Gillian Polack's Blog, page 83
January 29, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-30T12:05:00
The advantage of appointments with long waits is that one gets a bit of reading done. I read 2 1/2 books this morning. My knee and foot have had many images taken, and the doctor is very pleased with my progress on the general health front. She is updated on the eye and I have a new referral for it. And apparently I was right about many of my woes being caused by lack of iodine and by magnesium deficiency.
I'm going to celebrate all this by finishing the last half novel, and then having lunch. Then I shall work.
The books were work-related, but not actually current work. I read two straight SF novellas by Simon Petrie, a bunch of short stories that were good but all a bit same-ish (which was obviously an editor's decision) and the half novel was time travel by Joe Haldeman. I got it for my PhD, but didn't need it (for it mainly concerns future time and used a different set of theories to the ones I was playing with) but it's important to have read it. IN a half hour, all these books will be gone from the "Must read or else" shelf and my library will be that much tidier.
Anticipating this, I've ordered more books from the ACT library. Of course I have. There's always more to read. There's a trifle of grimdark, Fragile Things (for I want to check something in the Susan story - I think I'm overlaying interpretations, which is not a good thing) and some Alan Moore.
For those who mourn my lack of reading of work by women writers, the books I sent my work experience student home with yesterday were by Sue Bursztynski and by Helen Lowe - and of course I've already read them. Book discussions are a part of what we do. Actually, so are discussions of other narratives. And I'm learning fro her just a bit more about how teens read the books we write for them.
My life would be very sad without books.
I'm going to celebrate all this by finishing the last half novel, and then having lunch. Then I shall work.
The books were work-related, but not actually current work. I read two straight SF novellas by Simon Petrie, a bunch of short stories that were good but all a bit same-ish (which was obviously an editor's decision) and the half novel was time travel by Joe Haldeman. I got it for my PhD, but didn't need it (for it mainly concerns future time and used a different set of theories to the ones I was playing with) but it's important to have read it. IN a half hour, all these books will be gone from the "Must read or else" shelf and my library will be that much tidier.
Anticipating this, I've ordered more books from the ACT library. Of course I have. There's always more to read. There's a trifle of grimdark, Fragile Things (for I want to check something in the Susan story - I think I'm overlaying interpretations, which is not a good thing) and some Alan Moore.
For those who mourn my lack of reading of work by women writers, the books I sent my work experience student home with yesterday were by Sue Bursztynski and by Helen Lowe - and of course I've already read them. Book discussions are a part of what we do. Actually, so are discussions of other narratives. And I'm learning fro her just a bit more about how teens read the books we write for them.
My life would be very sad without books.
gillpolack @ 2014-01-29T22:49:00
Dear Paper
I realise that on some days there is nothing better than flinging oneself mysteriously around the room. I acknowledge the joy in fluttering to far corners using non-existent breezes. I'm not sure why the note about the doctor's hours switched places with one that said "Catholic Tridentine" but I'm entirely certain the reason was profound.
I do wish you'd stop hiding, though. I don't need a stack of notes on King Arthur across cultural boundaries (although I possibly need to decide if I want to throw it out or to write about it), and I very much do need the bibliographical cards that were once in its place. By 'once' I mean three hours ago. (And just saying this has scolded the bibliographical cards into appearing just next to the printer - I should do this more often.)
Maybe you're responding to my evil attitude towards you. Maybe you know that today I sorted a box of you into its component parts and that some of the component parts will be recycled and the rest will be dealt with severely. The box is now empty, but that's no use to you, for it's gone on its own little wander.
There is no safety for you in this household. None. If I find you scattered where you should not be, then you will be dealt with and then recycled. This week, I will regain my floor and this week I will add footnotes and endnotes and write up every stray scrap of errant page that I can find.
My reason for this? It's 'Because."
I realise that on some days there is nothing better than flinging oneself mysteriously around the room. I acknowledge the joy in fluttering to far corners using non-existent breezes. I'm not sure why the note about the doctor's hours switched places with one that said "Catholic Tridentine" but I'm entirely certain the reason was profound.
I do wish you'd stop hiding, though. I don't need a stack of notes on King Arthur across cultural boundaries (although I possibly need to decide if I want to throw it out or to write about it), and I very much do need the bibliographical cards that were once in its place. By 'once' I mean three hours ago. (And just saying this has scolded the bibliographical cards into appearing just next to the printer - I should do this more often.)
Maybe you're responding to my evil attitude towards you. Maybe you know that today I sorted a box of you into its component parts and that some of the component parts will be recycled and the rest will be dealt with severely. The box is now empty, but that's no use to you, for it's gone on its own little wander.
There is no safety for you in this household. None. If I find you scattered where you should not be, then you will be dealt with and then recycled. This week, I will regain my floor and this week I will add footnotes and endnotes and write up every stray scrap of errant page that I can find.
My reason for this? It's 'Because."
January 28, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-29T10:55:00
I had a meeting this morning. A paid meeting. I rather like paid meetings, especially when accompanied by huge cups of coffee. My Wednesday class is sorted for the year (change of locations and much else) and I'm officially back into the teaching year. I don't know how much teaching I'll have, overall (less than last year, but maybe, all going well, not much less) but I know a bunch more than I did.
From now til afternoon is "How much of the various tasks on her desk can Gillian kill dead." Afternoon is work experience student and she gets my computer and I work on a bunch of notes that need sorting (and an article that needs editing) at my slope-desk. Also, we need to talk quantum physics.
Late afternoon is all about the Beast. I shall be dedicated and beastly. Also medieval.
The evening is devoted to beta reading for others. And to a meeting. I'm looking forward to both.
I'm planning this day as if it was a military campaign. The heat demands it. It's 30 degrees already. Fortunately for me, the bushfires weren't blowing in my direction last night, so I had 5 hours of decent sleep with the windows open. I don't know if I'll be as capable of great work as the heatwave progresses, so finishing as much as possible is sensible.
For my next trick, I shall work on chansons de geste. Specially, I shall write an introduction to chansons de geste that's actually all about Raoul de Cambrai. This is related to speculative fiction. I found my Old French version of Raoul yesterday, and also some handy notes which I intend to process into an introduction. This time my notes have my wonderful reference system attached (it's only the once I didn't do that, and that once I have been regretting for three years) and so this tiny part of my next book-chapter will be relatively straightforward. And I get to re-read Raoul, which is always a bonus.
From now til afternoon is "How much of the various tasks on her desk can Gillian kill dead." Afternoon is work experience student and she gets my computer and I work on a bunch of notes that need sorting (and an article that needs editing) at my slope-desk. Also, we need to talk quantum physics.
Late afternoon is all about the Beast. I shall be dedicated and beastly. Also medieval.
The evening is devoted to beta reading for others. And to a meeting. I'm looking forward to both.
I'm planning this day as if it was a military campaign. The heat demands it. It's 30 degrees already. Fortunately for me, the bushfires weren't blowing in my direction last night, so I had 5 hours of decent sleep with the windows open. I don't know if I'll be as capable of great work as the heatwave progresses, so finishing as much as possible is sensible.
For my next trick, I shall work on chansons de geste. Specially, I shall write an introduction to chansons de geste that's actually all about Raoul de Cambrai. This is related to speculative fiction. I found my Old French version of Raoul yesterday, and also some handy notes which I intend to process into an introduction. This time my notes have my wonderful reference system attached (it's only the once I didn't do that, and that once I have been regretting for three years) and so this tiny part of my next book-chapter will be relatively straightforward. And I get to re-read Raoul, which is always a bonus.
gillpolack @ 2014-01-28T22:48:00
Not only did I spend a delightful evening with friends tonight, but they had a cool house. I sat under an air vent, drank a very fine red and wondered why summer isn't always this delightful. Friends, food, film and fitting into my body.
My next half hour is labelling photos, and then I have an hour and a half work, for tomorrow morning is too busy to fit everything, so I must sneak some stuff in now. Still, though, I feel all kinds of happy. Friends do this to me. So does cool air.
Tomorrow is heatwave-ish, so I've made a pot of coffee. Breakfast will consist of taking it out of the fridge and quaffing it. Right now, it's sitting in my 50s blue jug (ceramic, with white spots) looking appealing. I'm going to ignore it and drink water instead. It doesn't want to be ignored. Coffee is such a demanding substance...
My next half hour is labelling photos, and then I have an hour and a half work, for tomorrow morning is too busy to fit everything, so I must sneak some stuff in now. Still, though, I feel all kinds of happy. Friends do this to me. So does cool air.
Tomorrow is heatwave-ish, so I've made a pot of coffee. Breakfast will consist of taking it out of the fridge and quaffing it. Right now, it's sitting in my 50s blue jug (ceramic, with white spots) looking appealing. I'm going to ignore it and drink water instead. It doesn't want to be ignored. Coffee is such a demanding substance...
January 27, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-28T10:47:00
In other thoughts (for I'm procrastinating right now), when I read someone's blog for a large number of years and I see that they're enthusiastic about everything except their work,* I start to think that they're in the wrong job. It's a bit sad.
Also sad is that I still have scanning...
*eg the writer who no longer reads, the editor who no longer dreams words, the artist who'd rather knit, the plumber who never wants to see another pipe - not the teacher who can't talk about work because the privacy of their students counts, or the journalist or politician who have to divide cleanly between public and private
Also sad is that I still have scanning...
*eg the writer who no longer reads, the editor who no longer dreams words, the artist who'd rather knit, the plumber who never wants to see another pipe - not the teacher who can't talk about work because the privacy of their students counts, or the journalist or politician who have to divide cleanly between public and private
gillpolack @ 2014-01-28T10:43:00
Today is very odd. The library catalogue is still down, which is becoming a problem and the Body Corporate still haven't approved fixing my building which becomes an increasing problem. My morning was all planned and rational and designed to get things done, but an unexpected meeting for someone else has delayed things and neither of us know the pattern of the day.
I was hoping to have it all sorted by now, and have been scanning more photos as an interim measure. It's harder to extract myself from a chapter than from a sequence of photos, after all. Forty-five photos on and I really want to get to these chapters that are sitting in a basket, staring accusingly. (Do not ask why this project is sitting in a calico-lined basket until it gets worked on - it's just how things happen around here.)
The good news is that my photos are suddenly taking up less space. If anyone local wants small albums/brag books, I have some I no longer need, because of this taking-up-of-less-space. It's a happy side effect of sorting out my world-building pictures. I also have over 14,000 pictures in my photo library - very handy.
The bad news is that I've only got 500 photos to go and appear to be rather short on seventeenth century England. I've got seventeenth century Paris sorted, I think, but not England. This is something that must be remedied. This is for my own world building, however, not for the teaching of world building and the novel won't be ready to write until next year, so I have time.
When these photos are finished, I'll be able to teach world building from umpteen directions, in ways suitable for fiction writers of almost every variety. One of my favourite sets of photos is the Loch Ard Gorge region - two lots, twenty years apart. I would like more in this set, of course, but I can show very clearly how quickly dangerous seas erode limestone stacks, which is important. It bugs me when SF writers (when any writer, to be honest) doesn't understand the different paces of change in landscape, and now I have some of the tools I need to teach this.
I don't actually have a course to teach any of this with, right now. It's all for my own use and for private consultation (for I'm still doing that, when people ask) and for future teaching. Still, it'll be good to see it done.
I was hoping to have it all sorted by now, and have been scanning more photos as an interim measure. It's harder to extract myself from a chapter than from a sequence of photos, after all. Forty-five photos on and I really want to get to these chapters that are sitting in a basket, staring accusingly. (Do not ask why this project is sitting in a calico-lined basket until it gets worked on - it's just how things happen around here.)
The good news is that my photos are suddenly taking up less space. If anyone local wants small albums/brag books, I have some I no longer need, because of this taking-up-of-less-space. It's a happy side effect of sorting out my world-building pictures. I also have over 14,000 pictures in my photo library - very handy.
The bad news is that I've only got 500 photos to go and appear to be rather short on seventeenth century England. I've got seventeenth century Paris sorted, I think, but not England. This is something that must be remedied. This is for my own world building, however, not for the teaching of world building and the novel won't be ready to write until next year, so I have time.
When these photos are finished, I'll be able to teach world building from umpteen directions, in ways suitable for fiction writers of almost every variety. One of my favourite sets of photos is the Loch Ard Gorge region - two lots, twenty years apart. I would like more in this set, of course, but I can show very clearly how quickly dangerous seas erode limestone stacks, which is important. It bugs me when SF writers (when any writer, to be honest) doesn't understand the different paces of change in landscape, and now I have some of the tools I need to teach this.
I don't actually have a course to teach any of this with, right now. It's all for my own use and for private consultation (for I'm still doing that, when people ask) and for future teaching. Still, it'll be good to see it done.
Dealing with the daftness of life
I have the same strange almost-migraine I had a little while ago. That 'little while ago' was when the weather shifted and we got that rather whacky heatwave. The one that had SE Australia as the hottest place on earth.
What's really strange about the almost-migraine is having to wear my down dressing gown when it was thirty degrees (that's Celsius, US friends) because my inner temperature was nose-diving. On days like this I'm snippy at stupid things. Or at people who are robustly cheerful in my direction. One poor friend got a taste of my snippiness because they thought that scanning 250 photos was a pleasurable activity for a long weekend. I'd rather have spent the day with friends, but no friends were offering. I couldn't go out by myself because of bushfire smoke and because of my gammy left leg/foot. So I was snippy. Last time I was snippy it was Al Baxter who copped it, and he took it like a gentleman. He didn't even know I was suffering an almost-migraine. I owe him a beer, I think.
The advantage of being stuck at home during a long weekend (with occasional seeing-of-friends - I'm not as isolated as I make out, these days) is how much work I get done. I haven't had a single long weekend in months, though, and I like them. They're a nice break, and replenish the social part of my being and etc. Much etc. Scanning photos doesn't even begin to make up for missing this one, nor does working on matters medieval.
So... I want to go to the Canberra Show. It's in a few weeks. I'm happy to go with children, with significant others, with almost anyone who doesn't mind walking through pavilions with me. I like the pavilions. All the pavilions. I like seeing the prize-winning goats eating their ribbons. I like watching the sheep-shearing and the judging. I'm happy to hold bags and applaud wildly while people go on their favourite rides. I only have one favourite ride, but I have great patience for the favourite rides of others.
Only I have to go on the Friday, before lunch, when it's cheap. And I need a lift, because of the idiot appendage. I'd be delighted to stay for the fireworks, because I've never managed to do that and it would be cool. I'm delighted to bring my share of a picnic or even two picnics. And I really like all the pavilions, including the showbag one. I don't think I actually want any showbags this year, but how can I know if I don't talk them all through exhaustively with an under-ten? I want to visit all the government stalls and score many free pens. I want to ask the snake expert questions and see if there's a swimming pig competition this year.
I can promise to wear comfortable shoes, be dressed like someone you really don't want to know (but I'll leave the down dressing gown at home, just for you), and to enjoy myself thoroughly.
I also want to go to the Multicultural Festival. I'm very tired of being so very small-lifed. With the Multicultural Festival I want to visit all the stalls and eat food and wish my bottom left appendage would let me join in the with the dancing. About the only overlap with the Show is the scoring of free pens.
The big question is "Does anyone want to join me?" And the secondary question is "Can you fit me in your car?"
I can provide accommodation for non-Canberra friends who are overwhelmed by the thought of seeing prize cattle and obtaining their very own showbags.
What's really strange about the almost-migraine is having to wear my down dressing gown when it was thirty degrees (that's Celsius, US friends) because my inner temperature was nose-diving. On days like this I'm snippy at stupid things. Or at people who are robustly cheerful in my direction. One poor friend got a taste of my snippiness because they thought that scanning 250 photos was a pleasurable activity for a long weekend. I'd rather have spent the day with friends, but no friends were offering. I couldn't go out by myself because of bushfire smoke and because of my gammy left leg/foot. So I was snippy. Last time I was snippy it was Al Baxter who copped it, and he took it like a gentleman. He didn't even know I was suffering an almost-migraine. I owe him a beer, I think.
The advantage of being stuck at home during a long weekend (with occasional seeing-of-friends - I'm not as isolated as I make out, these days) is how much work I get done. I haven't had a single long weekend in months, though, and I like them. They're a nice break, and replenish the social part of my being and etc. Much etc. Scanning photos doesn't even begin to make up for missing this one, nor does working on matters medieval.
So... I want to go to the Canberra Show. It's in a few weeks. I'm happy to go with children, with significant others, with almost anyone who doesn't mind walking through pavilions with me. I like the pavilions. All the pavilions. I like seeing the prize-winning goats eating their ribbons. I like watching the sheep-shearing and the judging. I'm happy to hold bags and applaud wildly while people go on their favourite rides. I only have one favourite ride, but I have great patience for the favourite rides of others.
Only I have to go on the Friday, before lunch, when it's cheap. And I need a lift, because of the idiot appendage. I'd be delighted to stay for the fireworks, because I've never managed to do that and it would be cool. I'm delighted to bring my share of a picnic or even two picnics. And I really like all the pavilions, including the showbag one. I don't think I actually want any showbags this year, but how can I know if I don't talk them all through exhaustively with an under-ten? I want to visit all the government stalls and score many free pens. I want to ask the snake expert questions and see if there's a swimming pig competition this year.
I can promise to wear comfortable shoes, be dressed like someone you really don't want to know (but I'll leave the down dressing gown at home, just for you), and to enjoy myself thoroughly.
I also want to go to the Multicultural Festival. I'm very tired of being so very small-lifed. With the Multicultural Festival I want to visit all the stalls and eat food and wish my bottom left appendage would let me join in the with the dancing. About the only overlap with the Show is the scoring of free pens.
The big question is "Does anyone want to join me?" And the secondary question is "Can you fit me in your car?"
I can provide accommodation for non-Canberra friends who are overwhelmed by the thought of seeing prize cattle and obtaining their very own showbags.
January 26, 2014
My life is merely exciting. Though sometimes it is wild.
Yesterday LJ was down (at least for me) which saved you from the terrific tale of me finding a picture from my childhood. This is the roller-coaster ride of my scanning progressing. I'm over halfway through, and should have the material I need for this year's teaching all on the system by this time next week. Wild and exciting.
I've also been working on the Beast. Mostly endnotes (still). Also wild and exciting.
And this afternoon I get to play with the other book. I've sorted notes, now I have to make sense of them alongside the ones that are already on the computer, but in the wrong chapters. Exciting and wild. Very.
I'm drinking cold coffee with cream in preparation for the next heatwave. Entirely wild and totally exciting.
I'd better get back to work, before I swoon with the wild excitement of it all.
I've also been working on the Beast. Mostly endnotes (still). Also wild and exciting.
And this afternoon I get to play with the other book. I've sorted notes, now I have to make sense of them alongside the ones that are already on the computer, but in the wrong chapters. Exciting and wild. Very.
I'm drinking cold coffee with cream in preparation for the next heatwave. Entirely wild and totally exciting.
I'd better get back to work, before I swoon with the wild excitement of it all.
January 24, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-25T11:01:00
I'm so proud of myself. Two night's sleep. In a row! I'm living the life of great accomplishments. My achievement of this morning is that I now only crave 24 hours asleep, rather than 48.
This is my last day of quiet. Although teaching doesn't begin until Wednesday week, meetings and planning begin tomorrow.
Part of the quiet is watching someone else work. A friend is creating me a bookmark for my mother's 80th birthday. Mum knows something is coming, but she doesn't know what, precisely. Given the propensity of my immediate family to plan things and forget to consult me, I let her know something was coming so that there will be no confusion later. If there's a group present, I haven't been included in the planning and don't know what it is, and I really want to get Mum this particular thing. I'll see if I can link to an image of it in April, so that you can see why it's so special.
Today is more admin. If I can do some solid work in between scanning and filling in forms and generally getting my life together, I shall, but the papers on my desk are dangerously high, and it's time to diminish them drastically. I really only have until 31 January to get the worst of them done.
What I want to do (and will try to fit in, if I can) is start on the war bit of the Beast (and diminish my books and notes on that subject) and to get stared on drafting a chapter of the other book. If I can do all this, and scan 60 photos, and finish three chunky admin tasks, then I will consider today well spent.
I guess this means I ought to get started...
This is my last day of quiet. Although teaching doesn't begin until Wednesday week, meetings and planning begin tomorrow.
Part of the quiet is watching someone else work. A friend is creating me a bookmark for my mother's 80th birthday. Mum knows something is coming, but she doesn't know what, precisely. Given the propensity of my immediate family to plan things and forget to consult me, I let her know something was coming so that there will be no confusion later. If there's a group present, I haven't been included in the planning and don't know what it is, and I really want to get Mum this particular thing. I'll see if I can link to an image of it in April, so that you can see why it's so special.
Today is more admin. If I can do some solid work in between scanning and filling in forms and generally getting my life together, I shall, but the papers on my desk are dangerously high, and it's time to diminish them drastically. I really only have until 31 January to get the worst of them done.
What I want to do (and will try to fit in, if I can) is start on the war bit of the Beast (and diminish my books and notes on that subject) and to get stared on drafting a chapter of the other book. If I can do all this, and scan 60 photos, and finish three chunky admin tasks, then I will consider today well spent.
I guess this means I ought to get started...
January 23, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-24T13:43:00
I've decided that - after the wild excitement of the last two weeks - today is the perfect day of gentle administrative work. Paperwork and scanning and diminishing potential problems. What I really want to do is sleep for two days, but maybe gentle administrative work is the psychic equivalent.
