Ahhhh.

So there is once more a smidgen of peace in Katie's world.

B-----t really liked my ideas. She thinks that the literature I am currently working with is a little limited by being Gothic. And I agree. She thinks I should look at Porn and realism as well as other genres. And I agree.

So basically, it's all good right now.

And I just have to write something about Plato.

And have a drink.
And drink to Plato.

Bored...

Ok, so I'm blogging before class starts. In the classroom. There's one student in here, but apparently he's on the phone with his mother asking her questions about his Hebrew homework. Odd

I have all my papers laid out,
My soda at the ready,
My computer's background has been changed from naked woman to er... something clothed.

And, frankly, I'm a little nervous. You see, this is the first time I've ever had to teach a whole class of my own that wasn't obviously going to be a discussion.

And really, I am currently contemplating my fitness for this duty. I feel like saying to my students "Fear not! You have a nearly competent professional at the helm of this ship."

Or the kind of person who has to reluctantly has to answer "yes, I'm a doctor" when they scream "Is there a doctor on the plane?!" when really you have been working dermatology for the past 20 years.

Ok. Students arriving, gotta go.

Wish me luck!
KT

The Tower of Power

You know, I do have to say that the 2 story grad. student lounge is one of the coolest things on campus. In addition to its highly outdated furniture (just old enough to be comfy), its suicide-proof windows, and the fact that it can only be found by someone who already knows where it is, this Isla de la Muerta lounge gets wireless. With the addition of a vending machine, I would never have to leave - next project? Roof access.

Anyway... So today started out kinda poorly but has been getting er... better.


And since I'm feeling very very self-centered right now I'll tell you why.

This began last night with the narcoleptic boy and Grand Theft Auto. I was attempting to explain to him the intricate movements I have found which allow me to gain virtually infinite cash (and a Sub-machine gun) while simultaneously boosting my reputation and avoiding the PoPo Bitches. I, intent on watching the screen, kept giving helpful comments like "What the hell?!" "no, right, RIGHT", "No don't blow up the car", and "why are you running in circles?" At this point I turned around to find that my charming boy had fallen asleep with his hands on the controller in such a way that his character was spinning in circles.

Gently removing (with mild resistance, he is a gamer, after all) the controller from his hands, I covered him up with a blanket, put a teddy bear on his chest, took off his glasses, and let him go to sleep. I did the same.

This morning - 6:30am

"Katie, I'm late for work"
"mmmfff?"
"work - I need a ride"
"what? why?"
"I didn't set my alarm last night -- I need to be at the hospital by 7"

ah. so much for being a sweet girlfriend. So I pull on my jeans and we head out of the house by 6:45.

7:08 we pull up outside UIC hospital and he jumps out.
7:20 stuck in traffic on lakeshore
7:30 IBID
7:45 IBID (Becoming enraged as I remember that I agreed to give Al and Ivan a ride to HP.

7:48 Park in the alley (half of which is roped off with 'caution' tape?!) throwing fears aside, I stride into my apartment just in time to get a phone call from Al asking If I'm ready

"sure, come right down" as I hastily cram objects into my bag

papers, check
er.. laptop, check

Al arrives and keeps up a helpful stream of commentary

"essentials, Katie, essentials - do you have your work?"
"yes"
"pants?"
looking down "yes"
"books?"
"yes"
"breath mints?"
"breath mints?"
"aren't they essential?"
"are they?" (I spontaneously reconsider my dental routine and have a paranoid moment of fear that people think I smell)

Paranoia mildly resolved we all leap into the car and I execute a Y turn in the alley, heading us towards the light at the end and hitting the speed humps with uncomfortable speed.

This is because a garbage truck is backing into the one free end of the alley.

I lay on the horn. They keep backing up. Ivan offers to leap from the car, and later, to slash tires.

I lay on the horn again, finally moving the sluggish steel beetle.

We blow kisses to them as we shoot out of the alley (apparently confusing / terrifying a friend of Al's)

Then traffic again

8:00
8:30 we arrive HP, dropping Ivan at the Ace and snagging a goddamn delicious croissant at the boujour.

9:21 am. I wander into the Insurance office and am told that they don't need the Walgreens register reciept for the pills, but the paper attached to the pills themselves.

9:27 I contemplate murder.

9:45 Desk copies of books

10:08 Blogging.

At 1:30 I need to teach a class of 21 students. I have not showered, and have eaten sugar for breakfast. This is being washed down with Mt. Dew. I just found out that the theme for this quarter's class is alienation.

huh. funny old world, isn't it?

Ah.

So the fun continues.

I really would like to say that this week has been a delight, but frankly, it has not been all that peachy keen.

For example, I got up this morning at 6:30 because of an impassioned plea from the boy to help find his glasses (left, we found later, in the bathroom). Without them he is blind, so his solo search for glasses had already taken him 20 min. This means that he needed a ride to work - so that's ok. We pile into the car, I drive him to the hospital, and then I take off for the Bourgeois Pig (where I currently sit on a comfortable couch).

But then I get this email - you see, the person for whom I am supposed to be an intern this quarter is in France for the first week. And well, she wants me to take over the first 2 classes. Apparently the information is on the syllabus (emailed to me), but all that I can find is a list of books and dates. So I'm supposed to start teaching the Apology on Thursday? I don't know anything about how I would even begin to teach Plato. Er... And I don't know what she wants the class to know as its hello-its-the-first-day-administrative-crap. So, yeah. I don't think that this will go really well.

Tonight? Racine. Tomorrow - Racine.

Sunday - helping the charming Karin pack her house and possibly going to the countercraft fair.

And then? Teaching.

gahhh.

Anger RISING....

So the student health care makes me want to vomit frogs.

I wish them all third nipples in really inconvenient places (like their right cheek), or possibly that they sit down on newly varnished benches in white pants.

So apparently, although the deadline for re-enrollment in insurance plan of crap is October 7, I went to the pharmacy today and they told me that I was not an "active" member of Aetna.

Fine.

So I go and see the nice ladies in the administrative building here on campus who sweetly tell me that I have to re-enroll in order to get my benefits (FOR WHICH I AM STILL COVERED, AND FOR WHICH I HAVE ALREADY PAID) and that even if I confirm my re-enrollment today they can't possibly cover my meds until weeks from now so I have to pay for them out of pocket and then bring reciepts back to the UofC to talk to them and get a $@#&*(%#^*( refund.

RRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrr.....

Steph - your idea sounds faboo, and if I can get away with 2 readers, my life would be exceellent - although if not, I will try to get WXYZ.

But mostly argh.

and ugh.

Currently working on thinking up something to say to my preceptees. Advice received from dept. "you'll muddle through".

need... liquor...

Sandra can't work with me.

So now what do I do? Who the heck am I going to use as a third reader?

What am I going to do?

Shit.

Thanks.

You're all so sweet. Thank you for your comments - really that was just a bitter rant that I needed to get out of my system.

I do, indeed, feel better now.

Part of this may be because of my increased abilitiy to kill pixellated people in "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas" on the Xbox.

It is actually a kind of academic vertigo for me. You see, being an upper-middle-class (although technically abysmally poor) white girl in graduate school, the idea of playing this game is, well, odd. Academically I am appalled because this game reinforces every stereotype imaginable, while being violent, bloodthristy, and generally rewarding you for being a thug. So academically this game is horrifying to me. That said, however, I really really like playing it. This is where the reality/fiction seperation comes into effect. That said, however, the fiction is still racially and socially appalling. So really I shouldn't like it.

But I was up to 2am playing it. And I really do have a nice set of hookers.

Alas - the contradictions within us all.

Other than that, I have been reviving my academic tendencies with increased fequency of contact with other graduate students and the regenstein, with extra emphasis on registration and stipend-getting.

Because I like to be able to eat.

Other than that it's working on handouts for the writing program, deciding what to do with my preceptorees, and reading (oh yeah, reading).

Random crises will be averted.

Although I'm not exactly sure what they will be yet.

But I will be there with bandaids.

I am, in fact, that person - the one with the bandaids, pliers, needle and thread, and jewelry clasps in my backpack.

On Being a Big Girl

I’m an overweight person – dare I say it? Fat.

Ugh. That word is a social taboo these days. I know, I know, I’ve heard all the phrases “big is beautiful” and “curvy women are pretty women”, but of course, no one really believes that do they? Deep down?

I would like to be thin. Or, really, not even thin – I would totally go for normal-sized as in healthy, happy, physically fit and not anorexic. Like a size 8? 6? I would actually like to put on my clothes in the morning and not be appalled when I look in the mirror.

So the diet.

And the exercise.

Doesn’t help.

The reason? Oh, there’s lots of them – I’m predisposed to cheating because I hate chicken and always have. There are only so many things that people can do to chicken to make it taste less like wet tissue paper, and they all involve butter which is verboten

I’m predisposed to avoiding walking because I am lazy and hate the idea of getting home and night and dragging my overtired and sleep deprived boy out on lakeshore.

Of course, he gets upset when we don’t walk because he hates the idea of not exercising

So really I’m whining about things that are my fault. I need to be healthy. How to do it is before me, and I hesitate on the edge like a kid afraid of water. Why? Let’s think of the psychology of a fat girl for a minute. I’m probably one of the bigger people you know. I weigh in at 188 more or less. That’s a lot of me. People say things when I walk by. Nothing that I can wear will hide the fact that there are 188 pounds to me. Add an anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, and you have pretty much the whole picture.

Yeah? You say. Your own damn fault, you say (of course, not the mental disease, just the weight). And really, it’s true. I have no one to blame but myself here. Really, I could have lost 20 pounds or so already since the start of this new diet – dare I say “lifestyle change”. But, you see, my lifestyle hasn’t changed, because I really believe, deep down, that I will always be a fat girl. I don’t even know what it’s like to be thin. And really, it’s scary to even think of being thin. When will it stop? Will I become one of those diet-obsessed people who exercises 3 or 4 hours a day just to maintain my new weight? And when I inevitably rebound, think of the depression. A study asked a group of people who had lost weight whether they would rather be big again or blind, and they chose blindness over being big. BLINDNESS! That is fucked up, my friends. Will I have to eat chicken forever? Of course.

Look, I will never be an athlete. My joints are so fucked up that I’m lucky I can still walk. Every time I exercise, I need to take ibuprofen to reduce the swelling in my appalling toe of stupid irritatingness. So, I can’t run a marathon. I could walk a marathon, but that’s really kind of sad.

So I will never be one of those people who can eat whatever they want and be ok. I will always be counting calories, carbs (fiber and sugar), fat grams, and nutrients. And the more weight I lose, the more obsessed I will become with these things (because, of course, I have an obsessive personality). And I will become one of those people.

And I probably can’t even aspire to being a diet-obsessed neurotic because I can’t even get that far.

Ah, well. So here I am, a skim latte in hand and a bowl of cheerios in my stomach, beginning afresh for the 30th time. Perhaps this will be the charm.

Oh Insanity...

Well, we all remeber my former post where I indicated that in the near future I would somehow be able to return to a normal schedule.

This has apparently turned out to be some kind of evil fairy-tale dream sprung on my while I was sleeping by the gnomes living in my duvet (possibly in combination with the 5 or 6 Cingular demons infesting my phone and preventing me from getting my voicemail).

You see, the boy has moved from the 7 to 7 ER schedule to the (supposedly) much more sane Neurology schedule. This has turned out, however, due to a senior resident of dubious quality into an insane 7 to 10 schedule. This leaves me with:

Housework,
Shopping,
Cooking,
A grumpy boy,
And a nervous facial tic.

Supposedly all of this will resolve itself into Phsyhiatry goodness sometime around Feb. Let's all cross our fingers and clap so that this little tinkerbell of hope can fly (I understand that crossing fingers and clapping at the same time will be difficult, but isn't my sanity worth the effort?)

Anyway. With me things are pretty much clicking along.

Dissertation is in the MY GOD I HAVE A LOT OF THINGS TO READ stage, punctuated by moments of HEY THAT'S A PRETTY GOOD IDEA and OOPS, SOMEONE ALREADY DID THAT.

Thus, it is going as expected at the start. I have a bit of an idea about the Ugly, and if you really really want to know about it, you'll have to talk to me in person because I have the vague fear that if I type it out it may evaporate into a kind of strange circularity (i.e. gradualogophobia)

I am spending a lot of time chez moi and at Pause (just off the Berwyn stop), which I believe that I am supporting solely on my Latte purchases and blueberry scone fetish. Metropolis (Granville station) has better coffee (they roast it there), but Pause has a better atmosphere (think leather chairs and stained glass windows) and free wireless that ALWAYS works (although the AC never works). They serve Intellegensia coffee, which isn't bad at all, and some of the baristas are really cool (and let me sit around for hours and hours and hours).

So I highly recommend both Pause and Metropolis for the studying undercaffinated grad student.

I am apparently interning for Readings in World Lit this fall, and doing the preceptor gig for those undergrads who feel the need to write a thesis.

Also I have been in super-project-refinishing-furniture-mode, which has resulted in:

a fully refinished antique typewriting desk
a finished and stained clothing rack
a partially finished coffee table
and about 15 other random projects of the KT sort.

Next up is the jewelry cabinet. Currently: Ugly as sin and denty, Soon to be: Swanky.

I have been spending quality time with people who have the tendency to wander past the hermit hole in which I have been hiding. But this must change... soon, very soon classes will begin and normal hanging-out schedule will resume.

no, really.

Other than that, er.... Butter.

No, I'm not dead...

Just in hermit mode and in a state of non-communication due to the lack of email chez moi.

Thus, this afternoon I am blogging at you from Pause, a delightful internet cafe in Edgewater. Oh so wonderful.

So here's the scoop.

The boy just finished his ER rotation which has hours that vary between the 7am to 7pm shift and the 7pm to 7am shift. Thus, my sleeping schedule has been gerfuckten. But as it is now over I can finally catch up on the snatches of sleep I have missed. And, due to a more regular schedule, perhaps I can get some work done - I know, it's a pipe dream, but it's all I've got right now.

Dissertation is ugh. I will update you with the details later.

Today, the studying has been momentarily interrupted by a visit from the Noelle @ pause, which is delightful.

Tomorrow and the rest of the weekend, my sister will be around! Yay!

write again soon,
KT