Oh good god.

It rained throughout every minute of our 9 hour drive out to the Family Christmas.

But we made good time. Great time, in fact.  Until we were 30 miles out of the Metropolitan Area. Then we slowed to a goddamned crawl.

Heavy construction + rush-hour holiday traffic + unfamiliar city + night + rain = No Fun

The Wife was driving through the worst of it, which kicked off when the exit crept up on us out of nowhere, forcing her to fight through four lanes of gridlock to make it to the offramp.  Fifteen minutes later, we both looked up to realize that - despite exiting the highway - we had somehow managed to get back onto the highway without turning or changing streets.

Of course, retracing our route (in theory a simple task) was complicated by poorly signed detours and crazy drivers.  One error wound up taking almost an hour to correct.

Finally, we pulled up to our destination. Exhausted, frazzled, more than a little in need of a bathroom, we gave Aunt Dee a courtesy call to let her know we were 'close.'  We figured we'd surprise her when she asked just how close we were by saying "Right outside!"

It didn't work out quite like that.

We said we were close.  She was surprised enough by that. "Oh!" said Aunt Dee. "I'm not quite done straightening up yet!  Why don't you drive over to Grandma's and hang out there for a while?"

Which was a completely reasonable - if at the moment, heartbreaking - request.

So the Wife and I looked at each other, and across the street to where we could actually see Aunt Dee in her house as she was on the phone to us, out of the rain, in the warmth of her kitchen.  We sighed, agreed, and drove on to Grandma's.

It was less than two miles away.  It only took fourty five minutes.

The Holidays are Nigh

First and foremost, you should know that I am drinking at this very moment a Ginger Martini and that it is delicious.

I am also currently watching the Wife play Skyrim, which is both beautiful and expansive.

Which is all to say that the end of the semester has rolled around, and the holidays are once again upon us.

I was expecting to be thoroughly stressed right about now, but with absolutely zero interviews upcoming at the APA, I really don't have too much to worry about.  I'll go to the meeting, schmooze, talk, meet new people, hear some awesome papers and generally see what there is to see - but not having any interviews means not stressing about interviews.

Hence the martini, among other things.

Not stressing means being free to do what needs to be done - like spending the day working up a writing sample to submit as an article (at some point). I've also made solid progress on my fourth chapter, submitted an abstract to an international conference and applied to a competitive graduate research forum.  Bam. Productivity.

Never mind that it might all be for naught if I can't get a job... Ha-ha-ha! Eh-heh... heh... hrm...

Right. So! Holidays! We leave to go visit the Wife's side of the family in a few days. It should be wonderful. A week of lazing about, reading books, playing board games, and generally spending time with family.

It doesn't help that family that has a well stocked wine cellar to boot...

I love that coat.

Last week I popped into the office to check my mail - and I do love that that's why I go to the office these days, to check my mail. God, dissertation writing can be terrifically freeing sometimes.  Anyhow, I popped into the office and ran into one of my professors, The Voice. 

He stops me, puts his hand on my shoulder and turns me slightly, saying "Oh, let me see that coat you've got on!"

Now, I'm wearing a calf-length, dark green, wool pea coat that used to be my fathers until I rescued it from its ignominious coffin in the hall closet back home. It is indispensable up here in Thule, where the winters are long and unpleasant.

The Voice is deep in thought as he looks the coat (and its wearer) up and down for several moments.

"Oh, what's the name of this? I used to know..."
"I think it's a pea c---"
"No, no, it's mantel something or other.  I can't remember.  German farmers used to wear them."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes! They're made for trudging about the farm in the cold German rain."
"So... you're telling me I'm wearing a German farmer's coat?"
"Oh, it's alright, they became quite fashionable in the 80s.  I had one that I absolutely adored. My boyfriend at the time couldn't stand it - told me I'd have to be buried in the thing." He stepped back, looking at the coat from a slightly different angle. "Oh, it is a nice coat."

And that was that. Apparently my favorite winter jacket is a German farmer's coat that - I am assured - was quite fashionable about thirty years ago.

A reassessment

Alright.  It's gotten to that point in the job search where some reality has set in.

I have now been passed by for interviews with 10 of the 21 applications I've sent in.  One of them was, sadly, The Dream Job. 

That ship has sailed. I had myself a good mope, then put on my Big Boy Pants and got the fuck over it.

Of the 11 applications I've still got out, 3 are for fellowships that I Just Won't Win. 

That's not me thinking poorly of myself or my accomplishments, that's me recognizing that these are three of the most competitive fellowships available in the humanities.  While my research has been aided by the hand of God Himself, I do realize that I am an unpublished graduate student without a PhD, and that's really not helping matters.

The other 8 applications are all for Tenure Track jobs. 3 of them are at large research universities that probably want someone with more experience and/or publications than I have. See above, about being an ABD student with no publications.

The remaining 5 are at smaller colleges/universities, many of which I would be very, very happy at.  One would even qualify as a Smaller Dream Job.

But, again.  See above.  No publications.  No degree in hand.  Only the promise that yes, I will be finished by this summer.

So I'm toning down my expectations. If one (or more) of these places wants to interview me, I'll be elated, but I'm no longer expecting to hear positive things from anybody else on my list. 

I had been told that it is virtually unheard of to get a Tenure Track job right out of graduate school.  There's a reason for that.  It's really fucking hard.

The second round of one/two year job announcements should come out in the next couple of months, and I'll try again with those - hopefully with more success.

In the meantime, I will plan on going to the Big Annual Meeting with exactly zero interviews and several very nice suits.  I will schmooze like it is going out of goddamned style and see where things go from there.

Woo! Let's do it!

On writhing poop-tubes

I have seen babies do horrible things.

For example, babies ruined the home of two of my professors. It had been such a lovely home - spacious, tastefully decorated, with a wide backyard, several rooms devoted to their varied hobbies, and a kitchen from which they served delicious, time-intensive meals.

And then their children came along. In addition to robbing Prof Couple of sleep and productivity, the children ransacked their goddamned house. 

Open spaces? Filled with toys.
Decorations? Crayoned, gnawed upon, drooled over, broken or simply moved out of harm's way.
Backyard? Filled with toys long since claimed by the dogs in one way or another.
Hobby rooms? FILLED WITH TOYS.
Hobbies? Dead.
Kitchen? Where once was an ornamental faux avocado, now is encrusted something sticky and purple, and it has been there for no less than three weeks.
Relaxing meals? Ha! There is an abandoned yogurt cup on the table, spoon still in place from when its wielder left mid-bite.

Two of our friends just had a child. We have visited.  I held the newborn lad. It was horrifying. He was small and breakable and liked to squirm.

He has also sapped the strength and energy from our friends.  Every waking moment is spent dealing with a creature who is utterly dependent on them.  I have only been present for this grueling activity in stretches of an hour or so (and never at 3 o'clock in the friggin' morning) and I was exhausted by the end of it.

So the Wife and I are having them over for dinner tomorrow, along with some of our mutual friends. The child will, of course, be in tow, but we wanted to give them something: a few hours beyond the confines of their own home, albeit still shackled to a mewling beast, but with the added comfort of new walls to look at, and food to eat that they didn't have to cook.

They are small tokens, but I imagine they will be welcome.

Oh, babies...

Questions are good!

Let me go on record as saying that this was one of the best semesters of teaching I've ever had.

My students were interested and, for the most part, engaged. They were capable, intelligent, and they asked questions.

That wouldn't have seemed so appallingly wonderful to me five years ago, but good Christ on a pogo-stick, question-askers are a rare breed indeed.  And I'm not even talking about deeply reflective, probing queries about the nature of the universe (though they had a few of those). 

I'm talking about simply having the presence of mind to ask for clarification when they didn't understand something.

It was amazing.

We read Cicero.  We talked about Issues of the Day. We talked about college and good reasons for attending - as well as good reasons not to.

We learned things. We had discussions. Students did not always agree, and they learned that that was okay. I didn't always have the answers to big questions, and that was okay, too.

After almost six years, it felt like I was finally teaching college students.