Gillian Polack's Blog, page 128
January 29, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-30T15:10:00
Today I woke up and thought "There's less fire in the air." I checked the fire service's website and the fires are slowly blinking out. There are only four now that affect Canberra. If we don't get any new ones, then I might be able to walk outside on Saturday.
The other thing I'm looking forward to is being less tired. Constant allergies make one constantly sleepy.
Anyhow, I could tell there was less fire in the air from late last night, for I did a normal evening's work and then made myself a list for today. I've only crossed two things off my today's list so far, for life is still slow, but I'm getting there.
What else is happening to me? Nothing, much. I'm still very much Schroedinger's Gillian and no end of this state is in sight. The difference between me before the PhD and after the PhD is that I have more academic publications and exposure now...and I feel as if I ought t be able to get a fulltime job, if only there were fulltime jobs to get. Which there aren't.
I checked my CV yesterday, and it looks respectable, I think. I'm tempted to ask friends who sit on interview panels if they would have a quick look and tell me what I'm doing wrong or missing. I know I'm missing undergrad teaching and that so far 20+ years of varied other teaching is not sufficient to make up for this, but there's nothing I can do about that. Every year I apply for sessional teaching at local unis, and every year they employ their current students for the job (which makes sense, for I am more expensive than their current students, since I have a PhD and the pay rates are higher for PhDs) and so I continue teaching a gorgeous variety of subjects to a range of people at a range of levels and it continues to be not enough to get me a job in a time of few jobs. When I ask more experienced people who know me well "What am I doing wrong?" the answer is "Nothing."
I shall continue to try for more publications and I shall continue to apply for the very few jobs. All I need is one job I want that wants me, after all.
The other thing I'm looking forward to is being less tired. Constant allergies make one constantly sleepy.
Anyhow, I could tell there was less fire in the air from late last night, for I did a normal evening's work and then made myself a list for today. I've only crossed two things off my today's list so far, for life is still slow, but I'm getting there.
What else is happening to me? Nothing, much. I'm still very much Schroedinger's Gillian and no end of this state is in sight. The difference between me before the PhD and after the PhD is that I have more academic publications and exposure now...and I feel as if I ought t be able to get a fulltime job, if only there were fulltime jobs to get. Which there aren't.
I checked my CV yesterday, and it looks respectable, I think. I'm tempted to ask friends who sit on interview panels if they would have a quick look and tell me what I'm doing wrong or missing. I know I'm missing undergrad teaching and that so far 20+ years of varied other teaching is not sufficient to make up for this, but there's nothing I can do about that. Every year I apply for sessional teaching at local unis, and every year they employ their current students for the job (which makes sense, for I am more expensive than their current students, since I have a PhD and the pay rates are higher for PhDs) and so I continue teaching a gorgeous variety of subjects to a range of people at a range of levels and it continues to be not enough to get me a job in a time of few jobs. When I ask more experienced people who know me well "What am I doing wrong?" the answer is "Nothing."
I shall continue to try for more publications and I shall continue to apply for the very few jobs. All I need is one job I want that wants me, after all.
January 27, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-28T08:35:00
Someone took advantage of the Australia Day holiday and tried to use my credit card. They spent all of $1.14 before the bank caught them and put a block on my account.
I woke up early (it was muggy!) and got online and read the email warning me of it, and checked that the email was legitimate, and rang through to the security people (who have 24/7 phone help because this is not an uncommon occurrence and they are a big bank) and, within 2 1/2 hours of the original attempt at theft, the paperwork was all done for a new card. It will be with me soon. And this is why I am with the bank I am with, despite their other failings, for not even that $1.14 is payable by me and the security guy took the time to remind me that I might have regular payments due that won't show up until the new card is issued and then went through and helped me list the ones that are due in the next fortnight so that I can connect them to the new card when they come.
The rain has got rid of the fires in one direction only, but that's the direction the wind is coming from, so my bedroom window is open and the mugginess dissipating.
It's a very strange little morning.
I woke up early (it was muggy!) and got online and read the email warning me of it, and checked that the email was legitimate, and rang through to the security people (who have 24/7 phone help because this is not an uncommon occurrence and they are a big bank) and, within 2 1/2 hours of the original attempt at theft, the paperwork was all done for a new card. It will be with me soon. And this is why I am with the bank I am with, despite their other failings, for not even that $1.14 is payable by me and the security guy took the time to remind me that I might have regular payments due that won't show up until the new card is issued and then went through and helped me list the ones that are due in the next fortnight so that I can connect them to the new card when they come.
The rain has got rid of the fires in one direction only, but that's the direction the wind is coming from, so my bedroom window is open and the mugginess dissipating.
It's a very strange little morning.
gillpolack @ 2013-01-28T00:02:00
I only got a couple of hours of open windows and clear breathing before the rain stopped, but it was lovely while it lasted.
Today I'm thinking about the relationship between writers and the history they use again. The thing that bugs me most about some novels is not when the depiction of the past is wrong or invented, but when the society depicted could not possibly operate. Some changes to what I know of a place or time bug me, but I know that what we know as historians is mutable and it's annoying that Matilda loses a husband and an Empire in Pillars of the Earth, but it's not nearly as bad as building a cathedral without a diocese. This is because the novel rests on the cathedral and cathedrals are quite specific in their function (the word 'cathedral' says this, too - it reminds us of its function). And this is one of those instances where I've become emotive and will no doubt discover I'm wrong. I'm much clearer on why George RR Martin's Westeros is non-functional.
What this means is that I need to send off my proposal for a book sooner rather than later (I hate finding publishers!) and write those chapters on world-building and why some things can work and why others absolutely don't. The bottom line isn't what's right and wrong or what meets the desires of historians and what doesn't (although I have a lot of fun examining both of these in other contexts), but what works as a narrative and why.
My reasons for disliking certain aspects of poor world-building are quite specific. I need to explain why this doesn't make them unimportant, how understanding how societies operate can create a better piece of fiction.
It's all tied very tightly together in my mind. It's not about what writers do, but what they're capable of doing, of how much they can achieve if they allow themselves to understand at a deeper level, to think about genre and audience and the roles of humans and human behaviour in their societies. I just need to find someone who wants to publish a book about this, for it's almost all researched and maybe 20% written (what I do in my copious spare time). Or I could turn chapters into essays and sprinkle them over the academic writersphere, if openings arise. Either way, I need to explain it all and bring my interviews with writers together with my work on how we interpret history through fiction together with genre analysis and what novels are about. It's when the non-fiction/research side of me uses the same core as the part of me that writes novels: it's a very deep need.
And this is my work for the next little while. This and the Beast. The Beast is wholly the Middle Ages and is painstakingly proceeding, section by section, two of us working on each and every word some nights.
I ought to finish my ANZAMEMS paper, too. I have the notes for it and they're in order and thought out (for it's related to the book that insists on being written) but actually sitting down and writing it hasn't quite yet happened. I've given myself until 1 February, though. Heaps of time. And in the meantime, I'm afraid I'm going to work on the other stuff, for it's what my soul craves right now.
I started it a while before the PhD (why the research is mostly done) and now that I don't have something else big taking up so much of my attention, it taps on my shoulder and says "You know, you can make sense of this." And so I do.
Today I'm thinking about the relationship between writers and the history they use again. The thing that bugs me most about some novels is not when the depiction of the past is wrong or invented, but when the society depicted could not possibly operate. Some changes to what I know of a place or time bug me, but I know that what we know as historians is mutable and it's annoying that Matilda loses a husband and an Empire in Pillars of the Earth, but it's not nearly as bad as building a cathedral without a diocese. This is because the novel rests on the cathedral and cathedrals are quite specific in their function (the word 'cathedral' says this, too - it reminds us of its function). And this is one of those instances where I've become emotive and will no doubt discover I'm wrong. I'm much clearer on why George RR Martin's Westeros is non-functional.
What this means is that I need to send off my proposal for a book sooner rather than later (I hate finding publishers!) and write those chapters on world-building and why some things can work and why others absolutely don't. The bottom line isn't what's right and wrong or what meets the desires of historians and what doesn't (although I have a lot of fun examining both of these in other contexts), but what works as a narrative and why.
My reasons for disliking certain aspects of poor world-building are quite specific. I need to explain why this doesn't make them unimportant, how understanding how societies operate can create a better piece of fiction.
It's all tied very tightly together in my mind. It's not about what writers do, but what they're capable of doing, of how much they can achieve if they allow themselves to understand at a deeper level, to think about genre and audience and the roles of humans and human behaviour in their societies. I just need to find someone who wants to publish a book about this, for it's almost all researched and maybe 20% written (what I do in my copious spare time). Or I could turn chapters into essays and sprinkle them over the academic writersphere, if openings arise. Either way, I need to explain it all and bring my interviews with writers together with my work on how we interpret history through fiction together with genre analysis and what novels are about. It's when the non-fiction/research side of me uses the same core as the part of me that writes novels: it's a very deep need.
And this is my work for the next little while. This and the Beast. The Beast is wholly the Middle Ages and is painstakingly proceeding, section by section, two of us working on each and every word some nights.
I ought to finish my ANZAMEMS paper, too. I have the notes for it and they're in order and thought out (for it's related to the book that insists on being written) but actually sitting down and writing it hasn't quite yet happened. I've given myself until 1 February, though. Heaps of time. And in the meantime, I'm afraid I'm going to work on the other stuff, for it's what my soul craves right now.
I started it a while before the PhD (why the research is mostly done) and now that I don't have something else big taking up so much of my attention, it taps on my shoulder and says "You know, you can make sense of this." And so I do.
January 26, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-26T20:32:00
The difference in breathing and non-breathing is just amazing. We've only had a couple of hours of wet and I can have my windows open until the rain goes (or until the fires come back, really) and my brain is clearing and my energy levels are returning and the underlying pain is diminishing. I begin to understand why the 2003 fires made me seriously ill.
Right now, the flat is open and everything is so fresh and sweet.
I'm not back to normal yet, but I'm progressing by leaps and bounds. I'm sorry for Donna's tree, which has suffered storm damage, but I'm very, very happy to be able to do things I want to do this evening and tomorrow and, if the fires are out (the maps say not, at this stage) the rest of the week.
This is the life! One breath in and out and repeat, for as long as possible.
For anyone who missed the earlier explanation, I am sensitive allergywise to bushfire smoke. And we have had a significant amount of the stuff, recently. Initially even stepping outside the door to look for mail gave me asthma attacks and, over a couple of weeks, I was spiralling down - but isn't it wonderful that I can improve so very quickly! I admit, though, I shall miss dreams of angry seagods drowning landscapes to the tune of "I was Drunk Last Night Dear Mother."
Right now, the flat is open and everything is so fresh and sweet.
I'm not back to normal yet, but I'm progressing by leaps and bounds. I'm sorry for Donna's tree, which has suffered storm damage, but I'm very, very happy to be able to do things I want to do this evening and tomorrow and, if the fires are out (the maps say not, at this stage) the rest of the week.
This is the life! One breath in and out and repeat, for as long as possible.
For anyone who missed the earlier explanation, I am sensitive allergywise to bushfire smoke. And we have had a significant amount of the stuff, recently. Initially even stepping outside the door to look for mail gave me asthma attacks and, over a couple of weeks, I was spiralling down - but isn't it wonderful that I can improve so very quickly! I admit, though, I shall miss dreams of angry seagods drowning landscapes to the tune of "I was Drunk Last Night Dear Mother."
January 25, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-26T15:10:00
There are new fires today, for today is a bit hotter and a bit drier than forecast. It's ironic that the fire at Oolong is on Chain of Ponds Rd, though. I keep thinking of giant quantities of tea, which isn't at all fair on the people of Oolong.
The fire on Chain of Ponds Rd is only one hectare and is under control, otherwise I wouldn't be making bad jokes about it. Still, it gives the Oolongites (is that the right term?) a really lousy Australia Day, and so I'm thinking of them.
I'm also thinking of names nearby. We have some of the bestest names. Oolong, Howlong, Binalong, Galong, Cupacumbalong*.
A lot of Canberra is quite differently named to its NSW neighbours, for early white settlers (Campbell, Ainslie) gave us some names and famous bods gave us some others and places elsewhere gave us even more. But the minute you get outside Canberra, the shape of the pre-European landscape shows a little more.
Cupacumbalong suffered badly from the fires ten years ago, and, for ages after that was cut off from the rest of the ACT for the bridge leading to it was burned. It had the best artisan crafts before then, and an amazing cafe and garden and a crumbling cemetery wall that just cries for storytelling. I need to go back there and see how it's going. It's not far, but it's just beyond the reach of public transport, so I'm relying on friends.
Galong** owes a lot of its recent history to its limestone and to its founding father, Ned Ryan, a rather rebellious Irishman.
Oolong and Howlong ought to have the same name, for the names come from the same origin. These days the word is pronounced 'brolga habitat,' I believe, which ruins all the wonderful opportunities to pun. Anyhow, they're different places. Howlong is closer to the NSW border. It once had a 100 mile horse race.
Binalong is where one of Australia's most vile bushrangers is buried. He was Canadian (born in Hamilton, Ontario - sorry Canadian friends!). He murdered several dozen people before he was shot dead at 23.
The land I live on now is Ngunnawal country, but it's the borderland of that country. Border country is always fascinating, even when Gillian cheats wildly by giving historical snippets. Next time I'm through that way, I'll get photos for you.
*I always get the spelling wrong for Cuppa, for I want to write "Bringacuppatialong" ever since some then-teenage friends and I renamed it
**Galong rhymes with "The fish that got away was yay long" not with "galoot"
The fire on Chain of Ponds Rd is only one hectare and is under control, otherwise I wouldn't be making bad jokes about it. Still, it gives the Oolongites (is that the right term?) a really lousy Australia Day, and so I'm thinking of them.
I'm also thinking of names nearby. We have some of the bestest names. Oolong, Howlong, Binalong, Galong, Cupacumbalong*.
A lot of Canberra is quite differently named to its NSW neighbours, for early white settlers (Campbell, Ainslie) gave us some names and famous bods gave us some others and places elsewhere gave us even more. But the minute you get outside Canberra, the shape of the pre-European landscape shows a little more.
Cupacumbalong suffered badly from the fires ten years ago, and, for ages after that was cut off from the rest of the ACT for the bridge leading to it was burned. It had the best artisan crafts before then, and an amazing cafe and garden and a crumbling cemetery wall that just cries for storytelling. I need to go back there and see how it's going. It's not far, but it's just beyond the reach of public transport, so I'm relying on friends.
Galong** owes a lot of its recent history to its limestone and to its founding father, Ned Ryan, a rather rebellious Irishman.
Oolong and Howlong ought to have the same name, for the names come from the same origin. These days the word is pronounced 'brolga habitat,' I believe, which ruins all the wonderful opportunities to pun. Anyhow, they're different places. Howlong is closer to the NSW border. It once had a 100 mile horse race.
Binalong is where one of Australia's most vile bushrangers is buried. He was Canadian (born in Hamilton, Ontario - sorry Canadian friends!). He murdered several dozen people before he was shot dead at 23.
The land I live on now is Ngunnawal country, but it's the borderland of that country. Border country is always fascinating, even when Gillian cheats wildly by giving historical snippets. Next time I'm through that way, I'll get photos for you.
*I always get the spelling wrong for Cuppa, for I want to write "Bringacuppatialong" ever since some then-teenage friends and I renamed it
**Galong rhymes with "The fish that got away was yay long" not with "galoot"
gillpolack @ 2013-01-25T23:56:00
The actual home of these objects (not posed to show them off). A better view (I hope) of Perceval's box (for Monissa).
And yes, I am procrastinating.
January 24, 2013
Pictures!
The pince nez with their box, and Perceval and a late nineteenth century key. Perceval is more recent than the others, since he dates from 1903.
My new icon. Sylvester is not drunk, merely happy. Erik (his guardian duck) is also happy: he likes looking angry.
gillpolack @ 2013-01-25T15:41:00
I haven't taken a single pain reliever all day! Pain levels are low. While this lasts, I'm listening to my body and I'm sleeping and sleeping and sleeping... with some extraordinary dreams. My favourite was when I dreamed a landscape being turned into a seascape by an angry seagod (bereft of a treasure) to the tune of "I was Drunk Last Night, Dear Mother".
I did five hours work yesterday, mostly when the pain started diminishing (about 10 pm) and intend to do at least seven hours today.
When I'm not sleeping and not reading and not working, I watching this: http://www.lizziebennet.com/story/ Kathleen Jennings and Deborah Green were talking about it and I checked it out and got hooked. It instantly made me think of the way books were shared in Northanger Abbey, which makes it a brilliant Jane Austen interpretation, simply for finding modern equivalents to that early nineteenth century story-telling environment.
The smoke diminished, but now there are new fires. The weather bureau holds out the hope of rain, though and today I can do amazing feats like turn my head and almost see over my shoulder. I also have a new icon for Facebook, which I may post in LJ alongside the glasses (for I promised the glasses) just so that my friends can enjoy it/them.
I did five hours work yesterday, mostly when the pain started diminishing (about 10 pm) and intend to do at least seven hours today.
When I'm not sleeping and not reading and not working, I watching this: http://www.lizziebennet.com/story/ Kathleen Jennings and Deborah Green were talking about it and I checked it out and got hooked. It instantly made me think of the way books were shared in Northanger Abbey, which makes it a brilliant Jane Austen interpretation, simply for finding modern equivalents to that early nineteenth century story-telling environment.
The smoke diminished, but now there are new fires. The weather bureau holds out the hope of rain, though and today I can do amazing feats like turn my head and almost see over my shoulder. I also have a new icon for Facebook, which I may post in LJ alongside the glasses (for I promised the glasses) just so that my friends can enjoy it/them.
January 23, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-24T15:24:00
I'm having a not-good day. I didn't have a good yesterday, either. Sick headaches are a summer thing and I still don't know how to get rid of them. Well, I do, but I've tried everything and they've all failed. Part of it is from air pressure: the ACT is caught between two massive belts of air doing interesting things hundreds of miles away (when one of them reaches us, in a day or so, it will do interesting things here, and maybe we will get rain. Until then, my head would rather be off than on, I can't look at the computer for very long at a time, and life is too interesting. It's not serious illness, but it's very nasty pain.
Added to this first part is still smoke. Another part of it is PMT. And a small part of it is stress, for some people are being idiots in my vicinity.
Anyhow, this is why I'm uncommunicative right now. I'm hoping I get to see L over the Australia Day weekend and I'm going to get some work done today somehow, but mostly I'm miserable. It will pass. It's the price of having weather sensitivity and of being perimenopausal. I will return to my usual habits as soon as I can, I promise.
Added to this first part is still smoke. Another part of it is PMT. And a small part of it is stress, for some people are being idiots in my vicinity.
Anyhow, this is why I'm uncommunicative right now. I'm hoping I get to see L over the Australia Day weekend and I'm going to get some work done today somehow, but mostly I'm miserable. It will pass. It's the price of having weather sensitivity and of being perimenopausal. I will return to my usual habits as soon as I can, I promise.
January 21, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-01-22T15:07:00
I haven't posted for a couple of days because...I have no idea. I just realised very late last night that I hadn't posted. How unlike me.
Bushfire smoke is diminishing enough so that I can work again and not have to redo the work. I have an outline and much thought on both sides of a door. I'm not even nearly ready to write the object of the outline, hence the much thought. Right now, it's missing a soul. This means I have Frankenstein's monster* outlined on two sides of a door.
I have no news about anything, really, except that I've decided not to get my new printer until after ANZAMEMS. I can survive a few weeks on a slow printer, and it gives me abetter idea of my overall finances. After ANZAMEMS teaching starts up again, you see, and I'll know if this is a year for courses to go ahead (like last year) or one where everything gets cancelled (like one rather bad year earlier). There's the possibility of two lots of editing arriving and also I am owed monies (adding up to several weeks groceries) for the work I did over everyone else's holidays, so I' fine financially for the basics. This is unexpected, but good. I'm just being careful. I've lived on too little money for too long not to be careful.
My next lot of minor deadlines is the middle of next week. Nothing as big as the last two months at this stage. It could change. I kinda hope it doesn't, for I'm having a lazy few days: I've seen season 2 of Downton Abbey and Season 4 of Eureka. I also kinda hope it does, but in the direction of something that changes the Schroedinger's Gillian into an academic with a regular job. I do think this is going to take a while, due to the complete lack of jobs out there.
In a few minutes I get a rescue trip. I need to return things to the library and pick up some groceries. Thank goodness for friends who realise that I'm not being overworried about what is now, not a lot of smoke. I am very glad every day I wake up and find that I don't have that foul inflammatory disorder I got last big bushfire season. Then I go back to sleep, for the allergies leave me tired...
*The spellcheck wants me to change this to 'Frankincense's monster' and, I admit, I am tempted.
Bushfire smoke is diminishing enough so that I can work again and not have to redo the work. I have an outline and much thought on both sides of a door. I'm not even nearly ready to write the object of the outline, hence the much thought. Right now, it's missing a soul. This means I have Frankenstein's monster* outlined on two sides of a door.
I have no news about anything, really, except that I've decided not to get my new printer until after ANZAMEMS. I can survive a few weeks on a slow printer, and it gives me abetter idea of my overall finances. After ANZAMEMS teaching starts up again, you see, and I'll know if this is a year for courses to go ahead (like last year) or one where everything gets cancelled (like one rather bad year earlier). There's the possibility of two lots of editing arriving and also I am owed monies (adding up to several weeks groceries) for the work I did over everyone else's holidays, so I' fine financially for the basics. This is unexpected, but good. I'm just being careful. I've lived on too little money for too long not to be careful.
My next lot of minor deadlines is the middle of next week. Nothing as big as the last two months at this stage. It could change. I kinda hope it doesn't, for I'm having a lazy few days: I've seen season 2 of Downton Abbey and Season 4 of Eureka. I also kinda hope it does, but in the direction of something that changes the Schroedinger's Gillian into an academic with a regular job. I do think this is going to take a while, due to the complete lack of jobs out there.
In a few minutes I get a rescue trip. I need to return things to the library and pick up some groceries. Thank goodness for friends who realise that I'm not being overworried about what is now, not a lot of smoke. I am very glad every day I wake up and find that I don't have that foul inflammatory disorder I got last big bushfire season. Then I go back to sleep, for the allergies leave me tired...
*The spellcheck wants me to change this to 'Frankincense's monster' and, I admit, I am tempted.
