Why This Is Hell

Then you get the essay which is stuffed to the gills with quotations - indeed you plan to made a note of some of them yourself for future reference (but probably won't get round to it). The referencing system is a little to pot, but still, there's the festure in that direction.

Alas, the essay is 2,500 words, but only about 150 of them are by the student. The rest is quotation. Each paragraph is a quotation, with an occasional comment by the student. And then a paragraph at the end claiming to have prven something when in fact I've just been shown the evidence at random.

A fail, I fear. A hardworking student, but did the wrong job. *Sigh*

I have watched the end of Herbie Fully-Loaded

I have bought a packet of chocolate hobnobs.

The packet is half gone.

Today we have naming of files. Yesterday,
We had US spelling. And tomorrow morning,
We shall have what to do about citing. But today,
Today we have naming of files. Scrabulous
Beckons like sirens from one of the other open tabs,
And today we have naming of files.

--- Prof Reed



Yes, when I'm sending a file off to a project, I habitually name the file after that project, so it's Russ.doc or Companion.doc or Priest.doc or Cambridge.doc or Clute.doc. What happens to it after that is not my problem, save for when the editor sends the edited file back called DrA.doc. If I've not been up to date with file housekeeping I have half a dozen or more called DrA.doc.

I'm slowly editing 56 chapters, which have come to me in dribs and drabs, where some of the files have come to me labelled with the author's name, some with the subject of the chapter and some with the name of the project. Add to this that some of the files have been sent back to the authors, some of whom have renamed the files, some of whom haven't. As I've worked on them, I've renamed my versions "[chapter number] [author surname] DrA edit" or "[chapter number] [author surname] DrA edit with q" if there are still queries. Except, of course, when I've got the chapter number wrong. And given the numbering protocol may lead to a reordering of chapters this is not the final labelling.

And because I'm crap waaaaa I occasionally find that the editing was done on a different machine or I haven't downloaded the file and have to go wading through hundreds of email to find the attachment. Gmail is searchable - but if you have to guess that contributor's naming protocol that doesn't necessary help.

I fear another one of those acknowledgements coming on:

I would like to thank X for their help and support during this project.

I would like to - but they didn't provide any, so I won't.

The parcels arrived, one of which was rather strung together by the Royal Mail. I think it's all there.

The LGBT colloquium went well, as well as anything can go when no one has actually read any of the books you've talked about, not even the person who talked about Paul Magrs before you. The university announced that we've signed up to the Stonewall directive, which means we've agreed not to discriminate against LGBTs. I presume there's some best practice going on here, because the law says we've not meant to discriminate already. Still, there's discrimination and discrimination.

I turned three of the four sheets of notes that constituted my talk at ICFA last year into a paper - well 14 PowerPoint slides - and added a couple of things from Bukatman and the Book of Samuel. I rather slid over the Lego retelling of the Life of David, but I now realise there were a lot more useful iamges there. Since then I've wanted to move it into a written paper, but other work has intervened. I need to read a Doctor Who novel - by Paul Magrs and his partner (who I'm misremembering as Jonathan Hoag) - for the next draft.

I realised I'm talking about gay- rather than lesbian-themed narratives, but this definition is going to have to be very loose, as the number of gay-themed Young Adult sf and fantasy novels is rather low. I gather there were 300 gay- and lesbian-themed Young Adult novels between c.1968 and c.1996, with two thirds of them being in the second half, but it's still a short list of genre interest. I'm going to bring in Teen Wolf and its mirror, "Phases", and The Nature of Nicolas, if I can track down a copy.

Meanwhile this weekend I edited three chapers, 15,000 words, and checked the date of every book or film mentioned. I also bashed my head against the style guide which notes that it is ed. but not eds. nor edn., ch. but not chs., vol. but not vols., and thus is Mr and Dr not Mr. and Dr. - only the film is called Dr. No, Dr. Jekyll etc.

I lost Saturday morning to sleep - but the rugby meant I avoided the pub until 10pm. However, I also had to write or revise three lectures this weekend, and I thought I'd a) lost the material I needed from lectures from about five years ago, and b) deleted any of the versions with graphics. I still need to sort out a pile of DVDs. I did relax, a bit, by watching the final episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm season five, and part of An Evening with Kevin Smith II: Evening Harder, the final episode of Primaeval, most of Torchwood and all of ER.

Now I need to read the contents of one of the parcels. Sunday nights seem to have a 3am bedtime - not smart with a 9am start, and I won't even get a lie-in on Tuesday as I have to be there for 9am, and Wednesday for 10am. And dammit, there's an exam paper to write.

I turned the radio on on Monday night to KaleidoscopeFront Row to hear the unmistakeable tones of Mark Lawson asking Mark Billingham how much of something was true and how much was made up.


Argh!

Last night it was going to be Mark Lawson interviews J.G. Ballard "who has sifted the truth from the fiction in a new autobiography."

Argh!

Why shouldn't the made up be the truth?

"It's the truth even if it didn't happen."


[And Ballard was interviewed by James Naughtie on the Toady Programme last week, an interview uninforming even by Ballard's standards, not giving him a chance even to trot out the same lines he always uses:

JN: "So, you wrote a book about your experiences in Shanghai?"

JGB: "Yes, I did."

JN: "And Spielberg film it, in a most remarkable movie."

JGB: "Yes, he did."

No mention of sf, naturally, no indication that Naughtie had even read the books.]

So which bits of this post are the truth and which bits made up?

So today I pored/pawed/poured over two chapters of the edited collection - which keeps me on schedule - but got a little weighed down over how to reference a book which was rewritten and given a new title. Fortunately the quoted edition uses the original title - though I'm not clear if it contains the revised text. I'd hoped to do a couple more, and I think I'll do one. I had to break off to rewrite Monday's lecture, which was mainly tidying layout and correcting a tyop.

Tonight I sped-read through Film Studies in search of things that need updating or correcting. I spotted relatively few mistakes, but slipped in a few snide remarks. What's telling is that the pretty young stars of two or three years ago are tarnished now. Who is this year's Ryan Gosling? Frankly, the book needs major open heart surgery. The examples that each chapter focus on are all from the 1990s or maybe earlier - Reservoir Dogs, Fight Club, Seven, The Usual Suspects. These are films that the kids will see as old now. If only there were time - but not this time.

I heard about a third of Broadcasting House this morning - the doorbell went at 2.30am as I tried to finish reading Dry Bones that Dream, and there was a small chance that it might be one of a couple of mates (but they'd ring unless they'd lost their phone) and a taxi was parked outside. Either the wrong doorbell was rung or I'm on someone else's frequency. I shall ring mine to piss them off. My light went out at 3.00, the alarm first went on at 7.50, so five, maybe six hours of interrupted sleep. I listened to The Archers omnibus in the kitchen, to ensure I was awake, and made Cream of Jerusalem Artichoke soup, although with milk not cream. Nice, even if I suspect the JAs were past their best.

I also managed to finish off season four of Curb Your Enthusiasm (a flourishing finish with Larry David and David Schwimmer performing The Producers, with various cameos) and watch Saturday's E.R..

No pub today, last night - and Friday I was on orange and soda. I better go tomorrow but I must:

1) write Tuesday's lecture
2) rewrite some course module outlines
3) book a hotel in Leicester
4) write a paper for Saturday by Wednesday night
5) sort out insurance.

I have a very vivid memory of someone saying that she felt sorry for people who go to the cinema on their own. There is something nice about the apres vu, with the right crowd, which makes even seeing some schlock like Atonement not seem like a waste of a couple of hours.

On the other hand, you don't feel it's your responsibility for the film to be good, you can sit where you like, including the front row, and you don't have to explain that, on the whole, you want to read the credits.

And you get to see the bloody film.


I) N wanted to see The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and we figured there were about three showings across last weekend he could make. But his sister was going into labour and he wanted to be on hand ... to give out hot towels or whatever one does. Strike one.

II) K was also interested in seeing The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, but the 8.50 Sunday screening was too late and then it turns out he was working on the Thursday which was the fall back position. Strike two.

III) B mentioned wanting to see The Kite Runner on Saturday night and I thought it might be fun to see it with someone else although Plan A was to go Sunday pm, as I needed to be that end of town at 6pm. Whilst I hadn't started the journey back before I found out he couldn't make it, I did time the return from London to make it in good time for the screening. Strike three.

The moral is people can go to the cinema with me, but I won't go to the cinema with them.

And because I needed to prevaricate more over some marking, I didn't see it on Sunday pm. I will now risk a double bill with Eastern Promises Monday night and try not to fall asleep.

Yes, there is a DVD/video in the room.

No, the projector isn't working.

Ah, the projector needs turning on on the ceiling.

So,  DVD and video - it claims to want setting up. 1%
2%
3%
4%...

Try the CD in the CD-Rom Drive. CD not recognised.

Try DVD in DVD Drive. No DVD in DVD drive. Yes there is.

Maybe it's set up the DVD player now. 
1%
2%
3%
4%...

And then again.

...96%
97%
98%
99%
100%

Channel not recognised.

Class dismissed.

Same time, same place, next week.

Tries pressing another button. Eureka, it works.

Bum.

Even in the depths of winter my room is an oven because a hot water pipe runs through it. I always have the windows open, a fan on and, unless privacy is required, the door open.

Opposite is a classroom door. It squeaks. It is currently used by language students who have a similar attitude to doors as do cats - but having evolved opposable thumbs are able to open and close the door repeatedly as they try to decide which side of it they want to be on. The doors creaks. Loudly. Nails on blackboard. Fingers on a balloon. Me left alone with any object that can make a noise.

Yes, bloody annoying.

I can shut out conversation, but not this.

I've borrowed a can of WD-40 from the technicians and used it, liberally.

Bliss.

Edit: And now there are three magpies outside the window on the roof, two trying to kill or have sex with the other, nosily. My heads hurt, as the man said. Three for a girl, I recall. Time to go home.