Gillian Polack's Blog, page 173
July 6, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-07-06T21:10:00
Tonight I can't seem to focus, so I'm doing what all good researchers do when focus is unattainable: I'm fixing footnotes. I'm doing well so far (hah!) and am 1/8 through the whole. I just ran into a problem which will either be solved through Gallica or Google books (for I cannot remember where I put my printout of the reference pages and they're not entered where they ought to be and it's a very defunct and rare work). The upside of this (in a very negative sort of upsidey way) is that I nearly forgot to put all my e-references on the bibliography. At least the sad loss of the Miracles de Nostre Dame from my files reminded me before the situation got dire.
After I finish the footnotes I get to watch Gilbert and Sullivan and drink more ginger wine. And now, once more unto the breach...
After I finish the footnotes I get to watch Gilbert and Sullivan and drink more ginger wine. And now, once more unto the breach...
July 5, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-07-06T10:18:00
Even stranger dreams last night, but no royal parsnips, alas. The dreams are a simple by-product of pain and will fade in due course. they'll never fade entirely, for most nights I have fascinating dreams. Last night's though, was about ownership: of my creativity, of my body and of all my possessions. Very educative. I'm working on having that one fade promptly. I get enough of those messages every day and I don't really need to be reminded every night as well.
My delayed pay for teaching two months ago has started to come through. My delayed pay for teaching three weeks ago has not. The scholarship has still not been processed. This sounds far more awkward than it is, for it means that money will tide me through one of the two impossible periods of the year, and, at the end of it, I shall have a small amount of forced savings. This will be the start (or most of - depending on how much back pay I get at once) the computer money.
The computer is becoming more and more dead on its feet. This is becoming less and less acceptable. Poor K last night had to deal with problems, for instance, when I sent her files. It's one thing for me to have to deal: it's quite another for others.
Besides, it wouldn't be my life in 2012 without a physical problem to deal with the continuing size and pain - nothing I can do about it except what I'm doing - it's a result of the recent overwork and sequential crises) and a technical problem to deal with (the computer, obviously) and a problem in my flat (I have to tell the Body Corporate about that one - not a happy phonecall, for the problem involved cracks in walls) and my friends having life difficulties (only three friends right now ( but they're going through times that are far too interesting) and chase-up from insurance. In other words, this week is life as normal!!
My delayed pay for teaching two months ago has started to come through. My delayed pay for teaching three weeks ago has not. The scholarship has still not been processed. This sounds far more awkward than it is, for it means that money will tide me through one of the two impossible periods of the year, and, at the end of it, I shall have a small amount of forced savings. This will be the start (or most of - depending on how much back pay I get at once) the computer money.
The computer is becoming more and more dead on its feet. This is becoming less and less acceptable. Poor K last night had to deal with problems, for instance, when I sent her files. It's one thing for me to have to deal: it's quite another for others.
Besides, it wouldn't be my life in 2012 without a physical problem to deal with the continuing size and pain - nothing I can do about it except what I'm doing - it's a result of the recent overwork and sequential crises) and a technical problem to deal with (the computer, obviously) and a problem in my flat (I have to tell the Body Corporate about that one - not a happy phonecall, for the problem involved cracks in walls) and my friends having life difficulties (only three friends right now ( but they're going through times that are far too interesting) and chase-up from insurance. In other words, this week is life as normal!!
July 4, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-07-05T09:11:00
I'm determined to write interesting things today and only interesting things. Like my dreams last night.
Or possibly not like my dreams last night. For my dreams last night were about a royal christening. It was bigger and more sumptuous than any royal christening in the history of royal christenings: it lasted for many hours and had so much panoply and pageant that only segments could be aired on TV. There were, of course, amazing costumes and various folk dancers and other groups who were performing for the Christening Spectacular. I got to the see the baby just once once in the dream. All the rest was about meeting friends and navigating crowds and negotiating drinks.
I had a special ticket, as a writer and Australian and secret Person of Note. How one can be both secret and a Person of Note is something I forgot to ask my dream world. I suspect it was related to the fact that I am a lucid dreamer and was bored by the crowds and so teleported myself and an English country dancer friend in a rather Elizabethan costume to where all the best views were.
"Don't tell anyone I can do this," I informed her, in a tone of high seriousness. One speaks in tones of High Seriousness at Events of such Grandeur, it appears.
"Can you teleport all my rubbish home, so that I don't litter?" was her answer.
"Of course," and I did that and her costume was no longer encumbered by a large clear plastic bag sagging with the seasoning from chips. It had clashed with her silver and white colours, and now she had her hands free to shove through crowds: all was good.
The baby at the centre of all this was a parsnip, dressed in cloth of gold and white silk. Its proud parent (I'm not sure about sexing parsnips, so I don't know if it was the mother or father) was there beside it, also wrapped resplendently.
I shall give up on my earnest endeavour to be worth reading and go make a big pot of coffee. The Memory of the Parsnip demands this action. Actually the Memory of the Parsnip demanded that we all adjourn at a pub afterwards, to marvel over the event, but the nearest pub won't be open for hours and the coffee pot is on the stove.
Or possibly not like my dreams last night. For my dreams last night were about a royal christening. It was bigger and more sumptuous than any royal christening in the history of royal christenings: it lasted for many hours and had so much panoply and pageant that only segments could be aired on TV. There were, of course, amazing costumes and various folk dancers and other groups who were performing for the Christening Spectacular. I got to the see the baby just once once in the dream. All the rest was about meeting friends and navigating crowds and negotiating drinks.
I had a special ticket, as a writer and Australian and secret Person of Note. How one can be both secret and a Person of Note is something I forgot to ask my dream world. I suspect it was related to the fact that I am a lucid dreamer and was bored by the crowds and so teleported myself and an English country dancer friend in a rather Elizabethan costume to where all the best views were.
"Don't tell anyone I can do this," I informed her, in a tone of high seriousness. One speaks in tones of High Seriousness at Events of such Grandeur, it appears.
"Can you teleport all my rubbish home, so that I don't litter?" was her answer.
"Of course," and I did that and her costume was no longer encumbered by a large clear plastic bag sagging with the seasoning from chips. It had clashed with her silver and white colours, and now she had her hands free to shove through crowds: all was good.
The baby at the centre of all this was a parsnip, dressed in cloth of gold and white silk. Its proud parent (I'm not sure about sexing parsnips, so I don't know if it was the mother or father) was there beside it, also wrapped resplendently.
I shall give up on my earnest endeavour to be worth reading and go make a big pot of coffee. The Memory of the Parsnip demands this action. Actually the Memory of the Parsnip demanded that we all adjourn at a pub afterwards, to marvel over the event, but the nearest pub won't be open for hours and the coffee pot is on the stove.
gillpolack @ 2012-07-04T18:58:00
End of term hit. I keep forgetting that it was a 15 week teaching term this time round, which is a long time. I also keep forgetting how very eventful the year has been and keeps on being.
I'm looking at my lists of must-dos and thinking, "Most of them can wait until tomorrow." I've only 2 more chunks of stuff then, that I must do today. I've not been precisely lazy: I crossed six things off the list before it all hit me with a whack.
This evening will be devoted to editing (the big task that cannot be postponed) and to watching daft DVDs. The one other must-do thing can be squiggled in between these important tasks. And everything else is for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
How is it that my life, when exciting, can't be written down and my life, when busy, gets written down in lists and reduced to a kind of public servitude? Anyhow, for two weeks I can work as late as I like and only have to wake up early once. That once is Sunday, alas, for the write-a-novel-in-a-day charity thingie (I'm part of the CSFG team) and it means waking up at 6.30 am, but it's just one day. I shall complain, but I shall survive.
And there is no more news. Higgs boson particles have swallowed it all.
I'm looking at my lists of must-dos and thinking, "Most of them can wait until tomorrow." I've only 2 more chunks of stuff then, that I must do today. I've not been precisely lazy: I crossed six things off the list before it all hit me with a whack.
This evening will be devoted to editing (the big task that cannot be postponed) and to watching daft DVDs. The one other must-do thing can be squiggled in between these important tasks. And everything else is for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
How is it that my life, when exciting, can't be written down and my life, when busy, gets written down in lists and reduced to a kind of public servitude? Anyhow, for two weeks I can work as late as I like and only have to wake up early once. That once is Sunday, alas, for the write-a-novel-in-a-day charity thingie (I'm part of the CSFG team) and it means waking up at 6.30 am, but it's just one day. I shall complain, but I shall survive.
And there is no more news. Higgs boson particles have swallowed it all.
July 3, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-07-04T13:59:00
Now it's almost 11 degrees and term has officially finished for me. I hall have my official term-is-finished-and-I-can't-stand-up without support nap. Before then, I shall admire this entry on CSFG's website: http://csfg.wordpress.com/2012/07/04/congratulations-to-gillian-polack/ After then, I have novel to edit, dissertation to footnote and etc. Much (as usual) etc. No teaching until I reach Sydney, though, which gives me bunches of time to sort myself out.
Speaking of Sydney, I will be round long enough for dinner with friends. The question is, do any of my Sydney friends want dinner with me?
Speaking of Sydney, I will be round long enough for dinner with friends. The question is, do any of my Sydney friends want dinner with me?
gillpolack @ 2012-07-04T08:52:00
I told myself that I didn't want to go outside until it was at least zero degrees and Canberra is generously obliging. Last night it was -6 and right now it's heading for zero apace, and it's a half hour before I have to leave. It's just as well it's a half hour, for my computer is grumbling because it got cold. A grumbling computer is a pain in the neck, but I've managed this morning's edits regardless.
Last night I dreamed of many things, and I woke up trying to fathom if my mind was informing me that I was going to write about 19th century literature. Either that, or I have to re-read something, but I can't remember what. Not Dickens. Not Gissing. Possibly Martineau. And not for a few weeks, regardless of the vividness of the dream. There was a philosopher in the dream and there were family friends who persuaded me to mind their dog and then went off somewhere without me. This totally made me think of one of my sisters, oddly. Not that any of my sisters are philosophers or have dogs.
After great consideration, the secret message in my dream was quite possibly that it was cold last night. It's going to be gorgeous today, however. Even as I've typed, the temperature has shot up above zero. It may be as warm as five degrees before I venture out, and it will probably be around 14 degrees after I finish teaching, when I race around like a mad chicken, trying to remember what messages are to be done. It won't cool down again until I'm back here, ensconced next to the heater, persuading my computer not to be a pill.
Last night I dreamed of many things, and I woke up trying to fathom if my mind was informing me that I was going to write about 19th century literature. Either that, or I have to re-read something, but I can't remember what. Not Dickens. Not Gissing. Possibly Martineau. And not for a few weeks, regardless of the vividness of the dream. There was a philosopher in the dream and there were family friends who persuaded me to mind their dog and then went off somewhere without me. This totally made me think of one of my sisters, oddly. Not that any of my sisters are philosophers or have dogs.
After great consideration, the secret message in my dream was quite possibly that it was cold last night. It's going to be gorgeous today, however. Even as I've typed, the temperature has shot up above zero. It may be as warm as five degrees before I venture out, and it will probably be around 14 degrees after I finish teaching, when I race around like a mad chicken, trying to remember what messages are to be done. It won't cool down again until I'm back here, ensconced next to the heater, persuading my computer not to be a pill.
gillpolack @ 2012-07-03T23:23:00
My keyboard died on me tonight. Fortunately, I had a spare in L-space, for I am tough on keyboards and this is not the first time it's happened. It happened at a good moment, too. My lists were developing their own spin-off lists and I was about to throw my common sense out the window. This would have meant opening the window, which would have been unwise, for it had just turned -2 outside. Spare keyboards; down dressing gowns: my advance planning has paid vast dividends tonight.
I shall hunt my teaching notes and ready them for class prep in the morning and then I shall take my warm self to my cold bed. Or I could air the doona over the heater and have a warm bed in a half hour? I deserve it - I did ten out of the fifteen items on my final list, and that included all the time sensitive items. And I ate chocolate.
I shall hunt my teaching notes and ready them for class prep in the morning and then I shall take my warm self to my cold bed. Or I could air the doona over the heater and have a warm bed in a half hour? I deserve it - I did ten out of the fifteen items on my final list, and that included all the time sensitive items. And I ate chocolate.
July 2, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-07-03T14:30:00
I just got a phonecall about the insurance stuff. I'd not posted something because, as I explained, I was being bookish. We talked about my books and she was very excited about Ms Cellophane, but even more so about the Conflux book.
"Where can I find the new book?" she asked.
"On iTunes," I suggested.
She obviously called my details up on the spot, for her answer was "OMG, you're there!" She has to send me an email but she's buying the book first.
And now I've had my squee of the day, I'm back to bibliographies.
"Where can I find the new book?" she asked.
"On iTunes," I suggested.
She obviously called my details up on the spot, for her answer was "OMG, you're there!" She has to send me an email but she's buying the book first.
And now I've had my squee of the day, I'm back to bibliographies.
gillpolack @ 2012-07-03T13:47:00
I'm very slow starting in on real work today. I've done lots of small things and I've even done some housework (I know, this is very unlike me) but I haven't actually finished any of the need-finishing tasks. Some of them are well advanced but no, not actually finished.
I blame end-of-term-itis. Tomorrow is my last class for two weeks. I'd planned many days of long hours working on my dissertation during this time, but somehow I've caught up with myself and what I have to do is sort out the footnotes and do a close read. This is still two weeks work, easily, but neither long hours nor particularly difficult. I also have to re-read my novel at a few pages a day (to pick up things I missed on faster reads). And my wild work today was to clear the decks for this- and I'm not sure I need to, I think, deep down.
I ought to. Those fourteen things will make my life easier and then the same again tomorrow will make my life almost straightforward, but I'm so used to being pushed beyond my limits that I'm almost scared of not having to. This is daft. I know it's daft. Also, in a few weeks time, my life will become crowded again,for there will be revisions to all the work I'm finishing now and there will be job hunting and there will be October 26 (the date after which my life may or may not change,depending on the job market). So it's sensible to do the work and to finish things. But still, I procrastinate.
I've made a big pot of coffee and I shall work steadily on various items until it's finished. Then I shall have a hot bath (for it was -6 overnight and my toes are still cold) and then I shall work steadily again until 6 pm. By this stage my list will be half the size, or maybe even smaller and I shall be lured by the prospect of success to finish the last few things in the evening, before I do teaching prep.
If I say this firmly enough and publicly enough, I won't have a choice...
I blame end-of-term-itis. Tomorrow is my last class for two weeks. I'd planned many days of long hours working on my dissertation during this time, but somehow I've caught up with myself and what I have to do is sort out the footnotes and do a close read. This is still two weeks work, easily, but neither long hours nor particularly difficult. I also have to re-read my novel at a few pages a day (to pick up things I missed on faster reads). And my wild work today was to clear the decks for this- and I'm not sure I need to, I think, deep down.
I ought to. Those fourteen things will make my life easier and then the same again tomorrow will make my life almost straightforward, but I'm so used to being pushed beyond my limits that I'm almost scared of not having to. This is daft. I know it's daft. Also, in a few weeks time, my life will become crowded again,for there will be revisions to all the work I'm finishing now and there will be job hunting and there will be October 26 (the date after which my life may or may not change,depending on the job market). So it's sensible to do the work and to finish things. But still, I procrastinate.
I've made a big pot of coffee and I shall work steadily on various items until it's finished. Then I shall have a hot bath (for it was -6 overnight and my toes are still cold) and then I shall work steadily again until 6 pm. By this stage my list will be half the size, or maybe even smaller and I shall be lured by the prospect of success to finish the last few things in the evening, before I do teaching prep.
If I say this firmly enough and publicly enough, I won't have a choice...
Cellophane updates
The first stop in my blogtour for Ms Cellophane is my publisher's website. They made the mistake of saying I could write about anything, so of course I wrote about chocolate. It was either going to be chocolate or the Middle Ages, and it was a cold day, so chocolate won. The other thing that won was me finally admitting in public that the books I write aren't always the books people read.
The mirror is still sitting on my coffee table,looking charming. And Sharyn doesn't know I invented some dialogue for her. We actually had that conversation, but not all of it.
And my competition will run for the whole of July. I shall look forward to amazing pictures of my book getting up to mischief. Or maybe simply of my book being read in cool surroundings. Elizabeth-in-the-book (since Elizabeth-not-in-the-book keeps thinking I'm talking about her) has had a dull life recently,and needs some adventure.
In other news, my computer continues to spew forth new challenges every couple of days. The most recent is the spacebar deciding it's going to half-die. I am saving up for a new computer.
The mirror is still sitting on my coffee table,looking charming. And Sharyn doesn't know I invented some dialogue for her. We actually had that conversation, but not all of it.
And my competition will run for the whole of July. I shall look forward to amazing pictures of my book getting up to mischief. Or maybe simply of my book being read in cool surroundings. Elizabeth-in-the-book (since Elizabeth-not-in-the-book keeps thinking I'm talking about her) has had a dull life recently,and needs some adventure.
In other news, my computer continues to spew forth new challenges every couple of days. The most recent is the spacebar deciding it's going to half-die. I am saving up for a new computer.
