tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-93598412024-03-14T04:11:09.706-05:00Pilgrim/HereticPilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-4909523073003234572012-10-08T16:47:00.002-05:002012-10-08T16:47:22.668-05:00The sincerest form of flatteryThere was <a href="http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/29/escaping-ones-own-shadow-in-writing/" target="_blank">a lovely piece by Michael Erard</a> in the New York Times a couple of weeks ago about how we tend to echo the styles of the things we read most often. It's called "structural priming" or "syntactic persistence" (I love both these terms), and it's almost like muscle memory, how our brains form habits in relating words to each other in predictable patterns.<br />
<br />
The author's point is that we need to cross-train, as it were, to experiment with different genres and voices so that we don't become too stuck in our own. I thought it might be useful to think of this the other way round, though. If I'm struggling (as I am) to craft a book manuscript, and I wonder occasionally if my writing isn't getting a little too lumpy and stiff, wouldn't it help to treat myself to regular exercises of reading the writers I most want to sound like? The first two that come to mind are Tim Egan and Garrett Mattingly, both of whom are masters of compelling and lively nonfiction. Who would you read to teach your brain some new tricks?Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-69182942487776388882012-09-19T08:06:00.001-05:002012-09-19T08:06:46.496-05:00Tank!For years, I've had recurring dreams (or at least dreams around a recurring theme) of houses. Houses of friends, houses I'm considering buying, houses I'm looking after for other people, sometimes hotels I'm staying in. They're never real places, that is, places I can identify from real life, but in each case the import of the dream seems to be centered on wandering through the house and observing its characteristics.<br />
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Last night's house was one I had decided to rent, so most of the dream centered on my happy inspection of the house - it was old and in some disrepair, but had great space, lots of light, and gave the overall impression was that I was very happy to be there and looking forward to bringing my things in and making it my space. There was also a sort of tangent at one point where I found out that I had two roommates, one of whom was from Africa and spoke only French, but even that came across as positive - they each had their own separate wing of the house, and the African roommate was clearly going to be a connection to an interesting and diverse neighborhood. <br />
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But the most striking image of the dream appeared when I went out to the back yard. I could see a couple of older houses nearby, similar to ours but with badly crumbling chimneys (which made me suddenly concerned about ours, though it turned out to be in good repair). Just past them, on a bit of a rise, there was a tall apartment building, with a small common yard - in which someone had built a life-sized tank (yes, a World War II-style tank) out of stained glass. And its gun was aimed directly at our house - I was somewhat taken aback by that, because it seemed vaguely threatening, even though the sun was shining through the long tube of glass and reflecting bright colors off the turret. A stained-glass tank! (In the dream, I was most perplexed about its connection to the apartment building, since that suggested that it was either a coordinated effort between lots of people - unusual - or that someone had convinced the whole building to let him use their common space for his art project - just as unusual.) So I shrugged and went back inside to start figuring out the best place to put my desk.<br />
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Internet, I defy you to make any sense out of that one.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-13621583497632978892012-09-18T11:48:00.002-05:002012-09-18T18:13:16.803-05:00Things That WorkAfter much dithering and uncertainty, I joined an online writing group this semester (many, many, many thanks to <a href="http://dameeleanorhull.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Dame Eleanor Hull</a>!) and it has made a world of difference. The uncertainty came from my love/hate relationship with the idea of being accountable to other people: sometimes it inspires me, and sometimes it just makes me obstinate and cranky. <br />
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Fortunately, this time seems to be heading in the direction of inspiration. I've set up a schedule this fall that is conducive to writing - and indeed it has to be, because I accomplished this in part by shifting some of my duties off to the spring, and I really need to make some headway. I've been sitting on a pile of research and ideas for entirely too long, and it's time to face the scariness of building them into a book manuscript.<br />
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I wanted to briefly note down the things that have worked best for me so far - many of them are things I <em>know</em> perfectly well, like the importance of writing a little bit every day, even though the knowing doesn't always translate into getting them done. But whether they're new ideas or old, it helps to write them down, stare at them a bit, and remind myself from time to time of the secrets of success.<br />
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(In case it's not obvious by now, I am not one of these people for whom writing comes easily. Back when I blogged more regularly, once in a while a story would pop into my mind nearly fully formed, but more often I had to wrestle with ideas to get them out. While I think I'm a fairly good academic writer, it is a slow and uncomfortable process to link all those words together in the right order.)<br />
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Things That Work<br />
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Write first thing in the morning.<br />
OMG, how often have I heard people say this, and yet I never tried it? I'm not a hugely enthusiastic morning person, but I'm used to an early schedule, and I always schedule my classes in the morning. Now that I'm only teaching once a week (don't get too jealous, I'll be paying the price in other ways) my mornings are open, and for the first week of the semester I utterly squandered them in dicking around online and taking way too long to complete simple tasks. Once I set process goals for the writing group (at least 2 hours of writing a day) I started doing those first thing just to get them out of the way. <br />
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Prioritize writing.<br />
Lo and behold, my mornings got a hell of a lot more productive, and it's wonderfully rewarding to have the "hard part" of the day over by noon. Something else I've learned is that I'm way better at administrative tasks and grading in the afternoon. It's tempting to tackle them in the morning, because they're things that involve other people and are more likely to have deadlines, so I feel like they need my attention first. But all the more reason to put them after the writing, because if they have deadlines, I'll find a way to get them done. If I put off the writing, it's hard to get back to.<br />
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Keep note of what excites me. <br />
I spent one evening going over some articles that were relevant to my research, which reminded me of some of the ideas I wanted to write about, and when it was time to quit and make dinner, I wrote in my work log "Excited now about starting tomorrow morning on X." Well, when the next morning came around, I was tired and cranky and my mind was full of other things that needed to get done, and when I opened the book file, I was not the least bit inclined to add anything to it. But then I caught sight of that note to myself from the night before (which I'd completely forgotten about) and thought, <em>wait a minute!</em> Last night I was looking forward to this. There must be something fun about it. What was that again? ...and the more I thought about it, the more I remembered, and got all excited about it, which led to a great morning of writing when I thought I was going to be miserable.<br />
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That's enough for now. I think on some level I <em>knew</em> all of these things, so I'm not sure quite what it was that put me over the edge to <em>doing</em> them - if I figure out that secret, it'll really be worth writing about.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-45274821291357144002012-09-16T11:37:00.001-05:002012-09-16T11:37:24.820-05:00catch-22As I paid bills this morning, I was idly wondering (in that dangerous sort of way) how different my life might be if I took all the money we'd spent on the fuzzy feline roommates over the past 12 years and put it into our retirement account instead.<br />
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I know, I know, I shouldn't even go there. It's not that simple a calculus, and they enrich our lives in innumerable ways - even though I have to shoo one of them off the coffee table every. single. night, and I know perfectly well that he jumps right back up there as soon as I go to bed.<br />
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Studies even show that people with pets are healthier: we have lower rates of depression, lower blood pressure, we suffer less from stress (even with all the times we have to shoo cats off the coffee table). We probably even live longer.<br />
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Which means I'll need to start putting more money into that retirement account...<br />
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Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-18240277476644948372012-09-05T18:22:00.005-05:002012-09-05T18:22:47.487-05:00echoesOh, and dang it all, the demise of HaloScan (and Blogger's insistence that I update my template, because it's been dog years since I updated anything around here) means that all of our previous conversations have poofed into the void. That was really most of the life around here! Apologies to all of you whose charm and goofiness made this place as fun as it was. I probably have the old comments all filed away somewhere; maybe someday I'll publish a compendium of Crazy Late-Night Conversations at Pilgrim's. In the meantime, we start with a fresh slate. Y'all can go back and be funny all over again. :)Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-41306530579516338282012-09-03T13:30:00.001-05:002012-09-03T16:59:13.053-05:00Back?Whoa! Look at me! I hardly even remember how to post to this thing anymore. But I'm glad it's still here.
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">Does blogging work as a way to get one back in a writing groove? I've heard people say that. I'm going to give it a shot. I really need to remember how to write. It's been a long time.
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">This semester, I've been able to set aside a fairly substantial chunk of time for writing; this, and joining <a href="http://dameeleanorhull.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/sept-dec-2012-writing-group-week-1-check-in/">Dame Eleanor Hull's fall writing group</a>, is a way of making myself accountable for it. Sometimes this kind of accountability works really well for me; sometimes it just makes me cranky. I'm hoping for some good positive experiences this semester.
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">To that end, this blog may take on a slightly different tone. I've given up on hopes of resurrecting the crazy all-night-long conversations of several years ago; that was a magical moment, and I'm all kinds of grateful to those of you who made it happen, but it's not something can be manufactured at will. I'm not sure quite what this space will turn into, but for now I'm going to use it to report on my writing progress, and to try to make writing a more regular habit. (All of you are, of course, welcome to hang out, drink, burn things, distract yourselves from grading, and embrace various kinds of silliness at will.)
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">Where I'm at: I have about 300 pages of notes based on the last couple of years of research, in which I was just playing around with various sources to see if there was enough material out there for a book. Turns out there is. Right now these notes are a giant pile of loose ideas that need to be sorted and stacked so that I can build something out of them.
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">Big goal: A book draft, maybe by the end of next spring.
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">Goal for this semester: To get into a regular writing groove, at least 8 hours or 2000 words a week. Doesn't matter where - last summer I experimented with just diving in and writing various pieces to pull together these idea-piles, and that worked fairly well. I'm trusting that once I've done that for a while, a larger structure will start to take shape. But I don't think that can happen until I arrange some of these littler piles.
</this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to"></this><br />
<this about="about" again="again" am="am" and="and" be="be" bla-bla-bla="bla-bla-bla" but="but" by="by" excuse="excuse" filled="filled" forever="forever" have="have" haven="haven" here="here" hi="hi" how="how" i="i" no="no" posted="posted" really="really" requisite="requisite" so="so" space="space" t="t" to="to">Here goes!
</this>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-87134800708107776352011-07-15T18:44:00.004-05:002011-07-16T18:46:42.197-05:00CustomsI ought to be more upset about the sausage than about the names.<br /><br />The sausage was taken away from me in the airport, you see, by the ever-vigilant Customs and Border Control folks, along with a lovely little can of morcilla paté. Husband and I had purchased both in Europe during our last weeks there, planning to eat them for one of the frequent dinners we call “Bread and Things,” meaning a crusty baguette and an assortment of whatever goodies we fish out of the fridge and cabinets: cheese, olives, mussels, serrano ham. But the last few days got away from us, and we decided to try to take the unopened sausage and paté home with us instead. I did a quick check online and found no apparent opposition to such things, and since the sausage was cured and vacuum-packed and the paté was canned, I thought we might have a fighting chance.<br /><br />Looking over the pale blue customs form, though, I found a checkbox for “I am (we are) bringing fruits, vegetables, food, meats, animal products.” Dammit. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to do these things; just that one has to declare them. The odds were that no one would have known about the sausage if I’d kept my mouth shut and checked “no” on the form, but I’ve gotten myself through any number of bureaucratic hassles by smiling brightly and following the rules, so I decided to fall back on the tried and true remedy of being obedient. I checked “yes,” and the first CBC agent said there probably wouldn’t be any problem with the sausage and paté as she waved me on towards the second checkpoint. The guard at the second checkpoint wasn’t so sure, and sent us to a separate area to have the products examined. (Here, not for the last time, I kicked myself for being obedient.) <br /><br />The CBC agent in charge of determining the fate of our treats looked pinched and sullen and decidedly as though she had never enjoyed a dinner of Bread and Things and didn’t think anyone else should either. She read the paté label. “Asturias. That’s France, right?” “No, ma’am, it’s northern Spain.” She made a half-hearted show of flipping through a folder, deciding whether or not our food was worthy of entry into the U.S., and then she double-checked our passports and turned back to my husband and me with a sudden accusatory interest. “Why did you only fill out one form?” I was puzzled; I knew I’d done at least that part right. “Because they always tell us to fill out only one form per family.” She glared at us, nose wrinkled in distaste, holding up our passports. “But you have different last names.” She then proceeded to have another agent pull everything out of all four of our checked suitcases, even though we had already presented the offending food items.<br /><br />Seriously? You’re going to mess up my stuff and throw away my tasty paté and sausage because you’re upset that I don’t follow outdated patriarchal American naming conventions? We’re still a family, lady. I bit back several unsavory comments, and reminded myself to be obedient. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought those were the instructions. We always fill out one form, since we’re married. Should we fill out two next time, because of the names?” She grumbled an unintelligible answer about how the previous agents should never have let us through with just the one form. <br /><br />I brushed it off at the time, because it seemed like such a petty and small thing. But it continued to bother me, precisely because it was petty and small – of all things, why get upset about the fact that our names are different? We’ve been married for twelve years, and in all honesty, this is the first time anyone’s cared. But she seemed awfully insulted by the fact that we dared to impersonate a normal married couple when we were clearly some sort of subversive communists, unworthy of enjoying tasty dinners.<br /><br />To be sure, I’m cranky about the sausage too, and not least because the agent made a big display of dropping it into a container marked “Foreign Trash.” (I made a mental note to use this against my husband the next time we get into an insulting match.) But next time, I’m still only filling out one form, and I’m going to hide a whole bunch of extra sausage in my bag and not declare a damn thing.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-75690188908320428042011-07-06T07:42:00.007-05:002011-07-06T08:13:36.939-05:00Almost homeAs many of you know, Husband and I - did I ever come up with a pseudonum for Husband? I do not remember, which is a sad indication of how long I’ve neglected this whole blogging business – anyway, we generally spend two months each summer in Husband’s Home Country. This is absolutely wonderful in that it’s a place that I love, with excellent food and museums and culture and friends, and also the archives where I get all my research done.<br /><br />But it is also trying in that its culture relies on a much higher degree of mutual interaction and obligation than I’m accustomed to. The most relevant element of this is that we are expected to stay the entire time with my in-laws in their 700-square-foot apartment, which is uncomfortable for us and inconvenient for them, but anything else would be a Public Insult on our part and a Grave Failure of Generosity on theirs. I’m not well prepared for this – as a little kid I rattled around alone in a big house with my parents, since my older siblings were mostly out on their own by the time I was old enough to notice, and I lived alone for most of the 13 years between when I left home and when I got married. So all of this Living with Other People business isn’t a bad thing in itself, but it’s something I don’t have a lot of practice at. My sister said over email that this was a situation best managed by engaging in plenty of long walks and heavy drinking, which I think she meant as a joke, except that unbeknownst to her it’s been pretty much my MO for the past several weeks.<br /><br />Don’t worry, I do smack myself every time I get too whiny about having a free place to stay in a gorgeous European city. I steadily lose little slices of my sanity over the weeks we’re here, but they grow back. It’s more than worth it, and for as much as I dream of getting back and lounging around in my big quiet peaceful house, by the time we get back, it seems awfully dull and empty without the sports news on at full volume and my father-in-law snoring in his armchair and my sister-in-law gleefully repeating everything she just read on Twitter.<br /><br />Besides, here are things we have seen and done over the past couple of months, the things I will miss the most when I’m back to my quiet lonely peaceful house: striking landscapes, very very old churches, tasty food, and curious creatures of all sorts.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qHSvN6iB8Hc/ThRc7I1p7zI/AAAAAAAAAE4/uuPnC3SQYvM/s1600/Asturias2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626224005547159346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qHSvN6iB8Hc/ThRc7I1p7zI/AAAAAAAAAE4/uuPnC3SQYvM/s320/Asturias2.jpg" /></a> <br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H0DNgeqDBao/ThRdLzPQ2gI/AAAAAAAAAFA/fwnu-TTsDj0/s1600/church.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626224291806763522" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H0DNgeqDBao/ThRdLzPQ2gI/AAAAAAAAAFA/fwnu-TTsDj0/s320/church.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aaXB76NjtW0/ThRdSSyHXFI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iD6J_rpsb7o/s1600/fabadita.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626224403353656402" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aaXB76NjtW0/ThRdSSyHXFI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iD6J_rpsb7o/s320/fabadita.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ec-onpTaGzU/ThRdeQD0CtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/0_eqtyW1Kdg/s1600/creatures.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626224608781011666" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ec-onpTaGzU/ThRdeQD0CtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/0_eqtyW1Kdg/s320/creatures.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div></div>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-37398166830702756132011-07-05T04:18:00.003-05:002011-07-05T04:42:26.227-05:00Random bullets of Hey, I'm back!<ul><br /><li>I know, I've tried this before with not a lot of luck. But I also keep seeing all this advice about how the best way to get back into a writing habit is to, well, have a writing habit, and I definitely need to get the writing parts of my brain back into shape. </li><br /><li>And I haven't set anything on fire here for a while. And I miss all the cool people who used to come hang around this odd place.</li><br /><li>I don't know how many of you are still wandering out there in the blogosphere (though I'm delighted with those of you who are still writing!), and I'm not making any promises to be particularly entertaining, but I'm going to at least try to string some words together every now and then, and you're all welcome to pour yourselves a drink or light up a peep and join in.</li><br /><li>I feel like there used to be a lot more words in my head than there are now. Maybe they've all wandered off to more promising territory. Mostly what I want to do is to create a friendly place for words here, and see if I can lure some of them back. </li></ul>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-9772040773022100022010-02-07T15:41:00.002-06:002010-02-07T16:02:56.254-06:00Oh, wait......you mean I was supposed to do this more than once a year? <br /><br />I like the idea of blogging, and I'm glad to stick with those of you who are still writing, but it's harder for me to write these days. I think I'm more in research mode these days than writing mode, and I'm also spending much more time in close quarters with other people than I usually do, which takes the edge off any need for communication. But I love it when you guys hang out here, and I need to come by and sweep out the cobwebs every once in a while, so if nothing else I'll toss out a few random bullets of crap.<br /><ul><li>This sabbatical semester, in terms of the living-in-close-quarters-with-others issue, is going so much better than I had feared. I like a lot of privacy and alone time, and I'm pretty much guaranteed not to get much of either for the next several months. I was seriously worried about going batty from that, but we're a month in already and it hasn't been half bad - partly because I'm constantly learning to adjust more successfully, and partly because my in-laws have been unusually gracious in creating more space for us and tolerating my odd little quirks (like enjoying going for a walk by myself once in a while, which is deeply mystifying to people in this hyper-social culture.)</li><li>We have a giant leg of ham in the kitchen. I love this because I'm just Spanish enough to appreciate good ham, and just touristy enough to find it highly amusing that we have a very recognizable animal leg in a wooden stand on the kitchen counter, that we gnaw on every now and then. I promised seabright I'd post pictures, and will as soon as I get the camera and the netbook in the same room.</li><li>The clear fashion trend for women 25-50 here is to wear long tunic-sweaters over leggings with boots. Or very narrow pants. All my nice floppy-leg pants are not going to fit in so well. Good thing I gave up on fitting in several years ago.</li><li>The day after tomorrow, I get to start digging into the Inquisition archives. Harder to read, but so much fun.</li><li>The students who are housesitting for us back at home keep telling us everything is going fine. I mostly believe them, but once in a while I worry that the house burned down two weeks ago and they're not going to tell us until we get back.</li><li>I've been very entertained lately to watch the slow evolution of the social networks... I met most of you via the blogosphere, and then for a while we were all running around on Facebook, and then a bunch of folks headed over to Twitter, and now there's a group over in Fallen London. It's not all precisely the same group, of course, and I'm sure there are a bunch of people hanging out in some cool spot I haven't found yet, but it's interesting to see the trends and to wonder where I'll see you all next year.</li><li>Oh, hey, the Superbowl's starting! People here are largely mystified... they know it's a big deal, but they were doing man-on-the-street interviews this afternoon, and the most common response was "Yeah, I know it's today, but I've never been a fan of baseball." Still, I'm pulling for the Saints.</li><li>Enough random bullets for tonight. If I quit trying to come up with Thoughtful Entertaining Posts I'd probably write a lot more. In the meantime, it's time for bed. 'Night all!</li></ul>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-39705526815217340332008-12-19T10:08:00.003-06:002008-12-19T10:14:43.372-06:00The elephant storyMany many years ago, back when I was young and foolish, I was dating a slightly less young and more foolish young man who invited me to run away with him to Thailand. Just for the summer, of course; we would backpack and travel throughout the country and be Adventurous Travelers. I turned him down at first; I was a Responsible Young Woman more than an adventurous traveler, and I had a job, and a rented house, and a cat. But then I remembered my brother’s sage advice: when faced with such a choice, imagine yourself being ninety years old, looking back at your life. Which would you rather say, that you had a summer job and kept your lawn mowed and fed your cat, or that you were an Adventurous Traveler in Thailand?<br /><br />Duh. I quit my job, sublet the house to someone who would feed the cat, and bought a plane ticket.<br /><br />After a few days in the heat and noise and chaos of Bangkok, we escaped for a couple of weeks to the quieter, jungly north, near the border with Burma and Cambodia. We met some other Adventurous Travelers there, including a charming Scot named Daihi and his friends. A guide offered to take the group of us on a hill trek, several days of travel by foot and canoe and elephant into the villages of the northern hills which have never seen roads or electricity.<br /><br />I should have known what was in store when we all piled into the back of a small covered truck to take us on the first stage of the journey, the only part that was accessible by road. We realized that the top of the truck had a sort of platform, and we asked the guide if we could ride on top rather than inside. He grinned and shrugged, and we all clambered up, wondering who would be so dull as to stay in the covered part. Riding on top let us see the little villages we passed with their huts and curious children and indifferent water buffalo by the sides of the road. It was infinitely better than riding inside, until we hit a length of road where the truck stirred up an enormous dense cloud of red dust, which stuck to our sweaty bodies and instantly transformed us into a mass of unrecognizable muddy creatures. Daihi howled with laughter as he looked at my caked face and matted hair, and shouted “Ach, if your people could see you now!” (I flushed with pride rather than embarrassment, thinking that at least they would see me being adventurous!) The guide just smiled.<br /><br />The next stage of the trip was by elephant, as we ventured into areas where motorized vehicles had never penetrated. Elephants don’t plod heavily around like they do in zoos; in the jungle they are astonishingly nimble, and they can climb steep jungly hillsides more quickly than I could have on my own. On the second day of the trip, we started off early for a day-long journey, two elephants bearing three people each and one lead elephant with the guide.<br /><br />The elephants snacked along the way, seizing clumps of tall grasses with their trunks and munching them as we ambled along. Several small streams crossed our path, and the elephants took advantage of those as well, slurping up the cool water. Ours drank his fill, and then filling his trunk again, suddenly swung it up in the air and sprayed himself – and us – with a shower of stream water. We howled with surprise and then pleasure, as the cool water felt wonderful in the sticky heat. We hadn’t showered for days anyway, and were still streaked with red mud from the truck experience, and it fit into our National Geographic sense of adventure to be sprayed clean by elephants. We crossed several more streams, and began to cheer every time we saw the elephant’s trunk swing up to give us a good dousing.<br /><br />As we climbed higher, there were fewer and fewer streams to cross, and fewer trees to give us shade. The tropical afternoon sun beat down on our heads. The elephants lowered their heads as they trudged up the hillsides, and they probably missed the streams more than we did. We did pass a sort of ditch by the path, where stagnant water had gathered and a rich profusion of plants grew up out of the damp ground. I experienced a moment of horror, thinking <em>surely</em> the elephant won’t find that nasty stuff appealing? A cool mountain stream is one thing, but I don’t really want to be sprayed with swamp water. He didn’t, fortunately, but he did help himself to a few good-sized mouthfuls of the tender plants, and we were relieved that he was only interested in the snack. We climbed on, as he munched contentedly.<br /><br />Then the trunk went to the mouth, and filled, and the trunk swung up in the air. We had just enough time to realize what was happening, but not quite enough time to duck, as we were drenched with an enormous trunkful of juicy green elephant spit. It was cool, and wet, but not exactly refreshing, though the elephant seemed to enjoy it a great deal. The rest of the day was filled with our howls of despair every time we saw that trunk reach out for another fat mouthful of squishy plants. The guide just smiled. Ach, if my people could see me now.<br /><br />Some travelers complain that these northern hill treks are patronizing to indigenous cultures, because they take wealthy white people around to gape at the uncivilized tribes. I can assure you that it was more the other way around. Every evening as the elephants arrived at whatever village we were stopping at for the night, all the children came running out to stare and laugh at the stinky, mud-streaked, green-crusted foreigners who had come to visit. We experienced many of the wonders of Thailand that summer: temples, jewels, islands filled with coconut trees, luxurious fruits. But I will always associate it most with the smiling guide, and the sensation of being covered in elephant spit.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-48414258781263076912008-12-07T17:11:00.005-06:002008-12-09T09:09:51.351-06:00Done/not doneSorry I haven't been around the bar much; I've been hanging more around Twitter lately. Oh, and trying to survive the end of the semester. But memes are easy and fun, so here's one making the rounds lately. Things in bold are things I've done. You can play too!<br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>1. Started my own blog<br />2. Slept under the stars </strong><br /><strong>3. Played in a band</strong> (if singing counts)<br /><strong>4. Visited Hawaii<br />5. Watched a meteor shower</strong><br />6. Given more than I can afford to charity ("more than I can afford" for me sounds like bankruptcy, so no, I have not managed to be that charitable)<br /><strong>7. Been to Disneyland/world<br />8. Climbed a mountain</strong><br /><strong>9. Held a praying mantis<br />10. Sung a solo</strong><br />11. Bungee jumped<br /><strong>12. Visited Paris<br />13. Watched lightning at sea<br />14. Taught myself an art from scratch</strong><br />15. Adopted a child (no, that one's just not likely to happen.)<br /><strong>16. Had food poisoning</strong><br />17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty (is it still possible to do this?)<br /><strong>18. Grown my own vegetables </strong>(used to have a gazpacho garden, with onions, garlic, tomatoes, cucumbers. Man, I miss that.)<br /><strong>19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France</strong> and was completely awed.<br /><strong>20. Slept on an overnight train<br />21. Had a pillow fight<br />22. Hitchhiked </strong>(on a bulldozer, no less!)<br /><strong>23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill </strong>(I am just beginning to learn how to do this. Too much of a rule-follower, I am.)<br /><strong>24. Built a snow fort<br /></strong>25. Held a lamb<br /><strong>26. Gone skinny dipping</strong><br />27. Run a Marathon<br />28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice<br /><strong>29. Seen a total eclipse<br />30. Watched a sunrise or sunset</strong> (are there people who haven't done this?)<br />31. Hit a home run<br />32. Been on a cruise<br />33. Seen Niagara Falls in person<br />34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors<br />35. Seen an Amish community<br /><strong>36. Taught myself a new language<br />37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied</strong> (that doesn't take much for me, fortunately.)<br />38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person<br />39. Gone rock climbing<br /><strong>40. Seen Michelangelo’s David</strong><br />41. Sung karaoke<br />42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt (oh, I've wanted to do this ever since I learned about it as a little kid. I remember reading that it was very gradually erupting less often, and I cried to think that it might not exist by the time I was old enough to go. Hang on, old thing, I'm still working on getting there...)<br />43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant<br />44. Visited Africa<br /><strong>45. Walked on a beach by moonlight</strong><br />46. Been transported in an ambulance<br />47. Had my portrait painted<br />48. Gone deep sea fishing<br />49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person<br />50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris (was at the bottom, but didn't want to spend the hours in line to go up)<br /><strong>51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling<br />52. Kissed in the rain</strong> (that was the best first date ever, with Bruce-Springsteen-look-alike guy)<br /><strong>53. Played in the mud<br />54. Gone to a drive-in theater</strong><br /><strong>55. Been in a movie</strong> (does a promotional university video count?)<br />56. Visited the Great Wall of China<br /><strong>57. Started a business</strong> (kind of unintentionally; I need to close it down by the end of the year)<br /><strong>58. Taken a martial arts class</strong> (years of tae kwon do; a little karate)<br />59. Visited Russia<br />60. Served at a soup kitchen<br />61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies (would much rather buy them. oooo, Thin Mints!)<br /><strong>62. Gone whale watching<br />63. Got flowers for no reason<br />64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma</strong> (all three, and some bone marrow to boot)<br />65. Gone sky diving<br />66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp<br />67. Bounced a check (I could live without doing this, or the ambulance trip, thanks)<br /><strong>68. Flown in a helicopter</strong><br />69. Saved a favorite childhood toy<br /><strong>70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial<br />71. Eaten caviar</strong><br />72. Pieced a quilt<br /><strong>73. Stood in Times Square</strong><br />74. Toured the Everglades<br />75. Been fired from a job (I was about to once, but I think I managed to quit first.)<br /><strong>76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London</strong> (and Madrid!)<br />77. Broken a bone<br /><strong>78. Been on a speeding motorcycle</strong><br /><strong>79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person<br />80. Published a book</strong> (hee! this still astonishes me sometimes)<br />81. Visited the Vatican<br /><strong>82. Bought a brand new car</strong><br />83. Walked in Jerusalem<br /><strong>84. Had my picture in the newspaper</strong><br />85. Read the entire Bible<br /><strong>86. Visited the White House</strong><br /><strong>87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating</strong> (if fish count)<br />88. Had chickenpox (somehow I skipped all the childhood illnesses.)<br />89. Saved someone’s life<br /><strong>90. Sat on a jury</strong><br /><strong>91. Met someone famous</strong><br />92. Joined a book club<br /><strong>93. Lost a loved one</strong><br />94. Had a baby (no, thanks)<br /><strong>95. Seen the Alamo in person</strong><br />96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake<br />97. Been involved in a lawsuit<br /><strong>98. Owned a cell phone<br />99. Been stung by a bee</strong> (just once. Thanks, Rocket Boy.)<br /><strong>100. Ridden an elephant</strong> (and for real travel, not just a photo op)Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-13309878946504977772008-10-18T15:34:00.002-05:002008-10-18T15:46:46.196-05:00Recipe for a really great day1) Sleep in a good two hours later than usual.<br /><br />2) Wake up and spend an extra half-hour reading in bed.<br /><br />3) Make blueberry pancakes and eat them while reading the New York Times. (Bonus points to your husband, who has been indifferent to pancakes all his life but has suddenly decided that they are the world's greatest weekend breakfast.)<br /><br />4) Head into the study to grade, and take twenty minutes to grade an assignment you were sure was going to take over an hour. Get caught up on a bunch of pesky tasks that have been irritating you.<br /><br />5) Take a break to head to the park down the street and play an hour of tennis and enjoy the spectacularly beautiful fall day.<br /><br />6) Come back, grill steaks for lunch. (More bonus points for getting really good steaks half-price on sale at the store yesterday.)<br /><br />7) Write about the really great day now, because the rest of it's all going to be grading. Even so, take substantial pleasure in the fact that if you stay on schedule, you'll be caught up by tomorrow and might actually be able to enjoy the rest of October at a more sane pace.<br /><br />8) Get through the afternoon by looking forward to repeating at least steps 1, 2, and 5 tomorrow.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-41946412421610232352008-09-15T18:38:00.002-05:002008-09-15T18:39:23.708-05:00can I buy an indulgence?I think it says something about my state of mind at this point (how in the world did I manage to get so far behind, so early in the semester?) that I saw an e-mail promoting Classroom Performance Systems, and misread it as Classroom Penance Systems.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-44206413234749329262008-09-03T17:43:00.003-05:002008-09-03T17:50:32.053-05:00Another sceneWe're working in the shared study, where the LWI is putzing around online while the radio plays Semisonic and Matchbox 20 in the background.<br /><br />LWI: We're going back to the 90's!<br /><br />Me: I noticed! That's excellent.<br /><br />LWI (after a puzzled pause): It's good for music. It's not so good for temperature.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-14442764952124863862008-08-25T18:44:00.002-05:002008-08-25T18:47:49.535-05:00So that's where they all wentScene: The Left-Wing Intellectual and I are watching the closing ceremonies of the Olympics, just before they extinguish the torch. True to my pyromaniac nature (and my curiosity about the practical nature of things), I am pondering what kind of fuel they use to maintain such a bright and substantial flame without much smoke.<br /><br />Me: I wonder what they burn in that thing?<br /><br />The LWI: Dissidents!Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-16386142691970136152008-08-06T18:11:00.008-05:002008-08-06T19:38:13.716-05:00Road TripWe're getting ready to take a road trip, back to State Where I Grew Up. I know, I know, it's a dumb time to drive a thousand miles, but for all I know this is the last summer that gas will ever be below $10 a gallon, so we're going to do it while we can. We've driven substantially less over the last fifteen years than most people, so this shouldn't throw off our karmic balance too much. And besides, it's going to be an awesome road trip.<br /><br />Here are just some of the reasons why I am all twitchy with glee:<br /><br /><p>1) It's our first road trip in the new car! With an mp3 jack and freezingly efficient air conditioning and comfortable seats and room for all our junk and more cupholders than any rational adult could ever need!</p><p>2) We're going to see my Piano Niece and her new husband, Tank. We missed their wedding while we were in Spain this summer, so this is our chance to see them as they cross the country towards their new home. (They're crossing the country horizontally, and we're going vertically, to meet up just in the middle. It's the Isosceles Triangle Road Trip.) They're great people and a perfect match, so I'm excited to welcome him into the family.<br /><br />3) Piano Niece is my Studly Brother's kid, so this means we get to stay with Studly Brother! That alone will make this just about the Most Fun Thing We've Done All Year.</p>4) Ooo, and it only gets better. We have the magic ingredients to make a <a href="http://pilgrimheretic.blogspot.com/2007/11/banishing-demons.html">queimada</a>, so one night will see us outside in the glowing green of a summer evening, surrounded by trees and fireflies, grouped around a bowl of flames flickering blue in the dusk. I don't think Piano and Tank will have too many demons to scare off just yet, but it seems like a good way to wish them off to a good start.<br /><br />5) On the way, we get to visit Art Sister, who is always an inspiration to me. She's the one person in the world I can call pretty much anytime, with nothing to say, and we'll end up coming up with some Deep Philosophical Insights into ourselves and the universe. I always feel reassured and invigorated after I've spent time with her. (Hmm, that makes her sound too much like bath gel. New Extra-Foamy Art Sister: Soothing and Invigorating!)<br /><br />6) Here's what I love about the State Where I Grew Up. There's a bed and breakfast on the way to Sibling Town where we've stayed the last couple of times we've driven that way. I emailed the owners to see if they had a room available for the night we're coming through. They wrote back immediately: "sorry, we're out of town then, but if you'd like to stay anyway, we'll hide a key for you; we just can't give you the breakfast part of the bed and breakfast." Keep in mind that they know us from all of two previous trips. But they're leaving us their house for the night. I love these people.<br /><br />7) And then we're taking the long way home, to explore some new territory. I chose the route because the scenery should be substantially cooler and greener and hillier than where we live, which is basically furnace-blasted flat clay. It's going to be a good trip.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-35887674008089506612008-07-31T13:36:00.004-05:002008-07-31T13:46:41.744-05:00Vocabulary blegI'm working on a translation project, and I'm getting deeper and deeper into that zone where I understand perfectly well what the original means, but I'm having a hard time remembering what the appropriate words are in English. (Somehow the more languages I get into my head, the less I can correctly use any of them.)<br /><br />So I turn to the blogosphere. First, an easy-ish one: in English, is a female marquis most appropriately called a "marquise" or a "marchioness"?<br /><br />Second, there's a Portuguese word <em>recolhimento</em>, which describes a place that would take in women and give them a basic education and a place to live, usually until they were old enough to marry. Its name comes from the verb meaning "to gather," so it's a place that gathers people in. I can't for the life of me think of a corresponding term in English: it's not a poor-house, because the women weren't necessarily poor; it's not an orphanage, because they often had parents; it wasn't exactly a finishing school, because (at least to me) that suggests building on a previous education as well as preparation for entry into an elite world, which wasn't necessarily the case here. It was really a mix of all of these things, with a religious element (but it wasn't a convent, becasue they didn't take vows). Is there any word that would suggest this, or am I stuck writing a long awkward footnote to explain this term?<br /><br />Thanks for any suggestions!Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-36236967744702353242008-07-29T18:52:00.005-05:002008-07-29T19:38:08.756-05:00The power of positive thinkingI went to donate blood this afternoon, and as always, they do the little test first to make sure you have enough iron. Unfortunately the minimum requirement for blood donors is 12, and my blood only registered a 10.3. I was disappointed, because of course they do the iron test *after* half an hour of other questions like <em>Have you recently played with typhoid-ridden rats? </em>and <em>Do you regularly inject yourself with other people's bodily fluids?</em>, and besides, it frustrates me to not be able to give blood when I'm a perfectly healthy human being.<br /><br />So the nice blood guy said "Well, we can try again on the other hand if you want... there's not much of a chance it will be different, but sometimes if your hands are cold it can register a bit low." So I said sure, what the heck, I have plenty more fingers. Besides, the second test was on my right arm, which is my tennis arm, so of course all the strong blood's going to be on that side. So we both started joking about focusing my iron and the power of positive thinking and so forth... until the little machine beeped, and the guy's eyes got huge, and he said "Um, I don't know what you did, but now you're at 13.7."<br /><br />Cool, so now I can give blood. And just to be on the safe side I spent the rest of the day thinking <em>World peace! World peace! World peace!</em> just in case I have magical powers I was not previously aware of.<br /><br />Anyway, all of that reminded me of a habit I used to have of making a wish at 11:11. If you're not familiar with this, it's sort of like wishing on stars, for the digital age - if you happen (and it must be by chance) to see a digital clock just when it shows the time 11:11, you can make a wish.<br /><br />I don't know if this is part of the official 11:11 lore, but the habit I developed if I happened to catch that magic moment was to stare at the clock, not averting my gaze until it turned to 11:12, and focusing the entire time on my wish. For a long time I made a regular practice of this, and the best thing about it was that it taught me to always have a wish at the ready, so that I didn't waste big chunks of that precious minute trying to decide what to wish for.<br /><br />And, interestingly enough, if you are frequently nudged to evaluate what things in your life you most want to wish for, that does wonders for helping you clarify what it is you really want.<br /><br />A couple of years ago, <a href="http://whatnow.typepad.com/whatnow/">What Now</a> wrote <a href="http://whatnow.typepad.com/whatnow/2006/01/receiving_the_d.html">a really lovely post</a> along these lines (I'm so happy that I actually saved this reference); she wasn't talking about the 11:11 phenomenon, but she has a wonderful description (from her partner D.) of what she calls the background work of the brain: "Our brains are always engaged in background tasks; if we ask ourselves a particular question at least once every day, the brain starts to gather information on that question automatically throughout each day."<br /><br />I think there's an awful lot that we do to train ourselves to think in particular ways. <a href="http://squadratomagico.blogspot.com/">Squadratomagico</a> just <a href="http://squadratomagico.blogspot.com/2008/07/summer-snippets.html">wrote about a couple</a> she knows who have the habit of constantly denigrating everything around them, and I thought boy, do I know those people. They live in the same world I do, but they've trained themselves to pick out all the things they don't like about it. Others train themselves to look for any possible slight to themselves, any sign that they're not measuring up to the expectations of others; still others get in the habit of looking for opportunities. It's all in what you teach your brain to do. (Either What Now or PPB - unfortunately I didn't save this link, but I'll be happy to give credit if anyone remembers - once used the example of setting your computer password to be something you want to focus on, so that you're reminded of it every day. I loved that.)<br /><br />I used to be in the habit of thinking about what I most wanted, which kept me attentive to the kind of person I wanted to be and the kind of direction I wanted to head in. I've slipped on that lately, to the extent that when our dean recently asked me what my longer-term career plans were, I didn't have a very clear answer at the ready. I know what I want to do today, and this week, but with my life? Haven't had time to think about that lately.<br /><br />But heck, if I can boost my blood iron, maybe I can be a little more conscious about steering my life too. I don't feel like I'm off track, particularly; I just don't know what my track is at the moment, and if I saw a clock turning 11:11, I'd waste a good part of that minute trying to figure out what to wish for. Time to get back in the habit.<br /><br />What would you wish for?Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-45355978910762304062008-07-17T10:46:00.002-05:002008-07-17T10:48:57.840-05:00DancingI saw this link at <a href="http://bitternsweet.wordpress.com/2008/07/17/where-the-hell/">bsgirl</a>, and it just made me all kinds of happy. Go look.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/index.shtml?fbid=-S_zn">Where the hell is Matt? (2008 edition)</a>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-72143389625987727042008-07-07T05:27:00.003-05:002008-07-07T07:04:40.016-05:00RBOCI have a million posts I've written in my head, but haven't been at the computer long enough to write any... research is going full speed, interrupted by weekends out of town and away from the internets. So a quick set of RBOC to keep this blog from disappearing altogether.<br /><br />* Uno de enero, dos de febrero... happy San Fermines! I've been out of the US on July 4 for several years, so I hardly even remember it anymore. But San Fermines are a blast. (this is what most of you are more likely to know as "the running of the bulls.") It, like pretty much everything else in Spain, has its own little catchy song, which will be stuck in my head for weeks.<br /><br />* Spaniards are just beside themselves these days: the national team won the EuroCup, Pau Gasol made it to the NBA finals with the Lakers, Contador won the Giro de Italia and Valverde's leading in the Tour de France, and now Nadal at Wimbledon. Score!<br /><br />* My sister-in-law is unfailingly awesome. My two brothers-in-law are both kind of jerks. We've just gotten back from a weekend trip together, and the LWI keeps saying "The one thing I know is that I am never, ever going to travel anywhere with my brothers again."<br /><br />* As part of the weekend trip, we went to the city where my father-in-law went on his honeymoon 53 years ago. He remembered the neighborhood where they stayed, and we went past the hotel... which was still there, completely unchanged. We were afraid this would be a little too much for him (since my MIL died last summer) but he was really sweetly happy.<br /><br />* I have a million photos to post, if I ever get around to it. They include pictures of my growing collection of T-Shirts That Say Completely Absurd Things in Mangled English.<br /><br />* I'm ready to go home. I love being here, and there are a million things I know I'll miss as soon as we're back. But I've decided that I have a certain capacity for living with my in-laws, a reserve of flexibility and patience and the ability to be constantly around lots of people and to sleep about an hour a night less than I'm used to and to speak in another language, and that reserve lasts about seven weeks. It's not Spain itself that drains me; if the LWI and I take a few days off on our own, the reserve fills back up a bit. But by the eighth week I'm pretty frazzled, and I start acting like a four-year-old.<br /><br />* Fortunately we're heading home on Thursday. I plan to sleep for about three days straight, and then you can expect to see me start whining about how I wish we were still here.Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-83007204516719768582008-06-03T02:05:00.008-05:002008-12-10T18:59:01.138-06:00Nicer imagesOkay, time to get that previous post out of my head and off the top of the blog. Songbird requested pictures of things in flower, and that's a much nicer image to focus on. I'm not a great photographer of flowers at all, but it's been a wet spring here and things are wildly in bloom everywhere, so here are a few humble examples.<br /><br />Bougainvillea in somebody's driveway:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SET1RWQEL8I/AAAAAAAAACk/ni8XQEpbpqs/s1600-h/100_1534.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207556747526680514" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SET1RWQEL8I/AAAAAAAAACk/ni8XQEpbpqs/s320/100_1534.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Charming Town has a little fruit and flower market in the main plaza on Thursday mornings. (Is that cheating, to take pictures of captive flowers rather than wild ones? Anyway, I love seeing so many colors piled together.)</p><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SET10hGUJeI/AAAAAAAAACs/VP_BhHYVLAc/s1600-h/100_1606.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207557351733994978" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SET10hGUJeI/AAAAAAAAACs/VP_BhHYVLAc/s320/100_1606.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></p><br />And, nothing is more symbolic of springtime in Spain than the poppies in bloom; they're everywhere, along roadsides, in people's back yards, all the fields are full of them. </p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SET2jCWrpKI/AAAAAAAAAC0/A7aK1K28dwk/s1600-h/100_1631.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207558150934996130" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SET2jCWrpKI/AAAAAAAAAC0/A7aK1K28dwk/s320/100_1631.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></p>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-8643356201976347562008-06-01T16:21:00.008-05:002008-06-02T03:49:58.769-05:00A little freaked outWarning: this one's a bit disturbing. It feels weird even to write about, but it's occupying a little too much of my brain for the moment, so perhaps this will help get it out.<br /><br />In honor of our ninth anniversary, the LWI and I took a few days to head out of the city and visit a lovely town a few hours from here, full of medieval churches and amazing landscapes. It was one of the best trips we've ever taken together, and I'll write about it soon (with pictures for Dale and Phantom and Songbird!) but at the moment all the good stuff has been rudely shoved out of my brain by the events of the last day.<br /><br />The morning we left Charming Town, we'd arrived rather early at the train station, and were sitting on the deserted platform waiting for the next train to arrive. Finally we noticed that it was approaching, but it seemed to have stopped about 200 feet away from the station, and we could sort of see something on the tracks. We saw the conductor step down; he looked at the tracks, went back into the train, and then behind us we heard the station manager's phone ring. Definitely something odd going on. We thought, surely it's not a person who's fallen on the tracks or something? or an animal? Not an animal; the bit I could see looked like fabric or plastic. And certainly not a person; no one was screaming or running around as they would have done if a person had been hit by a train. Besides, since the train was just coming into the station, it wasn't going more than a few miles an hour, and there was no reason for anyone to try to cross the tracks at that particular point, only a wall on the other side.<br /><p>We waited for a bit and then I decided to wander down the platform for a better look; more than anything it looked as though there was some construction material from the nearby highway, or a chunk of old tire, or something of that sort that maybe some prankster had thrown on the tracks.</p><p>And really, I wish I hadn't done that, because as I got closer the vague sort of lump came into clearer view, and then it waved its arm, and <em>goddamnit</em> it was a person halfway under the train. He was... well, you really don't want to know how he was, but suffice it to say that it took the emergency crews an hour to separate him from the train. (There never was any screaming or running around; the station authorities and emergency guys were brisk but silent, except for the wail of the ambulance when it pulled up to the station. I guess that's logical, and my own reaction was to be quiet and stunned, but the whole scene was very eerie and surreal.) </p><p>Astonishingly, they got him out alive, though I saw on the news later that he died shortly after arriving at the hospital. And now there are images in my head that I really really really wish were not there. Questions, too... he turned out to be an ordinary middle-aged bookstore owner, and no one has any idea why he stepped directly in front of a slow-moving train at 10 am on a sunny Saturday morning. For his sake, and mine, and everyone else's in Charming Town, I really wish that he hadn't.</p>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-68112950799079250102008-05-20T08:48:00.004-05:002008-12-10T18:59:01.319-06:00For PhantomFood, always an excellent blogging topic! And one of the things I love most about where we are. Fortunately, another thing I love about where we are is that it involves lots of walking, which helps balance out all the food.<br /><br />Here's what we had for dinner last night, and in fact what we have for dinner most nights: a loaf of crusty French bread, fresh from the bakery around the corner, accompanied by various things "para picar." In the back, a rosca, or toasty bread with serrano ham and cheese melted inside. Then we have bowls of olives, mussels, good old potato chips, and prawns. In front, a plate of lomo (cured pork loin) and spicy chorizo sausage (my favorite), and a bowl of berberechos (cockles - didn't know you could eat those, did you?). There's plenty for everyone - dig in!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SDLaLizHl6I/AAAAAAAAACc/1DCVFYjuwhY/s1600-h/100_1530.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202460411420972962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yF_jYSgugeA/SDLaLizHl6I/AAAAAAAAACc/1DCVFYjuwhY/s320/100_1530.JPG" border="0" /></a>Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9359841.post-21624042727997846582008-05-18T06:11:00.002-05:002008-05-18T06:14:17.524-05:00Taking requestsSo the semester's over, we've flown across the ocean for our annual visit to the LWI's family, and I find myself in the position of not having any real stories to tell but being in a Place Very Different From The Place Where We Live.<br /><br />So I'll take blogging requests. What would you like to see, in pictures or in words, about where I'm at now?Pilgrim/Heretichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08588407758172717893noreply@blogger.com0