Developments

I was awakened this morning by a phone call from my department chair, inviting me for an all-day campus visit in mid-February. That's a nice way to wake up. She was her usual bubbly energetic happy self (such a delightful change from department chairs I've had before), so I don't take an especially hopeful attitude about the invitation. For far too many times, I have had hope that was squashed like worms on a sidewalk after a rain. I won't even assume that a campus visit means anything special.

When we were trying to have a baby more than three decades ago, and it appeared that we weren't succeeding, everyone kept telling me that it would happen when we stopped trying so hard. That didn't turn out to be true, especially, but I can't help wondering about the logic. Other people do sense desperation, and it tends to be a turn-off. So while I don't think egg fertilization is inherently connected to the hopelessness that lives at the end of despair, perhaps the fact that I really don't have expectations of being hired tenure-track causes me to be more calm and accepting of whatever the fates have to offer. And I honestly have come to terms with the probability that I won't be anything more than an adjunct for anyone, anywhere. I've even almost hoped for it, even though the student loans loom overhead and darken any joy to be had in "retirement." So, of course, that leads to the logic (?) that now that I'm not so desperate, people will fall all over themselves to hire me. Uh-huh.

I had to play hooky from teaching yesterday because of the weather. It bothered me to stay home, even though I got just as much done, but the roads were so hazardous that it would have taken me two hours or more just to get to Big Rapids. Three people died in accidents and many others were injured in yesterday's conditions. The department chair knew I wasn't coming in and seemed supportive, stating that she valued my safety. It's my quirky pessimism that causes me to believe that if I'd risked life and limb to drive 66 miles one way just to teach one class, somehow I wouldn't have been valued as much. No one respects a pushover, an apple-polisher, a sycophant. It's taken me a long time to believe that, and I still feel tremendous guilt if I don't meet my class for whatever reason.

It's snowing today (lake effect) and likely to snow more tomorrow, but I will drive in to work, even if I have to progress at ten miles an hour all the way there and back. That's another way in which I should emulate Esteemed Spouse. He's never absent, and he doesn't cut anyone else any slack for being absent. But it was he who told me yesterday that I shouldn't try to drive to Big Rapids.

Totally changing subjects--though the connection in my mind is vivid because thinking of my husband causes me to think of what was worrying him yesterday--our superlarge high-definition television has problems. On the upper right quadrant there is a blue smear that doesn't obliterate the picture but tinges whatever is behind it. People's faces look blue and dead, the golf course has a large blue fungal spot on it, whatever is on tv is slightly affected. The repair shop came out, took the tv back to their place, phoned to say that it would cost around a thousand dollars to repair, and when Spouse said don't bother, they brought it home again. The little tv in my home office is many years old and still functions beautifully. I think it might have cost a hundred dollars new. The big HD tv is two and a half years old, cost nearly $3000, and is going bad on us already. The repair person told us that he's seeing these new tvs coming in for repair even after only six months of use. Yet after February of next year, when everything goes digital, everyone will be forced to convert old tvs (by using a box) or they'll have to buy new tvs. This brings the concept of planned obsolescence to new heights.

So we'll hang on to the big unit until everything on it is blue. It doesn't much matter anyway. If the writers' strike keeps on much longer, there won't be anything worth watching. The evening news is more Entertainment News than real news--the death of actor Heath Ledger was the lead story today--and I've learned far more about Britney Spears than I ever desired to know. Jay Leno (who to me is funnier when writing his own material than when he used his writers) said last night that new reality shows like American Gladiator are for people who like professional wrestling but find it hard to follow the plot.

I'm once again indulging myself rather than working, so I guess I'd better get busy. Dr. S.