Adventures I would like to have (with Andy of course) if I had money and no responsibility (like children):
(some of this may or may not have been influenced by watching Top Gear)
Buy a motorbike and drive it up the coast of Vietnam.
Sail around Micronesia.
Go on a driving tour of the UK (including tramps through Highland Scotland, Wales, and the obligatory castle and pub visits).
Dig up a dinosaur in the Alberta Badlands.
Fly to the North Pole.
Take a train across Russia and China.
Walk around Venice.
Camp in every province in Canada and every state in the USA (including taking a bush plane into the interior of Newfoundland).
Visit the remains of Teotihuacan and climb a ziggurat or a pyramid somewhere.
Photograph exotic and deadly wildlife in the forests of South America.
Find a skull (any kind) in a desert (I found a lizard skeleton in the dunes of Oregon when I was nine but I was not allowed to keep it).
Stand on an active volcano.
Pet a tiger and a tarsier.
Join Habitat for Humanity.
Walk through the gates at Lhasa.
Skydive (just once).
Swim with a dolphin.
Have the best breakfast of my life at an inn somewhere in rural Europe.
That's all I got for now.
What a weekend. I think I have developed tennis elbow, though I've never played a day in my life.
This was a long weekend in Newfoundland, celebrating Discovery Day, and the weather, for the most part, held up beautifully.
Friday ended with my boss closing the office early, because it was sunny, followed by a reception for staff and lawyers because our firm was voted one of the best places to work in Atlantic Canada. Of COURSE we had a party. We really don't need an excuse to have a party in this place.
I skipped the reception and met up with D and C for coffee instead, which I think was more fun. We wandered home through Georgetown and I got some bread from the bakery, which was lucky considering it was late afternoon at that point and they're usually completely out by then. They'd just made a batch so the loaf I took home was still warm.
I had a lot of reading to do this weekend (still trying to catch up where I am behind, but I managed to finish one book, read the entirety of another, and make it a third of the way through another. I feel I did good that way. Now I only have four and two-thirds of a book left to read by 12 July. It can totally be done. I am no longer stressed about it, first, because I've made it through the books I borrowed from the library, so I'm now on to books I actually own, which means I don't have to worry about the library recalling something I haven't actually read yet anymore. Plus, it seems I lucked out on my instincts when it came to book-buying. The ones I bought are actually very interesting, which means I go through them faster, and I won't mind that they're on my shelves in years to come. So that's something.
Andy and I also hiked downtown on Saturday and back, then played catch for an hour or so (for the first time in over a year). That is, I think, where my elbow problems started. I have pretty good form and accuracy when I'm throwing, but I have to put my entire body behind the throw in order to give it any power whatsoever (and even then it doesn't go very far), so I think I may have overextended myself a bit.
Sunday I moved out of my office officially. I've been kind of using it these past two weeks as I slowly spackled, sanded, and taped it up. Sunday was the day for me to quit it for good, and, I thought, for a lengthy period of time.
Because the move went so well, we decided to start painting right away. We used a VOC-free paint from CIL, and so didn't have to worry about fumes. It also is very satiny to the touch, and dried remarkably quickly. After a second coat yesterday morning, I was already moved back in by the early evening (no fumes means you can use the room the same day you paint -- plus, as the window in my office doesn't open, it was a life-saver, literally).
So instead of the "rotten oatmeal," as Andy called it, that was chipped and cracked and peeling and full of mystery holes and bulges, I have a rich, bright green. It's called Kiwi Fun and is very similar in fact to that fuzzy fruit's interior. I haven't yet seen the colour in bright sunlight, but on a cloudy day I felt like I was surrounded by spring leaves. I feel like I can actually get some work done in that place now, instead of avoiding its dreary interior (because for some reason the passable beige elsewhere didn't carry through to the office) for somewhere more cheerful. And the green goes better with this crappy faded stained lino floor that I have in there (which of course I spilled paint on, but you can't really tell).
I'm more than a little sore today, from painting, throwing, and moving all my things in and out (including my famous $15k book collection -- some people have a home gym, while I have a home library), but I'm in an incredibly good mood.
The bathroom is my next project, while Andy will start on the bedroom at some point soon. I can't wait until beige is no longer the dominant shade in my life!
People who aren't Newfoundlanders are known as Outsiders here, so the title is a little play on that. I will save my treatise on the ways in which Newfoundlanders alienate Outsiders for another post.
On Friday, I attended a mandatory "Stress Management Session" sponsored by my firm, as an effort on their part to become more in tune with the needs of the administrative staff. I was very surprised by what came out of that day spent away from the firm. Many of the women who work at the firm cited problems with backbiting, cliques, disrespect from upstart lawyers, and general disgruntlement with a management system that continually keeps them in the dark.
I, of course, being ensconced in the library at all times, experienced none of this, but I gather from this rather eye-opening seminar that it is a serious problem for some who work here.
I enjoy a very unique position in this firm, one shared only by the IT guy here. We don't really work for anyone, save for the COO, and while the IT guy probably has more interaction with the COO than I do, it's more on a collaborative basis that he and I work with her. So there's no pressure on my part to meet goals set by another, and absolutely no possibility for failure, because no matter what I do it's something that I've come up with on my own.
The fact that I also don't work with anyone does tend to alienate me a little from the day-to-day interactions of people. I only see their nice, polite sides (for the most part), and I know nothing of their respective relationships with each other. But it means that I can also remain completely neutral in all things, and I think that is to my advantage here. It means that when people come into the library for a book or a glass of water, they often stay a few minutes for a respite or a sounding board, and it's a nice feeling to be able to work in something so publicly acknowledged to be a sanctuary from the rest of the office.
Because of my age and my level of education, I identify more with the younger set of lawyers who work here. Despite the differences in our incomes, we have more or less the same amount of life experience and common points of interest. So most of my casual, non work-related conversations are with them, and we have the more informal, joking relationships. Most of them, however, are men, so, while I get along with boys, there is that certain level of closeness that we have not achieved, and probably never will.
The older lawyers, again, likely due to my age, treat me like a favoured child (like the one who drove me to work this morning in his convertible, whee). Because my only interactions with the senior partners are on very small items, such as finding lost passwords and repairing old books, I have only ever had positive feedback from them. We are, of course, on complete opposite ends of the socioeconomic spectrum, so our relationships will never progress beyond the casual jocularity in which they now exist.
The assistants who work here are all several years older than I am, but we can bond on subjects of domesticity: dogs, gardens, baking . . . you name it. And because we're women, we tend to share the same opinions on many things, so often a conversation with one assistant in the library will turn into a conversation with seven assistants in the library, as they tend to congregate in here in groups when there's fun going on. Of course, despite the fact that I was a paralegal for four and a half years, my areas of expertise (family law, estates, small claims) aren't practiced here, so I'm out of my league when I speak to them on professional matters, and that kind of leaves me out of the loop.
So I'm kind of a blank, in a sense, a tabula rasa upon which those with whom I work can write their own experiences and I can react in kind. It's a very interesting feeling, and, as an anthropologist whose focus is on participant observation, it's a little disconcerting. I can't really participate with any of these people, because there isn't enough common ground. I feel like the anthropologists of old who rarely stepped off their verandas on the edges of the villages, and who could only observe, and therefore only get half the story.
I bet as a researching anthropologist, and not as a working librarian, that further sense of removal from the everyday workings of the library would actually enable me to get closer to those with whom I work. Odd, that.
So on 13 July I get my first comprehensive exam question. I have a week to write the answer, which will come to approximately 45 pages.
In this answer I have to use every single one of the 25 required sources with which I was provided when I was given my list back at the beginning of April. If not, I fail. No questions asked. In addition, while it is not required, "it will be noted" if I use any of the other 30 optional sources I was given, and will also "be noted" if I use any sources outside of the list when writing my answer.
I will be graded in one of three ways: Fail. Pass. Pass with Distinction. I can only pass with distinction if I write a wicked good answer using pretty much every source ever found. Including some that haven't yet been found. And if I get Pass with Distinction on ALL THREE of my exams, then I get "DISTINCTION" written on my transcript. Which, in the end, means nothing, and, as Eeyore kindly assured me, "nobody gets a full distinction. Except Reade" (Dr. Amazing). Thanks Eeyore.
Anyway, here's the to-do. I have 7 more books to go through in their entirety, and only four weeks to read them in. The original plan was to read a book and a journal article per week for 13 weeks and I would be golden. But of course the best laid plans and yahda yahda yahda . . . I've got all my journal articles out of the way, but I got stuck on a couple of really boring books and now I'm seriously behind.
So I really need to hammer down but I'm finding it tough to motivate myself to sit there and immerse myself in culture and rights discourse on the politics of identity. I mean really. The last book I read was on intellectual property law as it related to cultural appropriation and the rights of the oppressed minorities. FASCINATING. I mean I can make myself interested in this stuff to a point but it's really not my schtick. I'm looking forward to my next list, which should, if I played my cards right, be on ethnographies of sport, and, because I was asked to compile a list of books I thought would be good ethnographies, be ethnographies that I already own or always wanted to own and can now buy with no reservations.
But until then, I need to focus on this school thing. Forget the wedding, forget my trip home -- it's all about the readings.
1. I usually go to bed before eleven.
2. I usually wake up at 8:30 automatically, even on weekends.
3. I end up at least mildly hungover most of the times I drink these days.
4. I can't eat green peppers because they horribly horribly horribly disagree with my digestive tract.
5. I can no longer eat junk food as a meal and feel good (although chocolate for breakfast is still a viable option).
6. I'm starting to enjoy gardening.
7. I'm starting to have conversations with other people MY AGE about gardening.
8. A good day of gardening will make my muscles stiff the next day.
9. There are a lot of seemingly innocuous things that make my muscles stiff the next day.
10. I enjoy walking around looking at architecture (to be fair, I always enjoyed this, because my mother and her father used to do it - he was an architect - and it's kind of been passed down).
11. I have to wear glasses when I watch movies or television or look at the computer for a long time because I get headaches otherwise.
12. I find that teenage fashion is a little on the slutty side these days.
13. I am no longer comfortable bending over in low-rise jeans.
14. I actually wish my boobs would get smaller. Don't tell Andy.
15. My truly exciting underwear has been relegated to special nights with my fiance.
16. Most of my friends in this city are married, and when they come over, it is standard for them to bring their children.
17. The coolest toy I own these days is a Dyson Animal vacuum.
18. I'm reading a book that contains pictures, but it was written in 1778.
19. I now possess more gray hairs than I can count. Andy likes to enumerate them for me.
20. I have permanent wrinkles under my left eye from sleeping on my left side for 27 years.
21. I use an orthopedic pillow, as well as custom shoe inserts.
22. I still own a miniskirt, but I haven't worn it in over a year.
23. If I'm buying clothes and I find something I like I tend to buy the same thing in one or two other colours, to save me the trouble of shopping until my feet hurt.
24. I am the primary earner in this household (for now).
25. The majority of my purchases in the last year have been practical household items.
26. We are buying a very expensive dog next Christmas, a 17-year commitment.
27. The periods of time where I feel the urge to have children are more frequent now and longer in duration than the periods of time where I run from children in fear.
28. I take vitamins, and make Andy take his.
29. I worry about Andy's family medical history.
30. Sometimes someone will say something or do something that I won't get, and I'll feel old.