Spew forth thy thoughts, oh tired wench.
Right now, I’m listening to an old favourite cd I haven’t played for such a long time – Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette. I forgot just how good “You Oughta Know” sounds played really loud on a Friday night, drowning out the washing machine.
This cd reminds me of the time I worked at Lawleys in Mt. Lawley. Lawleys is no more – the building is there, but it’s now a pub called The Flying Scotsman. My friend Rachel (who used to also work at Lawleys) and I used to play this cd in her Suzuki Sierra soft top as we drove to Oriel or some other cafe to meet up with the other girls. I used to drink short macchiato after short macchiato (I think six in one sitting over a three hour period was my record). I don’t drink coffee anymore. I’ve fallen out of touch with all of the girls. *sigh* (Rachel was the friend I posed nude with.)
I’ve been working on that stupid chapter all day. It’s still a mess, but I’m trying to get all the ideas down in one place so I can then go back and “fix” it. I was doing the slow write and fix as I went along, but I kept getting bogged down with the fixing (9 incomplete drafts later…) so I decided to change my approach (yes, yes 9 drafts later, perhaps I should’ve changed tack earlier. Don’t say anything, ssssshhh!). I plan to work on it all weekend. Yep, another fun weekend of cabin fever and square eyes. I think I can I think I can I think I can…
Some of my students asked me about my PhD this week:
“So, will you become like, a “Dr.” when you have your PhD?”
“Is it true you have to write 100,000 words?”
“So do you laugh at us struggling to write our 2,000 word essays when you have to write 100,000 words?”
Is it hard teaching us and answering our emails and questions while trying to work on your own stuff?”
Three answers were “yes”, and one was “no”. I’ll let you work out which was which.
Perhaps I’m some sort of masochist, because despite the disruption to my own work and all the time and energy it sucks out of my life, I really do enjoy teaching. For me, the best part about teaching is the interaction and relationship I have with my students, both during class and out of class. I told the new guy in our office this week that I don’t like people, but that is perhaps not exactly correct. I usually dislike most people I meet and interact with socially, but I like really helping people in a work context. For example, I’ve had more fun teaching class than yacking to random fellow postgrads at a barbecue (now, considering the barbecue involves eating and free food, that’s quite a statement!). Maybe I prefer being “me the tutor” (energetic, enthusiastic, confident, never grumpy) than “just me” (shy, very often grumpy, terribly cynical, paranoid and socially awkward). I am definitely still “me” when I’m tutoring, but it’s a better me somehow. Probably because I feel that so much of the students’ enjoyment and understanding of the unit depends on me – I have to be the best me I can be for them. I like making my students frown and think and laugh in class. I like how we wave at each other and smile and say hi out of class. I love the conversations we have after class, and via email – they send me emails asking questions about stuff we’ve talked about in class, or problems they may be having with assignments, or just to comment on stuff they’ve thought about as a result of something we did in class… Anyway, that’s enough of that. Hopefully you get what I mean.
Oh! I realised this week that Sarah Waters’ latest book The Night Watch has been out for some time. But I am NOT allowed to buy it until the chapter is finished. It shall be my reward. I really MUST finish the stupid chapter! I’ve read a number of reviews which suggest that this latest book is nowhere as good as Tipping or Fingersmith (jury’s still out on Affinity, it seems), but I’d like to read it for myself. In the mean time, however, I have been re-reading Tipping the Velvet on the train. This is one of my favourite books of all time, quite possibly THE favourite book. I was telling MK this week how much I love how it’s been written (I may have described it as “beautiful”, in a moment of rare gushiness). It’s descriptive, but sensual (sensory) rather than figurative. And I just loooooooooove reading the whole section of the book where Nan is falling in love with Florence, right till the end of the book. Some people may like the book for the sexy bits (which are pretty good!) but I suppose I’m a romantic at heart – it’s the passion, the longing, the awkwardness, the desire, all the emotions that really get to me. Hhhhmm. Two instances of “awkward” in one post.
My hands are much much better. No more peeling, flakey skin – YAY (you should’ve seen last week – it was like raining bits of sausage roll pastry on the floor under my desk – sorry, I know, euuuugh gross) ! No more injuries/bleeding/scabs – YAY! Hands do still itch – BOO! but less than they used to – YAY! I’m still wearing white cotton gloves to bed with my hands slathered in lotion, at night. During the day if the itching gets too bad I put the lotion + gloves on again, which helps me to not scratch. I moisturise regularly throughout the day (I’m still carrying around my lunch box containing my various tubes of cream/ointment). I think even after they are fully healed, my hands will stay somewhat scarred though. Oh well, I wasn’t planning to be a hand model anyway. Thank you to everyone who left a comment and/or emailed me with your experiences and advice. In the end, I have stuck with what my doctor recommended, and so far it appears to be working well.
This week I picked up a copy of Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA. My eldest sister used to listen to this album all the time (she had the cassette, pre-cd days), and I used to listen too, and grew to like it (even though I thought Bruce was shouting, and not singing, Born in the USA; I wasn’t really keen on shouty singers like Bruce and Jimmy Barnes). I started writing this post a whole Jagged Little Pill ago (I hung the washing up, read Jac the passage about Butchering Day from Little House in the Big Woods, made myself a cup of tea, gave the cats a snack). I’ve now put on Sarah McLachlan’s Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (how’s that for a change of mood? SM has one of the loveliest voices I’ve ever heard, I think).
It may be time for another cup of tea.
Sorry about the lack of food pics. I suppose most of you just skip the writing and go straight to the food (in which case, I’m just writing this to myself!). It’s been a week of leftovers and same old same old, nothing worth photographing, except for dinner on Tuesday evening: stirfried chicken and vegetables (cabbage, carrots, straw mushrooms, onions, baby corn) flavoured with oyster sauce, soy sauce and a dash of beef stock. Very saucy and salty and tasty, served on freshly cooked rice.
I’ve switched cds again. Now I’ve put on another oldie – The Corrs – Forgiven, Not Forgotten. My favourite Corr sister is the violinist. Heh.
Despite a very bad round of tipping last week, I’m sharing the top spot with another person on the footy tipping ladder! Woo hoo! I know this won’t impress many (or perhaps any) of you, but I think it’s pretty cool to be at the top of the list of 140-odd tippers. (Trumpet: toot toot!)
You know, I have no idea how many people actually read this blog. Here’s an invitation, if you’ve been reading for some time but have never commented or emailed, please feel free to do so (humour me!). Say hello and tell me where you’re from. Tell me what you think (about anything!). Tell me off for spewing forth my random thoughts and boring you to death. Ask me a question, anything! But if my theory is right, and you just look at the pictures, I guess I’m still talking to myself.