tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42805682584515326352024-03-13T14:54:27.105-04:00The Doctor Isn'tA young academic tells tales about his life in the American educational system and its discontents.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.comBlogger471125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-7475734699708487402011-10-05T15:59:00.002-04:002011-10-05T16:01:48.747-04:00Single in AcademiaI can't imagine I have any readers left, but in the case that I do, I came across this and it seemed like it was something that many of you - like myself - might find it worth a read: it's <a href="http://blog.commarts.wisc.edu/2011/10/05/all-the-single-academics/">a piece from Antenna about being single in academia</a>. <br /><br />Hope you're all well. Enjoy.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-23590560765956794412011-05-01T15:33:00.004-04:002011-05-01T15:38:11.033-04:00The Last Blog PostWow, look at the cobwebs here. <br /><br />Sorry to have neglected this place for so long. Sadly, it's a bit of virtual/intellectual real estate that's only going to be further abandoned. I'm in the slow process of starting up a site that is a more public face (complete with real name) to help deal with an increasingly competitive field, and since I didn't have the focus to do this one justice, I know I won't have the focus to do two of them any service either. <br /><br />And that's a shame as this was a damn good time. And a new "real name" blog won't allow for nearly the snark this one did (though I bet some still sneaks through). So thanks, dear readers, for the good times. Maybe someday I'll get with it enough to juggle two blogs - or, more likely, I'll find the need for sarcasm that the stodgy professional spot just won't allow. <br /><br />Til then...Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-44439878480358188412010-09-17T19:55:00.003-04:002010-09-17T20:10:36.843-04:00Irritate Your Prof - a MadLibIn order to fill out the story below, please provide the following:<br /><ol><li>Name of your major</li><li>Name of another major or department which feels like the opposite of your major</li><li>keyword which has is mentioned in the course description and in every lecture so far</li><li>keyword which has never been mentioned in this course's syllabus or lectures so far, related to your major</li><li>Noun</li><li>adjective</li><li>Proper name</li><li>Your favorite letter of the alphabet<br /></li></ol>When you have those answers for each of those, fill them into the story below and e-mail it to your professor, for much hilarity. They'll love you, I promise. And if you feel like it, you can post your answers in the comments, too! What fun!<br /><br />Hey __________ (5),<br />I am writing because I have a question about your class. I was under the impression the course would be focusing on __________ (4). But we're now several weeks into the course, and I think the course may be focusing on _______ (3). I am feeling _______(6). I'm a _________(1) major, and thought this course would be useful. My friend, _______(7), said that only __________(2) people would find this course interesting or useful. Is there any chance you'll change the course so that it works better for those of us in _______(1)? <br /><br />Thanks! See you in class.<br />______(8)Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-14744790547910414712010-09-16T22:14:00.004-04:002010-09-16T22:25:14.736-04:00North American Calendar PossumI'm supposed to be writing. Well, editing and adding. Whatever. <br /><br />Today's the first day in the new term that I've managed to get completely to myself, free from anything but chores and what-not. Naturally, I have ridiculous writer's block, even though I'm editing and adding. Or whatever. <br /><br />I made the leap at the start of the term to keep better track of my schedule. I'm on a Mac, and I have an iPhone, and it all syncs up nicely, so why not put stuff into the calendar since my school finally has a set-up allowing Macs to connect to things like campus e-mail and such? And I've been dutiful about it, thus far, making sure to plug in events. I've also been trying not to say no to invitations out. <br /><br />Only now opening the calendar is enough to paralyze me for awhile. I should at least have the decency to fall over and play dead or something when it happens instead of just standing stunned, waiting for the shoe to drop. But no!<br /><br />First off, I hate that I've hit a point where I can't remember all the details myself anymore. I'm consoling myself that isn't that I'm getting old, but rather that somehow there's more stuff to keep track of. But second, that level of organization feels more than a little confining to me. It was the fascists who wanted the trains to run on time, after all. This much order in my own life feels confining. Certainly, I like a bit of it - no doubt there are folks reading who are laughing a little to themselves thinking of all the amusing moments where I like to impose rules on myself and others. Still, I like the chaos, too (I'll take a picture of my desk sometime if you don't believe me). <br /><br />So that's the start of the term. My classes are going well, though I'm still struggling to get enrollment for them, but I'm getting there. And if I can get this writing thing (well, editing and adding...whatever) under control, it won't be so bad at all.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-75651053048763564652010-09-06T14:53:00.002-04:002010-09-06T14:56:02.195-04:00Sí se puedeHappy <a href="http://www.history.com/videos/history-of-labor-day#history-of-labor-day">Labor Day</a>, everyone!<br /><br />Remember that without unions and laborers, you'd likely have been working 80 work weeks since you were children for scrip. And don't forget that there people who still are working those long weeks as children from scrip.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-59097716571232385732010-08-28T21:40:00.004-04:002010-08-28T21:47:13.918-04:00And so it begins again...There is not much to be enjoyed at the start of a new term, truth be told. For whatever reason, the number of meetings that are crammed in to the first two weeks are ridiculous. And, of course, there are the panicked e-mails from students which are like a slap in the face after a quiet summer. And yet, I'm still having a bit of fun here at the start of the second year. Most of it, though, is happening off-campus. <br /><br />Need a couple things to enjoy? There's the joy that is <a href="http://twitter.com/feministhulk">@feministhulk</a> on Twitter. And I've finally, after years, paid for the full membership to <a href="http://www.librarything.com/">LibraryThing</a> and have been taking the pleasure that only a nerd truly can in cataloguing all sorts of things. Don't be surprised if you see movies and video games appear in that little box towards the bottom of the right-hand column. But mostly I've been plugging along at book edits, and hoping there are no more calamities that get in the way before I can ship the whole thing off to my (rightly-so) agitated editor, and making sense of the conferences I want to head to this year. Among them are one in San Antonio, New Orleans, and maybe Athens, Greece. We'll see how it goes.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-79444401812363825932010-07-30T08:17:00.000-04:002010-07-30T08:17:00.635-04:00You're Leaving on a Jet Plane...She's Not.Continuing with thinking about the trip, there are a lot of good bits to remember. <br /><br />I found myself running through the best stories from the trip with a friend on the phone last night - most of them involved airport travel or Americans abroad - and other than <a href="http://thedoctorisnt.blogspot.com/2010/07/and-then-reminder.html">running into my old undergrad adviser unexpectedly</a> - the best story happened on the flight back, as I was making a plane change in Shannon, Ireland. <br /><br />In front of me, stood two American recent college grads - a boy and a girl - and they were chatting each other up in the way that American college kids do (you know, with the assumption on at least one of their parts that if the conversation goes well it equates to them likely hooking up later). And so I hear them swapping travel stories, trying to one-up each other with where they've been or how much they've spent or how long they've stayed. And then flight begins to board. <br /><br />They call for the first round of regular boarding, and the two kids begin to head towards the ramp, with the girl remarking she's not in this boarding group (evidently the conversation is going well). Neither is particularly bothered by this, no doubt assured by their recent college graduate status and certain sense of entitlement that might come from age or from being American or from having been through so many airports. The boarding guard, an Irish gentleman in his middle years, balding, takes the boy's ticket. Then the girl's. Then he hands it back. <br /><br />"It's not your time to board."<br /><br />The boy, feeling his victory close at hand, goes for the kill, no doubt wanting to show both his entitlement and the level of cool control, "Oh, it's okay. She's with me."<br /><br />The boarding guard looks him over for just a second, sizes up the situation, and says with just enough sense of sarcasm and finality that every young male in the room would've winced and cupped themselves, "Not any more she's not. Get aboard, please." <br /><br />And with that, head hung in defeat, our young protagonist was left to head alone down the jetway, his dreams of summer fling put coolly to bed. And I must say, seeing it, and hearing the Irish accent and the sarcasm saying it, made the many walks through security well worth the trip.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-21240109552152014172010-07-29T10:55:00.005-04:002010-07-29T11:17:53.417-04:00Reading While TravelingI read a bit while I was abroad, and thought I'd mention here, by way of catching up a bit, what I ran into and what I enjoyed. So here's the list:<br /><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;">One Day</span> - David Nicholls</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">Let the Great World Spin</span> - Colum McCann</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">Juliet, Naked</span> - Nick Hornby</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">Cultural Consumption and Everyday Life</span> - John Storey</li></ul>Of them, I'd recommend the first three, with strongest marks going to <span style="font-style: italic;">Let the Great World Spin </span>(I'm sure, <a href="http://thedoctorisnt.blogspot.com/2010/07/on-being-abroad.html">not surprisingly</a>),<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span> though <span style="font-style: italic;">One Day</span> reminded me a bit of what would happen if you mixed the drama of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Time Traveler's Wife</span> with a Nick Hornby book, and the Nick Hornby book saw him finally returning to the other thing that made High Fidelity such a great book (not the angst of a male lead his both something of a fuck up and a success, though that's there, too): music as a center piece. <br /><br />As for Storey, it's intended as a history of the idea of cultural consumption, but the history itself feels a bit light. Entire areas are set up as straw men, based on one or two citations, and dismissed in a couple of paragraphs. It made for interesting "in the shade at a conference" reading, but overall, it was a bit disappointing, I thought. <br /><br />I should probably also note that I'm about 120 pages into A.S. Byatt's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Children's Book</span>. I like it, though I do think sometimes an editor could stand to weigh in a little more.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-17003764015026412742010-07-21T19:36:00.004-04:002010-07-21T19:45:53.583-04:00And then, a reminderI was, more or less, a fuck-up as an undergrad, trying to manage more than I was capable of: a girlfriend I wasn't happy with, two or three jobs, money home to the family (sometimes from student loans), being young and away from home for the first time, and, oh yea, school. <br /><br />That I made it out of my undergrad career with a degree is perhaps not a miracle, but certainly a testament to will and patience - some of it, even mine. <br /><br />One of the good bits, though, was that my undergrad adviser actually saw something in the mess that I was, and pointed it out when he could. I wouldn't have imagined being able to go to grad school - a time I'm not ashamed to admit will probably be the glory days I compare other things to for the rest of my life - without that. And for all the things that keep me up at night - fucked-up family, approaching 40 with the potential of looming genetic time bombs, a mountain of student loan debt - I've got a pretty good life that's come out of it. <br /><br />I say this because, by happenstance, as I was wandering to get a drink of water between sessions in the conference I'm attending overseas, my undergrad adviser spotted me out of the crowd and came over to say hello. <br /><br />It was nice to be able to say a quick thank you, and to be reminded of one of the things I have to live up to in my own interactions with students.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-56208837449561951432010-07-20T19:04:00.000-04:002010-07-20T19:05:35.058-04:00On Being Abroad<span class="text_exposed_show">"It struck me that distant cities were designed precisely so you can know where you came from."<br />- C. McCann, <span style="font-style: italic;">Let the Great World Spin</span><br /></span>Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-65150382356876928452010-07-14T16:45:00.001-04:002010-07-14T16:46:48.954-04:00I Write Like...And while I'm killing time in the hotel room, waiting for the rain to stop...<br /><!-- Begin I Write Like Badge --><br /><div style="overflow: auto; border: 2px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); font: 20px/1.2 Arial,sans-serif; width: 380px; padding: 5px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(247, 247, 247); color: rgb(85, 85, 85);"><img src="http://s.iwl.me/w.png" style="float: right;" width="120" /><div style="padding: 20px; border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); text-shadow: 0pt 1px rgb(255, 255, 255);"> I write like<br /><a href="http://iwl.me/w/faf229ca" style="font-size: 30px; color: rgb(105, 139, 34); text-decoration: none;">Ray Bradbury</a></div><p style="font-size: 11px; text-align: center; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"><em>I Write Like</em> by Mémoires, <a href="http://www.codingrobots.com/memoires/" style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">Mac journal software</a>. <a href="http://iwl.me/" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 224);"><b>Analyze your writing!</b></a></p></div><br /><!-- End I Write Like Badge -->Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-41331566739348026092010-07-14T15:41:00.005-04:002010-07-14T16:04:48.745-04:00Overheard at the MuseumDon't worry - I'm not going to do nothing but strange, semi-sarcastic guides. I've got other tricks of banal humor to use while on vacation.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://shagdora.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/andydollarsign.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 207px;" src="http://shagdora.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/andydollarsign.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>For example, today at a museum, I overheard an exchange between a man and a woman (both American, judging by their accents) while looking at an Andy Warhol. It went like this:<br /><blockquote><span style="font-weight: bold;">He: </span> So this is Warhol, huh?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">She:</span> Yes! Awesome isn't it?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">He:</span> Uh, I guess. I don't get it - what's with all copying of labels and stuff?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">She:</span> It's a statement.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">He: </span> Of what?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">She:</span> Just let me take your picture by the stupid thing.</blockquote>Already hurt by this irony of the exchange, it was then that I saw - as he turned to have his picture taken by it - he was wearing a Superman "S" t-shirt.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-34357747892525974862010-07-11T18:24:00.003-04:002010-07-11T18:37:25.538-04:00Guide for Americans Abroad on the Day of a World Cup Victory<ol><li>Recognize that there are some things bigger and more popular than anything your country produces.</li><li>Decide whether this makes you want to get on the bandwagon and/or expand your horizons or whether you want to try uncharacteristic anti-establishment thinking and/or passively grumbling that you don't get it.</li><li>Take comfort in the fact that people from your own country aren't the only ones who lose any sense of public shame or consideration when their team wins. But only a little comfort. And cold. </li><li>If forced into conversation, to minimize lack of knowledge (due to being at conference, lack of interest, etc.) simply mumble "Some refs, eh?".<br /></li><li>Wear earphones - the honking, cheering, and singing might go well into the night. </li><li>Day after, claim blisters that are making you hobble developed somehow while you were running victory laps long into the night. Don't admit they were from getting lost and finding yourself in the meatpacking district.</li><li>Buy a drink or accept a drink when offered. It's the right thing to do.<br /></li></ol>Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-87982174409864322162010-07-08T16:01:00.003-04:002010-07-08T16:09:10.915-04:00Guide to Conference Attendees Who Have Already Presented<ol><li>It's never too late to mention your research.<br /></li><li>Always wait at least two hours after presenting your research before savaging another presenter. This lessens the likelihood they'll remember the flaws in your presentation.<br /></li><li>Interrupting signals not just how much you care but how important your own work is.</li><li>Don't worry if they can hear you talking in the hallway. </li><li>Your cell phone ring is endearing and witty. Please, please, do let it ring a little longer.<br /></li><li>Feel free to generalize about the academic work of people from other schools, genders, or countries. The bigger the generalization, the more insightful.<br /></li><li>Always wait two hours after savaging another presenter before going swimming. You'll get cramps.<br /></li></ol>Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-83314649899740342572010-07-07T17:08:00.003-04:002010-07-07T17:12:24.752-04:00Guide to Travelers with Cameras<ol><li><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TUOz07R67VI/TDTtQ1aiHvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/9PLqUoWm__E/s1600/DSCF1409.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TUOz07R67VI/TDTtQ1aiHvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/9PLqUoWm__E/s200/DSCF1409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491274719143534322" border="0" /></a>Be prepared to wait for the shot. It will be worth it.</li><li>Remember what it feels like to wait for the next kiss after the first one. That's what shooting with film is like.<br /></li><li> If there is a fee to climb on top of something, it is almost always worth it.</li><li>Bring band-aids to aid with the blisters.</li><li>Expect a ratio of one good photo per roll. This is a better ratio than you will manage in almost any other aspect of your life, so don't bitch about it. <br /></li></ol>Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-81291503552474923542010-07-06T17:58:00.004-04:002010-07-06T18:12:31.628-04:00Like All the Great Airplane Disaster MoviesSomewhere just before we over the truly deep open water, the five year old across the aisle from me began to experience the joys of a tender stomach. Funny how well the sound of a five year old retching fills an airplane at 11:12 at night. He probably had the fish. <br /><br />It was then that I realized I'd left my journal at home.<br /><br />The tri<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://clarencethehorse.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/airplane-1280-2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://clarencethehorse.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/airplane-1280-2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>p was not going particularly well so far. On the way to the airport, someone wasn't thinking about how public transport tends to lurch and, so, grabbed the pull handle on my luggage to steady themselves. They broke it. There's not really an easy way to address this on the way to an airport: you can start to have the argument, but everyone knows you're on a deadline. And worse, they can always jump off with a shrug and a sorry at the next stop. What're you going to do? Miss your transatlantic flight?<br /><br />Because of the drama at home, I was already operating from behind. I have two conferences to hit, and two presentations to give, plus a panel to moderate, and I've got very little done on most of that (okay, I've got a PowerPoint mostly put together for one of them).<br /><br />Still, I'm here now, and it's much cooler than being back in my apartment, plus my family can't reach me except by e-mail (which I'll only have sporadically) for the better part of two weeks. It is, as they say, sweet bliss. Except of course for having forgotten my journal, being unable to actually pull my giant piece of luggage through one of the largest airports in the world, and having to listen to four hours of a five year old hollowing himself out into a bag at 37,000 feet.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-40072160920089938662010-07-05T17:50:00.002-04:002010-07-05T20:46:00.287-04:00Reading in the Terminal"[he] lay stretched out on a bench as above his head three yellow butterflies danced. Angels, I thought, willing for a moment to give the world the benefit of the doubt."<br /><br /> - C. Smith, <span style="font-style: italic;">Three Delays</span>Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-12211396917712860052010-06-30T20:09:00.003-04:002010-06-30T20:21:26.116-04:00In Order of Importance...Today, I received an e-mail from an incoming student, asking what they can do to prepare for my Fall term class. Earnest, hard-working, painful. Is it two days before the term starts? Oh, how I laughed and laughed. <br /><br />Roughly speaking, here is some of what's on my mind, in order of importance, and where my Fall term class ranks. <br /><blockquote>1. New socks which promise no blisters for my European jaunt starting next week<br />2. European jaunt next week<br />3. Presentations for conferences in Europe that need to be ready by next week<br />4. Papers to be turned into presentation for European conferences that need to be ready by next week<br />5. Why key lime flavored yogurt is so awesome<br />6. The answer to 5 probably only makes the yogurt unhealthy<br />7. How long I can continue to go without registering my car in the state I moved to last July<br />8. Why "How I Met Your Mother" seems to be on every night on CBS? <br />9. puppies<br />10. what to do on the 4th of July<br />.<br />.<br />.<br />12,492. Fall term course that needs to be prepared</blockquote>You'd be surprised just how far down the list my Spring term course falls. Aside from trying to explain what an article review should do, this may be the toughest e-mail to answer ever.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-52380488987355018962010-06-21T21:22:00.003-04:002010-06-21T21:40:37.027-04:00First Year Progress ReportSomewhere along the line, this blog forgot a few things: first, that it's a blog (see the giant gap in posting over the last several months), and second, that this has been a big year for things other than personal drama. <br /><br />I'm almost at the one year anniversary of the move to the new job. And while there have been a lot of personal hurdles this year, the new job has been stellar. <br /><br />The folks I work with, while high strung and needy as any department might be, are also by and large really nice people. Everyone who's invited me for dinner or drinks has turned out to be someone I like to have dinner or drinks with. They don't quite get what I do in some cases, but they've not dismissed it, and in most cases, they're open to hearing about it. Very impressive considering the idea of multidisciplinary stuff wasn't on their radar even when they hired me. <br /><br />There's funding. I'm about to launch off for my summer conference fest, and I've been to at least three conferences this year. I've got a teaching release coming up, which will make my teaching load a 1/1. <br /><br />That's right. A 1/1. <br /><br />Read it again. I'm okay with rubbing it in. Take a few minutes and grumble. I'm okay. I've got time. 'Cause I'm going to be on a 1/1, suckas!<br /><br />The new town is better than the old town. There are people here. With interests other than hockey (though the sports fans here are still ridiculous). And there's Thai food that can be delivered to my apartment anytime I want. And it doesn't equate "vinegary" with "spicy" as in some places. I've got friends who, even if they do mostly teach at universities, at least don't all teach at my university. <br /><br />So, for those of you who've wondered: the first year gets an A-.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-45968212405331177812010-06-20T14:57:00.003-04:002010-06-20T15:11:24.238-04:00Updates and Carry OnsI should note, first, for the record that I'm back. Second, I must say thanks for all the kind thoughts and support, which did help more than I can adequately express. <br /><br />I did what I could, which wasn't as much as I would like. And then I left, knowing that what was left to be done had to be done by my parents, that it would require them to want to change things themselves. I do not have high hopes for these changes to ever happen. The last visits to my mother in the hospital were tense. On multiple occasions, they devolved into arguments at the thought that some her precious things were being moved. Worse, that some of them might simply not be there. <br /><br />There's something to note about the logic of hoarding that allows it to completely ignore considerations of the laws of thermodynamics. Somehow, it seems to say, that if you just twist things the right way, everything will fit even though there's only a prescribed about of volume to be dealt with. <br /><br />I brought back with flea-bit ankles, smoke-filled clothing to be washed, a sense of guilt that I was abandoning my parents - particularly my mother who will have to use a walker for quite awhile - to an inevitable accident, and the secret fear that I'm becoming a hoarder, too. Do I need all these books? These CDs? Is the comfort I take from old photographs just the start of these things? Or am I just a slob? There's a feeling of lingering depression, too, that I can't quite shake. I feel like I'm going through the motions at the moment, and little things that I can usually shake off - like someone pointing out that my eyes shake, particularly when I'm especially focused - cut me to the core. <br /><br />I've taken the weekend to focus. No work: just visits with friends, swimming through the humidity, sleeping late in bed, reading and listening to music. Thinking about what I can possibly throw out. Do I need a couch? Is there a reverse condition to hoarding? I remember thinking at some point that there should be opposites to every medical condition. I wish, for just a moment, that I had the opposite of hoarding. That I needed more space around me. But then I think that's probably how people wind up in cabins in Wyoming or Idaho, and that's never a good way to start.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-51402611708882223682010-06-13T15:42:00.002-04:002010-06-13T15:44:57.854-04:00Inspirational SpeechesIn all the old movies where the hero is leading a group of people away from danger, there's a moment where fatigue sets in and morale begins to falter. Whatever they are running from is, of course, immune to such things and gets inexorably closer. Usually at this moment, our hero makes a speech that recharges the motley group to dig a little deeper, to keep moving and survive.<br /><br />I imagine there's a good psychological thriller on hoarding <a href="http://blogs.sundaymercury.net/anorak-city/da_trash.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 262px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 190px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://blogs.sundaymercury.net/anorak-city/da_trash.jpg" /></a>for someone who wants to write it. Or at least a really fucked up young adult novel about going to grandma's house and being swallowed up by the mess she thinks keeps her safe from whatever her personal boogie man is. The climactic scene could have our lead character trying to reach a garbage bag. Or the front door. Or even a Broom +2 for all my gamer friends - you know who you are. And the junk, maybe even the walls would be reaching out to take them. That's when the speech would have to happen.<br /><br />At least now is when it has to happen here, because that's what it feels like is happening. I'm headed back later in the week, and while victory seems impossible, a stalemate would be nice. Otherwise it feels like just going back to wait for some awful accident.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-91369860696405540832010-06-11T19:17:00.001-04:002010-06-11T22:21:24.621-04:00ThingsMy sister called.<br /><br />"How's the cleaning going?" She can't come help - she's more or less banned, and no one really trusts her. From my perspective, she's like inviting a little black rain cloud over. One that'll hit you up for cash.<br /><br />"It's fine," I said. "As good as can be expected."<br /><br />"If you're throwing stuff out, I'll take the Egg Chair."<br /><br />There it is. It's the second reference since I've been here. I blame myself for expecting subtlety. It's never happened before, so I don't know why it would happen now.<br /><br />My family is fixated with things. Once, when I was visiting my grandmother, just months before she passed away, I was sitting at her bedside, having a great conversation about when I'd stayed with her as a child. My uncle appeared at the door and asked - interrupting the conversation - gestured at the things in the room and said, "What would you like?"<br /><br />"Just more conversation, thanks," I replied. "And maybe a Coke.".<br /><br />The other evening, visiting my mother, she informed me my younger brother wants the portraits of our grandparents. I didn't know what to say. Evidently, she expected a fight.<br /><br />"They're just things," I said. "Let him have them."Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-64219229454031747112010-06-07T17:34:00.001-04:002010-06-07T17:34:12.547-04:00The Trip, So Far...Imagine a centipede that's six feet high in steel-toed combat boots. Imagine it has a sense of irony. <br /><br />Say casually, as if to no one at all, "I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."<br /><br />Wait and see. <br /><br /><br /><br />Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-63350257453435713022010-06-06T03:53:00.005-04:002010-06-11T22:22:19.206-04:00ConfessionTime is a little fuzzy right now.<br /><br />Sometime a little more than a week ago, I flew home because my mother had to have emergency surgery for infections on her spinal cord.<br /><br />Sometime, about a week ago more or less, my oldest friend's father died.<br /><br />Sometime between then and now, my father decided that - to help with my mother's mobility when she got home - we needed to redo the floors in the house in addition to trying to clean and move things about.<br /><br />My mother, have I mentioned, is a hoarder? My father, by the way, enables this.<br /><br />My older sister and my mother have a rotten relationship in which each takes anything the other does as a personal affront. Also, my sister has a tendency to steal from or take advantage of my parents. My younger brother is 30, lives at home, and previously owned nunchucks. Neither are useful for anything like helping.<br /><br />For example, when my sister heard my mother was in the hospital, she called me, 1/4 crying, 3/4 angry, because when she'd asked a nurse for information the nurse told her she wasn't authorized.<br /><br />"DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR MOTHER SAID?" she screamed into my voice mail. "SHE SAID SHE DOESN'T HAVE A DAUGHTER!"<br /><br />After a 30 second rhetorical analysis, it was revealed that in fact my mother had not talked to my sister, being unconscious from pain pills and two incisions into her spine. But instead, the nurse had said there were three people authorized to get information: my father, my uncle, and myself.<br /><br />Sometimes my sister misses the point.<br /><br />Also, she didn't notice how she said "your mother."<br /><br />The funeral for my friend's father is Monday morning at an hour which only proves my theory that nothing good happens before 10 a.m. As a child, I spent essentially every weekend at my friend's house, as the battle between my sister and parents began when I was fairly young, and the need to mediate wore out even 8-year-old Curmudgeon. His father was the picture definition of terse. We used to joke about him talking like Yosemite Sam, but he never actually let on if he was rightly annoyed that they had essentially adopted me on the weekends.<br /><br />My friend took care of his father at home for several months as he battled cancer and a hip replacement.<br /><br />He also did this for his mother a few years back.<br /><br />He's my hero.<br /><br />Tonight, after cleaning up several bags of trash that were not even a dent in the already metaphorical crater that is my parents house, I found myself angry. Angry that I get claustrophobic in the house I grew up in. Angry that bags and bags of trash didn't cut into the boxes and boxes of useless shit that litter this place. Angry that I have possibly done something to my right rotator cuff (a friend's diagnosis) in the process of shifting crap around but not actually getting rid of most of the problem.<br /><br />Angry to the point that I don't particularly want to go see my mother tomorrow even though she's more or less confined to bed in a rehabilitation facility and most of her God loving church friends stopped turning up two days after she got there. Angry at myself for feeling that way. Angry that I took a job intentionally knowing it was away from my family because after 10 days here, I begin to get claustrophobic and antsy and feel bugs which probably aren't quite so imaginary crawling on me, and yet I feel guilty about it. Angry that I'm not quite the good son my oldest friend is, who found it in himself to clean up his parents and potentially lose his job and who just lost his girlfriend and yet kept on and said, like a made-for-TV-movie hero-to-be, "I just keep on."<br /><br />I'm tired.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280568258451532635.post-61693377134894807542010-06-05T14:08:00.003-04:002010-06-05T14:11:21.346-04:00I've Nowhere Else to Put ThisList of items discarded in mad attempt to slightly de-hoard my parents house while my mother is away recuperating from spinal surgery:<br /><ul><li>paper grocery bag of expired Jello mixes</li><li>30 year old dead-beat brother who lives at home's nunchucks</li><li>books titled "Clean House, Clean Planet" and "Unclutter Your House," both so dusty their titles could not be seen. </li></ul>I suspect it will only get worse. Also, I'm discovering a latent allergy to dust.Dr. Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311538014480815090noreply@blogger.com0