kill the WABbit
Sunday, 11 February 2007 03:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtYou know, this academic life is actually a rotten swizz. It's this weird multi-personalitied existence where you are supposed to divide your time between teaching, admin and research responsibilities, each of which is sufficiently demanding in itself to require 80-100% of your time and energy. And the lazy academic obscene vacation time thing, about which normally-working friends give me no end of strife? Hah! In my experience the first couple of weeks of vacation time tend to be spent gazing blankly at random objects while not moving much, which is the inevitable result of having spent four months expending 240% of one's energy. The remaining weeks of the vac are spent frantically catching up on research.
I'm trying desperately to finish updating this chapter, but five or six hours of curriculum advice per day for the last week has left me feeling like a piece of chewed string, to the extent where confronting anything remotely resembling feminist theory is making me meep, wibble and engage in frantic work avoidance. On the upside, I made some clothes this weekend, which is fortunate as I threw out approximately 60% of my wardrobe when I moved out of my room, and this five-days-a-week curriculum advice stint is seriously straining my "professional outfit" quotient. I refuse to appear before registering students in an Oblivion T-shirt, or one reading "I talk to cats!" Discipline must be maintained.
But, in mitigation of all of the above, wonderful Cape Town has treated us to three days of rain. Real, sustained, soaking rain, albeit madly unseasonable for February. It's all cool and damp, and I can actually sleep. When the cosmic judges finally come to pass sentence on the iniquities of global warming, it'll be the single point in mitigation.
I'm trying desperately to finish updating this chapter, but five or six hours of curriculum advice per day for the last week has left me feeling like a piece of chewed string, to the extent where confronting anything remotely resembling feminist theory is making me meep, wibble and engage in frantic work avoidance. On the upside, I made some clothes this weekend, which is fortunate as I threw out approximately 60% of my wardrobe when I moved out of my room, and this five-days-a-week curriculum advice stint is seriously straining my "professional outfit" quotient. I refuse to appear before registering students in an Oblivion T-shirt, or one reading "I talk to cats!" Discipline must be maintained.
But, in mitigation of all of the above, wonderful Cape Town has treated us to three days of rain. Real, sustained, soaking rain, albeit madly unseasonable for February. It's all cool and damp, and I can actually sleep. When the cosmic judges finally come to pass sentence on the iniquities of global warming, it'll be the single point in mitigation.
