No Chaser

I just took what was supposed to be a nice walk with my dogs. A mere block from my house, four jerks in an SUV (of course) honked and yelled at me. What they yelled was really stupid, "Go back to Kansas," and was an attempt to shame me for wearing something other than the special take on the brownshirt uniform favored by the yahoos in these parts. No, I wasn't wearing a blue gingham dress although I'd like to think I could be safe walking down the street in such an outfit. I was wearing *GASP* red shoes. Call out the Gestapo and lock her away.

I won't take the Nazi metaphor any further, but in my new location, the regulation of conformity and the aggressive acts perpetrated on those who refuse to conform are fairly terrifying. The example above is just silly, everyday BS, yet it gives a sense of how aggressively people act about even the tiniest thing; the aggression becomes intensely magnified about things they find important. I really wish I could give more details, but it would probably make it too clear where exactly I am, and I am trying to maintain some anonymity.

I can say that the jerks who yelled at me today were wearing the school shirt, which is ubiquitous here. All four of the guys in the car were wearing one. Most likely, they were coming from or preparing for a football game against "the big rival," but really who isn't a rival to these people? Anyone not wearing the uniform. Some people try to express their individuality by wearing the school shirt in a different color . . . pretty daring . . . but they would never wear the wrong color to the weekend rallies, where a sea of intoxicated sports fanatics reinforce and reinvigorate their belonging, their right-ness, their mono-culture.

Imagine trying to teach them about Marx, about feminism, about race, about transgender politics. Imagine suggesting to them that football might not be as important as a few other things, like say, thinking. Imagine trying to convince them that it's okay to wear red shoes.

posted by: NoChaser at September 24, 2005 14:18 | link | comments (3) |

Meme

From smelt.

23:5
The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

"Often I forget to turn it on at all."

posted by: NoChaser at September 23, 2005 14:21 | link | comments |

An update

I will not continue to bore with the sordid details of my social life. Suffice it to say, I attended many social events last week and enjoyed myself at most all of them. I saw an amazing theatre piece and had some very enjoyable conversations with some people who made me remember why I went the academic route in the first place.

I have also in the last few days, had lunch and tea dates with intellectual comrades here, and just talking about our common interests renewed my excitement for research and dialogue on topics once important to me. When you become so hyperspecialized, it is very comforting to find people who can talk about the ephemera of your field with mutual knowledge and energy. And, while I am a very introverted person in some ways, I also really need good regular social interaction; I need comrade-ry.

What's more, as my very patient and supportive friends know, I have spent the last year so indignant about the academic job market, the institutional elitism, the limitations of scholarly publishing, the ugly capitalistic hiring practices, and the abusive reliance on lecturers and TAs, that I have deliberately forced out of my mind the things I really like about academia. Amazingly, in this wasteland I find myself living in, probably because it is a wasteland with no other forms of distraction except utter indignance at the scary conservative BS that goes on here all the time, I am learning to accept again my love of this truly awful thing that attracts masochists (I use this term with full Deleuzean implications) like me.

In the past, as now, the tension between my pride and my masochism has created trouble. The supplicating, abject stance really works for me until the "master" becomes too unreasonable, too intent on my complete humiliation, and then my pride makes me unequivocally reject the master. Eventually, I change my mind, as I am doing now, but I have to know I can leave whenever I want. I need to assert my share of control. The game doesn't work for me otherwise.

It helps that I am not loving working the FT admin gig. Smelt reminded me how much I have always sought autonomy in the workplace as well as very flexible hours, and this current position is not it. In fact, I am having a hard time imaging other options (outside of independent wealth or professordom) that will provide these as well as the degree of intellectual stimulation I require to avoid becoming miserably depressed.

So, I am removing the towel I previously tossed and am throwing the old hat in the ring . . . again. Ready and waiting to be bruised anew in this round, I hope the scar tissue from last year's bout will help it hurt less this time around.

posted by: NoChaser at September 20, 2005 15:55 | link | comments (1) |

In which I rejoice

Because I have been such a crybaby lately, I am making an effort to blog the good things that happened to me the last few days to sort of balance things out.

I had three long and enjoyable conversations with 1) the chatty mongoose, a good friend from grad school who I miss a lot; 2) Mrs. YKnot, who gave me some excellent career advice and some much-appreciated sympathy; 3) Mama No Chaser, who has, to my great relief, finally quit smoking.

A copyedited MS of an article that was accepted two years ago finally arrived, and I dispatched it quickly, so pleased that this thing will actually see print some day soon.

At a mandatory socializing event last night, I was delighted to be approached by Swell Butchie as she is one person I have felt a connection to here. I had chatted with her about where to shop for organics and gave her some restaurant tips when she first moved here. And, we'd had some fun mailroom repartee. But, last night, she surprised me by mentioning that she had read an article of mine and found that a scholar who informs my work also happened to be her PhD advisor. The connection was nice, but I was most struck that she had been interested enough to read my work. She is the first person in my new department who has considered that I might have some scholarship behind me and in me and maybe even ahead of me. That kind gesture made up for all the crap I've been dealing with lately.

We holed up against a wall with a fan and chatted for around an hour. We had talked a lot at the office before but not quite so comfortably or extensively since one of us always has to run off to do some sort of work-related task. I also spent some time hiding in the kitchen and talking with Tattoo Girl, who I also rather like, and I discovered she is quite shy and very funny. Then, as I left the event, a junior faculty member grabbed me and said, covertly, "If you need to talk about the job or just vent, let me know." Spy or fellow dissenter? I'm not entirely sure. Whatever the case, I learned that manadatory socializing events can have positive outcomes if you can steel yourself to withstand the more unpleasant aspects of them.

Last night, I dreamed a big grey funnel cloud was descending on the university, and I was talking to Swell Butchie, so we walked downstairs into the basement to hide from the tornado and continue our conversation. There was, surprisingly, a comfortable couch there, and I quickly forgot about the tornado.

So, it's likely I will have a tea or beer date of my own soon. Perhaps even a friend. I'll have to do the asking, but I think she gets credit for making the real first move.

posted by: NoChaser at September 11, 2005 09:17 | link | comments (2) |

In which I continue to whine . . .

As I have received several concerned emails about my West Nile Fever, I decided to update one and all with a blog entry. I seem to be recovering slowly but surely. Yesterday, I actually felt pretty good, but once back in the hostile environment of my workplace, I was attacked by a very stiff painful neck and a vicious screaming headache. "West Nile Meningitis!" I thought, excitedly. Then, quickly, "Why am I feeling excitement about having a potentially lethal disease?" All you armchair psychoanalysts in blogland will be correctly pointing to the obvious answer: it means I wouldn't have to go to work. Chalk this headache up to work-related tension.

Indeed, my current job is defined by it's utter suckitude. I am under the greedy thumb of a perverse nanomanager who can't keep his hands off my work. But, I also have to sit through events like yesterday's which include literally hours of speech-making and glad-handing and back-slapping by lots of malapropish old conservative men with tragic wardrobes, these hours interspersed with meals served from aluminum tubs filled with greasy, flavorless "ethnic" foods that leave one frighteningly unstable the following morning.

But the saddest part is my new status as sixth-class citizen. In striking contrast to the princely treatment his Lord of Clonkingham receives from the aristocracy here, I am treated generally as a mucky manure-laden peasant. "Why is that peasant stopping to listen to our conversation? Surely the poor thing can't think we'd want to speak with her! (Titter titter)" And, then, those toiling with me in the peat bog don't quite trust someone with a PhD, and who can blame them after years of living in this kingdom? Sure, my life has the appearance of being quite social, but anyone who's had a working lunch knows the difference between the false informality of mandatory work-related socializing and the real comfort of a beer with friends. So, while Clonk has people filling his dance card with parties, dinners, and cocktail hours, not a soul has even invited me for tea.

posted by: NoChaser at September 10, 2005 09:41 | link | comments (5) |

Oh, and . . .

Yes, I know how terribly self-centered it is to whine about my pathetic little illness when New Orleans is under water and unspeakable horrors have been occurring and more await us with the draining of the city. It's about all I have been thinking about, though, and all I have been reading about, so I thought I would not post on it. Yet, here I am posting. I wish I had had the courage to get in my car and drive down to help out in some way. I just really didn't and still don't know what to do aside from donating money, which although I've done so, feels kind of insufficient. I suppose if I had any gumption, I would call a relief agency and ask if I can help somehow. Maybe once I'm over this flu/West Nile Fever, I will. My guess is there will still be plenty to do.

posted by: NoChaser at September 07, 2005 15:44 | link | comments (1) |

West Nile Virus

Little did I know that moving out of my cozy Northwest enclave would set me smack in the middle of WNV territory. There are many many cases reported in my new state, and my sense is that many other cases are never reported since West Nile Fever symptoms are just flu symptoms. If it gets bad, you can get meningitis or encephalitis and suffer irreparable nerve damage. That's scary. But, apparently, there is no cure. They just treat to alleviate the symptoms.

So that headache, fever, body ache thing I came down with today . . . is it just the flu or does it have anything to do with those itchy little welts I keep finding on my person? We will most likely never know.

posted by: NoChaser at September 07, 2005 15:35 | link | comments (2) |