad interruption. The Sarge is off today; I've sent him out to play so I can keep working while the fire burns. I've no classes/finals to disrupt me otherwise, & I want to take advantage of this.

Really cold here recently! It had been around the 70's, but we're back into the 40's. Had some lame little hail off & on for a couple of hours yesterday. I got quite a bit of yardwork done & hauled lots out on garbage day, always an ordeal. I deserve a prize. There's a used book sale at the library today, so, you know, maybe I'll stop by.

Spring cleaning has been underway for the past two weeks, & is plugging right along. I've purged my dresser drawers somewhat; a bit more of that is in order. I want to get rid of some old bedding, and my closet is due for a big old clean sweep. I've got stuff to haul up out of the basement.

One of my students brought me some sort of Japanese mini-cakes/muffins yesterday. Nom nom nom.

If you can answer "YES" to three or more of these, you might be sort of contemptible.

___________

Do you frequently use hyperbole to make your point?
Do you contradict yourself regularly? Do you do it in writing? Do you then deny it?
Do you freely offer unsolicited negative opinions?
Are you a predictable complainer?
Do you publicly request special attention/recognition/validation?
Do you habitually itemize your health/personal problems for those who do not know you?
Do you name drop?
Do you frequently misspell common words and make simple grammatical errors repeatedly (such as improper use of its/it's) as you complain about the incompetencies of others?
Do you deliberately use obsolete terms, like "shall," in colloquial speech?
Do you include irrelevant details in speech or writing because you believe they reflect well upon you?
Do you use jargon out of context?
Do you pass the ideas of others off as your own?
Do you stalk those you resent online?

______

EDIT. The point of this is not to poke my own critical finger at anyone having one or two of these qualities. Most people will/do.

But consider the sort of person who makes a point of magnifying the faults of other people while behaving in each these ways regularly. The list above is a quick recollection of the qualities of one single person who seems to enjoy criticism above all else.

Live in a glass house? STFU.

drenilop, any ideas?

From ladycatherina's LJ:
First of all, and MOST important, I'm asking a networking question for my very good, intelligent, motivated friend alliterati. She lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan and would love to finish her undergraduate education and probably study computer science as soon as she pays off student loans. She can do web design, graphic design, writing and editing, work with kids, sorting and stocking - basically any and all kinds of work that involve careful thought in a quiet, slower-paced environment (she's brilliant and autistic and doesn't like crowds or multitasking.) She's currently between jobs and is looking for work in her area so she can stay near friends in Ann Arbor. This is a progressive college town - but with the downside that lots of students are competing for jobs.

So anyway, does anyone know of or have any ideas of jobs which would be good for her? Anyone know of a place near Ann Arbor that's hiring? Or just want to comment here and drop her a note of encouragement? I know a lot of people can relate when it comes to job search issues...also, reposts are always welcome and helpful.

Also, I don't know what the great big fat f-word my problem might be with the final part of the edit for the story. I've stalled. I can't seem to get through it to the end; I'm about to hang it up and just send it on.

This semester's schedule is intense. I've got 4 classes to teach and will be working on our department's assessment committee, together with other similar departmental committees across the university. The goal is to establish new standards and procedures for student assessment and to implement them on a schedule.

This promises to be a lot of fun and a lot of work. So far I've loved it, especially the reading I've been doing on assessment. My director recently accused me of being at least part administrator. I was appalled for a minute, but realized that she's actually right. Some of the most fun I've had in academia besides actual instruction, which I love, has been developing curricula and new programs, raking them over, restructuring. I write my own exams & some of my materials every term... I am a sort of closet academic bureaucrat. Is this shameful?

But it's fun, even if it's also very not fun from time to time. It's creative to be able to make stuff from the ground up. Only. There are some ugly parts.

First of all, in our department, the committee is sort of making new rules. And you academics know that not all instructors take well to external direction, particularly when it will necessarily and directly (and not optionally) affect their classes and students and timetables and materials. Some will see restructuring that involves their participation as imposition into their personal, soveriegn classroom governments. This may be particularly true, I have found, among those who are of a certain age or who have established a comfy, secure routine and have no intention of deviating from it.

Also any large-ish institutional organism as unweildy as a language & culture department is by nature perpetually fluid, even sort of mildly out of control. The assessment work has shown me just how much my boss is actually responsible for. I have a new respect for her -- and I respected her just fine before -- since I've begun to feel like I'm trying to tuck an infant octopus into bed and he's not tired. Loose parts of him hang out everywhere and try to do things and he just wants a) to stretch his legs or just kick me and b) to dance, apparently.

Surface Properties is almost done. Also, made a veggie lasagna with piles of basil and garlic and fresh slices of mozzarella. Wowie, mama. I had it for breakfast.

Should you be MALE or FEMALE?* created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Neither You think neither like a man nor like a woman. What you are you may decide for yourself. Most people will consider you strange, alien, weird or funny. You are probably quite interesting. Neither 79% Female 75% Either 61% Male 46%

Strange, alien, wierd, or funny, and probably quite interesting.

Make an effort to learn and master the lj cut. Listen, this is just courteous. Your 12-inch-long posts are not so critical in nature that they must be fully revealed to anyone who might see your entry.

There are a few irrefutable laws of LJ. One of them is that if I have to scroll through screens and screens of your bottomless babbling, I will begin to hate you. This is known as Bean's Constant.

All right, then. As you were.

Cain's awake now but as soon as I sit here and open the laptop he climbs up next to me and holds out his paw, supplicating-like, patting my arm, gazing at me. His pupils dilate all the way out to the ends of his whiskers. [He's curled himself up along on my leg and is now drooling on my arm.]

It stopped snowing around 5 pm. I estimate we've had ten inches here. Drifts two feet high are reported & the roads in my neighborhood are said to be "treacherous"; Detroit schools are already closed for tomorrow. This is great! I had the window open so the cats & I could smell the snow. Don't you love the smell of fresh snow? It's really cold, too. Supposedly this is the best storm we've had since 1999. I wish it would keep snowing. I had my fireplace DVD going earlier.

I'm watching Jurassic Park again. T Rex is such a badass.

Yay, yay! 6 inches or more, and it's still coming down. It's gorgeous but blinding.

We're supposed to get 8-12" by tonight. This is so excellent it's intolerable. I'm baking bread to celebrate, and making potato chowder again. I'll update again in a couple hours or so, when I get the soup on. There's good stuff to report.

I did 3 short fiction submissions yesterday.

One of my students got held up at a gas station Friday. He was knocked around a bit but he's ok. The thugs permitted him to keep his car. He lost his wallet and they destroyed his new leather jacket. I was surprised they didn't take it.

There's snow on the ground. It's been there for days, a phenomenon unheard of in recent years. Since about 1995, snow melts within 48 hours. Mostly we get only rain.

I've been doing a lot of house stuff. I can't believe how fun it is. My friends J & K just bought this giant old Victorian from the 1800's. It could not be more awesome. I love going over there. They have wooden blinds and stained wood shutters on every window, and stained glass... K is always doing something in her house. She's been egging me on.

There's 11.8 days worth of stuff on my iPod. Over 800 podcasts. 199 movie files; only 6 are feature-length actual movies. I still have 40 gigs. I want a nano. Have you seen these adorable things? They have cooler software than my old clunker but only come in 4 or 8 gigs, which Will Not Do.

Raining now. There was ice thick as a slice of bread on the windshield when I went out the other night. I hope this doesn't freeze, but I hear it's frozen already in some places.

Christmas vacation soon... finals to give Thursday & Friday, grades due next week. Where'd the semester go? No big hubbub for Christmas this year. I plan to make the rounds, 2 family things to attend. Well, 3. That is it, I swear. It's great all the food, not having to clean up. I'll probably do the New Year's thing here again, my own new tradition. Also, since Sergeant H will be working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, possibly doubles, I'm making a turkey for the afternoon shift. Mashed potatoes & gravy, simple stuff, just real food. Nothing's open that day so they can't order in. There'll be other food... people take pity on the guys who work holidays. Pies and sweets and sausages & cheese balls arrive all day.

I bought 3 kinds of flavored coffee creamers, which I love for the holidays for some reason, and rarely touch the rest of the year. The gingerbread one is always particularly yummy and I mourn it when it's discontinued every January. I found one last week in "vanilla caramel brownie" so of course I was compelled to try it, but was disappointed. Cinnamon Hazelnut is boring but muy tasty.

This is good weather for tea.

I discovered the other day a marvelous thing: my husband, whom I've known intimately for 19 years, speaks a foreign language I did not know he spoke. How sexy, yet disturbing, is that? Maybe I'm not supposed to know. He may be a double agent or a professional assassin, like in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Sick of our favorite recipes and in need of savory, imaginative vegan entrees...

Thanksgiving was very excellent. After painting the living room far into the wee hours for two days I finally finished up the first coat of color and trim and immediately packed myself into the car for a weekend at my brother The Polymath’s lake house. I drove up Wednesday and left Sunday afternoon. This is a gorgeous place in the woods. Mr. and Mrs. P have filled it three dogs and three cats. Also many birds all over the deck which goes around the front and sides of the house... the Polymath covers the deck with seed and fifteen thousand birds converge on the place. We watch them all day. Especially the cats, who may have eaten a few... they sneak out if we're not careful when we take the dogs out. Two of the house's walls are glass from about 18 inches above the floor all the way to the eaves, thirty feet. They fit together in an acute angle, a point in the front like an arrow aimed at the lake. The deck wraps around them, so when the birds come it's like being in an aviary. There are high window walls in the back on the other side too. It can be very bright in there and is especially cozy and great after dark. The only other visible houses are on the other side of the lake… I love that house.

Mrs. Polymath is such a good cook… she used to live in Turkey and evidently picked up some kind of Turkish food hoodoo while she was there. Also she once had a catering business, so we love her a lot. Mrs. P made our great dinner, a giant turkey about the size of an eight-year-old, with stuffing that was moist and spicy and mashed potatoes that were cheesy and gooey and buttery. Homemade mushroom gravy. Real cranberry sauce, made from real cranberries and apples and I think oranges and pecans, it was soooo good.. Apple pie, pumpkin pie, berry pie, homemade whipped cream, I forget what-all… my memory gets a little fuzzy after the narcotic potatoes.

We watched movies and junk TV and visited and petted animals and ate until we passed out. There were truffles and coffee and a ubiquitous heating pad for me, since I’d damaged myself from behind at some point during the painting of the living room.

So I did nothing more strenuous than heat or feed myself and read for two days. The Polymath (TP) climbed this huge scaffolding he kept set up in the living room so he could work on the new wooden ceiling he’s installing. I think I may have taken a shower once. It was lazy and perfect. It even snowed. I want to go there every year. No, I want to livethere. I’m trying to talk H into going next weekend, since he had to work Thanksgiving and missed out on all this awesome excellence.

We watched Rudolph and claymation Christmas specials from the 70’s and six episodes of The Unit end to end and The Exorcism of Emily Rose -- I’ve been on an exorcism/demons kick for a few months -- & this miniseries on DVD I thought was incredible, Revelations. TP loaned it to me and I'd ordered it for myself before I’d finished it. I wrote. All in all, a tremendous time. I didn’t want to leave. It is a great thing to be surrounded by three dogs and three cats.

Here at home our new living room with its final coat on is at last a deep and warm amber gold. H likes it so well he wants to do the wall the living room shares with the dining room the same color, to extend the bright some further into the house. I think the hallway needs a different color, though. I found a new rug for the coffee table, which is nice. I also bought a fireplace DVD. It’s video of a fireplace that crackles like a real fire. TP and H both think I’m dumb; I like it, so they can bite me. I’ve begun putting decorations up. I have 3 trees so far.

There are restored & vintage cars all over the place in Detroit. It’s like car Graceland here. There’s more than one car holiday even, & a couple of high-ticket international new model Coming-Out events every year, which is really just ridiculous. It’s not unusual to cross paths with sparkly Model T's or a '38 Rolls Royce at the dentist or a drive-through. Really old cars are like celebrities.

So I saw this old, massive, mud-red Mercury parked at the library the other day, taking up about three parking spaces, and it was not an unusual thing. The car was at least as wide as the week is long and had a black hardtop. It was noteworthy because it was not restored, and appeared simply old and beat-up. Sort of a sad thing to see, like running into a pretty girl you used to know and seeing she has a well-developed case of meth mouth. But the Mercury was roughly the size of my house. And that is a status all its own.

There it sat, incongruously, in front of the library with a library's air of books and ideas and erudition. A monster car which all but spurt testosterone into the air around itself, crouched beside the building like a predator blocking the only way out. They were sort of sexy together, the library and this car. I was thinking so while I pulled into a spot beside the Mercury just before I perceived what was inside it.

The car was full of trash. Tonnage. Voluminous layers of it. So much garbage so tightly packed and wedged and mashed in upon itself that the car's frame challenged the laws of physics stem to stern.

My first thought was to wonder whether this car could possibly have been driven. Maybe it had been planted there as a practical joke. I studied it and its grotesque cargo surreptitiously. It seemed that looking openly at it was something you didn't want to do where other people could see you doing it, like you don't stop to examine a fresh dog turd on the sidewalk, no matter what's sticking out of it.

When Jimmy Hoffa disappeared, little was known about his final moments. There was, however, talk about an ominous, giant Mercury being seen around the same places where he was reported to have been last spotted alive. I wondered if I was looking at that car. It certainly looked possible that Jimmy could still be in there, and outside the driver’s door, a smell was perceptible. Then, through the windshield, I spied an incredible thing.

There was a hollow in the impacted mess behind the steering wheel, right about the place you’d expect a person to go, roughly the size of an upright coffin. This void was smoothly carved into the layers of garbage. A neat cross-section, edges and sides evenly trimmed. It looked manicured. I marveled no less at the obvious care it had taken to create than at the evidence that this task had been a reasonable course of action to someone. It had obviously taken a great deal of time. A thought occurred to me: from this void, which was sort of a cockpit, really, a driver could probably operate this vehicle. Out of the parking lot. Into the streets. Never turning right though, it would seem, considering what occupied the passenger’s seat.

I sensed insanity. The state of that Mercury constituted a record, evidence, like a transcription of a dialogue with the driver herself or with life or with misery. It seemed terribly reckless that this evidence should have been left out there in the parking lot, this transcription of a conversation which so clearly hadn't gone well, for anyone to see and seeing it, I felt like an intruder, helping myself to someone else's stuff. Mine was the behavior of people who pick over curbside belongings at an eviction.

I went into the library. I don't know what I was expecting. A lunatic in a fit? A creeping, brooding shadow skulking around? Somebody barefoot and dirty or demon-possessed, leaves in her hair? I was sure the car belonged to a woman.

To be continued