Half a Month

According to the statistics on the blogging software here, it has been about a half of month since I last posted anything here. The classic excuse is to say that I have been way too busy to post anything on the site, but to be honest, that is not the whole explanation. In some ways, these last three weeks have been a serious period of introspection for me. My school career is finally at a crossroads. After several meetings with administration, professors, and various other bureaucratic University officials, the only thing left for me to do is my incomplete schoolwork. I can get no further in my academic career unless I show some progress in that regard.

But working things out at school has not been the only thing that has happened during this period. For example, while visiting my parents during the previous week, I nearly broke my foot. While negotiating my way through my mother's office, I stepped on my foot sideways and then fell forward. I think I even heard a loud snap that concerns me. In any event, after a couple of days a limping on an ankle that has swollen up to baseball size, I have developed a rather nice purple bruise. I can walk on it without much pain now, but I still feel a little twinge whenever I move it strangely.


Alsea Falls

The above picture is from a small excursion that I took on my way back home from my parents. A two-hour detour into the Cascade Mountains led to my discovery of Alsea Falls, a secluded state park with a series of hiking trails and connecting campgrounds. Strangely, when I visited the falls they were completely deserted, so I took the opportunity to take some pictures and think about stuff. I think if I get some more time to spend by myself, I'll revisit.

Finally, the other major event to occur during this period was my attending the funeral of a friend. The friend was more than twice my age and was afflicted with emphysema that worsened towards the end of his life. However, during (and after) the brief period in which I knew him--about a year and half--I considered him a very close friend. In some ways, I considered it an honor to be at his funeral and to be able to commemorate his life among his many friends. I only wish I took the opportunity to visit him more before he passed away. Needless to say, the whole experience led me to think about the heavy questions surrounding life, death, and spirituality. I haven't come to any real conclusions about any of those things, but I don't think that it is the point to come to conclusions. Rather, it may be more useful to occasionally consider these things and let them filter through your mind. It may be like letting the rain and sun work on the soil in which a seed is planted. The fruit of such thinking may come later, or may even develop slowly without your noticing, but as long as one thinks about it, the benefit will be there.

The River's Flow

The heat has been killing me lately making it rather difficult to fall asleep at night. Part of the problem is that I really enjoy the cool weather. If the world's thermostat was permanent set at 58 degrees Fahrenheit that would be just fine with me. Of course, there are some who would scoff at the idea of it being hot around here, but then they would also not believe the amount of water I have been drinking lately.


The River

I continue to make progress with work, but I am getting more "down in the mouth" about the prospects of getting it all done properly. Currently, I am studying the concept of cultural formation during the nineteenth century. Add to this a re-reading of Dickens and a book about Victorian Soundscapes. Like other grad. students who post online, I found that it helps to leave the laptop at home when I do my reading. A legal pad of paper seems like a good place to take notes. I've also found, in regards to my comprehension process, that it helps to read chapters or essays first, then re-read them with note taking in mind. I am still grappling with how to form these thoughts into a cogent essay, but slogging through the reading is helping relieve some of the stress of figuring out what to say. The kind help and emotional support from friends and family has been the greatest help to me, especially during the last few weeks. I'm not sure they'll know how grateful I really am. Also of great help has been a short dip in a cool river during a brief break. And if the weather continues like it has been, I might just repeat it.

Napping

Okay--so it has been way too long since I have last posted, but that has been because of a personal slump that I feel I am now just coming out of. And as far as the slump goes, everyone who knows me has seen it manifested as long naps during the day. The dreams asscoiated with these naps have been interesting. A few of them concerned my future (or hopes) as a professor. The one from yesterday included rafting down a river to escape alien oppression in a matrix style reality. I escaped with Gordon from Seasame Street with a freeze beam. (Thank you pop culture for shaping my subconscious.) Also, my allergies have acted up during the last week, so things have been just a hair's breadth away from miserable.

But a week of so-called rest and a visit with friends have helped me get back on my feet enough to get some work done. I think it was some chinese food and a desert cafe that really hit the spot. (Well, really it was the friends there that made the difference.) Once I finally get things sorted out on the personal level and get the ball rolling on my school-work, I think I am going to devote some more time to the artistic things in life. Sketching, maybe even experimenting with watercolor, is something that I would like to in the future. I'll try to post more in the future, but only after I have something to report about the work I have completed. (On that note, I have been to my office, checked my office mail, and renewed several of my library books about colonialism and the victorian era. That should indicate the direction of my studies for the next few days.)

Summer Reflection

I really should be posting here more often. Despite my good intentions, I seem to let an average of week slip by before I manage to get something new up on the web. Perhaps that is because I haven't really had much to say, or my seemingly inexhaustible supply of complaints about the amount of work I have is boring even me. It seems that during the last couple of months my personal life has reached a state that it seems difficult to sort it out online anymore.


Blue Forest

The biggest factor in my life currently is that I am still trying to cope with the recent breakup with my girlfriend. Add to that a host of personal issues/problems (or character flaws) that influences everything I seem to put my eyes on. Each day there seems to be something new to miss, something else to regret. But not everything is gloomy; in some ways, I am finding small ways to pull out a crevasse of inertia. Metaphorically, I think I am beginning to see the dawn horizons on my overall work problems, a horizon that fills me with a small measure of hope. For example, I am through several chapters of Elizabeth Gaskell's Mary Barton. Even though the descriptions of real life poverty in 19th century England are a little depressing, it feels good to know that I am getting through the work in the field which I have chosen. I hope that things will begin to pick up even faster over the next couple of days.

As a side note to the previous post, I probably will not be taking classes this summer as that might be more of a significant distraction than a help. But in some ways, the new routines I am currently establishing should give me the same help that taking regular classes would.

Decisions

In the next couple of days, I have to decide whether or not to take summer classes from the University. The drawback is that I still have a lot of catch up work to do from previous terms, and of course, the summer class would potentially take time and thought away from that effort. But the benefit to this plan, a very tempting benefit, is the money I would get from financial aid, aid which might chase the proverbial wolf from the door for a month or two. (Actually, the money would be part of the aid that I did not use during spring term, so if I don't use this money during summer term, it is gone forever.)


Decisions

If I took an easy course, perhaps one which required little thought or effort, I might be able to pull it off without any problem. There may not be such a course as offerings are limited and my thinking could loosely be categorized wishful. But, without rationalizing too much, getting to campus on a regular basis may also help me develop a routine, which may also help my effort to get my other work done. I'm still debating the whole thing.

Frankly, my depression has done more to hinder getting work done than the lack of money, but I think things are turning around. I'm still trying to emotionally cope with the breakup with my girlfriend. My stress relieving techniques, watching television and eating junk-foods, is not serving me very well, but I never thought that they would. I still miss her. (Insert a heavy sigh here.)

Tomorrow, I take my bird to the vet which--thanks to the generosity of my sister--is actually possible. The bird's tail feathers, which had fallen out, are halfway grown back in and her injury seems completely healed. It is kind of amazing to see how fast those feathers grow. But now, seeing as it is 10:30, it is time to end this post and put the bird to bed.

Free Dinner

It has been hot around here lately, which isn't so bad for me during the day, but at night things get to be a little unbearable. The afternoon heat seeps into the walls and then pours slowly out at night in a claustrophobia-inducing miasma of dark warmth. I try not to stay up too late watching television, but is sometimes hard to go to sleep at a decent hour under a blanket of heat.

The other day, I decided to indulge in my bad habit of eating fast food. Although I had a good breakfast of eggs, toast, and whatnot, I skipped lunch and when 9:00 p.m. rolled around, I figured that Burger King was a good enough place to fill my belly. And, when I say fill my belly, I mean just that; after as many hamburgers as I have eaten in my life time, they all have that same cardboard-bland-like taste. I should have cooked dinner, but like I said, it is a bad habit.


Night Mountain

So, I drove eight blocks down to the restaurant, pulled up to the drive-thru speaker and ordered a number one with a coke. (For those of you who do not eat at Burger King, a number one is a whopper, fries, and a drink: $4.29 where I live.) As I pulled around the building, I saw a man--who looked homeless--digging through the garbage. As I drove around him, he had found a hamburger that someone had thrown away. He held it in his hand as he continued to search the trash can. It seemed as if he was looking for more food.

I pulled up to the pickup window, paid my money, and waited the few minutes to get my order. None of the employees seemed to have noticed the man, otherwise, I am sure that they would have told him to leave. In my several previous trips to fast food restaurants, I have been occasionally asked by homeless people to buy them sandwiches, and I have seen the restaurant employees chase these people away.

The man who had been digging in the trash for food left by the time that I got my order, but I drove back behind the building and tracked him down a couple blocks away. He was walking through the parking lot of an industrial building. "Hey! Buddy," I called out to him. "Are you hungry?" He stopped a looked at me for a brief second before answering that he was. He looked a little embarrassed to admit that fact. He also seemed to recognize that I was going to give him my all food, the whole order, which I did. After I handed the meal over, I drove to the next fast food restaurant, McDonald's, and got another meal for myself.

Injured Bird

Okay, so the other day, I decided that I was having kind of a bad day. It was already late afternoon, I was tired, but I needed to do much more work to get caught up for the day. It involved reading and writing, and I was already overwhelmed with that. I was also a bit depressed for various personal reasons that I won't go into. Since I had not eaten anything all day, I figured that the least I could do was buy some fast food and go to the local park. Fast food is a bad habit that I am trying to break, but since I needed to really get out of the house and I did not want to cook, I told myself that a burger would be a quick indiscretion.

After purchasing a meal I felt guilty for eating, I drove up to the city park on top of the hill. It is a nice park where you have to walk west for ten minutes to get a tremendous view of the entire city. Although there are some great trees with a lovely canopy, the view is high enough up to see the whole valley in which the town is nestled.

Finding a relatively secluded spot away from the occasional joggers and bicyclists, I sat down, ate, and opened a book. The breeze was cool and the sun was warm, and I was engrossed in my book. After about twenty or thirty minutes, something small jumped out of the tree at my head. I recovered a few seconds later to realize that a bird had just flew over my shoulder by only a couple of feet. And then I noticed that it wasn't a regular park bird, but a yellow and white cockatiel. It was obviously somebody's pet.


Injured Cockatiel

I sat and watched the bird as it watched me in return. Of course, I wondered where it had come from, but I did not see anyone searching the park with a bird cage in hand. Nor did I remember seeing any lost bird signs posted anywhere as I had driven up to the park. It appeared to me that the bird was a little distressed. It was shivering, fluffed up, and it seemed to be trying to gather the courage to dive bomb me again. I stood up and stretched out my arms. After was seemed like another thirty minutes of me looking like a statue, after a couple of more dive bombs by the bird, it glided out of the tree and landed on my shoulder.

My concern for the bird shifted slightly towards myself in that I now wondered what I was going to do next. I figured that I should try to take it back to my car and search for its owner. Slowly I began walking down the hill with the bird perched precariously on my shoulder. A few people, mostly joggers, walked by and gave me odd looks. One person asked me how I had trained my bird to stay on my shoulder outside. I explained the situation and asked if they were missing a bird. The stranger answered no, but his energetic dog frightened the bird back in the trees. At this point, I figured that the bird was not going to come back. But, as I did not try to harm it while we walked down the hill, it trusted me enough to come back to my shoulder after another patient twenty minutes. Taking no chance this second time, I grabbed the bird and walked the rest of the way to my car.

I drove around the neighborhood for an hour trying to locate someone who was missing their bird, but no luck. Long story short: the bird you see in the picture above has been with me for the past five days. It resides in a cage in my living room. A trip to the veterinarian confirmed that the bird had been injured by some other small animal. I think that contributed to the bird's decision to trust me, a total stranger. I will continue to search for the the bird's owner for a while, but so far nothing has turned up. It looks I will be keeping this bird for some time to come. Any suggestions for a name? (She's a female).

Status Report

It has been awhile since I have last posted here, but I've been alternating between doing work and catching up on sleep. Personal issues have kept me from getting everything I had planned done. However, I have managed to do quite a bit already. The most significant of which is a working bibliography for my next report. I still have a ton of reading to do, which I'm working on right now.


Rainy Day

I no longer have access to a digital camera. I used to be able to check one out from the college library, but that is no longer an option. I don't forsee having to stop posting pictures here on my site because I still have a few on my laptop that I have yet to post. The other day, I foolishly tried to win one. I won't explain how, except I will mention that it involved staying up nineteen hours in a row. And even after all that, I'm pretty sure I did not win. Oh well. Lesson learned.

Recovery

Some days ago, I got a phone call from the police informing me that my car had been found. As I mentioned in the previous post, I had been through this whole process before, but even still, it was still a little nerve-wracking. It seems as if I had been holding back my emotions until my car was found because some anxiety and apprehension came creeping back after I hung up the phone. The cop had said that he would wait about a half an hour for me to show up, after which time the car may be impounded.

I quickly checked the Internet to find out how to get to where the cop said the car was, which was about ten minutes north of where I live. I printed the directions, and drove the rental car back to the rental office. I tried to return it, figuring I could get a free ride to where my car was. And although I was in the office behing the counter, the manager unfortunately said that they were closing for the day and did not have the time to take their car back or drive me to mine. I couldn't stay to argue, not that I would have anyway, so I left without saying much beyond a mumbled "Ok," and I drove the rental out to my car.

When I got to the intersection where my stolen car had been abandoned, I saw the sheriff's deputy waiting for me in his patrol car. We both got out of our vehicles, and after assuring himself that I was who I said I was, and not like the disheveled homeless guy I looked like, we examined at the car togther. Although it was obvious that the theif (or thieves) had rifled through it looking for things to steal or sell, it was equally obvious that they hadn't stole anything. The ignition cover around the steering column was damaged. The cop said it looked like they "popped" the ignition. As my car was most definitely the huge pile orangutan crap that it appeared to be, the cop did not wait around too long to get any details. But before he left, he did tell me that he had recovered another stolen car, almost exactly like mine, in the same area just a day before. Apparently, Hondas made before 1996 are easy to steal. Just my luck.

Now by myself, I stood out in the street trying to figure what to do next. My immediate problem was that I now had two cars in one place and needed to get them both back home. After making a couple of phone calls to local friends who were not home, I slowly realized that I needed to drive the rental home and get a taxi back to the intersection. As I drove home in the rental, it was starting to get a little dark. It took me longer to search through the phonebook for a taxi than it did for the taxi to arrive to pick me up. The driver said almost nothing. He was listening to some real-estate investment scheme on the radio. I didn't feel like interuppting him too much. Thirteen bucks and an hour and a half later, I had my car back.

I'm glad the whole experience is over, and it is nice that I have my car back, but my insurance rates are going to go up (of course), and the deductible I need to pay for the repair is too much for me to even bother fixing the ignition cover. I bought a club, the cost of which will be barely covered by the small insurance payment I will get. In the midst of all of this, I'm trying to get my work done, but things haven't been going great for me during the last few weeks. Intellectually, I know that things can better, but right now, I'm struggling to keep on tops of things.

Stolen, Again!

The recent few weeks have not been going great for me, lately. My car was stolen sometime last Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday. Last time my car was stolen, I went through the typical stages of grief, with a longer stay in the Anger phase. After the initial shock of this first act of theft, I envisioned all kinds of ridiculous revenge fantasies that really didn't help me cope with the fact that I missed my car. Now, I am not feeling a whole lot except maybe numb disappointment.


Stolen! Again!

My car, the above blue '89 Honda Civic, is exactly what you'd expect from an elderly car--almost a piece of junk. The picture gives it more credit than it deserves. I considered buying a club for it at the time, but I could never scrape the forty or so bucks together all at one time to buy one. Plus, I figured (stupidly) that probability was on my side. What are the chances that this junker would be stolen again? Next to nothing, right?

Well, just to hedge my bets, I figured that if I couldn't buy a club, I could at least engage in some "Urban Camoflague." I thought that if I put enough visible trash in the back, something like this but not quite as bad, the thief (or thieves) would reason that the there would be nothing inside the car worth stealing. Maybe the thief would figure that someone who allowed his car to be filled with so much trash couldn't really afford nice things anyway. Maybe the thief would suppose that if the car was worth stealing, it would be better taken care of. I guess I was wrong.

This time, I've got a rental car to drive in the meantime. I am also in the process of filing an insurance claim, a hassle that I really don't want to go through. This afternoon, I have to make a statement to the company and then wait a bit more than two weeks to find out what they might do. As for my car, I hope the police find it intact--and find it soon. Of course, the first time my car was stolen, but later recovered, may have been a kind of cosmic joke, a warning if you will. This time, I may not be so lucky.

A Day for Reading

Day Seventeen: Taxes are completed and are in the mail, something for which I am grateful seeing as how money has been unusually tight lately. The meager refund, approximately 200 hundred bucks, will help matters some. Taxes were one major task that I can cross off my list. I have also managed to arrange things at school so that I can stay in my student apartment until the end of Fall Term, even though I will not be attending class during Spring or Summer. Just today, I got the official approval I needed from the housing office. I had thought that they would need to meet with me personally, but the disability office worker that I have been talking to had smoothed things out for me. (The housing director wished me good luck with my plan to re-enroll in the Fall, an odd, but touching note. It struck me as odd in that it was a personal note out of what I expected to be a more bureaucratic process.)


Spring Weather

As for the other things that are still unfinished, I have yet to hear back whether or not my Leave of Absence has been finally approved. If it has been, then everything should be fine, and I can focus entirely on completing my unfinished papers. If not, I will have to quickly make other plans, including attending (as a guest) a couple writing classes taught by my colleagues--a requirement for one of my unfinished classes. I also need to meet with the Financial Aid counselor about some loan options. I have been putting this task off because I only have a very slim hope of getting what I want. Consequently, I feel a little intimidated and daunted by asking for something that I will not be getting. However, this is something that I definitely will do in the coming week, all feelings of trepidation aside.

My actual school work has been picking up. Currently, I am re-reading Mary Barton for my Victorian Class. From what I have gathered from the novel's Introduction, Elizabeth Gaskell, the author, wanted to write a novel about the working poor, thereby illuminating their plight to the upperclasses. And the upperclasses, having read her novel, would somehow be so moved by their feelings of sympathy for the poor that they would help alleviate their suffering. But, according to the author of the introduction, Gaskell seems to have omitted any recognition that the upperclasses were responsible for that suffering. Apparently, Gaskell felt that the poor's "problem" of being mad at the rich for their greed and luxury could be solved if the rich could learn how to emotionally sympathize with the poor, not rethink their own culpability in the economic oppression. I suppose it would be as if someone hit you in the head, and then said, "You poor dear! You somehow have gotten a bruise on your head." I've only just started, but I'll be interested to see if this is how the novel plays out.

Progress and Reading

Day Nine: When people ask me what I do, my answer is that I am graduate student studying English at a State University. Of course, mostly this means that some people think that I am mentally correcting the way that they speak, or am silently amused or annoyed by the way they use the language. And while inspiring self-consciousness in other people is fun for about a minute and a half, I actually have better things to do than to mentally grade the way people talk. ("You get a B- for the grammar of that sentence, but I'm afraid you get an F for originality. Begone foul abuser of English Tongue!") In fact, as a word nerd, I like the creativity of non-standard uses of English. Phrases like, "All your base are belong to us" is a source of enjoyment, not an opportunity to be a pompous idiot.

English majors are not the appointed guardians of language, and those you do critique the way people speak may have good intentions, but are really killing the life of the language and are fixing it for the grave of obsolescence. Besides, this is not what English majors do anyway. My insufficient, oversimplified definition of what an English scholar does is basically this: they take a "text," which can be almost anything, and interpret it to reveal the hidden layers of meanings behind it, or interpret it to reveal its simplicity, or reveal its comment about the human condition--whatever the hell that is. Of course, to oversimplify the oversimplification, English scholars "interpret texts."


Reading

With this in mind, I am going to interpret a 'text' for you, thereby showing you an example of what a Graduate Student in English might be doing instead of inwardly laughing at your use of spoken language. In this case, the text the above photograph. You can see three main elements: my feet, a book, and my computer. There are other elements involved, but I choose to ignore them.

The feet in this picture symbolizes my walking all over campus today. I went to the housing office, the financial aid office, and the disability services department today, something that is at least a couple of miles of walking. The book represents my studying. I need to do much more of this in the coming days. And the computer represents the writing that I will be doing in the future. Of course, these elements can combine. Walking involves "putting one foot in front of the other," and this is, metaphorically speaking, what I need to do with my papers. I have several miles of text to plow through and, like walking, I need to pick a path and start with the first step. The book operates the same way. I could go even further with all of this, perhaps suggesting that the window represents my "looking toward the future," or that my office represents an attachment to school and work. But, I think you get the idea.

SUMMARY
Here is what I still need to accomplish in the next few days: read my Victorian Book, file my taxes, and investigate my registering for summer term. I need to meet with a financial aid counselor to discuss getting a loan, and I need to see about getting some personal counseling off campus for the next term. Today, I turned in my Leave of Absence From and my Housing Petition. I met with the Disability counselor again. And, I read more of my Victorian Book. Tonight, I will clean house and do laundry. (And if there is any time, I will update my comic with a quick picture.)

Pathways

Day Four: This morning, after not too much sleep due to cartoon watching and videogame playing, I went to the student disability office for my appointment. I laid out the whole story for the counselor/social worker and asked for help with resources. Of course, I was told that there is no help with money, which means that I will have to figure out a way to pay my bills and buy groceries while I am working on my papers. I suppose that I could look into private loans, but without an income or any assets I'm pretty sure no bank will touch me with a ten foot pole. However, the disability office can advocate for me while I negotiate through the policies of the various college departments and facilities. For example, a letter from the disability office will make it so I don't get kicked out of my apartment just yet, that is as long as I can pay for it. I might just go through my collection of books and videogames and sell some of them if I can.


Pathways

So, as notes for myself, I am going to summarize what I need to do next. On Monday, I need to turn in my leave of absence form to the main office of my department. I need to get the petition from the housing office and write my statement of explanation, after which I contact the disability office again to touch base. I need to visit with the financial aid office one more time and discuss loan issues and the summer term. If there are any hiccups, I will have to contact the disability offices again.

As for the incompletes, I am going to focus on one class first and work through them all one at a time. I am still planning on developing a steady, solid routine that will carry me through the work that I need to do. I feel confident that I can do the work, especially now that I have worked out some personal issues. Now, I just need to dive in and do it.

Rainy Days

It was ten days since my last blog here on the site, but I am going to try and start posting with much more frequently. I've got a plan to use this blog more as a tool to help me keep focused, but there'll be more on that later in this post.

To be frank, I have a had a difficult past two academic years, the result of which has been the accumulations of incompletes in most of my classes. Most of my professors have heard my tried and true sad-sack excuses, which if they're not sick of them, I certainly am. But, I've always been pretty good at painting a picture of redemption. Perhaps my ability to admit to very personal (and vaguely embarrassing) difficulties, combined with my discomfort at doing so, seems to move my professors to pity. Inevitably, they offer me a second chance to do good. Now, I'm nearly at the end of the whole graduate school experience, but it is still not too late to turn things around. This is my last second chance to do well at school and work towards the career I want.


Rainy Day

This blog comes in as a tool insofar as I am hoping to use it each day to track my progress at getting my schoolwork done. There are two classes for which I going to work on completing first: 19th century Victorian City class, and Sacred Violence class. I will read: Bleak House, Samson Agonistes, and No-No Boy again during the next month.

Today, I went to the student health center for my one-time free followup meeting to meet with the Doctor. (As I am on a leave-of-absence, I can't use the University resources anymore like the student health center, nor get any finances.) The doctor will write a letter explaining how my difficulties during the last couple of years are attributable to a medical problem that I have just now begun to work out. Tomorrow, I pick the letter up. I will also take the letter to the disability services office tomorrow afternoon.

As for my accomplishments today, I re-inaugurated this blog as a work tool and read part of my book for the Victorian City class. This book, Victorian Soundscapes, is part of a three page paper that I will have done by middle of next week. I e-mailed my professor about getting a paper that I had previously turned in back. I need it for my records. Even though this is the second day of the new term, I am going to call this: Day One.

Workloads

Finals week is over, but that does not mean that work is over for me. I'm not sure if I have mentioned this here before, but I have some incompletes left over from the previous terms. Therefore, I am planning on taking off the next term to finish these incompletes up. This means developing a solid work routine that I stick to: read, write, meet with professors, and write again. My old system of working like crazy at the last minute of a deadline, or working day and night for a handful of days to get a final paper done, is dead and finished. That system does not work anymore. My plan is to develop a balanced approach where I can write every day, and then take time off to decompress from the stress of the exertions. I suppose this is not unlike starting an exercise routine in that it requires a lifestyle change for a permanent result. The raw intellectual ability is not an issue, but rather the issue is the development of new work skills and basic discipline.


Winter

But I think that this is not such a bad thing. The temptations to do other things, like watch television, as a means to avoid sinking under the weight of unpleasant emotions must be overcome. This is where the lessons of Beowulf come back to me. The traditional means we use to slay our monsters do not always serve us. Like Beowulf, one must be able to toss aside the sword and use one's hands to overcome their Grendel, even though it may feel more difficult. These next few weeks will be a new beginning, a pseudo-do-over.

Volcano Again!

In October, I wrote this brief post when Mt. St. Helens (Aka: Loowit) first began getting attention. I am reposting the camlink here because the mountain is rumbling again.



As you may have heard in the national news, the volcano had a relatively small eruption yesterday with a plume of ash and steam. I'm just a bit too far away to see it from my house, but my parents saw it from their house, which is still pretty far away. I did not live in the Pacific Northwest when Mt. St. Helens really blew its top in the eighties so some of the information that comes across the television news is interesting.

For example, if ash falls on the windshield of your car, don't use the wiper blades if you can help it because you'll scratch the heck out of the glass. Furthermore, your car's air filter will clog up with ash something horrible. And if you happen to live near the mountain, move already (or get volcano insurance). The daylight images from the Volcanocam have been really interesting lately. Check it out.

Two Academic Papers

The building that you see below is the place where I should be spending the majority of the next several weeks. I have two very important papers to write, but I am having some difficulty deciding what they should be about. Briefly, the first one should be about the nature of the "Victorian City," more specifically 19th century London. The second paper needs to be connected to the idea of "Sacred Violence." I do not have any strong leads on either paper, and I fear that this might have something to do with not knowing as much Literary Theory as I think I should.


Library

For the first paper, the Victorian City, I am completely at sea metaphorically speaking. I figure that I might try to do something about the nature of physical space and how class differences worked in those spaces. I guess what I mean to say really is this: if you were rich in the 19th century you had more space, more mobility, but if you were poor, you were more confined. Unfortunately, I don't know if this is something that I ground in some kind of theory. Right now, this thought is an observation and does not rise to the status of a fully realized, academic thesis yet. An added restriction for this paper is that it must include some kind of connection to Dickens Bleak House, but what that connection is I haven't the foggiest idea yet.

The second paper I may have better luck with. I am going to return to some earlier work that I have done on Tim O'Brien's book, The Things They Carried. All of the stories in this collection are about a group of American soldiers during (and after) the Vietnam War. I have managed to write two other papers about two different stories in this collection before. I think I can write another paper about a third. By using "How to Tell a True War Story," and some research I did on psychological Trauma, I may be able to analyze how this seemingly secular war story has an element of sacred Trauma within it. However, I will be leaning heavily on the scapegoat elements within it and that may be stretching the story further than it will bend. But there are other stories in the collection that I could try work with as well.

I think my main project will be to swallow my pride, gather my courage, and talk to my professors about my paper plans. Even though they may not be happy with my admitting that I am not further along in the process as I should be, it looks like I am going to need some assistance to get something turned in to them by the end of the term. With the end of the term in mind, I am really going to be focusing on catching up on my reading assignments during the next four days. My only choice is to work steadily through this mess rather than doing what I normally do: which, specifically, is finding novel ways to avoid it.

Dreariness

The end of the term is fast apporaching, so with that in mind, I really need to find a to get all of this term's work done in the next three weeks. Projects of note are two seminar papers, and one book review, which of course, requires reading the book. I have been doing pretty good with my assignments lately, but even still with my increasing productivity, I still have a backlog of stuff to do. This past week has been characterized with meetings with Professors and Program Directors. I think I have passed beyond regret stage about what I should have done, but I still can't help think that I really should have done this during last year.


Dreary Winter

As far as my personal life goes, I think I am getting a grip on my the balance between school and personal non-academic interests. Although I am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, I have found that my knowledge as a blogging hobbyist is proving useful and interesting to the few people who know me. I have a paper pending about the nature of blogs and hyperlinks, but it has been a few months since I have worked on it, and I already see that I am going to have to revise it. Some of the information is already out of date.

As for the above picture, I think it represents the kind of drab winter days that have been visiting here lately. The iron grey skies carry a chill that is most intense in the mornings when you have to scrape the ice off your car's windshield. On these days, it is almost a disappointment if the sun happens to come out in the afternoon. If, like me, you are dressed for the cold, the afternoon combination of the lunch induced drowsiness and unexpected warmth sap all my internal reserves for concentrated study. Plus, for some reason, the whole building in which I work is constantly overheated. Even if it is only 40 degrees outside, it is sometimes necessary to open a window.

Resolved and Figment

I'll try to post here a bit more frequently if I can. Now that I met with the appropriate advisors and professors, and now that I have resolved some of my issues here at work/school, I feel I can do a bit better about posting with more consistency. Of course, there will still be stretches of days at a time when I will have to put my blogging priority on the back burner (probably no longer than a week), but I am still committed to it and therefore will continue to do it for the forseeable future. I think I am fairly visual person, and I am enjoying posting pictures here on my site. I am not a photographer by any stretch of the imagination, but I think the pictures look nice here, and it can be an interesting hobby of sorts when I am in the mood.


Winter Fountain

Today, after the high-water-mark of resolving a months long school issue, I decided that I needed a short break from the study routine, so I spent a little over an hour at the University Ary Museum looking at some of Andy Warhols' most famous prints. Of course there were the popular Soup Cans and Marilyn Monroe displays. There were also some interestings ones of Jimmy Carter and JFK. I am not sure what to make of Warhol. Now that I am older, and can look back with some perspective (no pun intended), I realize how many people in the 80's tried to copy him. The large blocks of bold neon colors and the sketchy lines next to those colors, most of which is layered on a screen printing of a celebrity really brought that realization home. Seeing his works in person is really a lot different than looking at them in some art book. I have a new found appreciation for his ability to make a artistic composition out of his "manufactured" approach.

But part of me wonders if Warhol should not be remembered most as a comedian than as an artist. Some of his statements really seemed to me that he enjoyed putting the public on. He claimed that he thought it would be best if instead of dying, one could just "vanish" or turn into "sand." He also said that he did not want anything printed on his tombstone, he just wanted a plain slab of rock. But in the same quote, he amended his comment to indicate that the one word he wanted on his tombstone should be "Figment."

Nineteenth and Twenty-Fourth Centuries

It has been over a week since I last posted, for which, all I can say is that the delay is like a result of my struggling with the increasing press of work at school. It is time to really start thinking about term paper topics for my seminar papers due in about five weeks. Research should start to take priority which means that I should be spending more time reading in the library than anything else. I would really like to read at home, but I have found that the allure of shows like Battlestar Galactica, Futurama, and Star Trek Deep Space Nine is nearly impossible to resist. My Victorian City class demands that I spend more time in the 19th century than the 24th. Thus, I commit myself to the Library on campus.


Rain

As far as spending time in the 19th century goes (specifically: London, England), it has actually been quite interesting. In 1851, there was a "Great Exhibition" of nations that drew large crowds to the "crystal palace" to see the so-called great accomplishments of mostly Western Nations. For example, the Americans brought their sewing machine (or Singer brought it, I guess). But one of my favorite displays was one from Germany which displayed the new achievements in Taxidermy. One display of animals had about five stuffed cats drinking tea, while another cat played the piano. It reminds me of the famous "Dogs playing Poker" painting that you see in thrift stores. This particular German display of animals in human poses was so popular that two policeman had to guide the crowd through the exhibition and prevent the usual crowd type problems. In any event, that is all for now. More on all of this later, I suppose.