Gillian Polack's Blog, page 242
June 28, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-28T21:46:00
I have a quick magician's gambit, to keep you unaware that I'm still not posting properly, but am, indeed, diminishing my lists. The draft programme for Conflux is online. Exciting stuff!
I can't answer any questions about it, alas, being on leave from the Conflux committee for a few weeks. There are other committee members, whoever, know m=know many things and share much wisdom.
I can't answer any questions about it, alas, being on leave from the Conflux committee for a few weeks. There are other committee members, whoever, know m=know many things and share much wisdom.
gillpolack @ 2011-06-28T16:13:00
From having no lists, I have too many. I'm rationalising. By tomorrow morning I shall be listless...
Tomorrow afternoon (or at an appropriate time when I have decent web access) I shall return to normal blogging and it will be apparent that these lists are meaningful and important and lead to results. Just as long as there are no ashes on Wednesday... (I keep telling volcanoes that I'm Jewish and that Ash Wednesday is entirely not something I should have to worry about. I keep wanting to apologise to my Christian friends.)
Tomorrow afternoon (or at an appropriate time when I have decent web access) I shall return to normal blogging and it will be apparent that these lists are meaningful and important and lead to results. Just as long as there are no ashes on Wednesday... (I keep telling volcanoes that I'm Jewish and that Ash Wednesday is entirely not something I should have to worry about. I keep wanting to apologise to my Christian friends.)
June 27, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-27T17:32:00
I'm running out of lists. This is, I think, a good thing.
I'm running out of brain. This is, I think, less of a good thing.
I've almost run out of chocolate for my own consumption. This is, I think, a very bad thing. (On the other hand, I may well have chocolate bilbies and tree frogs with me on Thursday night and maybe Friday morning - if you have need of such things and encounter me, all you need to do is ask nicely.)
I'm running out of brain. This is, I think, less of a good thing.
I've almost run out of chocolate for my own consumption. This is, I think, a very bad thing. (On the other hand, I may well have chocolate bilbies and tree frogs with me on Thursday night and maybe Friday morning - if you have need of such things and encounter me, all you need to do is ask nicely.)
June 26, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-26T14:43:00
Today is one of those days that flits out of sight before you quite know it's there.
June 25, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-25T14:05:00
I want to make a gloriously boastful list of things that I have done this week and luxuriate in my hard work. The trouble is, that if I do that, I might get a bit slack (it being cold and wintry) and I can't stop doing bunches of hard work until everything is done. And the moment I sort out one thing, another thing rears its head and says "You need some trouble. You so need to add to your day and make it a bit longer."
Despite all this, my nephew has his doctorate and my mother has escaped the ashes and is safely home and the doctor is actually pleased with me. My stacks of paper really *are* diminishing (at last) and my brain may soon be able to contain the things I must do.
Also, the cause of all that immense fatigue I've had these last six months? Iron deficiency. To those who see the word 'deficiency' and think 'diet' - my diet is fine, I have a history of poor uptake of iron. Given all the other possible causes, the doctor and I hadn't considered it, is all. Now I'm wondering how long it will take before the supplements kick in. I want to know just when people have to suffer an energetic Gillian. I'm hoping that a few days will do it and that I will lose the worst of the fatigue in time for London.
Right now, I'm putting off work. I want to say I'm allergic to it (I am, to housework, but not to paperwork) but the truth is that I'm bone lazy.
Despite all this, my nephew has his doctorate and my mother has escaped the ashes and is safely home and the doctor is actually pleased with me. My stacks of paper really *are* diminishing (at last) and my brain may soon be able to contain the things I must do.
Also, the cause of all that immense fatigue I've had these last six months? Iron deficiency. To those who see the word 'deficiency' and think 'diet' - my diet is fine, I have a history of poor uptake of iron. Given all the other possible causes, the doctor and I hadn't considered it, is all. Now I'm wondering how long it will take before the supplements kick in. I want to know just when people have to suffer an energetic Gillian. I'm hoping that a few days will do it and that I will lose the worst of the fatigue in time for London.
Right now, I'm putting off work. I want to say I'm allergic to it (I am, to housework, but not to paperwork) but the truth is that I'm bone lazy.
June 24, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-24T19:21:00
The news is full of Refugee Week and also Melbourne now having a Catholic bishop who was first a refugee. It makes me realise why I don't understand Australians who want to deny entry to refugees. I know what happens to the descendants of people who flee hate and torture and despair. They have children and those children are us.
I talk about my English ancestry a lot because I'm exploring it right now. Most of me, however, is of other origin. My mother's mother's parents fled the pogroms in Kishinev, for instance and my mother's father found safety in Australia after troubled times in Bialystock*. Very few Jews have ancestry that isn't refugee, one way or another.
This means I absolutely can't understand the people who want to shut Australia's doors. Offering asylum to those in such need should not be an optional extra for a society. Human rights should not be cast aside simply because the country of persecution isn't the one we're familiar with or the means of transport to Australia isn't one we're comfortable with.
I want to say that I don't understand where Australia's distrust of asylum seekers comes from, but I do. Australia has its own streak of racism. I hate it when it means I lose a career or when idiot bigots walk away from a conversation when they discover I'm Jewish, or when someone asks "What would your parents say if you married an Australian." I hate it far more, however, when human beings who are suffering are not given refuge. There are certain basics that we all ought to be able to expect - safety is one of them.
* Arnold Zable's amazing book Jewels and Ashes contains reference to my family - the family that didn't make it to the Antipodes and who died in the Shoah because Australia and most other countries closed their doors
I talk about my English ancestry a lot because I'm exploring it right now. Most of me, however, is of other origin. My mother's mother's parents fled the pogroms in Kishinev, for instance and my mother's father found safety in Australia after troubled times in Bialystock*. Very few Jews have ancestry that isn't refugee, one way or another.
This means I absolutely can't understand the people who want to shut Australia's doors. Offering asylum to those in such need should not be an optional extra for a society. Human rights should not be cast aside simply because the country of persecution isn't the one we're familiar with or the means of transport to Australia isn't one we're comfortable with.
I want to say that I don't understand where Australia's distrust of asylum seekers comes from, but I do. Australia has its own streak of racism. I hate it when it means I lose a career or when idiot bigots walk away from a conversation when they discover I'm Jewish, or when someone asks "What would your parents say if you married an Australian." I hate it far more, however, when human beings who are suffering are not given refuge. There are certain basics that we all ought to be able to expect - safety is one of them.
* Arnold Zable's amazing book Jewels and Ashes contains reference to my family - the family that didn't make it to the Antipodes and who died in the Shoah because Australia and most other countries closed their doors
gillpolack @ 2011-06-24T16:24:00
I'm halfway between medlars and dissertation. Chapter Four is there, asking me why I haven't started writing it yet. I suspect I haven't started writing it yet because the notes have been sitting on my desk for three weeks and I can't for the life of me remember what Chapter Four is supposed to be about.
*miniscule period of time where I consult my door, which contains my dissertation outline (on one side - on the other it contains a complete calendar for the year 1305 including dusk and moon phases and a breakdown of what work I really ought to get done between now and the end of 2012 - my door is more intelligent than I am at the present moment)*
I'm writing about techniques historians can use to get history into fiction. Now I want to know why I couldn't remember that, given it's what I've been working on for eighteen months now (which is why I have a pile of notes). This makes me wonder if I left my brain at the doctor's this afternoon and if it's worth my while walking back there to look for it.
I think I need more coffee.
*miniscule period of time where I consult my door, which contains my dissertation outline (on one side - on the other it contains a complete calendar for the year 1305 including dusk and moon phases and a breakdown of what work I really ought to get done between now and the end of 2012 - my door is more intelligent than I am at the present moment)*
I'm writing about techniques historians can use to get history into fiction. Now I want to know why I couldn't remember that, given it's what I've been working on for eighteen months now (which is why I have a pile of notes). This makes me wonder if I left my brain at the doctor's this afternoon and if it's worth my while walking back there to look for it.
I think I need more coffee.
June 23, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-23T17:47:00
Today I am doing a bad job at crossing things off lists. I'm still working, but nothing seems to quite reach the 'finished' stage. Emails remain unanswered (by which I mean I have sent out a constant stream and received a trickle back), books never quite seem to get finished. It's a high pain day, too, which doesn't help. Makes me glad I'm missing July in Canberra - warmer weather will help the physical side of things.
And in other news... tidiness does not make anything easier to find. Unless I have not taken tidiness to sufficient heights as yet (which is probably the case). I have demolished so many things and put away so many more and still I spent an hour today looking for something that turned out to be in a perfectly obvious place. In my next life, I shall have a personal assistant who will let me know every morning where I left my brain.
And in altogether splendid news, a parcel has arrived from shewhomust and I am *so* looking forward to reading its contents (I need to work faster) and Anna Tambour sent me a belated birthday present of a box of mostly-bletted medlars. It was a small box - just the right size for my friends and I to enjoy over the next few days. Medlars are ready later where she lives than where I live - I wasn't expecting them!
And in other news... tidiness does not make anything easier to find. Unless I have not taken tidiness to sufficient heights as yet (which is probably the case). I have demolished so many things and put away so many more and still I spent an hour today looking for something that turned out to be in a perfectly obvious place. In my next life, I shall have a personal assistant who will let me know every morning where I left my brain.
And in altogether splendid news, a parcel has arrived from shewhomust and I am *so* looking forward to reading its contents (I need to work faster) and Anna Tambour sent me a belated birthday present of a box of mostly-bletted medlars. It was a small box - just the right size for my friends and I to enjoy over the next few days. Medlars are ready later where she lives than where I live - I wasn't expecting them!
June 22, 2011
Quantum poets
This morning wasn't very quantum (all these weeks in and we're still doing background - Quantum Physics for Poets is very solid on background), but we got to talk about toasters and blackbody radiation and electromagnetic radiation. One of my poets wants to measure and describe the spectra of love, which is something I'll leave to the physicists.
Our cultural background topics (I let my class pick their own topics today) were the history of the Holy Grail (or the stories thereof, including, of course how Chretien's continuators and the prose adaptations changed things - someone looked up my explanation and sounded surprised "She's right" he said - "She's always right" said another student, which isn't true, but fitted the mood of the day) and the difference between Pygmalion the Greek legend and Pygmalion the GBS play.
Sure as roads lead to Rome, the Holy Grail explanation led to an explanation of Geoffrey of Monmouth's writing techniques as applied to Merlin's prophecies compared with Delphic oracles and Nostradamus' prophecies. Everyone waxed prophetic and wrote in all three forms. One of my students turned out of have an amazing knack for writing prose prophecies in the style of Geoffrey of Monmouth. My favourite prophecy was that I would fall in love while I was overseas and that I would never return (in the style of Nostradamus). I pointed out that visa regulations did not work in my favour in this regard.
We also reviewed reviews again and had umpteen squillion words of the day. We had Woden and its relationship to Odin and Wutan and Wednesday, and we defined phonetics and discussed why the phonetic alphabet is so very handy. We talked about knights and laughs and shifts in English and how spelling often shows the word's origin. I was persuaded to say Sir Gawain and the Greene Knight, twice. Apparently Middle English has Monty Python beat for cuteness.
The class started early and ended late. Despite the fact that we did so much stuff that they were obviously enjoying, I was surrounded by glum faces. Not even quantum physics combined with acutely bad puns could make my students happy. One student made me two cups of her own special blend of chai. It's nice to know I will be missed, but I kept wanting to make things better. I did what I could. I gave them extra homework and also the first three episodes of Zorro's Fighting Legion, so that their review films all have trailers.
No more classwork until August.
Our cultural background topics (I let my class pick their own topics today) were the history of the Holy Grail (or the stories thereof, including, of course how Chretien's continuators and the prose adaptations changed things - someone looked up my explanation and sounded surprised "She's right" he said - "She's always right" said another student, which isn't true, but fitted the mood of the day) and the difference between Pygmalion the Greek legend and Pygmalion the GBS play.
Sure as roads lead to Rome, the Holy Grail explanation led to an explanation of Geoffrey of Monmouth's writing techniques as applied to Merlin's prophecies compared with Delphic oracles and Nostradamus' prophecies. Everyone waxed prophetic and wrote in all three forms. One of my students turned out of have an amazing knack for writing prose prophecies in the style of Geoffrey of Monmouth. My favourite prophecy was that I would fall in love while I was overseas and that I would never return (in the style of Nostradamus). I pointed out that visa regulations did not work in my favour in this regard.
We also reviewed reviews again and had umpteen squillion words of the day. We had Woden and its relationship to Odin and Wutan and Wednesday, and we defined phonetics and discussed why the phonetic alphabet is so very handy. We talked about knights and laughs and shifts in English and how spelling often shows the word's origin. I was persuaded to say Sir Gawain and the Greene Knight, twice. Apparently Middle English has Monty Python beat for cuteness.
The class started early and ended late. Despite the fact that we did so much stuff that they were obviously enjoying, I was surrounded by glum faces. Not even quantum physics combined with acutely bad puns could make my students happy. One student made me two cups of her own special blend of chai. It's nice to know I will be missed, but I kept wanting to make things better. I did what I could. I gave them extra homework and also the first three episodes of Zorro's Fighting Legion, so that their review films all have trailers.
No more classwork until August.
June 21, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-06-21T14:48:00
I'm avoiding doing anything useful until the coffee is brewed. After all my cries for coffee this morning, I kept forgetting to make it. I blame my cold toes. (when the coffee is brewed I ought to do something about bare feet, perhaps, given it's somewhere between four and five degrees outside, and obviously my toes haven't worked out yet that they are indoors)
Mainly, today, I'm trying to put off filling in forms. This year I have filled in more forms than any other year in my life. Each and every form requires strange information sourced from bizarre places.
I am putting forms into my time travel novel, because otherwise the forms win. I am giving carriage of the forms to my least favourite character. Wait! I already did that! This may be why I'm beleaguered. Revenge of the Paperwork.
(I just realised that four forms are for a single purpose. Why four forms? Why? I've done three, anyhow. Only one to go and that single purpose just requires a visit to the post office and it's out of the way. Complete. Done. Then I can move onto the next batch of amazing documents that trust so implicitly in my capacity to write readably. At this point anyone who has actually tried to read my handwriting is obliged to snigger.)
(If anyone demands additional form-filling from me this week, I shall use iambic pentameters or answer as many questions as possible in Old French. In the meantime, I really ought to do something about my poor cold toes.)
Mainly, today, I'm trying to put off filling in forms. This year I have filled in more forms than any other year in my life. Each and every form requires strange information sourced from bizarre places.
I am putting forms into my time travel novel, because otherwise the forms win. I am giving carriage of the forms to my least favourite character. Wait! I already did that! This may be why I'm beleaguered. Revenge of the Paperwork.
(I just realised that four forms are for a single purpose. Why four forms? Why? I've done three, anyhow. Only one to go and that single purpose just requires a visit to the post office and it's out of the way. Complete. Done. Then I can move onto the next batch of amazing documents that trust so implicitly in my capacity to write readably. At this point anyone who has actually tried to read my handwriting is obliged to snigger.)
(If anyone demands additional form-filling from me this week, I shall use iambic pentameters or answer as many questions as possible in Old French. In the meantime, I really ought to do something about my poor cold toes.)
