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A Week's Update
Oct. 4th, 2003 05:45 pm(Apologies for the lateness, and the size. ResNet has been down since Wednesday, and isn't yet up.)
Tuesday evening was benign enough. My cold was bad, but thankfully it passed; at least it passed enough to allow me to seriously cosnider going out. Plan A was to attend the business etiquette dinner that I had mentioned earlier; Plan B was to attend, with a friend after a cafeteria supper, a speech given by Ché Guevara's daughter in Kingston, partly on the matter of Cubans being held by the American government (allegedly for terrorism, allegedly to prevent Cuban-American terrorism). In order to take part in Plan A, though, I needed my suit, conveniently mailed from home the previous Friday. Its Monday ETA passed, however, because of the recent spectacular hurricane. Fortunately, it had arrived at West Campus at 5 o'clock, just eough time for me to get suitably dressed up, take a taxi down to the Queen's University Club, and attend. The dinner was decent, and I got to walk back to West Campus.
Wednesday was difficult, not least because it was the first day that ResNet went down, and because my cold deteriorated. Still, I finally made the decision to go and get doped up on Sudafed. Moreover, my chess game made a notable stride when that day I won the below game:
( Read more... )
Thursday passed nicely. The afternoon coffee for graduate students went very well, with rather fewer flaws than last time; all that remains to be done is to print up a poster or two. I like getting reimbursed for making (and consuming) vast amounts of coffee, I really do. The morning class was interesting, though, since that was the literary theory class when we discussed the views of Barthes and Foucault on the author (as distinct from writer; as a central entity in literary criticism; as a chimera produced by the reified work). To go back into my notes:
( Read more... )
This did raise a raises a question, perhaps, as to why I continue to write in my livejournal (as I said in one of my first postings) with the expectations of leaving some sort of reliable electronic spoor of my personality. Perhaps the easiest answer is to say that by no means did Barthes exclude the Author from having a role in the analysis of a text, if not necessarily a dominant one. Besides, as much as this text is but one of an infinity secreted in Borges' infinite library, it was produced by my tapping of keys. That has to count for something.
Did I mention that I voted in the Ontario elections? (For the NDP candidate, actually; I was confident that the Liberal incumbent would be reelected, and the NDP candidate seemed pleasant enough. Alas, no patronage or promises thereof to secure my vote; part of the problems of living in a politically primitive society, I suppose.) I was passing by the elections kiosks in the main building on my way to check my snail-mail mailbox when I was accosted. I explained that I got here only on the 30th of August, but that didn't seem to matter; I was quickly signed up, and I cast my vote. That was pleasant--at last I've gotten the chance to vote in an election which can determine the fate of the country!
Friday was initially uneventful. I met with a new friend for coffee, talking about music and passing over some mp3s (unattainable Eurythmics and Garbage B-sides, for the main, I hasten to add), in the morning; I then went shopping, picking up some new button-up shirts at the S&R department store downtown at more than decent prices and then buying some beer and wine from the LCBO. I caught up on work, then a party (a birthday party for two people, a theme party organized around dirty construction workers and naughty school girls). Today, a chili party, then reading and more work.
One thing I'm very pleased to find out, living here in Kingston as a graduate student, is how easy things have been. I need to stretch somewhat, and I will--when I begin dating, when I become a TA grading papers, when I engage in presentations. I have the confidence, though, that I can stretch to do all those things and more. (I've found out, for instance, that one of the two other people TAing Contemporary Literature has been reassigned, meaning I'll have to check the full workload of 46 papers, not 31 as was initially planned. That I'm not horrified could be placed either to my sanguinity or to my ignorance.)
Regardless, it's a very nice feeling. It's perhaps the first time I can remember feeling this way as an adult. This bodes well, I hope.
Tuesday evening was benign enough. My cold was bad, but thankfully it passed; at least it passed enough to allow me to seriously cosnider going out. Plan A was to attend the business etiquette dinner that I had mentioned earlier; Plan B was to attend, with a friend after a cafeteria supper, a speech given by Ché Guevara's daughter in Kingston, partly on the matter of Cubans being held by the American government (allegedly for terrorism, allegedly to prevent Cuban-American terrorism). In order to take part in Plan A, though, I needed my suit, conveniently mailed from home the previous Friday. Its Monday ETA passed, however, because of the recent spectacular hurricane. Fortunately, it had arrived at West Campus at 5 o'clock, just eough time for me to get suitably dressed up, take a taxi down to the Queen's University Club, and attend. The dinner was decent, and I got to walk back to West Campus.
Wednesday was difficult, not least because it was the first day that ResNet went down, and because my cold deteriorated. Still, I finally made the decision to go and get doped up on Sudafed. Moreover, my chess game made a notable stride when that day I won the below game:
( Read more... )
Thursday passed nicely. The afternoon coffee for graduate students went very well, with rather fewer flaws than last time; all that remains to be done is to print up a poster or two. I like getting reimbursed for making (and consuming) vast amounts of coffee, I really do. The morning class was interesting, though, since that was the literary theory class when we discussed the views of Barthes and Foucault on the author (as distinct from writer; as a central entity in literary criticism; as a chimera produced by the reified work). To go back into my notes:
( Read more... )
This did raise a raises a question, perhaps, as to why I continue to write in my livejournal (as I said in one of my first postings) with the expectations of leaving some sort of reliable electronic spoor of my personality. Perhaps the easiest answer is to say that by no means did Barthes exclude the Author from having a role in the analysis of a text, if not necessarily a dominant one. Besides, as much as this text is but one of an infinity secreted in Borges' infinite library, it was produced by my tapping of keys. That has to count for something.
Did I mention that I voted in the Ontario elections? (For the NDP candidate, actually; I was confident that the Liberal incumbent would be reelected, and the NDP candidate seemed pleasant enough. Alas, no patronage or promises thereof to secure my vote; part of the problems of living in a politically primitive society, I suppose.) I was passing by the elections kiosks in the main building on my way to check my snail-mail mailbox when I was accosted. I explained that I got here only on the 30th of August, but that didn't seem to matter; I was quickly signed up, and I cast my vote. That was pleasant--at last I've gotten the chance to vote in an election which can determine the fate of the country!
Friday was initially uneventful. I met with a new friend for coffee, talking about music and passing over some mp3s (unattainable Eurythmics and Garbage B-sides, for the main, I hasten to add), in the morning; I then went shopping, picking up some new button-up shirts at the S&R department store downtown at more than decent prices and then buying some beer and wine from the LCBO. I caught up on work, then a party (a birthday party for two people, a theme party organized around dirty construction workers and naughty school girls). Today, a chili party, then reading and more work.
One thing I'm very pleased to find out, living here in Kingston as a graduate student, is how easy things have been. I need to stretch somewhat, and I will--when I begin dating, when I become a TA grading papers, when I engage in presentations. I have the confidence, though, that I can stretch to do all those things and more. (I've found out, for instance, that one of the two other people TAing Contemporary Literature has been reassigned, meaning I'll have to check the full workload of 46 papers, not 31 as was initially planned. That I'm not horrified could be placed either to my sanguinity or to my ignorance.)
Regardless, it's a very nice feeling. It's perhaps the first time I can remember feeling this way as an adult. This bodes well, I hope.
