28 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$5, two oatmeals, a D.P. (as Dad used to call it), and some vanilla milk that made for some incredibly good oats, Delion Market.
$2, more D.P., regular lunch place.
$25(ish), sushi (yet again...!), Doo Zo.

More interesting things:

Stood swiping my Metrocard repeatedly before deciding at last to try another turnstile, just, of course, as the local was rolling out. However, just as I finished walking about to where I'd be in the middle of the station I was headed for, another rolled in - and it was practically empty, since it was so close behind the other; I would have been doing the Subterranean Sardine if my card had worked the first time, so... thanks!

Looked at the system map (okay, the car wasn't actually empty, but it was close) and noticed for the first time a Long Island Bus going to Meacham Road. The thing is, if I'm not much mistaken, the old old red plastic card wallet Grandpa gave to my mom at some point says "Meacham Pharmacy." I wonder if it's the same Meacham - probably - and whether it's still there - I think I might be inclined to say "probably" again, and I'm glad about that.

Sat at my desk, very obviously reading an article (which happened to be Professor Number Four's) with my feet up and my pen out; somehow, the Union Girl took this as an indication that it was a PERFECT time to stop and harangue... I mean CHAT! with me. So, fine - if she's going to be brassy, so will I, if a little less so, which meant that this time around I tried to explain - as politely as I could - about my organizing-related misgivings. Just about the time that we had actually struck up a back-and-forth pretty obvious to anyone who walked by, since she was standing in the middle of the freaking hall, the Mighty Three (plus another Mighty One, Professor Number Five) thundered by. Their procession included a chair-steal by Professor Alpha, featuring an exchange I initiated about how the cool kids had at last returned; a sympathetic shoulder-pat and eyebrow-waggle from Professor Number Four, which required him to sort of dart down low between Union Girl and me; and, finally, a short recessional by Professor Number One, who stopped on her way back out to get water or something to squeeze my shoulders, lean down close to my ear, and kind of squeal, "It's going to RAAAAIIIN on Friday!", causing me to laugh, obviously - first because she sounded so cute, second because she's keeping track of the frickin' weather with regard to our skyline-observation activities, third because it was, as Anne noted later, a pleasant "inside" comment, and fourth (maybe above all), because it was pretty damn amusing to pause and think about the fact that as far as Union Girl was concerned she had just seen a distinguished-looking elder professor stop to announce to a doctoral student in tones of great distress a largely insignificant future weather event. By the time we were done, I think I made it reasonably clear what my problem with signing the petition is, and I do love exposing what are presented as rock-solid arguments as being mostly limestone or clay or something, but without question the best part was how my retyyyyamint comyewnity made a point of treating me in front of someone they could tell I didn't want to talk to.

Decided that even though I'd walked up the non-deli avenue coming home from the train I would cross over and get something, and was rewarded in front of my market of choice not just by the Alachua license plate on the car parked there but by the way the license plate included the combination "4TE." Funny.

27 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$4, regular breakfast, red place.
$8, regular lunch, regular place.
$12, an expansion of the regular lunch, but for dinner, regular place.
$12, Fugitive Pieces, in support of a possible Alpha-suggested paper, Astor Place B&N.

More interesting things:

Looked - apparently a little too conspicuously - over the shoulder of my subway-bench neighbor, who was reading one or another of our ridiculous morning rags; as he was getting off at Grand Central, he tapped my arm (I was wearing headphones) and gestured in a way that indicated he was offering the paper to me. I laughed, probably turned a little red, and shook my head, whereupon he asked me if I was sure, smiled, and took off: first addition to the New Yorkers ARE Polite Campaign in awhile, although that's probably more a comment on me than on anyone else.

Stood on line to pay for my lunch to the tune of New York State of Mind. I tried to figure out whether it's especially cool to hear a song about a city when you're actually in that city, but I couldn't think of any songs about places in Florida, which ought to tell you something anyway.

Looked up (literally, I mean; I was craning my neck to converse with the owner of the silver beard positioned directly over my head) from my ed philosophy-related efforts to prepare for class when Professor Alpha plunked his hand on my shoulder and asked who the epistemology was for - and I couldn't believe it when I had the presence of mind to tell him it was for my little nippers. He made a couple of admiring (maybe...) noises and continued down the hall as he noted that I was "really pushing the envelope, aren't you?" It occurs to me now that this is in many ways analogous to the day Dr. W. walked into my classroom to find 28 kids clustered at my knees and based all kinds of complimentary yet perhaps not perfectly grounded assumptions on the sight - but you know what? I'm not going to complain.

Got one more confirmation (as if it were necessary) that the people here - or at least my people - are the opposite of snobs. My students had, for some unapparent reason, congregated in the floor lobby before class and were just chatting away even as I went into the restroom with less than a minute to go before we needed to get started. As I came back out and headed in the direction of our classroom, I "psst"-ed at them and made a small sweeping gesture to herd them with me, but not before I'd noticed that Professor Alpha was also standing pretty close to the group; I avoided eye contact so he wouldn't think I'd been attempting to herd him, for chrissakes - but as I turn at the door to wait for my straggling line of students, who should come up behind me (RIGHT behind me) and ask whether I'd wanted him?! And then, to add to the general classy air, I knocked him in the belly as I made another useful gesture in my demonstration of what I'd been trying to do: wicked smooth, killer. The cool things, though, are that a) he really did not seem the least bit insulted - not even surprised, which may or may not be a good thing - that I had apparently swept at him, b) he stood chatting with me, and at the students, until the last one had joined us, c) he wished us a nice time with the epistemology as he walked away, and d) I didn't even feel particularly awkward or stupid about any of the above, which goes to show what kind of atmosphere they're cultivating around here, because I can definitely think of times and people in my life that in a similar situation would have been associated with a lasting sense of wince-worthy retardation on my part.

Hopped off a shallow step on the second floor of Barnes and Noble and found that I was walking across an old-school hardwood floor. Now that I think about it, I know that's true mostly from giving exams at the "OSS gymnasium," as my dear bio teacher/wanna-be AP put it.

26 Feb 07

Time:

?, although I will congratulate myself on getting home at an hour so reasonable that I finished my Professor Number Six paper without even staying up very late.

Money:

$4, diet Pepsi and my favorite microwave oatmeal (which was confused with "cold milk" at great and frustrating length by the stocker when I asked where I could find it.)
$0, lunch, Chipotle (see below.)
$14 (I think), three lovely rolls, Doo Zo.

More interesting things:

Got a Monday that fit nicely with my overall very deep fondness for this one-seventh of the week. This started when Alpha pulled out a (second-year's, thank you) candidacy paper, thus beginning a conversation about my own that, despite my remaining in his Hahvahd chair for an extensive period of time, didn't really pick up. I was, however, invited to join him on his walking tour of the money office, the bank, and a lunch place, as he had finally wrangled an important reimbursement and wanted to knock all three things off his to-do list at once. It is possible, therefore, that if you looked out your window over Broadway or West 8th around noon, you saw a large bearded man in a dark gray hat striding around with a rather less large but highly attentive black-coated graduate student firmly attached both to his left side and to the comments that came out of his mouth, most of which were highly amusing and all of which were substantive and relevant to the big CP task. I followed him to Professor Number Two's building (where we waited six years for the guard lady to notice us and our graciously produced ID cards), up to the second floor, back out and up the street to the bank, through the line to the last teller (which I was glad for, as it enabled me to be purposefully inattentive to the transaction without having to sidle conspicuously away from the window), and around the corner to Chipotle, where it was announced that "We're going in here. I'm buying; it's because of this check, you know." Lunch was great, of course - I'm very grateful for all the focused guidance and even more so that it came from Alpha.

Read at my desk with my combat-booted feet propped up and crossed next to my computer, inspiring F. and J. Hardy, who were flouncing out towards lunch, to observe "Oh, look... making ourselves comfortable now!" (that was F.) and "Yeah, must be a pain to be a graduate student around here!" (that was J.) It reminded me inexplicably but very distinctively of, like, two big brothers in perpetual concerted motion who nevertheless have the presence of mind to harass in good humor their poor younger sibling. I think it comes either from TV commercials or from a conglomeration of things I've read, but whatever it was - it was funny.

Heard someone ask someone else down the hall, "So how far along are you?" This was hilarious mainly because in other settings such a question is almost always automatically assumed to refer to a bun in the oven; here, of course, it was talking about a dissertation in the word processor.

Walked to class with the usual crowd - Professors Alpha and Number Seven, plus Anne - and was asked by Number Seven whether I was going to AERA. On responding that the plane ticket wasn't a problem but that it was more an issue of finding a nice tent to pitch, she sort of laughed and said, "Well, after next year, if there's ever a conference in Chicago, you are more than welcome to stay with me." Okay, seriously now: would an offer like that have been made if this conversation had taken place in East Lansing or Austin or Gainesville or Morningside Heights? I don't particularly think so - and it gives me past-tense nervousness to think I nearly ended up in one of those places instead!

Started iTunes for while I was putting my laundry away, got You're Beautiful, explained verbally to my computer that while I liked that song I would rather have heard Bad Day, and got... Bad Day. I love it when that kind of thing happens.

25 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$7, an avoid-the-BDFV cab ride to the enormous Hilton on Sixth Avenue.
$12, pancakes and turkey sausage, Astro's.
$24 (or so; it was a little ridiculous), lunch - just a sandwich and a soda, for chrissake - Friday's at Times Square (which explains the whole thing, of course.)
$6, half of an avoid-the-BDFV cab ride back, because I split it with Marisa (it was more expensive this time because of evening traffic.)
$12, burrito, Blockhead's (duh.)

More interesting things:

Appreciated the chance to get a large-scale view (see Thanksgiving Day post on driving vs. walking) of the city early on a Sunday morning. It is so quiet, and... I don't know. It's not that there were reminders of an exciting city Saturday night floating through (or dripping down) the streets, and shops and restaurants really weren't open yet, so it wasn't the image of a city waking up. Maybe that's it, though: I was awake when the city was asleep, and of course it is always a complexly pleasant experience to look at the face of the comfortably snoozing.

Found that the Hilton for which I was headed - the location of this year's AACTE conference - was in fact the one right next to the famous dandelion statue bank, where either last week or last century Ben and I began our cashier's check relay race.

Sat at Friday's with F. Hardy and Annette, facing a guy in a Gator sweatshirt and wearing what I noticed a few minutes later appeared to be a big ol' class ring containing a stone of the brilliant blue that once caught Dr. B's eye when he noticed it on my finger.

Discussed the impending clear-cut at length with F. Hardy, and when I mouthed the word "fucked" in response to his sentence opener about what we'll be next year, he agreed on the following basis: "Well, you will be because you're losing your godfather," which may have been the most succinctly accurate Italian-heritage-inspired observation I've ever heard.

24 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$9 (about), bagel, coffee, and then lunch quiche, DT/UT.
$quite a lot, although it wasn't mine (thanks, Ma!), Tavern on the Green and cabs.

More interesting things:

Watched a little incredulously - and checked with Roey to make sure I was seeing - a dad wheeling a carriage containing a baby on top of whom he had perched his crumb cake. These people go out and buy the Abrams tanks of the stroller universe, and then use the child/Abrams unit as a place to balance their baked goods. Very interesting.

Walked past a car with a New York license plate and a Nova Southeastern license plate holder. Oy.

Enjoyed VERY thoroughly a 5:30 dinner at Tavern on the Green - I know a lot of people are not crazy about the food there, but my mushroom soup, filet with potatoes and haricots verts, cheesecake, lemon drop, and pineapple martini were really, really good, plus despite it being pretty obvious that we had basically already paid for the meal, we got a table right near the window with an absolutely lovely golden-glowing view of the patio, the park, and the skyline lit by the setting sun. I will be returning, without question; the patio bar opens starting in June, which is close enough to the end of May to cause me to consider birthday possibilities.

Enjoyed also very thoroughly A Chorus Line. The best part of the whole thing was the dramatic burst of a closing number: throughout the show, of course, the actors are wearing jeans or plain leotards or whatever, since they're just supposed to be at an audition, but then the lights go down and all of a sudden you have this exuberant and exuberantly-sequined line of gold tights and top hats capering together around the stage to the tune of a song everyone knows, and when they start doing their Rockette kicks your ass pretty much forgets that there was no intermission. Cool stuff - and thanks again, Ma!

23 Feb 07

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I'm a jerk, or at least a not-very-diligent blogger.

Ooh, wait - that's not true. Well, the part about not knowing anyway: this Friday was the day I had imagined I'd get the program self-study questions done in an hour or so and have the chance to get on with some schoolwork. Yeah. Right. I did get it done, however, and in fine style if I do say so myself, so... that's cool. And then that night - well, okay: that's where the not-very-diligent part definitely comes in.

22 Feb 07

Time:

? (It was an insanely busy day, however, so the answer to this question is probably "too much" - I wouldn't have suffered if we had added a couple of hours to the day.)

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Sat across the train from a guy I had definitely noticed the day before, mostly because he looked so much like you would expect a yuppie guy to look that it was amusing; his almost-glowing silver wedding band - the only conspicuous thing about this person, besides his utter inconspicuousness - confirmed my Repeat Commuter Sighting. I think that makes three.

Attended a training with Professor Number Number Six and his lovely assistant, who happens also to be my friend and classmate. The conversation featured, at one point, an offer to trade chauffeur services on my part for registration and hotel for AERA on Number Six's part, and the observation that this would be like Driving Miss Number Six. Then we moved on to the actual point of having this whole training, at which point I discovered just how brain-dead some of our supervisors really are: first it was declared that an assessment had to be a paper-based test, and then it was overgeneralized (either rudely or stupidly) to the assertion that "Well, then just taking attendance and knowing how many students you have in your class is an assessment!" Oy. But I asked whether the instrument's purpose was to notice the achievements or the shortcomings of a student-teacher and got a nice response of question-complimenting, so that made me feel a little better....

Received a message Professor Alpha had left with the secretary asking me to call him at home. I probably should have restrained myself, but of course one of the first things I said on getting hold of him was that it's really okay for him to call my cell phone, at which point I was treated to his dismissive turkey-noises (although they did at least conclude with, "No, you're right, okay, you're right, you're right," which makes me laugh because to listen to him you would think I had yelled in his ear for ten minutes.) Later, when I couldn't find the fax cover sheet he'd asked me to send again, I called him back to check whether a number at the bottom of the list he wanted resent was the right one, so at least I got to chat again - this time about talking on an illegally-held cell phone, after calling his house and getting directions from his wife to call that number; it was a better conversation than the one in which I'd tried to correct his formal phone-call tendencies.

20-21 Feb 07

This is the longest I've gone without posting, and I'm not altogether thrilled about having to resort to the approach I used once before, which was to collapse a few days' worth of entries into one boring note. I didn't make any particularly fascinating observations over the course of these two days, however, so... on to the rest of the (I hope more interesting) week.

19 Feb 07

Time:

Two hours, from leaving my apartment to the time my little sister cleared security, negotiated the shuttle (!), and found a seat near her gate at JFK. It probably would have been closer to the hour-and-forty-two-minutes I've recorded here for myself before, but holiday subways are ridiculous.

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Sat, during one train ride or another today, next to three French ladies and across from a guy whose dotted pigmentation might have made him look a little spooky except that he seemed so easy-going. The ladies were clearly enjoying themselves, but, equally clearly, were trying to figure something out, and as they left at Grand Central, the guy wished them a cheery - and highly amused; he was trying not to laugh - "good luck."

Took my little sister into the Strand to look for A Streetcar Named Desire. I was quite surprised to learn that they didn't have it, but what they did have was: a dog. I thought I saw something vaguely furry and low to the ground disappear around the back of one of the shelves in the middle, so I followed it around the corner and got a look at a curly blond pup on a leash. First wine tasting, now book browsing... the dogs around here are impressive enough in person (in dog?) to match their equally varied and imposing pedigrees.

Rode the ever-so-long escalator up at the Lexington Avenue/53rd Street stop, and apparently just at the right time: it ground fairly quickly to a halt just as we were about three steps away from the top. Someone's hat had been lodged VERY firmly between the escalator stair and the landing, and I was glad that even the intrepid police cadet who walked back to inspect things didn't try to yank it out.

Exchanged, with a large lady wearing a big gray bomber hat from American Eagle, first a faintly exasperated look in response to some conductor commentary on why we kept stopping and second a smile and a giggle when her facial expression indicated that she couldn't immediately determine what was making all the thumping and squealing noises near my feet. (It was a little boy, joking around with his dad [I guess.])

Went, somewhere in between all that, to Rebecca's house for the purposes of returning her quilt (thanks, lady!), to the peanut butter restaurant, to Greene Street (home of my desk and my salad store, both - needless to say - very important landmarks), to Magnolia (obviously!), to one of those ridiculous yet cooler-than-it-should-be souvenir stores near Times Square, and to Papaya King (that was for my dad's benefit.)

Sat, on the way home from a sushi (!) place in the Village, across from a nice-looking man who was clearly very involved in what he was reading. From the font I thought I could tell that it was probably a kids' or young adults' novel, but when he lifted it just enough for me to confirm by the spine that it was, in fact, one of the Harry Potters, I couldn't help but smile (in what I'm sure was quite a goofy way.)

18 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Noticed, thanks to Roey's indulgence of my weird subway interests, that the conductor had opened his door and appeared to be just kind of hanging out. He closed the door again to handle our stop somewhere between here and Union Square, but returned shortly thereafter, this time with a cell phone plan brochure he examined carefully. I couldn't quite figure out what motivated him to keep popping out like that, but, you know... I'm always glad for the company, I guess!

Enjoyed a lovely brunch at Blue Water Grill with the whole gang: Anne and her husband, Roey, Rebecca, and my sister. I was sorry they (minus the underage) ended up with watery drinks, but they should have ordered Bellinis: mine was great.

Made our way down to the Brooklyn Museum, which was very cool even WITHOUT the freaking Dinner Party I had ventured into a whole 'nother BOROUGH to see, and came back via a LONG ride on the 2; for all the minutes involved there, however, at least I got to a) take a small nap and b) sit next to someone cool enough to read a John Cheever book.

Ventured (speaking of that) to a... SUSHI place with Anne, her husband, and my sister, and was pleasantly and highly surprised to find that I really liked it. Even without the sake, this will have to become a regular part of my week, I think: reasonably healthy chow with tons of protein and good fish fat for not too much money - hard to argue with.

Ate more (because clearly we hadn't had enough yet) at the cafe on top of Fairway Market, which is always a cool place anyway. After that - and by "that" I mean creme brulee of a diameter that verged on obscene along with apple tart and chocolate something-or-other - we finally made our weary, distended way home. Chow champs.

17 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Took my little sister to brunch at Annie's and then caught a bus just in time to get across town to the natural history museum. On the way, we got a good view of gorgeously white and snowy Central Park, complete with little kids sledding; the sight (snow, I mean, not particularly the kids) is still a shock because even though I've gotten more used to the idea of flakes of frozen water blanketing the ground, in most places the flakes are gray and stuck together in big, mean, concrete-looking frozen clumps, and it's a nice surprise to see the fluffy scrunchy stuff I mentioned here earlier. We also passed a whole troop of cops, congregating around a command van on Fifth Avenue. When my sister asked me what they were doing, I was able to sort of infer that they were getting ready for some kind of largely benign event only because they looked exactly like my squad of MP cadets always did when we were preparing to run Back to School night or the IB induction or something: nicely decked out and... like, team-ish - you could see and feel a sense among the group that together WE are preparing to keep things running smoothly for YOU, and you wouldn't know how to do it, but we're glad to able to participate.

Listened to a couple of other, non-ROTC-looking cops talking, this time on the subway headed for the grilled cheese place, and gathered that one of them just HAD to be Italian; when I managed to catch a glimpse of his nameplate, it was even better proof than I could have asked for: Siciliano.

Ate, as might be expected given the last note here, at the grilled cheese place; went to Old Navy; went back to my apartment (at last - we were tired!); went out to dinner at... oh yeah, Ship of Fools, which was great.

16 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$5, coffee and muffin, campus Starbucks (since I didn't go to the gym.)
$6, soda, protein bar, and a little hummus thing, my usual lunch place.
$14, round-trip Penn Station to Jamaica.
$10, round-trip Jamaica to JFK.
$40 (or so), dinner and wine, that Italian place near Rebecca's.

More interesting things:

Watched - and participated, almost - as a youngish guy sort of caught a very old lady and helped her slide onto the subway bench next to me. I had my headphones on, so I returned the smile she beamed at me without understanding, at first, that the youngish guy (who really probably only looked young because of his traveling companion) seemed to be her son, rather than just a nice person looking out for someone who needed help; I figured it out because from the minute he was able to sit down next to her until I got off the train, they engaged in the nicest, most earnest discussion I think I've ever seen between two people so apparently different from each other as they.

Walked down Washington Square East en route to the library (I needed to return The Bat-Poet, you know), past a single peanut resting lightly on a large expanse of unsullied snow just inside the park fence. What are those squirrels waiting for? (And who put it there?)

Sped down to the West Fourth Street station in my quest to get the E to the LIRR to the AirTrain... so on and so forth, but the point here is that waiting at the corner of the basketball courts near the staircase into the station was a soldier in ACU's, and as he had a duffle plunked in front of his boots, I gathered he hadn't just come from a shift at Penn Station.

Rode the LIRR, as I have mentioned a couple of times now, out to Jamaica. I was on the Babylon line, which means relatively little to me - but the perpetually weird thing is that it does not matter one speck. It is the same counting of cars, the same looking at commuters headed home to dinner, the same snorting at motorman's commentary; the same remembering, and just as important, the same remembering of remembering. The former list, on this particular trip, involved making sure that since they wouldn't "make the platform" at Jamaica I wasn't in one of the last two cars, text messaging my mom to answer her question about whether I was alone with "well, I mean there's a whole bunch of people whose dinners await them in babylon, but... :-)", and laughing out loud at the mention of keeping feet and salt on the floor where they belong; the latter meant, first, reaffirming my intent to become someday the holder of a monthly pass and, second, wondering why, when we had a very nice apartment on Carlton Avenue, a silver railroad car should seem so much like home.

15 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$4, red-place breakfast, red place (duh.)
$7, usual lunch, usual place. (These accounts of my daytime chow runs are fascinating, aren't they?)
$26, burrito and beverages, Blockhead's.

More interesting things:

Stood across from a woman sitting on the subway bench with an ugly ol' TCRWP bag. Retch.

Looked at Washington Square Park and realized that with the snow it really looked like my shiny sparkly blue-and-white dentist day from back in the day.

Opened one of my great-aunt's emails, which I rarely do, and found that the original mailing list included addresses not associated merely with the town of Mineola but with Mineola public schools. Weird.

Started the day, pretty much (I think it was the second or third song I got), with the faster version of the Hallelujah Chorus on my iPod. Lately it has seemed like the songs that come up are associated fairly closely with what I'm thinking or doing for the day, and I was glad to find that this was far from an exception. In place of the past week's largely unenthusiastic exchanges with Professor Alpha, we had: a warm (both literally and figuratively) slap-five at the beginning of Possible Professor Delta's talk; a declaration that thanks to the "growing hostility" it's a good thing Alpha's office is here rather than elsewhere - my comment that I didn't know whether to be nervous about the hostility thing was answered with, "Oh, not towards you, honey... quite the opposite, quite the opposite"; an explanation to an undergrad surprised by my working quarters that they "keep [me] here all the time... all we need is the right drugs"; a nice copy-room sort of... head-hug, or something, based on our discussion that I was in fact nearly done with his copies, had done them correctly, and had taken so long more because of the job in front of me than because I'm challenged in the copying department; a request to shut down his computer before leaving (with the note that even if he'd accidentally locked the door behind him the secretary would have let me in); and the friendliest good-bye - involving elbow-grabs - that I've gotten in days. As the Robert Shaw Chorale mentioned this morning: Hallelujah.

Introduced Roey to Professor Alpha among all that. It was nice to get two of my favorite New England guys into a conversation, particularly since apparently it involved one touching the other's knee; I'll let you figure out who did what.

14 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$7, double breakfast (knowing that I wouldn't get lunch), the red place.
$3, caramel latte, Oren's.
$a lot (about 80 bucks, but worth the whole thing), incredibly good steak dinner, Knickerbocker.

More interesting things:

Woke up to the first real accumulation of snow I've been involved with since my snowsuit days. It was weird and fluffy and scrunchy and white and even where it was in fact gray and slushy, I loved it.

Beelined out of Union Square, bound for the gym, past a guy enthusiastically handing out "Metro Condoms." I don't know if they were the real subway condoms Roey mentioned awhile back, but they did appear from my passing (and distant) glimpse to feature something with colored numbers on the packets.

Blew a little backwards between Fourth Avenue and Broadway, even bent as I was against the flying shards o' frozen water whipping in a frenzy towards somewhere they obviously needed to get to in a hurry. If I hadn't been a little concerned about un-Lasiking myself by ice pellet it probably would have made me laugh - this was the most dramatic weather I had attempted to walk through in a very long time, if not ever - but next time I'll wear sunglasses and it will be fun.

Talked with each of the Hardy Boys (a good code name for one of my office neighbors and the clinical placement guy together) about being at my desk: F. Hardy told me that when he was a student Professor Charlie would ask whether he'd ever gone home, and J. Hardy mentioned that by sitting around reading I was getting more "valuable" to the university - ha!, but very funny all the same.

Got, at least, a high-five as Professor Alpha left for lunch with the possible Professor Delta (?). This represented a small speck of a turnaround from the otherwise relatively cool tone of our interactions this week, and I was glad to have it.

Went to the Q&A with Possible Professor Delta. He seemed really cool, and even better, Professor Alpha seemed to warm up just a little further: as we all waited for the elevator upstairs, he sort of sidled in on the conversation Anne and I were having about our students' vomit-inducing (in us, I mean) book choices, and then during the actual discussion, he brought up my question from class, waited while I kind of interrupted with another question, came back with it again, and gave me a wink. Yesss. (I enjoyed the little meeting for more purposes than just these, however. It was a very cool thing to think that there we lounged, holed up nice and warm on a pretty high floor over snowy Washington Square, chatting with Names - one of whom was already ours [that would be Alpha, of course], one of whom we'd like - as though we all belonged and had something to talk about, which we did. This sense was heightened a little when the visitor asked about the 6 train, and all of us had an answer, including me. Because I live here. In New York. Which I can still hardly believe sometimes.)

Settled, after quizzing J. Hardy about restaurants, on Knickerbocker for our dinner with Roey, and enjoyed that decision thoroughly. I don't normally just go around ordering steak, but tonight I'm glad I did, partly because it was good (duh), yet maybe mostly because it was a nice place to begin an evening that included lots of joking around (to the point of nearly "yakking," for Anne), comfortable conversation, and a patient walk through ankle-heaps of snow towards the train. (There are more dramatic ways to spend Valentine's Day, I guess, but I can't think of too, too many that are more generally pleasant.)

13 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

?, although I know I got red-place breakfast, the usual lunch, and dinner at El Cantinero.

More interesting things:

Braced for the newest addition to my collection of life weather experiences, the "wintry mix." As much as it sounded like some sort of salad would be approaching from the Midwest, it was enough to cause me to tell Anne I wanted to get home ahead of the weather, which in turn reminded me of not-too-ancient days of harried bus-stop waiting and ice-bag buying (even though, of course, the approaching system was nothing like a hurricane.)

12 Feb 07

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Rode the train sitting across from one of those women you occasionally find in this city whose hairdo and general appearance make it clear that they are related to someone named Carmine. Not Guido - I'm not trying to be rude or to make some kind of unpleasant implication - but she just had a very no-nonsense look about her, in the manner of Mrs. Rossini from Who's the Boss. Black hair streaked with silver in a practical style, dark eyes, strong chin, so on and so forth. It amuses me.

Thought about two sets of information I have, for the first time as they relate to one another. To begin with, my decision to include the Portnoy paper in my application to this school was pretty deliberate: it wasn't the school's fault, of course, but by then I had pretty much had it in terms of the whole process, and I definitely remember thinking, "Fine - they want to know all this stuff, I'm going to show them exactly what they'll be getting if they take me!" The second thing is, I've recently learned just how carefully these guys examine the apps, and there is no supposing that maybe they didn't see the paper, didn't read it, didn't remember it, or didn't consider it. I mean, it's possible that not all of them got every word, of course... but it seems pretty clear that Professor Alpha probably did. How has that affected what has come afterwards?

Listened to the Abercrombie-pants professor talking about the Grammys: first, "I really liked those hot chili peppers"; second, to Professor Alpha, "But I couldn't believe there were no klezmer bands up there!"

11 Feb 07

Time:

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Money:

$27 (or so), cleaning supplies and Diet Pepsi, Gristede's.
$20, pizza for dinner, Ray's.

More interesting things:

Stayed in the house pretty much all day and only got "dressed" in the long-coat-over-sweatpants-and-boots sense long enough to go to Gristede's. We got the apartment nice and clean, and I knocked a fair number of items off my list of homework, but I started feeling flu-ish again at night, so I didn't go over to Roey's to watch TV. I fell asleep in my chair long enough to make it hard to fall back into it once I'd gotten in bed, but clearly I managed. In any case, it was not a particularly exciting day, but I did rather relish lounging around in my nice warm house.

10 Feb 07

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Trekked out to Brooklyn to visit Gimme Coffee in Williamsburg and the original Cafe Grumpy in Greenpoint. It was fun; going on a cool adventure is definitely worth a little coffee stomach. The best part, though, might have been lunch (well, brunch): on the recommendation of a very curly-haired guy at Gimme, we went around the block to a place called Santa Fe, and it was great. The food was quite good, and there was a hilarious advertisement not only for a prix-fixe dinner for two on Valentine's Day ("price good even if you go home alone") but also a similar arrangement for those dining alone - a blue-themed meal with a "price good even if you don't go home alone." Even better than all that, however, was the Florida cap perched atop the coffee grinder. Our server - who was quite cute - asked a guy sitting at the bar whether it was his; the guy at the bar turned out to be the owner of the place, whose mom has lived in Gainesville for 15 years and "will probably die there, happily, because she's a HUGE football fan." (It didn't occur to me for a few minutes that the name of his restaurant went along with the hat in a way most people would never recognize.)

Went back down below to the G - the only line that never hits Manhattan, don'tcha know - past an emergency exit gate propped wide open. I followed Anne on her lawful path to the turnstile, but even with my Metrocard ready in hand, I was sorely tempted to do it the cool kids' way.

Headed with Anne, after a tiredly bleary visit to DT/UT and a quick stop at a wine store, to Marisa's apartment, featuring all kinds of nice people, lots of good cooking, and a well-stocked bar. Thanks, Marisa!

9 Feb 07

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Missed the downtown local I've been taking in the interest of getting a seat, but dashed downstairs just in time to catch a) an express that b) had bench space open. Outstanding (for in-sitting.)

Grabbed the lavender-and-gray-fur bomber hat that fell off someone's bag as she sped down University Place; I had to work to catch her before she crossed (jaywalked) the street, but once I did she was bubbling over with thanks and so on. Later, this experience (combined with trying not to laugh at a group - probably a mom and two daughters visiting the university - which featured one of those under-your-clothing money belts) caused Roey to observe that people really, really have the wrong idea about this town: you might have to worry about pickpockets in Times Square or, as I pointed out, on a packed train at Christmastime, and there are certainly irritated people to be found on sardine-can subway cars, but for the most part this is a very, very safe and very, very pleasant place to live. If he didn't live here, Roey added, he might not know that it's really the Bronx and Queens causing most of the crime statistics issues, and he would only have expected a curt "thanks" from a lady to whom you've just returned a hat. Too bad for everyone else, I say, but it does seem a little unfair to the city itself.

Ate breakfast with Roey at the red place - what else is new? - where he noticed for the second time in our collective yogurt-eating history the cab driver who leaves his car running just outside the door with the trunk open, as though he were helping someone with luggage. Roey maintains that such a practice ought to enable anyone to drive away, legally, with the guy's cab, but I can't decide whether it's irritating or just funny.

Met with my third and final student-teacher. He's incredibly nice, seems incredibly devoted to teaching, and is incredibly Italian. That's all I can say about that here, but I was very glad to meet him and I think it'll be fun to work with him.

Went with Anne to the Essex Street Market on our way out of the school; to be more precise, we hit up Rainbo's... well, Rainbo's something - I don't know what the rest of their name is, but it doesn't matter, because it was awesome. I didn't find out how good the salmon sandwiches or the graham muffins were until we got back to the Village and ate them at Cafe Collage, but while we were waiting, one of the owners came from behind the counter with biscotti for each of us - he said it was because they had broken, but whatever it was, a) they were incredibly good and b) it was really nice of him to hand them out. On top of all of this, he actually lets you pick out your own muffin, which I think cannot be beat. I will definitely be headed back there, probably sometime soon.

Wandered around between the Village and Union Square: ate and drank coffee at Cafe Collage, hit American Apparel for some more tall socks, got a book cover thingy at the Strand (from Anne - thanks, lady!), picked out my Pumas (thanks, Ma!), took Anne to see the pool at the school gym, and went literally out the back door and across the street to a coffee shop I'd never noticed (it's a little confusing - Ninth Street Espresso, conveniently located on 13th Street.)

8 Feb 07

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Waded through a whole morning of weirdness. It started when I (and, presumably, everyone else in the Monday class) got an email from Professor Alpha at about 10:45; between this and the email from EL in which she mentioned considering taking a little assistance from Jack Daniels, I figured Alpha wasn't coming in - he was still up north, and EL didn't seem to be feeling very well yet, so maybe she had let him know the same thing and caused Alpha to decide against coming into the city. Then, just before I was getting ready to go to lunch with Roey, who should show up at my desk but EL herself? She told me she was here for lunch with Alpha and seemed quite surprised when I indicated he hadn't been in his office, at least since I'd gotten in at 9:30, and that I hadn't heard him upstairs either. Apparently on my suggestion that she try giving Alpha a call, she picked up her cell phone and dialed, but listened without saying anything before hanging up. I thought maybe he hadn't answered, but when I asked, it turned out she had only called her voicemail because, she said, she didn't have Alpha's number. (Which seemed very odd, given what I've seen of their relationship and Alpha's almost total lack of secrecy.) I offered to call him, did so, and got a very irritated-sounding growly voice on the other end with the news that he was trying to get through traffic, had given one of the secretaries instructions to tell EL he'd be late, would like me to pass on the message since it had clearly not made it already, and would now hang up because, as I pointed out, he was definitely looking for a ticket by talking on the phone while driving. I shared all that with EL, discussed the merits of alcohol as a soreness remedy (and in particular with respect to Alpha's liberal views on drinking at lunch), and got up to put my coat on - I really had to go meet Roey, but that got put on hold for a minute after EL seemed to interpret my taking off as a sign that she was "cramping my style," which was supremely strange, and I wanted to extend the conversation a bit so it would be clear I wasn't annoyed with her in the least. Having done so, I finally made it off the floor and around the corner, where I slowed down to consider whether I should hide inside or wait for my dining companion in the cold; the decision was made for me when I saw Alpha coming up the sidewalk. I met him halfway, of course, at which point he informed me - in a much more pleasant tone of voice than I'd gotten earlier - that he had just tried to call me. I thought that this, too, was pretty weird (although I appreciated it only in some thus-far unexamined way), and I wanted to say either "Um, you remember you're having lunch with EL, and not me, right?" or "Um, you did call EL from your cell phone the other day - I was standing there when you did it - so why didn't you try to get her?" (Notice the "um's"; those are verbal indicators of my reaction to the weirdness I was sensing, and they feature in such situations quite regularly.) I didn't voice either of these, needless to say, although I can't recall exactly what I did come up with until he had walked past me - I had stopped in front of Apple - and approached a big ice patch; here my brilliance shined through and I warned him to watch the ice (duh). A second later, a little more astutely, I called his name, causing him to stop and look over his shoulder to get my message that EL was a little... [here I tapped the side of my head.] He nodded and kept on his way, and since I spotted Roey down the street, I stood right where I was.

Continued my stretch of mildly unsettling interactions - after a very pleasant lunch interlude - by arriving in my classroom to find some CD entitled "Oh No Oh Boy," with a vaguely American-flaggish print and a note that it had been produced by Asthmatic Kitty Records (in, like, Wyoming or something). I played a little of it just before class started and found that it was exceptionally multiple-personality-disorderish: the first song sounded like something farm-related, the second sounded all industrial, the third sounded like I don't know what, and their singing reminded me of Enya, but in English that was trying to sound like it wasn't English. Very, very strange, as befitted the day, I guess.

Kept up the weirdness upon my return to my desk. Alpha's door was closed, so I figured he wasn't coming back, but just a little later I heard big footsteps and something about happy days out in the lobby. He came back sounding normal - which was a nice contrast to everything else - and after greeting me, agreed that EL was a little funny in the head, that she'd said so herself (which, I added, she had done with me as well), and that, on my suggestion, a glass of wine had done a lot to help her. After dropping his stuff and parking himself at his computer, he suggested that I come in and "entertain" him while he tried to avoid doing any work. A few minutes later he mentioned something about a bullshit email, and, after a couple of trailed-off attempts to answer my question about what he was talking about, finally finished his sentence with, "It's these emails that try to make you think there's something genuinely important, and then they turn out to be for Viagra." Ha. A little more very unpressing discussion ensued, some undergraduate chickadees came by (causing both of us to laugh once they'd left), and then it was time for him to leave. On the way out, however, he asked whether I was going to see that Brooklyn art exhibit I had mentioned in class on Wednesday - this is a guy who pays as much attention to the ostensibly peripheral commentary of others as I do, and remembers it at least as carefully. This is fun, on the one hand, but a little scary on the other: if I should say something dumb, I can't realistically console myself with the idea that he either didn't hear it or won't recall it.

Wondered, not for the first time, I don't think, whether other classes have gotten the same sense of community we - or at least I - enjoy now. It doesn't really seem like it, based on our admittedly infrequent meetings and dinners and so on with the earlier cohorts, and I wonder if there's some dimension of protectiveness or something associated with us being their last group all together, but hey - if there was just one class to get it, I'm not complaining about being included!

7 Feb 07

Time:

?

Money:

$4, usual breakfast, usual place.
$11, Kati Rolls for an early dinner, Kati Rolls (duh).
$150 (but that was from my mom!), Ugg Store.

More interesting things:

Got brought into a conversation with one of Roey's and Mellie's coworkers before the start of Professor Number Six's class on the observation that he's from Florida, too. We made the usual matching/narrowing geographical comments, starting with, "Oh yeah? What part?", moving on to "Uh, down south - Palm Beach County", continuing with "Oh [and a nod] - I graduated from Atlantic, the old Atlantic." This, of course, is where a very restrained version of the RJ Voice came in... but come on, that's weird. It was funny just to have the conversation, but then to think explicitly about a single classroom at a single university in a single state (located not very near to the state of origin) containing two people not just from the same county or town but the very same high school is a strange thing; I bet there weren't too many other rooms in that building featuring more than one graduate from a single out-of-state school.

Went to Professor Alpha's class just afterwards, of course, where we discussed the statistics involved with a quantitative study we read. I really like this part of things, of course - I enjoy how interpreting tables and charts and all can kind of get information into your head like a .zip file: streamlined delivery ready to expand many times over once it gets inside - but I don't think it was quite my classmates' favorite. This gave me the opportunity to talk for a minute about standard deviation in a way that a) might actually have helped one classmate get the idea a little better, b) caused Alpha to nod along with me for a second rather than the other way around, and c) got brought up again as a good example awhile later. This was all pleasantly unusual - I very much enjoy my own thoughts, of course, but they're not always especially striking for other people - and I was so glad to bring ten-year-old learning at the hands of Dr. Baum and Mr. Davis to another setting that I emailed both of them about it.

Made it, at last, to the Ugg Store, which was appropriately sheepy and warm, and left carrying my black fur boots past a young woman walking two dogs - one fluffy, ugly, and small, the other resembling very much a tricolor version of Jake. This second dog was really, really cool-looking, which I noted fairly loudly and more than once; when I stopped to look over my shoulder at him - he really was that nifty - and said it again, he looked over his shoulder, too. It was clear he knew I was talking about him, because his little Bichon friend paid no attention, and I'm glad he heard my compliment; usually the hairy brats get all the attention from people on the street, but this cool guy definitely deserved some.

6 Feb 07

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Sat making a PDF upstairs - I know my desk is in one pleasantly social corner, but the secretary's area up there is, based on what I've recorded here, maybe even better in terms of constant activity - when Professor Number One came by. I greeted her enthusiastically, especially because I hadn't seen her in awhile, which I mentioned. She responded that when it's this cold she tries not to leave her apartment, and of course, I replied that I thought this was pretty funny - when it's this cold I HAVE to leave my apartment! She made a whole series of concerned tuts and clucks, concluding with, "Well, you know, you don't freeze... I have an extra room." Seriously - and as, again, I've noted before - I don't think I'll ever get the limits.

Left just in time to run into a crowd coming off the elevator, including Professors Number Four and Alpha, who herded me back in his direction with the comment that they were expecting me at their meeting. The sit-down itself was interesting mostly in the sense that it sort of added a little to the earlier illumination of all the program's processes, but the best part, really, was the nonchalant, everyday, business-like expectation that I would be included. I still do not know what exactly this attitude springs from - although I think the answer leans less toward the way I represented myself on paper a year ago and a lot more toward their confidence in their own ability to evaluate that representation! - but whatever it is, I'm grateful for it.

Spotted a yellow train. Since I was on a train myself and the unusual one was at least one track away and may, it seems to me now, have been visible only through the windows of a third car between us, I didn't get a great look, but I'll gladly take what I can get in the non-passenger subway sightings department.

5 Feb 07

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Left the gym and noticed a school athletics van just outside the back door, which was unusual but not particularly fascinating until I further noticed its license plate holder: Franklin Square Ford.

Walked past one side or another (probably the southern edge or the eastern, given where I'm most frequently headed) of Washington Square Park and listened to pigeon burble. It was a whole flock of them, and I guess someone had put out food or something, because they were tutting around, pecking contentedly (I mean, I think they were content; I'm not quite an expert on pigeon body language yet) and making that collective-turkey noise all together. If a pot of boiling water ever wore feathers, that's what it would sound like.

Saw once again that great Jerry Orbach eye-donation advertisement and thought this time about the fact that it mentions sight for two "New Yorkers." Now, I guess I'm not sure, but I don't think you find a lot of ads addressed to Floridians or Arkansans or whoever (and probably not, if you're concerned that somehow the suffix "-an" is less attractive than "-er," Mainers either), but why? It's just as reasonable - or maybe even more so, given the enormous number of tourists coming through this city - to assume that people driving by Glades Road on I-95 are from Florida as it is to figure that someone on the subway is from New York, so it can't just be a demographic issue, and it's not a weird quirk of this particular ad agency, either: lots and lots of these things address their readers as New Yorkers. The only thing I can conclude is that in some way - not at all beyond my experience, but not, I wouldn't have guessed, within the imagination of a PR director - they are designed to appeal to a sense of shared identity. This would do a lot to explain my affection for reading and re-reading the "Invest in NY" line on the CUNY ads, the Delta signs about flirting with other places, the Hamptons beer posters, and all the others, because this idea is, of course, one of the central thrusts of this whole blog.

Took dictation from Professor Alpha. One memo included some positive information about "needing her" (that is to say, me) in May and July, and another consisted of directions for the supervisors. Alpha was not particularly thrilled with them at the moment, so when I asked him if he were sure he wanted to begin his note without a salutation, he sort of low-barked, "No, no salutation." A few minutes later, he went out to the lobby for a minute; he announced his return by commenting, in an interestingly edgy voice, "Okay, here's your salutation [insert my laughing objections here]. No, no, you wanted a salutation, and you're right, so here it is. Ready? Deeeeear Supes. Got that? Deeeeeear Supes. Will that be okay? I think that will be fine." Also enjoyed - very much, needless to say - walking with Alpha to a section on our floor populated mostly by people I hadn't yet met and being introduced with the sentences, "Yes, I control her... we're very close." (Someone commented drily, "I can see the strings," but I don't think she knew that that wasn't why I was laughing.)

4 Feb 07

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Decided that sitting in my spot on the second floor is very much akin to being a pup of some sort - someone who lives in groups, so wolf or lion, take your pick - and being surrounded by bigger, scarier members of the pack (or whatever) who will, despite their status, let me swat at them for practice before I have to go out and swat for real. The conversation with Frank the other day is what made me think of it this way, and it seems like a good metaphor - we're going to be running the pack someday, and for now we get the chance to get ready in here where they're still the ones fending off the outsiders.

Watched a white gumball roll across the subway floor, prompting me to think that it was just the hard-core city version of a white feather floating around Forrest Gump's air. (Which is another metaphor that works, I think.)

Went to Brenan's Super Bowl party, which was fun even if the Bears lost. (Grrr.)

3 Feb 07

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Did a little more nomadic studying, this time interrupted by the cold at DT/UT and, consequently, the Last King of Scotland, which was a great movie. I have to finish up tomorrow, even though I'd been planning to get done today, but... I have all day.

Decided that there are some things that somehow go together for me, despite their external differences. That feeling of hovering on the trailing edge of intoxication - not being incapacitated - is my favorite consequence of hanging at a bar, and it goes with the late afternoon, Weetzie Bat, The Arizona Kid (as I recall), Jacob Have I Loved, American Pastoral, Half Acre, Light as the Breeze, Someone Saved My Life Tonight, spending a little time by yourself but only after spending time with someone you really like, the pink catamaran dream, one sad ache in the middle of fields of the opposite, and people and situations with such an ache. That would explain a lot of the things I find myself walking into, but I don't think it describes me, at least not all the time; when it does apply, it's often because I'm on that oddly pleasant trailing edge I mentioned just now. (I happen not to be there now, although I did just drink some margaritas, which would probably account for my willingness to post such an abstract observation....)

2 Feb 06

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Grabbed a seat on the local headed down to the gym and was joined, a minute later, by a family of three: young woman and two older parents. Mom sat to my left and Dad, even though there was really enough space between Mom and me, slid in to my right, on the other side of the pole. It was fun to see, because the daughter was clearly sort of running the show - she made sure her dad knew it was okay to sit before she herself did, taking up the remaining space to my left. (The sense that the daughter was in charge was heightened after I read the zipper pull on Mom's ski jacket - it was in Chinese - and then looked a little over her shoulder to see an email confirming three tickets on a city tour originating in Chinatown.) I think part of the reason I liked getting a chance to see this little group was that it reminded me of the vicarious friend-visit thrill I wrote about back in, like, October or something, but other than that I couldn't be too specific. It was just a nice thing to observe.

Turned in my towels at the gym before shrugging somewhat sweatily back into my black coat, which gave one of the girls behind the equipment room desk the chance to see my gray, orange, and blue Florida sweatshirt. She asked if I'd gone there and then added that she had been at UCF. We talked a little bit about the two schools before I headed back upstairs, appreciative as always for these funny little points of connection.

Ate breakfast with Roey, who made a really cool observation: if I'm observing student-teachers, it's in the course of my own days as a student-professor, which is, as he also noted, "kinda neat." I've thought a lot about all the elements of my education here, of course, and even as they combine, but I don't think I ever added up teaching my own course, supervising interns, attending committee meetings, sitting in on hiring business, organizing for admissions decisions, and generally being immersed in a department's ecology to realize that together it all equals exactly the life of a student-professor.

Enjoyed, speaking of hiring, another candidate meal - lunch at a place near the park, which was quite good. I appreciated the conversation (to which, this time around, I actually had something to add), the forthrightness with which the professors involved answered my questions while the candidate was away from the table, and the walk back to the office, during which Professor Number Seven asked me what I was thinking in terms of projects for the class she and Professor Alpha teach and then gave me a reading suggestion. I just got done telling my sister that the most sure-fire method I know for kindling really good relationships with faculty members is to read the things they mention and then get back to them about what you thought; I don't think it has failed me yet, and even though it doesn't seem like I need to worry much about my relationship with this particular professor, I'm going to put it into practice once again - mostly with an eye to informing my project plans, but partly because I like these people to know I respect their input enough to act on it.

Waited for the E and spotted a girl with a bag from the university bookstore and a varsity jacket from Miami Coral Park High School, which was utterly incongruous and therefore very amusing.

Dripped home after riding the E a little too far - that is to say, under the river and into Queens - changing back for the 7 to Grand Central, getting on a 5 train that ended up staying right where it was because of a sick passenger at 59th Street, deciding against a 6 that was already looking like a cattle car, trying to get a cab in the cold dark rain (yeah, right), walking the wrong way (Fifth Avenue is WEST of Lexington, thank you very much), and finally walking the right way: back to 59th and Lexington, where they seemed to have taken care of whoever had fallen ill but which was still so crazy that it took two tries before hitting a train that wasn't ridiculously overcrowded. The important part is that for all of this, it was really quite a lot of fun.

1 Feb 07

Time:

Left my floor 1155, arrived school site for student-teacher supervision 1223.

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Spotted the pair of deerhounds I wrote about here awhile back, this time with a man significantly taller than either the dogs or the lady who was walking them last time. Of course, it's a little harder to be clear on whether you've seen the same dogs twice than it is to do the same with humans, but how many pairs of enormous gray deerhounds in red leashes wander around the Village on a regular basis?

Heard someone described by another person who I will not identify here - not even by code name, although now that I've said that it does narrow down the options a bit - except to say that the speaker manages to combine both an extensive enough everyday vocabulary and a foul enough mouth to use the phrase "officious bitch" in a sentence.

Read at my desk for the course I'm teaching. The cover of the text caused a faculty member to stop and make faintly gushing remarks about the book and its author and so on and so forth; once she had gone around the corner, she called back, "Is she [meaning the author] the instructor?" I had coffee in my mouth at the time, so the first coherent sound to be made in response to that question came not from me - I was limited to the noises of someone trying to avoid laughing to the point of either choking or spitting - but from Professor Charlie, who turned around instantly to look at me and held his belly, cracking up. Once I had managed to swallow, which was a purposeful coordination of smooth muscle if ever there was one, I called back, "No, I'm the instructor!" in as light-hearted a voice I could come up with; this wasn't difficult because I was to the point of cracking up myself, and I wasn't insulted, just a little surprised. She responded with some oops-related comments, and Charlie laughed again, shaking his head and saying, "'I'm the professor...' - I like the sound of that! I like that!"

Went to a supervisors' meeting run by Professor Alpha. This was fun for many reasons, including some slightly stomach-turning ones (other supervisors verbally batting their eyes at him, with questions like "Oooh... where are you gonna sit?" and all this; retch on the one hand, but amusingly reminiscent of my earlier comments about the P-ster and the EE pimps on the other) and some just plain funny ones. One of the supervisors, whom I could have identified as a bit of a prima donna even before we started talking about work, was complaining whinily yet vigorously about someone who had found her own placement, and my goodness but how does that take HIM into consideration? He went on about this at length, only hedging his comments to avoid looking like a TOTAL schmuck in a very perfunctory way, before Alpha finally stopped him. Leaning across the table, with head down close to the tabletop, snarly face on, one arm thrown out wide and the other attached to a hand making decisive little chops on the surface of the table, he addressed the supervisor by name and said, "Yeah. Yeah. [As is his custom in dismissing someone or something any other time.] Well, I said it was okay. And I talked to Frank, and he said it was okay. Jay said it was okay, and [some other guy] said it was okay. So we made that decision without you, and that's the way it is," snarl snarl grunt grunt. It was a little scary, because as Anne later noted, he is a big guy, and at this point there isn't much reason for him to hold back, but it was utterly hilarious for its incongruity.

Had an interesting but very sad conversation with Professor Number Four. I wanted to ask him about an email he'd sent me, so I knocked on the door and he answered. I was on my way to class, so I didn't have much time, but I saw what looked like more applications on his desk. Before discussing those, however, I told him that I had really enjoyed being in the meeting the day before. He asked why, with that characteristic appraising look on his face, and I told him that of course it was interesting to think that my name had been in the stack the year before but that even more I enjoyed getting..., at which point he interrupted with "an inside look." I agreed, we made a few more remarks of consensus, and then he explained that the applications he was working with at the moment weren't for our program but that he was serving as a "second rater"; who he was reviewing behind he did not mention, but I can read upside-down - even messy handwriting - and saw that it was someone who shall remain nameless for these purposes, which doesn't matter because this certainly isn't something I ever plan to forget anyway. Number Four said that the first reviewer had just run through and designated each one as a possibility, rather than a definitive go or no-go, even though there was quite a large range, and concluded, based on this experience and, I have no doubt, many others, that the first person was somewhat "useless." I asked why, in light of that observation, we first-years had been urged to do in the first semester what we did, to which he responded that it was useful, "you know it was - that's a superstar we're talking about." And here's where the awful part came in: he finished that paragraph with, "You know - that's who you want to be hanging out with. The big guys, not us in the bush league." Uhhnnh: the sound of someone punching you in either the solar plexus or the brain - it hurts to listen to someone you desperately admire talk about himself like that, even if it wasn't altogether serious. I didn't make that noise, though; I just resorted to the RJ Voice and told Number Four not to say things like that and, furthermore, that he should be glad I like him so much, because if I didn't I would have had to kick him in the shin. He laughed and said "Well..." or something and gave me two books as I inched out backwards. I told him that I appreciated the books but that even more I was glad he had opened the door, and he stopped me cold with a sentence that despite its relation to the same clear-cut issue served as a good antidote to the earlier statement. He said to me, "Now, listen, I'm being serious, okay? You understand? Really serious. [I indicated that I understood.] The thing is, I mean, not only are you entitled to this [hands waving back and forth between us, presumably to stand for our present mode of interaction], but that's what we want to do - that's how you're supposed to be able to learn." Going back to the apprenticeship thing, of course... and how, in this moment of clear cutting, do the young trees remaining feel about apprenticeships? Does it even make sense for a journeyman to have an apprentice? I think not.

31 Jan 07

Time:

Got up at 720, arrived at my desk (without going to the gym, obviously, but including breakfast) 825.

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Went to a curriculum committee meeting. I know that there will, probably, someday come a time when I really have no interest in actually attending these kinds of things, but I think that time is a long way off, and for now I think they're fascinating; I crowded observations all over the program "claims" sheet Professor Alpha handed out, so from top to bottom, approximately and with only a very few revisions for purposes of explication, they are:

• How did they do it so fast? How is that I can sit here and look around at Professors Number One, Number Four, and Alpha, scattered one to each side of the room (and with us "doc stu's" on the fourth edge of the square), and see them as so absolutely distinct from the people filling in the spaces between? As points of connection or familiarity or something they are so thoroughly... I don't know what the word is. But I looked across at each of them at different times and got a waggled eyebrow or a half a smile or a suppressed laugh that with any of the other faculty would not have had the necessary underpinnings to make for successful communication, and that stood out for me as prominently as if that sense had taken on a human form itself.
• "...my very first sabbatical." First of all, what a damn phrase. Second, it was used in the context of talking about student-teacher supervision at a school without even bathroom supplies; Professor Number Seven, who was telling the story, asked the school administration "Could you tell me the rationale, so I can explain to my student-teachers, for not having any toilet paper, please?" Next week: toilet paper.
• All this commentary on other contexts these grads go into ignores the very nature of being dynamic. The very best SF guys have the skills to fix themselves for any situation, where the next lower level is expert at one situation.
• Heard one of the most plaintive utterances I can think of, maybe ever: Professor Number One asks Professor Alpha, "Will the pendulum swing, Alpha? Do you think it will swing?" These sentences did not get their quality only from their words. It was also very much the quiet, simple way they were delivered, and their accompanying sense that Number One really was asking, really wanted to know, and really was hoping that big Alpha would have an encouraging answer for her.
• Decided that providing evidence for integrating, as per the claims, is hard because where it's integrated - that point where the two ends of the spectrum interweave and flow together - changes all the time, if it's done right! Visual: the way Windows or Powerpoint (or any computer program, really) blends together two colors. (At what point can you identify their integration?)
• Marisa grabbed my arm intently when someone started her interruption, "I'm sorry to change the subject, but we just have to address the elephant in the room that no one's talking about!"; it was very clear that we were about to discuss the impending clear-cut (snarl.) When the speaker continued by asking who would take over, Professor Number Four smiled at me and pointed directly opposite himself, which happened to be where I sat with my classmates, and the professor sitting next to him laughed and agreed, "Yes, the doctoral students," causing everyone to laugh, of course. The thing is, while it was very obviously a facetious comment, there was a small grain of something behind it anyway.
• Professor Number Four observed that the committee had been a place for collaboration and philosophical discussion, "not just a place for proofreading syllabi." I wouldn't have known enough about what is characterized as a "curriculum committee" in other places or at other times to make that kind of statement - that is, I wouldn't know that sometimes proofreading syllabi is all that happens in that situation. Did he experience it at some point?
• For some reason or other, there was conversation about ethical behavior, to which Professor Alpha responded, "Well, of course, if you're an ethical person, you don't want to be at a university!"

Rushed, in my Insane Day of Insanity, from that meeting to another, in which I was expected (by 33% of the assembly, anyway) to be able to speak coherently about what they were reviewing. Heh. Professor Number Four had all these questions which I could not answer the first time, prompting Professor Number One to make a comment about putting me on the spot, but Number Four either doesn't know when he's doing something that could be interpreted that way or doesn't care, and as I mentioned in a recent post I'm actually rather fond of that kind of thing, so he pressed on and by the second go-round I had it moving much better. In between those discussions, however, someone mentioned a student that Number Four described without turning from his computer as "something else," once again prompting Number One to rise to the defense; at this point, Number Four turned around and may even have raised his hands palms-out in surrender, saying, "No, no - I mean in a good way! Like a junior version of you," he added, gesturing towards me, "you know, sort of in your face wanting to do stuff." I cannot think of many things more complimentary than to be used as an adjective describing something good.

30 Jan 07

Time:

?

Money:

?

More interesting things:

Planned to call the CSM for his birthday but found, on leaving the gym, that he had in fact called me! He left a lovely message - concluding with "Love you!", which I always appreciate very much - but didn't answer himself when I called back; first I got one goofy kid, playing it like I'd called a pizza place, and the second time one of my favorite kids, very earnest and pleasant, who agreed to marshal everyone up and sing to the CSM. I didn't get to talk to him for long, but it was really cool to think that from here, I asked those kids to something down there, and I even got to listen - the second kid was smart enough to tell the CSM that she had announcement to make and wanted me to hear it too. Awesome, and it makes me miss them (but still not [nearly] enough to cause me to wish I were there instead.)

Had several amusing exchanges with Professor Number Five throughout the day. One, as I recall, involved a discussion of job talks and how I'd better bring her to mine, and later in the day as I waited not only with Number Five but with her voluntary minion for the elevator down, we had reason to talk about Gainesville and even, in line with this blog, more interesting things. Number Five made some comment about the nice guy who was in charge of managing her cart o' school stuff, saying that she had told him and told him and told him: "He keeps having all these BABIES! Didn't I tell you about sex? You graduate students... it's sex, sex, sex. What is this about? [Pause.] But wait, I want to have sex too!" (I realize that this looks maybe a little lurid in print, but it was light-hearted and very, very funny.) Then we got off that topic somehow - I don't know how we escaped in one piece - and landed instead on the fact that Nice Cart Guy was from G'ville. He didn't go there for school, but we did talk for a second about P.K. Yonge and... well, that was pretty much it, because I got off at the second floor.

Put together a bunch of files for the program's doc committee and was told, by one of its members, that I better get ready to participate; I believe the direct quote was, "You're the only one who's really looked at them so far, so we'll expect a rank order before you make the final decision." Then Professor Number Four disappeared into Professor Alpha's office (and, unfortunately for my overhearing possibilities, closed the door), but on his way out I got it again, this time with a "Why wouldn't I be serious? Have you ever known me not to be serious?" This, of course, I could only sputter at and then promise to start keeping track, but in any case I appreciated once again that Professor Number Four is never afraid to ask you to live up to his expectations on a minute-to-minute basis. (Some people might think of it as being put on the spot, but having come from the Pentagon Colonel School of Figure-it-Out-NOW, I actually think it's a lot of fun, and comfortable for all its potential uncomfortableness.)

Looked up a Randall Jarrell poem after reading so much about him (tangentially, but repeatedly) in Duckworth and found that I actually already knew one of his sadder ones - about the ball turret gunner - but continued searching because that didn't seem to reflect what Duckworth was saying about him. I learned that I need to get one of his books from the library (the Bat-Poet, which sounds like something I would say, so this is clearly something I'd need to get even if it didn't seem so charming) and that he has a great, a really great, poem about kids picking books at the library. I used it with my class, which was fun, but the reason I'm writing about it here is that when I handed off an extra copy to Professor Alpha, I was told that of course he knows it; it's first-day material every semester he teaches one or another of his usual classes. Could I have asked for a better confirmation of my feelings about that poem?

Talked once again with Professor Alpha about book-scavenging (brought on once again by Professor Number Four, as I recall), but this time he extended it a little further with the observation that he'd have to have a party at his house so we could "vulture over his library there." First of all, I like the word "vulture" used as a verb, because it's infinitely more vivid and precise than "scavenging," and second... his house? I mean, it's not quite as surprising to me as the Professor Number One thing, because he does have pictures that seem to illustrate the same kind of thing from past years, but still. Twist my freaking arm.

Enjoyed the station-style flipping board at Otto, especially since the LIRR ones have been replaced by far less interesting electronic ones; enjoyed the fact that Anne and Brenan liked it as much as I did even more. (And the pizza was good, although I was a speck bit jealous later on when Anne spotted the big man himself not where we were but outside Babbo, yelling at some fool. That was such a good coincidence that I asked if she were really sure that's who it had been, but as she pointed out, how many very fat, very red-ponytailed men in New York like to stand outside a famous restaurant and bawl people out? Even here, it's not likely there's more than one.)