Not yet to WordPress or similar, but in fact to a new apartment.
I’m exhausted, and no longer in a good way. It’ll take another week to make the place not-filthy, but it will indeed be kickin’.
Can you imagine me living for probably about a week without an operating kitchen? Well, it’s about to happen. The floor in there needs to be stripped, primed and polyurethaned; more importantly, we have no stove.
Well, it could be worse: we could’ve had no stove and no refrigerator. The ones in here, you see, are in hte process being replaced by various methods. We have the fridge now (following a day’s worth of helping to procure it – but now we have exactly what we want!); the stand-alone chest freezer, which we’ve been coveting for months, is coming on Tuesday; and the replacement stove should be here Any Day Now.
The last three weeks have been nigh unto insane. We searched for a place, thinking we might need to be out of town at the end of August (when my original lease ended) and ready to break the lease. We found a place we fell in love with (pictures etc. when it’s cleaned up). We searched for someone to sublet our apartment, or else draw up a new lease, a process that quickly turned into an unreal, nightmarish chain of people expressing enthusiastic desire to take the place off our hands and then disappearing. We finally found someone, and she signed the lease on Friday. Well, that was close. Oh, and we moved.
You know what? I love this place.
I don’t think I can do anything about this. But this BBC article kind of puts it into perspective. If a plane crashed and killed 600 people, we’d care, right? It’d be on the evening news. What’s the difference?
I write this a day after finding out that mom’s cousin’s husband died of cancer yesterday. The C word hitting my family again. I feel so weak.
OK, I’ve been lame with blogging. We went on an apartment hunt, found one we fell in love with, and are now looking for a subletter for our current apartment. Of course, I still haven’t blogged the conference (but oh, I will one of these days when there’s a lot of time), but right now I’d like to address Mena’s post requesting information regarding how I use her software.
Here on Words’ End, I have a single blog (this one) with a single author. At present, that’s it; but I was planning to set up a collective blog for our next big research project at the Decameron Web, not only so that we might easily communicate with each other from different countries, but also to encourage dialogue by interested parties who aren’t directly involved.
I’m keeping my emotions out of the whole pricing-scheme thing until the educational pricing is publicized. Then, I’ll probably add another trackback to this post, which SixApart is graciously keeping online and trackback-able. Thanks, SixApart!!1!
If I’ve been quiet, it isn’t for lack of things to say. The conference is much to write home about, and politics… I’d like to find words for it, more permanent and coherent words than the screaming in my head.
Keep wanting to find the right words, though, for all of it, and I haven’t had the time. We’ve been cleaning, apartment-hunting, downloading software to organize our receipts – organize our receipts –
This morning I read “Cold Turkey,” an article by Kurt Vonnegut. This is why I want so badly to find the right words, you know?
From an IRC channel:
“holy mother of fuck - today is the NATIONAL DAY OF PRAYER!”
Stick that where it doesn’t belong, W.
It really, really gets to me when I spend untold hours on a fellowship application, submit it, receive a personal e-mail by way of receipt, even… and then get rejected and do not hear about it. Honestly, considering the number of things I apply for, I expect to get mostly rejections. But why keep me stringing along? You want to reject me, fine; I applaud the many people who’re better suited to your venture. But do let me know, and preferably in a timely manner, so that I can go on with my life. How hard can it be?!
In academe, I cannot assume that silence equals rejection; things take forever, deadlines are hopeful at best and arbitrary as a matter of fact, people have too many things to do and continually overcommit. So I cannot take silence for an automatic no: they may just be running late. So it sits on my plate, for no reason at all, and I play the “should I e-mail them? should I wait some more?” game. Worse: weeks after the supposed notification date, I e-mail the authorities in question and get a form letter in response. For goodness’ sake! If you have a form letter, why in the world didn’t you send it to me before??
You wouldn’t know it from this post, but I’ve had an excellent day. RolandHT is coming together; we got haircuts and they are great, and for all of the stress that accompanies the week preceding a big event, it’s also by degrees easier to work long hours: the adrenaline keeps me going. I honestly wish I could call that up whenever I wanted, and get a lot of work done in a haze of sleepless, delirious joy.
While we’re saving the Iraqis from themselves by bombing, shooting, imprisoning and humiliating them, people residing in the U.S. keep slaves.
There’s just so little good news lately, you know?
