Gillian Polack's Blog, page 84
January 23, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-23T23:31:00
My eye is fine. All that happened, in the end, was a bit more of what was happening before, which is no worries and no severe issues and nothing to be alerted about. I'll be checked in 3 months, just to be certain, rather than cleared from the hospital books next week, which was the original plan. The big downside is that I spent less time with my mother during her visit.
In other news, there really is none. it's all more-of-same, this week. My work is progressing, but there's not much that's exciting about it just now. One day...
In other news, there really is none. it's all more-of-same, this week. My work is progressing, but there's not much that's exciting about it just now. One day...
January 22, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-23T09:54:00
All that sleeplessness, alas, led to my eye misbehaving. I went to the hospital to get it checked yesterday and am seeing the specialist later today. This is not end-of-universe stuff - my basic vision seems quite fine, I just a bit of new blood swirling over my vision. I'll report in later, though.
January 20, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-21T11:16:00
The advantage of a mostly-sleepless night is that I get a bunch of things done. I've finished with the Beast until tonight, and I've sorted a pile of paper scraps containing crucial information that should never be lost and now all that crucial information is on a computer file and the paper scraps are in my recycling. I found my stash of photos, the ones I used to teach worldbuilding before the fancy IT equipment was brought in and the ones I used for illuminations PR. I can now check that they're all on my system then I can put them back where they belong (which is not where they came from!).
That was four hours worth. It felt like more, but that's because I did a great deal on the Beast. I demolished the Carthusians, for one thing. I am very proud of this.
What I meant to do (and will start on now, but don't know how much time I have before my visiting parent picks me up) is entering the notes I sorted yesterday, for the incipient book. If I can get this out of the way, then that will leave me beta-reading and the Beast for later tonight. If I can't get this out of the way well, then, I shall rearrange a bit.
It all makes sense inside my brain. It doesn't quite make as much sense when I try to explain it.
That was four hours worth. It felt like more, but that's because I did a great deal on the Beast. I demolished the Carthusians, for one thing. I am very proud of this.
What I meant to do (and will start on now, but don't know how much time I have before my visiting parent picks me up) is entering the notes I sorted yesterday, for the incipient book. If I can get this out of the way, then that will leave me beta-reading and the Beast for later tonight. If I can't get this out of the way well, then, I shall rearrange a bit.
It all makes sense inside my brain. It doesn't quite make as much sense when I try to explain it.
gillpolack @ 2014-01-20T23:55:00
Today was unexpected. This makes me a character out of Peter Dickinson.
My mother arrived early in Canberra and I haven't seen her yet because my work experience student turned up earlier in the day (it was a confusion, but she decided to stay and work anyhow) and I didn't get my Beast work done in time (and besides, I had an e-meeting - she hadn't expected to arrive until much later!). I did other work, however, this evening. A bunch of other work.
N is getting my books under control and making inroads into my scanning. I can now teach the configuration of small castles, if I have a need. And my books are sufficiently under control so that I can now fill out the missing sections in one of my projects whenever I'm ready. I will be ready next week, the other thing that started today is the final judging for the Aurealis awards. And I did a refined sort of all my handwritten notes for the project that requires me to actually, daringly, innovatively use my own library. Wait, the Beast had that requirement, too. I've been using my own books more than I've been using books from elsewhere* for about six weeks.
I only have 2 more hours work to do on the Beast before I hand a ton of stuff back to K, and she hands me two more chapters. I wanted to get these two hours done today, but I'm almost out of steam. My next ambition for today is to sleep, I suspect.
From this you may deduce that the unexpected element of today was chiefly that I'm caught up on some of the things I fell behind on, due to the heatwave. If I had to sum up today, though, in two words, it would be "Much etc." It doesn't feel like progress, even though it is.
*I have four library books to deal with in the next week, however. One of them requires close reading and is, of course, immensely long. If I claim to be bored in my near future, then you have my permission to laugh raucously.
My mother arrived early in Canberra and I haven't seen her yet because my work experience student turned up earlier in the day (it was a confusion, but she decided to stay and work anyhow) and I didn't get my Beast work done in time (and besides, I had an e-meeting - she hadn't expected to arrive until much later!). I did other work, however, this evening. A bunch of other work.
N is getting my books under control and making inroads into my scanning. I can now teach the configuration of small castles, if I have a need. And my books are sufficiently under control so that I can now fill out the missing sections in one of my projects whenever I'm ready. I will be ready next week, the other thing that started today is the final judging for the Aurealis awards. And I did a refined sort of all my handwritten notes for the project that requires me to actually, daringly, innovatively use my own library. Wait, the Beast had that requirement, too. I've been using my own books more than I've been using books from elsewhere* for about six weeks.
I only have 2 more hours work to do on the Beast before I hand a ton of stuff back to K, and she hands me two more chapters. I wanted to get these two hours done today, but I'm almost out of steam. My next ambition for today is to sleep, I suspect.
From this you may deduce that the unexpected element of today was chiefly that I'm caught up on some of the things I fell behind on, due to the heatwave. If I had to sum up today, though, in two words, it would be "Much etc." It doesn't feel like progress, even though it is.
*I have four library books to deal with in the next week, however. One of them requires close reading and is, of course, immensely long. If I claim to be bored in my near future, then you have my permission to laugh raucously.
January 19, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-20T11:02:00
Today is actually Not Too Hot. This means I'm raring through my work. I've done my full morning's work already and may even catch up with my work-that-didn't-quite-get-done by this evening. The combination of the nice weather and my mother being about to visit is dynamite in terms of motivation.
Speaking of my mother visiting, I'm giving her and a friend a private guided tour of the map exhibition on Wednesday morning. We have one spare ticket. If you want my special guided tour, this is your chance. First come gets the ticket.
Speaking of my mother visiting, I'm giving her and a friend a private guided tour of the map exhibition on Wednesday morning. We have one spare ticket. If you want my special guided tour, this is your chance. First come gets the ticket.
January 18, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-19T12:50:00
The heatwave has broken, but none of us have the energy to dance. That's because it 'broke' in this region to thunderstorms and cooling temperatures of, today, 33 degrees. If it hadn't been such a remarkable and appalling week of heat, this would count as a hot day. Instead, my body is saying it's a hot day, but also saying that it's temperate and fabulous and that I must stop acting like a wimp and that I need to do all my housework. Some of the housework I'm doing, but only the minimum. Anyone who drops in this afternoon will understand. In fact, anyone who drops in will be impressed that I'm awake, given that none of us have slept properly since this time last week. Last night I managed 8 hours (the longest sleep in over a week) but it was like a young mother's sleep - intermittent and disturbed. I had some great dreams, though. I woke up wondering if I should write that horror story about an eighteenth century church with dancing pillars or if it really was just the product of smoke haze. I think I've decided upon the latter.
I'm hoping that no-one wants to drop in the afternoon. Most of my friends have been heatwaved, too, so I suspect this hope will be fulfilled. I just want to spend the day puddling through things-that-must-be-done and ending Monday not too far behind. At the same time, I want to see my friends. Today is a day for inner conflict and outer fatigue.
If any friend comes around, I have lots of gorgeous fruit to eat, and some biscuits, and can run to dip. I just can't run to sweeping floors (or washing them, though there is a real need for both) or putting the recycling out. I'm bushed. I'm in good company. I'm pretty sure that most of SE Australia is bushed.
There's a sliver of NSW that hasn't yet received this lovely, cooling change, and I have a friend who I have not heard from since she evacuated because of bushfires (oh, yes, the heatwave produced bushfires - we could taste the smoke in the air, but were too tired to complain, I think). These friends I'm worried for, especially Karen.
I'm hoping that no-one wants to drop in the afternoon. Most of my friends have been heatwaved, too, so I suspect this hope will be fulfilled. I just want to spend the day puddling through things-that-must-be-done and ending Monday not too far behind. At the same time, I want to see my friends. Today is a day for inner conflict and outer fatigue.
If any friend comes around, I have lots of gorgeous fruit to eat, and some biscuits, and can run to dip. I just can't run to sweeping floors (or washing them, though there is a real need for both) or putting the recycling out. I'm bushed. I'm in good company. I'm pretty sure that most of SE Australia is bushed.
There's a sliver of NSW that hasn't yet received this lovely, cooling change, and I have a friend who I have not heard from since she evacuated because of bushfires (oh, yes, the heatwave produced bushfires - we could taste the smoke in the air, but were too tired to complain, I think). These friends I'm worried for, especially Karen.
January 17, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-18T15:50:00
I'm scanning photos until it's cool enough to work. I've finished an album and a half today, which is exceptionally good. What is also exceptionally good are the memories.
I used to do a lot of travel with friends. We were all poor and we were all curious and we all loved to cook and eat and share our different backgrounds. They were the best trips. The pictures are from one of my favourites. Some of us borrowed the International House bus (Sydney, 1980s, for those keeping track) and booked the log cabin* and spent a few days in the forest. We had a great time. We visited Berrima and Bowral and got up to all kinds of mischief (polite and gentle mischief - my Thai friends were very insistent on polite and gentle - they were also insistent on lots of photographs, which is why I have this series).
I used to get up early and walk with the sunrise, while the others were asleep. I remember it as particularly beautiful and peaceful. (And if you're expecting music of doom, this is when to play it.)
I loved the isolation. I loved being able to hear kookaburras and bellbirds without any other noise. Of being entirely by myself. So, apparently, did someone else. This was Belanglo Forest in the late 80s. This was the place where the notorious backpacker murderer left corpses.
These trips were very wonderful. The most wonderful thing of all was that we didn't run into any dead overseas visitors, our own age. You see, I was the only Australian on that last trip...
Some of the same friends visited me in Canberra a year later. We talked about it as if it had no bearing on us. But it did. We played boardgames and wrote poetry and cooked and sang and talked in a forest that was the playground of a serial killer.
I don't know why this has never crept into my fiction. Maybe it has, and I just don't know it.
If ever you go to that log cabin, look in the logbook. The messages from my friends and I are the best of all of them.
*I still have rights to use that log cabin, I believe, but no-one's ever been interested in joining me there and it's not a place one can go to without a car, and without someone coming from Sydney to bring the key. I had dreams of getting a bunch of writers together with a new crop of Sydney students, as a kind of experiment, but the writers weren't that interested.
I used to do a lot of travel with friends. We were all poor and we were all curious and we all loved to cook and eat and share our different backgrounds. They were the best trips. The pictures are from one of my favourites. Some of us borrowed the International House bus (Sydney, 1980s, for those keeping track) and booked the log cabin* and spent a few days in the forest. We had a great time. We visited Berrima and Bowral and got up to all kinds of mischief (polite and gentle mischief - my Thai friends were very insistent on polite and gentle - they were also insistent on lots of photographs, which is why I have this series).
I used to get up early and walk with the sunrise, while the others were asleep. I remember it as particularly beautiful and peaceful. (And if you're expecting music of doom, this is when to play it.)
I loved the isolation. I loved being able to hear kookaburras and bellbirds without any other noise. Of being entirely by myself. So, apparently, did someone else. This was Belanglo Forest in the late 80s. This was the place where the notorious backpacker murderer left corpses.
These trips were very wonderful. The most wonderful thing of all was that we didn't run into any dead overseas visitors, our own age. You see, I was the only Australian on that last trip...
Some of the same friends visited me in Canberra a year later. We talked about it as if it had no bearing on us. But it did. We played boardgames and wrote poetry and cooked and sang and talked in a forest that was the playground of a serial killer.
I don't know why this has never crept into my fiction. Maybe it has, and I just don't know it.
If ever you go to that log cabin, look in the logbook. The messages from my friends and I are the best of all of them.
*I still have rights to use that log cabin, I believe, but no-one's ever been interested in joining me there and it's not a place one can go to without a car, and without someone coming from Sydney to bring the key. I had dreams of getting a bunch of writers together with a new crop of Sydney students, as a kind of experiment, but the writers weren't that interested.
gillpolack @ 2014-01-18T11:31:00
Marketing today took three hours, because we did a bunch of other messages. When we left, it was 24 degrees (which is warm for 8ish in the morning) and now it's 33 degrees, but I have apple cucumbers and fresh blackberries and cherries and giant fresh figs and a handful of Stanley plums and more duck rillettes and copious quantities of fresh cream. I've also been the the library, and so can spend tomorrow working and hostessing. Anyone who drops in tomorrow afternoon gets the usual snacks, plus lovely fruit.
It's nearly the end of cherry season. There may be some next week at the market, but it's more likely not. The tail-end of the fruit will be in the greengrocers, but they're already selling their cherries for $20/kg, whereas the market cost me $8 for the same amount. So this kilo might be my last for the year.
I didn't mean to buy figs, but they were $5/kg and smelled so warm and summery.
And my breakfast was illegal, fattening, dangerous... I had a tiramisu icecream, because it was summer at the markets. This makes today my treat day, so lunch is Thai duck rolls with ginger sauce, and afternoon tea is fresh fig and supper will be blackberries with cream. Dinner is too far away.
It's nearly the end of cherry season. There may be some next week at the market, but it's more likely not. The tail-end of the fruit will be in the greengrocers, but they're already selling their cherries for $20/kg, whereas the market cost me $8 for the same amount. So this kilo might be my last for the year.
I didn't mean to buy figs, but they were $5/kg and smelled so warm and summery.
And my breakfast was illegal, fattening, dangerous... I had a tiramisu icecream, because it was summer at the markets. This makes today my treat day, so lunch is Thai duck rolls with ginger sauce, and afternoon tea is fresh fig and supper will be blackberries with cream. Dinner is too far away.
January 16, 2014
gillpolack @ 2014-01-17T11:58:00
Today isn't as bad as yesterday. It's just as hot, but I've had two nights running where I've had six hours sleep (I rediscovered the old trick of wetting the top sheet, which means I get to do more washing this week, but also it means that the shenanigans of my neighbours no longer result in my having less sleep than I can deal with) and my brain feels almost alert. This is good, for I have until 6 pm to make vast inroads into my endnotes, for tomorrow I collect a book from the library and that book needs very close reading (with many notes) and I will have no time for the seventeenth century until this close reading and the close reading of a chanson de geste are complete. I think that all makes sense. It makes sense somewhere inside my brain, anyhow.
My breakthrough yesterday was working out why we have this heatwave, which is following an unusual weather pattern. Now I know where it comes from (which is NW Australia, pushed down SE by the cyclone's winds) I can see how it will break up and when. Not only is the end near, but I know a bit more about what distant weather can do to local weather, which is a bonus. Not quite worth the narrow miss I had with heat exhaustion when my neighbours left the door open yesterday, but still, worth knowing.
The benefit of last night's particular fatigue was that I scanned another 60 photos. I've now done the biggest photo album, one of the medium sized ones and one small one. My reward for that is to offer friends rewards. If you've patiently lasted through the dull posts of recent times, then you deserve something.
If you want a picture, send me your email address (even if I have it) and tell me which photos you need in your life (you can choose more than one!). Your choice this time is from recent scans (of course): the Mallee in 1977 (black and white), a dual photo (2 in one, for I used to be mildly experimental and besides, had a half frame camera) of dead trees in a billabong in rural Victoria in 1988, or a boat-graveyard (Noirmoutier, 1995), All of these photos are mine own, of course, and for private use only. Not that I think anyone'd make any money from them - I just like lines of copyright clear.
And one day I will write more interesting posts again. Today is, alas, not that day. It is, however a day for cute cat stickers to appear mysteriously on my hatbox (the one I store teaching gear in). Canberra is good for destickering old furniture - glue dries out and objects drift. Right now, the only drifting object is a cat, but there will be more, for this is summer.
My breakthrough yesterday was working out why we have this heatwave, which is following an unusual weather pattern. Now I know where it comes from (which is NW Australia, pushed down SE by the cyclone's winds) I can see how it will break up and when. Not only is the end near, but I know a bit more about what distant weather can do to local weather, which is a bonus. Not quite worth the narrow miss I had with heat exhaustion when my neighbours left the door open yesterday, but still, worth knowing.
The benefit of last night's particular fatigue was that I scanned another 60 photos. I've now done the biggest photo album, one of the medium sized ones and one small one. My reward for that is to offer friends rewards. If you've patiently lasted through the dull posts of recent times, then you deserve something.
If you want a picture, send me your email address (even if I have it) and tell me which photos you need in your life (you can choose more than one!). Your choice this time is from recent scans (of course): the Mallee in 1977 (black and white), a dual photo (2 in one, for I used to be mildly experimental and besides, had a half frame camera) of dead trees in a billabong in rural Victoria in 1988, or a boat-graveyard (Noirmoutier, 1995), All of these photos are mine own, of course, and for private use only. Not that I think anyone'd make any money from them - I just like lines of copyright clear.
And one day I will write more interesting posts again. Today is, alas, not that day. It is, however a day for cute cat stickers to appear mysteriously on my hatbox (the one I store teaching gear in). Canberra is good for destickering old furniture - glue dries out and objects drift. Right now, the only drifting object is a cat, but there will be more, for this is summer.
January 15, 2014
Ignore the Whingeing Gillian, please
My exciting news for the day is that my next-door-neighbour waits until the temperature is 37 degrees *then* leaves the door open. I found out just now when my flat got much warmer in a great hurry. There is no cooling element from the stairwell anymore, for he has let all the cool air out. The Bureau of Meteorology says the weather will break (and reach a mere 30 degrees) on Sunday, which is good. What isn't good is that Canberra's special gift (the capacity to cool things down a little at night) is entirely lost when an idiot leaves doors open during the heat of the day and at the precise hour when the sun hits that side of the building.
I've now reached Evil Gillian stage and I'm no longer looking around to see if I've locked anyone out by mistake when I close that door. Mind you, that neighbour is probably going to be lynched by the guy upstairs, for upstairs has been parked in. It's as if the people next door have completely forgotten that they live in a block of flats.
They were my dream neighbors for 18 months, and now... they park people in, let all the flats overheat, ignore security, talk outside out windows at impossible hours... I don't understand it. I'm avoiding them when I can, right now, because when all one can say to someone is "Can' you please keep that door shut?" then it's not comfortable for anyone.
I'll check the front door every fifteen minutes once the afternoon sun hits, until the heatwave is past. It's a nuisance, but it's better than heatstroke.
I've now reached Evil Gillian stage and I'm no longer looking around to see if I've locked anyone out by mistake when I close that door. Mind you, that neighbour is probably going to be lynched by the guy upstairs, for upstairs has been parked in. It's as if the people next door have completely forgotten that they live in a block of flats.
They were my dream neighbors for 18 months, and now... they park people in, let all the flats overheat, ignore security, talk outside out windows at impossible hours... I don't understand it. I'm avoiding them when I can, right now, because when all one can say to someone is "Can' you please keep that door shut?" then it's not comfortable for anyone.
I'll check the front door every fifteen minutes once the afternoon sun hits, until the heatwave is past. It's a nuisance, but it's better than heatstroke.
