Reiteration
My day, in chronological order:
You know those days where you're convinced you have egg on your face or
something, because everyone seems to be staring at you? This was one of those.
Got an email from the Ethics Committee telling me my Official Certificate of
Approval was in, and I could pick it up and henceforth commence my research.
So I picked that up, and was wished the best of luck by Leslie, the
coordinator.
Went to Meditation class. Sat with Darryl. We talked, and I found out more
about him. Then I managed to give Prattis new information. That's right,
Mand, I told the FAMOUS IAIN PRATTIS something HE DIDN'T ALREADY KNOW. I know
that review should garner me good marks. Then, as class ended, I left Darryl
in the company of the object of his desire. I don't know yet who I'm rooting
for, but I'm dying to find out what was said. Darryl will be accosted
tomorrow morning.
Went to Human Rights. It was boring. I got an 84 on my latest review. I
left at the break and went to get an article I need for my presentation next
week. The guy at the library copy desk kept looking at me funny, which
increased my paranoia. He took a long time putting money on my card. While I
was waiting for that to kick in, I went to the Anthro lounge to get my
article. I was leaning over the fourth-year filing cabinet (only grad
students get a cupboard) and I hear someone come up next to me and say,
"Hello." To my UTTER HORROR, it's Derek Smith, the hated Scottish
archaeologist who tried to ruin my career in second year, and who consequently
I tried to have discredited. We don't get along, in short. Being polite,
pretending this was nothing out of the ordinary (usually he glares at me and
talks charmingly to whoever I'm with at the time), I say hello back. We pass
pleasantries. He asks me what stage I'm at in school, and what my focus is.
I tell him fourth year symbolic, which he merely nods at, because he doesn't
know anything about that. More pleasantries. I pass on that I have a class
with him next term, The Ethnographic Enterprise. He gets really excited and
encourages me to come and have a chat with him, as this course is going to be
"a very interesting seminar." Oh god. I got out of there as fast as I
possibly could, but as I left the lounge, he said something I didn't catch,
but which I feel was semi-important.
I figure he just had a senility moment (he's gotta be at least 100, by his
estimation, as he apparently clearly remembers WWI), and has forgotten that we
hate each other. Or he's dying and wants to bury the hatchet. Although he's
looking remarkably robust this year. I'm glad he's retiring at the end of
next term, though. I don't think I could handle coming back to Carleton and
seeing him there.
Coming home, it was remarkably warm. I didn't wear a jacket, and there was a
strangely tepid breeze wafting along with the cold one. Hm. The sky was pink
and I saw a turquoise Tracker, which made me think of Andy. I couldn't decide
which one was more flamboyantly gay. While this one was a more flaming colour
to Andy's merely purple jeep, the decals on the side bore no resemblance to
the shiny pink penis that adorns Andy's car. So it's a toss-up.
Then I get home and I spread the joyous news of my Certificate, and I show it
off.
Then I check my email:
"Hello Alison," (one message reads)
"Thank-you for considering the Ottawa 67's for your research. Unfortunately,
after conferring with our coaching staff and others involved with hockey
operations, the Ottawa 67's Hockey Club is unable to permit such research with
its players.
"I am sorry that we are unable to help you conduct your research, I wish you
the best of luck for your research paper. Feel free to contact me should you
wish to discuss this further.
"Sincerely,
[name of person I wrote to]"
Well, shit.
So, the question that's on everyone's minds and lips right now is
WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO NOW?
Truth is, I haven't a fucking clue. I've sent the email to my supervisor and
the ethics coordinator, hoping for some ideas. I can always apply to the
Gatineau Olympiques, as they'll still hold that local interest bit, but the
laws in Quebec are different, and I'd have to reapply for ethics clearance,
which will take forever.
I am daunted; however, I am still determined. You know me when I set my mind
on something. I haven't worked for a year for this to have it fall to shit.
My current state of "Oh Shitness" is merely temporary. I'll figure something
out.
And to top it all off, I appear to have lost my keys. I can't get into my
office or my house. So I'm not at work right now. So I'm missing out on
getting paid for my time, and I will likely face the wrath of my boss when I
go in tomorrow to see if they have a spare set of keys.
And I need a drink, but there is actually NO wine in my house, believe it or
not.
*sigh*
Update 14 November, 11:45 PM
If I had a dinosaur,
just think what we could do:
he could lift me off the floor and take me to the zoo.
And if I had a dinosaur,
just think what we could see:
we could look inside the cloud above my balcony.
And if I had a dinosaur,
just think where we could go:
all the way to Grandma's house to play her piano.
-- Raffi
Posted by Ally at November 15, 2004 06:20 PM