So, who is gunna be watching the debate tonight? The partner and I are going to another faculty member's home for apple pie and ice cream (after misadventures last week when the partner was sent out twice to get apple pie and ice cream and came home with everything BUT), but am hoping to be home in time.

I might even be online, through yahoo or msn. Feel free to rant with me. Maybe multiple people will rant...i dunno. Does anyone use either msn or yahoo, or am I the only freak who has friends who say brb, lol, ttyl, etc in non-computer interactions, without anyone batting an eye?
---------------------------------------------------
A friend arrives tonight at around 2 am, and then more friends come next week. I know that I have been neglecting my blog (how many times have you read that before?)but it is possible that this lack of attention will be even greater over the next week.




Poem

ER

The poor partner had to go to the emergency room last night. Everything is ok, but he was starting to sound like that little kid on Malcom in the Middle. The partner did not like this comparison, but it is the closest thing I could think of to describe it (reference to Lord of the Flies seems not quite right in this case). The breathing had started to get bad over the past week, especially since the most important medication (or so the partner was told) was not covered by insurance, leaving it unaffordable at the moment. When the skin under the partner's nails was a ghastly shade of white/gray and not responding to that test that you do where you push on the nail to see how quickly it returns to normal (usually it is a pinkish colour and when you push down it will turn white, only to return to the pinkish colour as soon as you remove the pressure) I started to get concerned.

So off we went at around 12:30 am.


Emergency rooms freak me out, and I am sure that I am not alone in this one. I always feel like I am witnessing things that I was not meant to witness. The teenager in her fuzzy pjs, clutching her middle in pain, the young couple holding onto each other in tears, the people rushing in looking for a loved one who had been brought by ambulance....I don't know how nurses handle it all. I think I would absorb too much pain on a daily basis.

Yet, while there is the side of me that feels as if I should avert my eyes, there is the other side of me that always wants to know EXACTLY what is going on around me. Why are they crying? What's going on? I slowly start to get emotionally involved in the lives of these strangers, even if only for a brief moment. Will the doctor come out with good news? Will the teenage girl feel better?

Growing up in a small rural town, it makes sense for me to respond this way, as usually I would know the people in the waiting room at the ER, or their cousin, or the buddy that was married to his sister, who was Fred's cousin, twice removed. Small towns are like that. I don't know what my excuse is here. Maybe part conditioned, part nosey, part wanting to help everyone.


Carrying on with the theme of the 'watcher' being 'watched' (from the story below), I am sure that they want to (without really wanting to) know who I am waiting for as I read silently from my book--what is my emergency that I am dealing with? I catch the glances my way, and I overhear snippets of conversation, from other people waiting, as they try to figure out different situations (that girl over there? I saw her mother being wheeled in, poor thing *clicking of the tongue*).

Slowly the faces in the waiting room change, as people grow tired of waiting and begin to walk around, families are reunited, the nurse comes to take them back to their loved one, and new patients come in. The partner finally returns, with bloodshot eyes and a tired face, and we begin to navigate the long hallways that will lead us to the car.

We get home, and the partner falls fast asleep. I stay up for a little bit longer and once I hear the steady breathing next to me (that indicates an untroubled sleep), I put down my book, turn off the light, and snuggle in.

I have moved beyond the realm of tourist!

I am such a little naughty blogger.

I should try and update more, but nothing all that interesting has been happening here (although, that has never stopped me before).
*************************************************

The other week, the partner and I were sitting outside at a local food place when this man approached us and started talking. He was waiting to be seated and we happened to be sitting near the entrance. He was one of those kinds of people that are jokers. You know the kind, appearing at ease talking to anyone, spouting off jokes, very confident in everything they are saying, no problem asking personal question...etc. He seemed nice, even if he was perhaps a bit intoxicated.

Do you live here?
-yes

What do you do?
fw-nothing
Tp-teach

What do you teach?
-098459jerjtdgdmfg

Oh, very interesting!
-yes

You kinda young
--yup

Oh, so you are mooching off of him? A Faculty Wife? He laughs
-*ha* (i snort), yeeeeeees.


Are you two married?
-no

Are you dating?
--yes

How long?
--four years

So, are you like, one of those interracials couples?
--uh (faculty wife and partner eye each other), yeah, I guess so.

Are you going to have kids? Like, do the interracial thing?
--uh (see above), we don't know

He then introduced us to his brother, who he was visiting on a trip. His brother, I should mention, was trying to make himself as invisible as possible, not quite amused by his brother's antics.


I just can't figure out if the guy was just being friendly (his tone was friendly, he was smiling, etc) and thought that these questions were appropriate to ask (and maybe they are?), or if he was simply a jerk. Fricken tourists.


Yesterday we had another strange experience with tourists where all of a sudden, out of the blue, this family starts talking to us about their four cats (to be fair, we *had* been sitting next to them for some time) Well, the mother started talking to us. The grandmother kept talking about how wierd people dress here (while eyeing my outfit that was, i guess, somewhat wierd) and the father didn't say one word at all. The daughter kept shooting furtive glances at us, while talking on the cell phone and picking away at her food.

The probably went home and talked about this wierd but nice couple the met while on vacation. Just as the guy I mentioned probably went home and talked about the nice couple he met while on vacation.


I like how I no longer consider myself a tourist. This is progress, me thinks.

Add NS to the list

CBC - Nova Scotia: "N.S. judge okays same-sex marriage"

Note to Self

When one of the partner's new faculty buddies comes over to the house for the first time, these are some of the things you might want to do:

Delete the cookies on the computer so when (as often happens) ya'all decide to share funny websites your blog doesn't keep popping up in the address bar.

Maybe make an effort to remove some/all of the propaganda from the fridge. Perhaps the Bushes Against Bush patch, some anarchy and rainbow kitty magnets, anti-war, anti-bush, pro-gay marriage, pro-feminist things littered about may make some a bit uneasy (well, it's their own damn problem really, not my own).

Maybe put some of the books you have with highly sexualized covers(Tales from the Clit, WhoreCarnival, Her Tongue on My Theory, )in a discrete place...at least until I can remember this person's name.



I know, all of these don't really matter (except maybe the cookies thing), but our visitor tonight looked a bit...startled to see all of this stuff lying around. Oops.

woah.

How impressive!

(Couldn't figure out the permalink for that particular post...sorry)

Thanks Jimbo for permalink information

My Friend that I mentioned the other day? Well, she just called to tell me she dropped out of school.



Great.

More blathering about me and School and relationships

The partner and I started off the week with a discussion on how we will be apart for X number of years if I go on to do my 'higher' education. Seeing how the wedding bells are ringing off in the distance, this thought raises many problems/considerations. Due to our location, and my particular (vague) areas of interest, it is not possible for me to do my 'higher' education in the same city, and perhaps even the same state/country.

Is there a point in us getting married if I am going to be jetting off on my own for X number of years?

So, yes, the relationship environment has been hellish for both of us. These stresses are compounded, of course, by all the other bullshit one expects when starting a new job (partner), or (in my case) not being able to work or be in school after taking a full load of courses and working 20+ hours a week for the last four years. Not having the same social network that I had in the former city makes it even worse, as there is no one (yet) to distract me from my own tendencies to be negative.


Seeing how I don't want to change the name of this blog to Ex-Faculty Wife I need to resolve my problems asap.


I have found a couple of schools that are close enough to commute on weekends/holidays...but none that are *really* all that close. Actually, some (most)are quite far away, but are still worth considering (in terms of potential funding/programs offered).

Woe is me.

Would it be terribly rude if I listed a couple of the schools I am considering, to see if anyone has any experience with them, or advice (such as, that school has a good reputation)?

This is an SOS


(Save Our Sanity)

As you may be able to tell, there has been nothing all that exciting going on in the life of the faculty wife. The social calender is experiencing a lull that is sure to be turned around once the holidays come about. Hopefully I will be back in Canukistan by that point, and will manage to miss some of the rush.

To be fair, I have met quite a few people that I do enjoy here. To be really fair, I guess I should say that most of the people I have met seem nice. It is really just me and my big ole bad attitude that makes me so negative.


Thanks for all the responses to the last post. Part of me thinks, wtf? Why do I even care about 'knowing' how to participate in dining 'rituals'? So that I can demonstrate that I belong? So I can make someone else feel like that need to learn this shit?

Blah.

Gross.

Seeing how I always manage to forget which fork to use whenever I am attending one of those fancy-shmancy dinners all ya'all faculty members have, I thought I should do a bit of internet research so I would never have to sit at your table, with my heart pounding loud enough to be heard for five city blocks, waiting for someone else to pick up the proper fork. I know this must have happened to someone else out there, because I refuse to believe that I am the only socially inept dork that exists.

Since I am nice (and have nothing else to write about), I decided to post some of my findings.

First, for those of you who love to laugh at the expense of others (which is bad etiquette in my books, but what the fuck do I know, I don't even know which fork to use) here is a website called "Etiquette Hell". This website lists some of the things that people have done/experienced/witnessed. The flames on the front page are kind of scary, but if you have bad etiquette don't shy away from some of the stories that are listed, maybe something will sound a little toooooo familiar.

If you have good etiquette and have skipped over the above, here is another website that seems a bit more friendly. The EtiquetteGrrls, first of all, have no scary flames to deal with. However, the do have a part of the website called See you in Hell that lists a couple of offensive things. I am sure the following quotations from their website is bound to make someone indignant, so see above about me and etiquette (bound to have changed by the end of this post)

"Harvard. To date, the EGs have only met THREE Harvard graduates whose egos could fit in the same room with them and who could hold a decent conversation. And the EGs have met a heck of a lot of Harvard alumni..."

Yale: Hmmm. Would a GOOD college let in the likes of Kellie Martin, Claire Danes, and Jennifer Beals? Plus, it's in New Haven, where people get shot."

and

'"Athletic Scholarships." The last time the EGs checked, getting an 800 on your SAT does not a scholar make. If you earn a Real Scholarship for Being a Scholar, and then Play Sports, more power to you, but please, let's not get Intelligence and Athletic Ability mixed up here."

Anyway, there are too many plugs for their book for me to hang around too long. Not that I begrudge self-promotion, but I just don't have the time to deal...I am doing very serious and important research here.

Ok, here is a diagram for those needing assistance on either how to set a proper table, or how to figure out which fork. For those needing further assistance, here is a confusing explanation from the website:

When served a salad as the main entrée, use your dinner fork or entrée fork. Also, if your salad is served as a side dish on your main entrée plate, use your dinner fork. Otherwise, use your salad fork for your salad!

What the hell is an entrée?

Just kidding.


Anyway, hope this has been of assistance. Please feel free to post your own stories of bad etiquette below so I don't feel bad.






Maybe I should go buy one of those books I mentioned above.



 

Well. Manitoba, I never knew you had it in you...

The partner and I decided a long time ago to not get married until it was legal for everyone to get married...then along came this thing call state-enforced marriage (visa) and I have been trying to determine how to deal..how to deal with me going back on my promise, and how to deal with being part of a ceremony that will label me as heterosexual (under current circumstances in most places) when I am not.




Anyway, I digress. The whole point of this post is to say congrats to Manitoba, for being the
"4th Canadian Province [to ok] Gay Marriage":

Uh-oh. The partner has taken to posting random comments on people's blogs after being up for 48 hours.
(fyi partner, I saw that post to Dr. Crazy's blog...)

The partner is hooked on blogs and just doesn't know it yet.

I set up a blog called the faculty wife's partner just in case that first step of admitting the problem is made, so I will let you know if it happens or not.

In other news...

These questions are still looming large over my head:

Should I become (or at least try to become) Dr. Faculty Wife in the next ten years, or not.

If yes, where should I apply (Thanks New Kid on the Hallway for the interesting link) and what do I want to study?

If no, what do I want to do with my life.

"It's really to your advantage to be [insert minority group] and on the job market."

As said to the one [insert minority group] person in the department.






This message may self-destruct once cooler heads prevail.

Oh, that's the president?

My friend, I will call her Laura, is dating this person who, for the purpose of this story, I will call Fred.

She and Fred met last year sometime, at a bar I think, and proceeded to have copious amounts of sex and general debauchery. At first I was enthusiastic about her dating this person, as she was feeling lonely and sad about a number of things going on her life.

My enthusiasm soon changed, as my friend began to change and as I heard more about this person over time. Somewhere in between Fred's proud acceptance of not reading books or the news, racist comments made, anger management issues, possessiveness, double standards (their open relationship meant open only on one side, and the side was not hers), and her downward spiral into drug use (e, c, s, etc., introduced by this person), it felt like my friend was slipping away and I very much resented Fred.

Of course this caused a great strain on our friendship, as I just didn't feel equipped to deal with it. I know that sounds selfish, but there were a great number of strange dynamics going on here that would take me hours to type out.

Their relationship was on again, off again, for about two-three months, and each time I would bust out the comments that one generally busts out when you think your friend is dating an asshole. These comments, of course, drove an even greater wedge between us, and I became the friend that you call when you are dating a jerk, but you really love the jerk (read: the sex is hot), so you don't want to hear about how much of a jerk this person is until you get in a fight and then you call your friend, who knows this person is a jerk, to talk about how much of jerk this person really is.

Long story short:

She decides to quit the drugs (and so does this person....right) and move across the country to live with Fred, who just so happens to be in the military, and had served in a recent *W.O.T.* support mission(this point becomes relevant in a second). I was very upset by this decision but tried to be supportive because at this point I knew the friendship would be over if I wasn't, and I happen to like her a great deal.


Always the believer that she could change this person, she decided that maybe a trip to see Fahrenheit 9/11 would at least work on making this person more aware of politics/debates/concerns going on in the world (they fought about peace/war/justice issues frequently).

After the film is over they leave. He turns to her and asks, "oh, so is that the president of the United States?"


Did I mention anything about the military and recent service overseas?

Yes, yes I did.

I just got a lecture from the partner that it was too much of a typical faculty wife impulsive move to stop posting here.

In other news:

I thought that no football team on campus meant no college football (good), but the partner remembered that you can listen to some college football games online (bad).

gross.


Hey, don't blame me. I'm Canadian.

Another blog bites the dust

It's been fun.


I'm going back to haunt my real blog for a little while.


Edited to add:

I might end up posting here every so often...


Edited again to add:
I guess I should delete this post seeing how I keep wanting to post here.

Edited last time to add:
Uh, ignore all of this post. Nothing to see here.

1st:
Ok, come clean. Who is reading this that shouldn't be? I see the former university address hanging out in my site meter, and I know it can't be the one person who knows...e-mail me, and reveal yourself.

If your name starts with J or D, you are sneaky detectives.

2nd:
I found a graduate program that I want to apply to, although god knows why I would want to put myself through that after reading the chronicle (and some blog posts on other people's blogs about their experiences) .


3rd:
I found a volunteer opportunity, which is a good thing because staring at the walls is not conducive to strong mental health.


4th:
Thanks to all the people who sent e-mails. You are invited to a home-cooked meal whenever you are in the area...

Uh, in true dork fashion, I have added the ability for IM's. I think you need a yahoo account, sorry if that cramps your style.

Red cough drops have nutritional value, right? They must fall under some category of food group--fruit! Yes, that's it, fruit. Great, one food group covered for the day.

It's funny. You go to school and accrue a debt load of over $40 000 (that would be my debt, not partner's) even though you work 20+ hours a week while in school, and you end up having your stomach growl while in class.

You graduate, move on, partner has tenure-track job and....you still are starving.

Of course, this situation is only temporary and I shouldn't be complaining. I know that the financial situation is going to be resolved in a matter of a week or two, but on the other hand, going hungry should not be such a normalized thing for me (or anyone else for that matter).

Partner has included on syllabi a note to students that if any of them are hungry or need food they should call home phone number, because one cannot learn on an empty stomach.

Faculty Wife thinks that Partner may need to call in the favour and tell students that Professor cannot teach on empty stomach.

This is the decision facing my father: Stay at home to take former super-star athlete daughter to get part of her foot chopped off, or go with his elderly alcoholic father on an overseas flight to attend the funeral of the person who was the closest thing he ever had to a sibling.

An e-mail from my mother has just informed me that he will be staying at home, so Al Co Holic grampy will be navigating his way around the world all by himself.

I have this terrible fear that grampy will not return at all.

I hate being this far away from my family. As always, other siblings and family manage to be together while I am off doing other things. Family and I did not talk for very long time, and now that there is this truce/reconciliation process/re-claiming of love that has been going on over the last four years, I feel this gnawing emptiness for all of those other years lost.

I feel this terrible guilt for not being there to give a hug.

I feel this terrible need to be hugged.


the phone just ran with more sad news...i think i need to unplug the phone and disconnect the computer.

Oh god.


Horrible thought.


Blogs are the internet version of reality television shows. I am in a never-ending reality television show, all on my own accord. I am constructing this personal narrative of my life equipped with all the tools of editing, and broadcasting it to X number of strangers. Small and large moments of my life end up on the cutting room floor while whatever will make good copy remains intact (with a bit of commentary added in).

Egad.


Yeah, I know there are some differences, but at this moment it seems like there is enough in common for me to get worked up about it.

I hate reality tv shows.

This realization is not sitting well with me. I guess I shouldn't really even think about it, but for some reason it is sitting in my mind, making me think about blogs in general. I am sure there are people much more qualified than I am to talk about these sorts of things, but I still feel compelled to note that I find it quite curious, this whole process of publishing daily accounts of one's life online.


I also feel compelled to quote Jim, who posted this comment in a previous discussion about the partner's resistance to blogs:

Spouse thinks turn to autobiography is a response to existential dislocations of
technology and the changing terms of globalization and late capitalist
production. We no longer know who we are, and autobiography is an attempt to
figure it out, as it were. Autobiography is thus a means of forging a new
ontology. Blogo ergo sum, I guess. Now, given her analysis, which you can
probably guess I very much like, I haven't a clue why she doesn't want to read
or keep a blog herself. But there it is.

That is a much more balanced evaluation of the situation than the initial ewww that I thought after my mini (and dull) epiphany tonight, but I wonder how I can justify blogging now.

Now I am left with the question of whether this ongoing autobiography is a response or if it is a symptom.

Am I alone in this one?

Does this happen to anyone else?

I will set the scene:

You are being introduced to new people (academics in this case) and as your biographical sketch spews forth from your mouth you begin to worry that someone is thinking, "this sounds an awful lot like [insert blog name]."

Not that I am all too concerned about remaining anonymous, of course. I have already disclosed a connection with women's studies and that one of us was black...talk about a way to filter out the range of possibilities. Thankfully, none of the details I have disclosed would really narrow anything down, so I am not too worried

*darts eyes from left to right with look of panic stuck on face*

Lentils and Rice, and Everything Nice.

Last night the partner and I went to the local gay bar with another new faculty member. I rather like this new faculty member, as we have similar areas of (academic) interest and because we both chose to remain in the dirty and dark section of the bar, (think rave, c. 1994) as opposed to the other room that was playing more mainstream dance tunes (think MJ, c. Beat It).

In the latter section there was much more of the "oh god, I am in a gay bar" boy-clutching-hand-of-girl (oh god, what if one of them hits on me/Why aren't they hitting on me?) going on, whereas in former section it was more of a sweaty free-for-all. While partner and new friend evaluated the yokel gay population, I chose to hit the dance floor so I could show off my lack of skill and style. Considering I was suffering from periodic cramps that caused an involuntary doubling over in pain (whoever thought up the phrase "being a girl rocks" to sell tampons deserves to be subjected to some kind of punishment...think: "PCU" and the scene where the administration is locked in the room with the same horrible song on repeat) I am sure that I have secured/ruined my reputation as a credible person to converse with, henceforth. I guess that is ok, seeing how I wasn't there looking for a 'connection' or a 'commitment' of any sort, but, as I have learned, being prepared is a good motto to live by.

Note to self: midol next time.

This morning the partner and I realized that we have one whole dollar left to our name. Whoops. I guess we should have saved the ten dollars we spent on the cover charge and used it on groceries. Another two weeks of lentils and rice, no spices. Yum.

File this away under...

There is this gas station here that appears normal during the daytime, but at night it become this haven for freaky freaks who like to harass women.

Exhibit 1:

Second night in town there was a gaggle of goons at the gas station holding a placard boldly asking for some woman to "show us your tits." As cars drove by the would work themselves up into some sort of orgiastic glee by jumping up and down while yelling at cars as they drove by.

Exhibit 2:

Last night while partner ran into gas station to get some ciggies, two young women were walking in the gas station parking lot. A Most Aggressive chorus of voice rang out from a truck in the parking lot as the women were informed that "we wanna fu*k you...we are gunna f**k you."

Exhibit 3"

The place where all of the souped-up honda accords (w/spoilers) hang out.

I was starting to get worried that Most Liberal town was, in fact, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

I then saw something that in my tiny little sheltered life I had never seen before. A couple of boys wearing pink "this is what a feminist looks like" t-shirts.

It is?

I never knew that.

I went to a school-related event, met some people, had a bit of fun. Twenty minutes before I went I was thinking, I don't belong here, there, or anywhere.

I need to learn to keep my pessimism in check.

CNN.com - Schwarzenegger criticized for Austrian history gaffes - Sep 3, 2004: "Schwarzenegger criticized for Austrian history gaffes"

If you haven't been following the nail-biting saga over at Yes, YelloCello, I would suggest hopping over there (especially if you happen to be a cat lover).

a post for the Friend

The partner came home from teaching one of the first classes the other day and told me that a reference was made to the idea of "if voting really changed anything it would be made illegal." I think the full sentance was, "I have an anarcho-feminist friend who says..."

Every so often, after watching the nightly news, the partner also refers to the discussion you two had over the idea of chaos, and how people think that any radical change to the current political structure would result in it..."We are already living in a state of chaos," the partner says while considering jobs in another country, "and anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves."

A couple of Ip addresses that have checked out this site are from places where the partner got pfo's from over the last number of years.

Ain't that a shame. I could have been sitting next to you, blogging about the same faculty events you were.

I guess I missed listening to Dick Cheney tonight.

You may, or very emphatically may not, like that link.

Spent another scintillating evening at home.

The partner read articles to me from the Chronicle and H-Net.

Walking around last night, past the frat and sorority houses (something very new to me, what's the deal?) the smell of pot hung heavily in the air. If I was ten years younger I would think, ah--a hook up. But, now, at my grand old age of 2_ I think, rather sarcastically, 'someone's studying hard.' Actually, I think I said that out loud.

A few of the academics walking with myself and partner looked wistfully at the house (perhaps thinking the same thing I did? Remembering their youth? Or, new in town and needing a reliable connection?) while the other academics scoffed at the wasteland over yonder (but licked their lips in anticipation of the four glasses of wine to be ordered at our place of destination).

It is very easy to drown in a sea of alcohol at faculty social events. I actually do not drink, contrary to jokes I have made about carrying flasks and falling down drunk.

If this was grade seven, our teachers would be teaching us about peer pressure and how to say no. (Although, from having been around teachers my whole life I would suggest it is the teachers who need to learn to say 'no', not the students.) As it stands right now, despite having been clear that I do not drink, people continue to run up to me (here and other places I have been) and offer every imaginable form of liquid courage. I am sure it is about being social, and making sure that everyone has what they need to enjoy themself, but I wonder if something else is at work here.

I was reading through The MadWoman in the Academy last night and came across a piece by Aritha van Herk called, "A Guide to Academic Sainthood; Or, How to Survive the Ivory Tower; or, An Untoward Set of Adverstisments for Women Who Feel Called to the Book, the Bell, and the Candle, the Desk, the Library, the Classroom, and that most Intriguing of All Conjunctions, the Departmental Meeting."


Encyclopedia style entries provide the reader with terminology that is useful to cut out, put in pocket, and carry around whenever engaging with academics. These little tidbits of information are especially useful for comedic relief after a particularly frustrating day.

Bear Baiting(pg 156):
Bear-bating might seem to be relevant only to those engaged in the
study of Shakespeare, but it is actually a common occurrence in the academic
arena. It involves poking verbal sticks at what appears to be the weakest or
most defenceless participants in the game (sometimes graduate students
or sessionals, sometimes undergraduates, sometimes secretaries, sometimes
other faculty members). Although you will be implicitly invited to
join in, it is better to avoid bear-baiting, however much fun it
seems to be. Practice Feminism.