Tag Archives: writing

Writing

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A tip: if at first you don’t succeed, re-analyze your plan of attack and try again.

Over the weekend I tried desperately to get some work done on this one paper I’ve got looming.  I did get one draft pounded out, but try as I might I couldn’t seem to do any editing.  Every time I sat down to work, I realized that something else needed to get done: my desk needed to be cleaned, my floor needed vacuuming, I had other things I needed to write, I hadn’t answered x, y, or z e-mail, etc.

It took some serious oomph before I realized I had to resort to the old stand-by: print and red pen.

When I was in my Master’s, I didn’t do anything electronically.  Every single paper I wrote was something that I would (admittedly) preliminarily type, but then hand-edit.  Draft after draft after draft I would ink to my heart’s content and, after about six to ten drafts, I would have something worth turning in.

In recent years, I’ve tried to become a bit more “green” and conscious of precisely how many trees I was killing in the process of producing 60-80 finished pages of writing a semester (multiply by 8; the average number of drafts I go through; yikes).  Not to mention the money I was spending on ink and paper (which, believe me, wasn’t insignificant).  I developed some ability to edit at my keyboard and I’ve even produced full papers without printing more than three drafts.

But this one was simply eluding me.  It was taunting me on the screen and I was left with no recourse.

I printed, and went for a walk.

I find that, given the right environment and the right project, I can be much more productive away from my desk than at it.  This only works for papers in draft form as, before they are

mid-way through my draft; a still-life.

mid-way through my draft; a still-life.

coherent, I have to reference the piles and piles of books from the book fort I’ve built on the floor next to aforementioned desk.  But once I do have something I’m playing with, once the words are on the page, often times the only way I can advance past this is to go to a coffee shop and not let myself come home until I’m done drafting.

It does two things: first it removes any possibility of distraction (especially if I’m a good good girl and turn my phone off for the duration of my writing session), and secondly it gives me the impetus to work faster.  If I want to go home in any reasonable length of time, well then I had better get to business hadn’t I?  Often, there are artificial limitations on this: how long can I sit without a break for the necessities (food, nose-powdering, etc.), but if I work diligently, I can crank out a draft of a 20-page paper within the two to three hour time window that my attention span and biology usually allot for.

So that’s just what I did yesterday.  I took my draft, I took my red pen, and I bought myself a giant iced coffee and went to town.

Luckily, it was a random daytime during a Monday so there weren’t many people there to talk around me (something I can’t abide while I’m working).  I also happen to know a great place that doesn’t play obnoxious music (another thing I really can’t work through).

Done! I can go home now, right?

Done! I can go home now, right?

Writing, actually writing, the old fashioned way with a pen, is very romantic.  Whenever I do so at a coffee shop, I can’t help but imagine myself into some antiquated notion of academia where we all wear tweed suits and use monocles.  There’s something nostalgic about it; an act that connects you to your forefathers.  Everyone I’ve ever read wrote this way (and certainly those I most admire wrote this way); pen in hand, caffeine source nearby.  I guess unless you’re Kerouac in which case I’m not sure I’d want to write the way you wrote…

Anyway, my ploy worked!  This paper is in great shape, all of my projects are under control, and despite any misgivings I may have about walking away from my desk at the end of today (because I know there’s more work to do, I just can’t do more work right now), I can comfort myself with the fact that everything is where it should be and nothing is getting left out in the cold.

…Unless I’m forgetting something huge.  Which is always a possibility.

A Little Help from my Friends…

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I had a moment of panic the other day.

I had been summoned to participate in a departmental thing.  I’m really not sure who decided it was a good idea to schedule any departmental thing smack dab in the middle of finals time.  This, to me, seems like a sure-fire way to make at least one of your graduate students slit her wrists in hopelessness.

Any who know me will tell you that one of the things I am best at is time management.  I never leave anything to the last minute, I have a good sense of how much I can handle, I work until I’m done, and I know what is okay to sacrifice and what simply can’t be cut from any given day.  As such, my schedule books very far in advance.  Often, I have trouble squeezing in social engagements unless I’m made aware of them at least two weeks before they happen (at the busiest times of the year, this becomes more like a month).  As such, if I was having trouble departing from my desk to attend said departmental thing, it was not because I was having last-minute finals panic, it was because scheduling a departmental thing during finals is inhuman.

The departmental thing took longer than I had planned (but not longer than it had been scheduled, I simply misread the schedule and under-calculated my timing).  I got into my car and felt like my chest was clenched in an iron clamp.  I still had errands to run.  I still had all kinds of work to do.  And I still had one more appointment with my ever-wonderful Partner in Crime that I could not miss because of a long, convoluted series of events which amounted to him helping me clean my apartment (I think he realized by looking at me that even mundane tasks were well beyond my capabilities to handle and, left to my own devices, I was in very real danger of exploding… spontaneous human combustion: not just an urban legend).

During the drive home, the panic attack symptoms started setting in.  Increased heart rate, hopeless whirl of uncontrollable thoughts, and pressure behind the eyes that threatens to burst into uncontrollable weeping.

I got to my desk, sat down, and forced myself to breath.

For those who have ever experienced a panic attack, you will know: the only way to coach yourself through it is slowly and methodically.  You need to clear your mind, breathe deeply, and slow your heart-rate back something resembling normal.  Sometimes you need to cry for ten minutes just to get it out.  I don’t have them often, but my PhD has taught me all kinds of new and wonderful things that my body is capable of when pressed against the wall (some of these things are more useful than others).

This time, head in my hands, trying to calm myself down enough to look at the word documents I had left up on my machine, my gaze drifted to my desk ornaments.

I’ve spoken about them before.  Over the years, I’ve accumulated a seemingly random assortment of bits and bobs which have come to reside in happy harmony upon my desk.  What I didn’t realize until that moment is that all of the little guys directly under my monitor (and, in fact, most of the baubles as a whole) were given to me by various important someones in my life.  Shakes-cat: a gift from a dear old friend.  Baby-hatching-Gargoyle: a

a selection of my desk baubles.

a selection of my desk baubles.

present from my grandmother upon realizing that it looked just like the logo for the theatre company I ran out of New York.  Liberty-Duck: a random Monday offering from my Partner in Crime.  Long-Duck-Silver: from my mom when she came to visit me during my brief-tenure in a soul-sucking office position pre-Master’s (it came in a box of Band-Aids and helped to cheer my gloomy day).  Tribble Fluff the Yarn Monster: made for me by my wonderful penpal and sent in a box of comfort yarn around the holidays one year.  The list, believe it or not, continues to the point where I really can’t chronicle all the things on my desk attached to all the wonderful people in my life.

And, in that moment, it was like getting a hug from all of them simultaneously.  Like somehow they were all there (without even knowing that I needed them) to tell me to get my act together because I could totally handle this.

Over the past week or so, I’ve received an immense amount of support from my usual support network, but also some very unexpected places.  People who are around, but whom I don’t speak with frequently (perhaps the epitome of this being a random and unprompted text from an old friend with the news that he had procured a GIANT BAG full

some very old friends who are still in my life came to help me celebrate my birthday this weekend; they are amongst the awesome folks who helped me get through finals this semester.

some very old friends who are still in my life came to help me celebrate my birthday this weekend; they are amongst the awesome folks who helped me get through finals this semester.

of my favorite girly-scented lotions and things and was sending them to me imminently… thanks again, Brian, you seriously made my week).  People who would have little way of knowing the insane amounts of pressure and stress that I’m under right now who, from some twist of the universe, had me in their thoughts on a given day and thus found some way to send some extra love my way.

My point is this: no man is an island.  The PhD is the equivalent to academic boot camp.  It will strip you down to your most basic human elements, take those away, then re-build you (and I’m not even through the “easiest” part of the process yet).  But just because you’re stressed, just because you’re tired, just because you think your brain is going to melt out the side of your head, doesn’t mean that you should forget something: you are loved.  And if you can’t remember that, take a moment to find someone who will help you remember it.

So many thank-yous to all of my wonderful friends who, wittingly or not, have once more gone above and beyond to help me get through this difficult time of year.  If I seem ungrateful or passive in person, it’s just because I lack the brain cells to express how much you mean to me right now.

And on that note, it’s time to face the music.  Turning in my first final today.  Queue The Imperial March, La Marseillaise (it always sounds victorious to me), anything from Newsies, or One Day More and send some good thoughts to Dani-land.  Here we go.

The Finals Countdown; Fall 2012

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This is a drive-by.  Things are nuts; For the past three weeks I’ve been doing nothing but work, go to the gym, and sleep.  My brain is currently the approximate consistency of tapioca pudding.  And not even the good kind of tapioca pudding, it’s the soggy from a plastic container and tin lid sort.  And it’s likely been sitting on the shelf for too long so it’s just this side of “okay to eat”…

…this is not an invitation for zombies to come raid my apartment.

In that vein, I do not feel that I have anything intelligent, pertinent, or inspiring to say at the moment.  I’ve been communicating with my roommate and partner-in-crime using grunts and clicks (I’m past even the capacity for charade-like hand motions), and I don’t trust my own judgment right now as to what would constitute “intelligent, pertinent, or inspired” anyway.

Sooo…. I will re-assert a few basic truths about this point of the finals process, and then dive back to the turmoil of the ever-present grindstone.

Thing One: Proofreading saves lives.  Amongst the errors which, uncaught, would have proved outright embarrassing (mind you, in drafts that are far enough down the writing process that I even ventured to show one to my PiC the other day) are: several punctuation mishaps, misspellings of authors’ names, and (most embarrassing of all) several accounts of the correct Shakespeare quote attributed to the incorrect character in a play completely different from the one it was in in the first place.  Apparently, I can quote Shakespeare verbatim in tapioca-mode, but I’ll be darned if I can attribute these quotes correctly.  So far, I’ve attempted to put Touchstone in Twelfth Night (this is particularly puzzling since, of all shows, you would think that As You Like it would be freshest in my

my Sassy Gay Friend pretending to be Lincoln

my Sassy Gay Friend pretending to be Lincoln

mind right now and, indeed, it’s only my performance recollections which saved this mishap from making it to the final cut of the paper), and re-attribute a piece of Macbeth’s “sound and fury” speech to Hamlet (What, what, what are you doing?).

Thing Two: I am, as of today, T-minus two papers and four days from completing the last Fall Semester of coursework in my PhD.  My first paper goes down Monday, my second Wednesday, in between I proctor and grade a final for one of my TAships.  On Wednesday, I will drive to campus, drop off my paper, and drive directly down to NY for holidays with my family.  Because my life isn’t stressful at all.

Thing Three: It’s remarkable what slack people will cut you when you look at them with the glazed-over look of hopeless “good god, I don’t remember how to talk to a normal person because my mind is still reeling about early nineteenth-century draperies”.  Either that, or my friends are amazing.  I suspect a combination of the two.  Maybe I look worse than I think I do.  At least I’m bathing regularly (IMPORTANT!).

Here is a cute picture of a baby hippo I took at the San Diego Zoo... for no reason other than it is sometimes good to look at cute pictures of baby hippos.

Here is a cute picture of a baby hippo I took at the San Diego Zoo… for no reason other than it is sometimes good to look at cute pictures of baby hippos.

Thing Four: No matter where you are, I can assure you that if you aren’t done by now, you are very close.  If you, in the past few days/weeks have experienced the same jarring helplessness that I have experienced, I would like for you to take a moment, take a breath, and remember that the light is right there at the end of the tunnel.  I know you’re tired (“exhausted” might be a better word… actually “bone-weary beyond all possible means of human comprehension” might fit best), I know you’re frustrated, I know you’re worried.  But you will do it.  I have faith.  Hold fast, Horus.

Thing Five: I’m going to take a break and sit on my couch for a few minutes.  I haven’t actually sat on my couch in at least two weeks.  Since I’ve put in a good six and a half hours already, I think I deserve this.

Keep calm, and keep editing folks!  See you on the other side!

“It is my birth-day”

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Today is my birthday.

In recent years, it has become harder and harder to be festive on my birthday. During my Master’s (when I realized that this academia thing might actually be a lifetime commitment rather than a passing fancy), I resolved myself to come to terms with the fact that, for the rest of my life, I would be stressed out, over-worked, and over-wrought on my birthday.

Some years this sticks, some years it doesn’t.

It’s funny because, as I understand it, on birthdays you’re supposed to think back across the expanse of the year and have some thought about things you’ve done, accomplished, follies, foibles, adventures, etc. And maybe when you’ve done that, cast another thought forward to the things that you might accomplish in this year next. Since I’m still in the phase of my PhD during which landmarks are fairly mapped out and planned, I have the good fortune to be able to predict, with some degree of certainty, at least some of the things I will do before the world comes back around to December 11th once more. I will pass my German qual exam. I will study for (and pass) my comps. I will successfully execute my oral exams. And, at this point next year, I will be sitting pretty, poised for dissertation planning, and may (for the first time in many years) actually be able to relax on my birthday.

This year is not that year.

Today, I have a meeting, student final projects to look at, library books that will go into arrears if I don’t return them today, an article to track down, and mountains and mountains of writing to do. I didn’t even have time to wake up early enough for a run due to the absolute insanity that was yesterday (I spent thirteen hours on campus yesterday, left at 11PM and am doing the eleven-hour turn-around and will be back on campus at 10AM this morning…. ah the glamorous life of a theatre academic).

But I did get to partake of my new favorite birthday tradition: birthday Shakespeare. Last year, as a birthday gift, my ever-wonderful Partner in Crime took me to see Hamlet at the Gamm. The production was meh, but the point was to be able to sit back and enjoy something I love rather than worry about deeper issues (…of course, I did worry about deeper issues, but that’s just the way I’m wired). Last night, the cast of Measure for Measure treated me to the first (rough) run of the show. Some really interesting things going on and, if they continue to grow at a good clip, I think the product will be well worth the ticket price. I even had a Shakespeare-revelation while watching (this happens to me sometimes; the text hits my ear in a different way and things click into place and suddenly I understand something new about the show). So; thanks, cast!

So yes, I will be spending the day working. A lot. But the way I see it, this is paying it forward. Next year, oh sweet next year, I may even be able to take the day off entirely.

And so, dear reader, I leave you with this: have a wonderful day, think about Shakespeare for me, and have a watch of one of my favorite Shakespeare mashups: the muppets, Christopher Reeve, and Cole Porter:

Just Another Manic Monday

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I know that I’ve been doing a lot of lists lately, but finals land is inexorably vast this year… I don’t recall hell-time being this long last year… maybe I’m just wearing my rose-colored denial glasses.

Right now (as in I have actually put work into all of these projects at some point this evening), I am:

 -Doing final prep on my presentation for Thursday. What is life without powerpoint, I ask you?

-Finishing up the grades for one of the classes I’m TAing. Ethically, all I can say about this is that it happened. At some point I will find a way to talk about grading in general enough terms that I don’t feel like I’m betraying confidences. That day is not today. I look forward to that day as I know I have learned a lot from the experience of commenting upon and critiquing the students’ writing, and I feel as though these lessons are universally applicable. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.

 -Working on the official twitter feed for the Comparative Drama Conference. This

The CDC conference hotel. I took this shot last year. Yea, that hotel is pretty sweet.

The CDC conference hotel. I took this shot last year. Yea, that hotel is pretty sweet.

is particularly exciting; by my calculations (if we get the feed up successfully, which is a small if right now but an if nonetheless) it will be the first official twitter feed for a national conference in the humanities. The digital age has officially hit academia, and I can’t be more proud to be one of its heralds. There’s nothing on the feed at this moment (and we’re looking at a few weeks before you see anything exciting happen), but nevertheless go check us out at https://twitter.com/compdramaconf. Give us a follow, keep an eye on us, let us know how we’re doing. Then, when we’re all in Baltimore, we can have a drink and talk about how great the internet is.

 -Working on some dramaturgy bits and bobs for Measure. We’re bracing for impact as we wind up to wind down over the break. I’m headed to rehearsal on Thursday to have a listen to the text and then on Monday, December 10th the cast gives me a full run for my birthday (which, by the by, is December 11th… right smack during the middle of hell-time… I have reconciled myself to the fact that I will, for the rest of my life, be inordinately stressed out on my birthday).

 -Doing final dilly-dallying with outlines and research before I draft out paper number one. I was going to do this tonight, but a Sandy-granted extension gave me a little more wiggle-room on the timeline. I am also waiting on an e-mail from an archivist to see if I can’t do another archive dive to bolster this paper, but plan to forge forward tomorrow one way or another.

PiC and I on a boat this weekend past. It was his birthday, so we threw tea into Boston harbor. It seemed legit.

PiC and I on a boat this weekend past. It was his birthday, so we threw tea into Boston harbor. It seemed legit.

-Waiting on a call from my partner in crime to tell me that the first release of Offensive Shadows has gone live. We wrote the copy this afternoon and he’s uploading the sound as we speak, so by the time this is posted it may very well be up. If not, I’ll be updating the twitter feed and the facebook group when things are all green lights over there. Prepare for Shakespeare awesomeness!

-Finishing up some loose-ends classroom business for my own coursework (regular reading, message board posting, etc.). One of the great things about an academic schedule is how fast-paced it is; as soon as you get into a rhythm, or really feel like you know anything about anything, suddenly the world shifts on you. This semester has been great, but I can definitely say that I’m ready for some world-shifting. The projects I’m working on now, however, will definitely stay with me and I’m hoping that they will be extremely fruitful future endeavors. After all, “publication” ain’t just an eleven letter word.

-Setting up and administrating forums for my Shakespeare reading group. Because, like I said, the internet is a wonderful thing.

Alright, since I’ve clocked a solid fourteen hour day, I think I’m putting it down for the night. At least… as soon as the podcast goes live.

Catch you later!

Finals, Finals, Finals….

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Multi-tasking at its best is the name of the game right now. As I begin to take the dive into deep-finals mode, here’s a list of things I have done/will do over the course of last week and this coming weekend.

  1. After much waiting, gnashing of teeth, and bating of breathe, it looks like we are a GO GO GO! for the launch of Offensive Shadows! About a year ago, my ever-wonderful partner in crime hatched the plan that we should co-host a podcast dedicated to explicating Shakespeare for the common man. He, as a normal smart
    Myself and aforementioned partner in crime during our visit to Gallow Green this summer.

    Myself and aforementioned partner in crime during our visit to Gallow Green this summer.

    person who has been adulterated by having a best friend doing a PhD in Bardy Goodness, had realized many things over the course of watching me at my work: 1) that Shakespeare (and theatre in general) is pretty neat! Like, much more neat than he had maybe at first thought. 2) That normal smart people (like himself) could definitely get into Shakespeare and connect with it if they had someone to talk to about it . 3) That I’m a good someone to talk to about it and, through the process of this talking to, we could help other people get into it as well.

So we set out on our quest. We are going to cover all of the plays in (roughly) chronological-to-being-written order (as much as we can), omitting the War of the Roses cycle for its own special run in the middle of the series. We will be releasing one episode a week and each play will have between three and five episodes dedicated to it. The episodes will include discussions of the play’s major themes, things to watch for in the play, information about dramaturgy, history, textual notes, and special readings of snippets by our very talented friends.

In short, if you like Shakespeare, or think you might like Shakespeare but have no idea where to begin, or know nothing about Shakespeare and would like to learn, or would really like to listen to the dulcet tones of my voice on a regular basis, you should definitely check us out!

The first series (released this weekend) is a set of preview episodes on Titus Andronicus. Through the process of recording these episodes, we learned a lot about the podcasting process and, by learning a lot, didn’t produce what we thought was our best work. As a result, these episodes will be a taste of what Offensive Shadows has to offer, but won’t be exactly what you’ll get in the real deal episodes.

Our first real deal stuff will be out the following Monday and will focus on Two Gentlemen of Verona.

  1. Prepping the last of my presentations of the semester. This talk is on the work I’m doing for my paper on William Brown’s 1821-22 production of Richard III. Some pretty nifty and exciting stuff if you like early American theatre.
  2. Wrapping up research on my two finals papers and transitioning into writing mode. This is one of the more difficult stages of the research process; when is enough enough? There is always something more to learn and when do you walk away from the books and begin to write? For term papers, I constantly have to remind myself that I am not writing a book, I am not expected to know everything about a topic, and I am definitely not going to be able to dig up every bit of archival evidence available. I tend to research until I can see (very clearly) my research looping back in on itself. What I mean by that is that if I’m reading the same facts or the same re-printed letters, looking at the same sketches or the same scripts, or if my sources start to reference each other, it’s pretty clear that I have enough to write a 15-25 page paper. There’s always the lurking gremlins, and generally there will be something you’ve forgotten to verify that will rear its ugly head when you’re elbow-deep in the writing process, but for the most part my philosophy should do you as a general rule.
  3. I turned in my essays on Measure for Measure for Prologue (Tufts’ Drama publication that comes out in conjunction with each of the shows the department puts on). For Measure, I had to write two 800-1000 word pieces; one a dramaturge’s essay (fondly referred to as “Page Three”, guess why?), and one a sort of op-ed piece about some issue which the play brings up (“Page One”). These essays, short as they were, caused me no undue amount of stress. Prologue is disseminated fairly widely and a good amount of eyes will be upon my work for it; it’s yet another way that we graduate students can bring honor and glory to the department. Have I done it with my pithy writing skills? Stay tuned to find out!
  4. Prepping my abstract for submission to the 2013 Comparative Drama Conference. I had a great time at this conference last year, and have been helping the conference
    The CDC conference hotel. AWESOME!

    The CDC conference hotel. AWESOME!

    chair get an official conference twitter feed on its feet. I’m pretty excited about the possibilities that social media can bring to a national conference like this, so here’s hoping my abstract wows them enough to ask me down there to speak!

So that’s me right now. Excuse me as I take a deep breathe and head down deep into the land of paper writing. I think I’m well-prepared for it at least; and I know that I will always have my trusty French press at my side. Small comfort on this long and winding road to slay the semester’s final chimeras.

Have a great weekend!

LOOK! SHINY!

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It’s finals time.

That means a lot of things (among them: grinding the gears, burning the midnight oil, and lighting both ends of the candle for the next few weeks).

If your life is like my life, then inevitably when you become the busiest is when everyone suddenly decides that they would like to be social with you. And, while I do love my friends and family and do need occasional breaks from aforementioned clichés of business, it can be really frustrating sometimes that busy season of necessity means “the season in which I ignore people”.

I’m not doing it maliciously, it’s just the only way I can get anything done.

Distractions come in two varieties: the long-form distraction, and the momentary distraction.

The long-form distraction is by far the simpler type to avoid. If I don’t plan well in advance for a night away from my desk, I don’t spend a night away from my desk. As much as it kills me to miss the various parties, social functions, and gatherings that inevitably occur right before the holidays, it would kill me more to neglect my work and do poorly on my finals. Wise researchers take note: this policy works. Understanding friends will understand; this is what your job entails at the moment and, thereby, any declarations of “lameness” on account of it should be systematically ignored.

For that, a break is a break and it’s important to remember that the world doesn’t revolve

this is my desk from several months ago… the book fort gets built to the right and is, currently, taking up more space on my floor than my actual desk.

around nineteenth century circus clowns performing Shakespeare. Make sure you budget time for drinks, dinner, or some fun activity at least once a week or you will wind up an overwrought bucket of stress by the time things are said and done. Also, human eye contact is good for the soul.

So long as you can balance work and play, the long-form distraction shouldn’t prove too much of a problem.

The momentary distraction can come in several forms: an e-mail, a text, a facebook message, a gchat, or a well-meaning person (your landlord, your roommate, etc.) poking a head into your workspace to bring you news from the outside. While this may seem the less innocuous form of distraction, for me it’s deadly. I find that, reliably, for every thirty seconds I have spent being momentarily distracted, it will take me at least five minutes to get back to where I was in my stream of thought pre-interruption.

For me, the problem is several-fold. I have a hard time in general with my attention span, especially if I’m not yet into “the zone”. Once I hit the red, I can go for hours; but getting there is particularly difficult for me. I blame modern technology; I am truly a product of my generation who would rather have a constant influx of disparate information to keep my mind chewing than go deep-diving on any one thought. How I wound up a professional academic with this particular personality quirk is a giant question of the universe. In addition, I am extremely sensitive aurally and have found that external words in any form (music, TV, talking, etc) will completely take me out of the internal mind-tempest that research requires.

The best way to avoid these problems is (I have found) to turn off (or at least silence) my phone, keep my browser windows open to library resources ONLY, and work during the day when there’s no one in my house but myself. If I wind up working overtime (which is extremely frequent during finals crunch), I either try to arrange to work when my roommate is out of the house, or arrange a schedule with her that involves noise-canceling headphones (I am fortunate to have a very understanding roommate). Alternately, working after the household has gone to bed is something that I have found to be extremely soothing and productive (though you do have to plan for it so that you make certain you get your much-needed finals-time sleep).

Today’s short-form distraction: decorating the department’s desk with a menorah made from a Poland Spring bottle, some glitter, and a dream.

A great way to improve the quality of your finals life is to make your nearest and dearest aware of these distractions and what they do to your work. If those people most likely to distract you understand that encouraging text messages are best left sent between the hours of 9 and 11 PM, they are less likely to inadvertently interrupt your stream of thought with a mid-day friend-crisis. If those people can fathom that when you say “I’m buried in mountains of work”, you literally mean that your book fort is actually large enough to cause a deadly avalanche, they are less likely to give you a hard time for skipping Friday night beer-o-rama. Give them concrete examples of how their actions affect yours in this volatile, stressful time. If they really love you, they’ll let you go crawl into your cave and re-emerge sometime after December 18th.

So… what are you waiting for? You have finals to write! Heck, I have finals to write! Go stop procrastinating and get your butt in gear! (…unless it’s your pre-planned night off in which case have fun, relax, and get enough sleep. Drink lots of fluids, eat right, and we’ll all get through this together somehow, I just know it).

Ode to a Reference Librarian

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I

O Noble Reference Librarian, thou keeper of ancient tomes,
Thou from whose ever-seeing eyes the musty dark
of ignorance runs; fleeting into caves it roams.

Knowledge’s power and its difference stark
stands tribute to the echoes of my heart
without your watchful guidance and wisdom to mark.

Though all alone my research I may start,
eventually I am lost without your aid,
read between the lines: you’re pretty darn smart.

When I feel my resolve begin to fade,
and madness overtake my lengthy notes,
one e-mail from you and my project is made. 

Wise sage, who art everywhere and nowhere;
preserver of my sanity; hear, O hear!

II

Thou with whom all knowledge of the archive’s content
rests, solely within the confines of your mind,
Thou may these hopeless finding aids augment!

When I a promising volume or folder find,
I cannot help but wistfully wonder
if by you this call number it has been assigned.

And when I am delivered my research’s plunder
if it contains not what I was expecting
I know it must be someone else’s blunder.

This fondness is not something I’m affecting.
You truly are my savior, through and through
when I, my primary sources, am selecting,

You always have an answer for me,
where should I look next? You tell me; O hear! 

III

Thou who didst calm me with thy helpful words,
your e-mails always packed with burning hope
and, within me, that hope to joy transferred.

When I am lost, you throw me strongest rope
with which to pull myself from doldrums’ grasp
(though afterwards I may feel like a dope).

 Sometimes I come to you with dieing gasp,
knowing my project may be at its end,
lack of sources killing it like venom of the asp. 

But then, my broken thought tracks you do mend,
and breathe into my research new life
when bibliographic entries you me send.

You always do more than I expect of you,
and bring me joy with your encouraging words; O hear!

IV

If I were forced to spend my days
in a world without you or your kin,
surely my research I would appraise

At much less worth than now it holds within.
And thou, O incomparable! If even
I were as in my career’s prime and had been

looking with my mind’s full potential heaving,
thou wouldst still my puny efforts shame
(thy power over the materials I fully believe in).

As thus, to thee with questions I came,
O! Help me in my research’s day of plight!
Without thee, my paper’s going to be lame! 

Help me to bring new knowledge to academy’s light!
And weave an argument from sources tight!

V

Lend me thy thoughts, even as I am merely
a Graduate students with small street cred,
I am most in need of your help clearly!

And (although I know by now I’ve said
this several times, it bears to be repeated)
Without you, all my evidence is fled! 

Sometimes I feel as though I may have cheated
by enlisting your skillful help in my fond chase,
but when my project’s finally completed 

I will ensure I’ve thanked you in the space
allotted for such words of grateful praise
(and also try to say it to your face). 

The knight of research’s call! O reference librarian,
If you forsake us, the academy you’ll raze.

(…an over-working reference librarian made my weekend today, so I decided to make his weekend.  Not even sure if he’ll ever read this.  If you’re slightly confused, you may want to google “Ode to the West Wind”….)

The Great Flop

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Well, I’m back.

And let me tell you, being back is rough.

I’m uncertain if I’ve yet documented the condition which I not-so-fondly refer to as the “end of semester flop”.  After the fall semester was over, after the last final was put to bed, and of course during the first few days of my real vacation, I was so exhausted that I felt sick.  I had to take several days to just lay in bed and sleep, not talk to anyone, and let the gigantic thing that I had just accomplished wash over me and through me.

It took me a while to realize that that was what it was: sheer exhaustion from

FLOP!

the emotional and mental fatigue I had sustained over the course of the semester.  For a while, I worried that I was incubating yet another unable-to-be-explained-by-modern-medical-science ailment.  Thankfully, after some quality time with my bed (or, rather, the hotel bed since I was on vacation with my family at the time), I was able to shake it off and be a real human being again.

I was prepared for a similar experience this semester.  Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately), I had to meet a few publication deadlines hard on the heels of my finals deadlines.  What this meant was that the semester didn’t really end.  It rolled into the summer like blue rolls into indigo and, instead of being able to succumb to the end of semester flop, I just kept working.  Nights candles had burnt out and jocund day stood tip toe on misty mountain tops, but there was nothing for it.  I simply had to keep going.

Well, two weeks ago, the week before I left for my official summer vacation, I ran out of “gotta do it now”s.  I had a few little tid bits that needed cleaning up before I could leave my desk for a week, but on the whole if I really wanted to keep working I was going to have to re-open another big project (something I was loathe to do a mere week before I left it abandoned on my desk mostly because I didn’t want to be fretting over it my entire vacation).  So I took it easy.  I finished my bits and bobs and made it such that I could return to my desk with a clean slate.

And return I did.  Though I was technically home in the wee hours of Sunday morning, Sunday was essentially lost since I had slept for three hours and driven for the previous thirteen.  I spent the day doing laundry and unpacking with just enough naps to sustain my sleep-deprived self.  I woke up today and felt like I had been run over by a truck; my energy had bottomed out and I was barely able to think straight for the first half of the day.

At first, I panicked.  I had to hit the ground running.  I need to clean up my paper for ASTR.  I need to get together some things for my Measure for Measure director.  I need to learn my lines for Rosalind.  I need to hit the gym because I bet it forgets how much it hurts after I’ve had my way with it.

Then, I realized.  This was it.  The end of semester flop.  It had graciously delayed itself by about two months to give me the stamina to get through the first two thirds of my summer, but this was it.

And like it or not, I was down for the count for the next few days.

And I should just accept it and be grateful that I was going to be well-rested for September because darn it, I was going to rest.

So I took it easy Monday.  I did countless loads of laundry (finishing all of it that I came home with), took care of my tent which I had packed up while moist so it needed attention, sorted through a bunch of stuff in my basement, finished a few crafts projects, made dinner for a friend who had stopped by, cleaned my room, learned some of my lines, did a bit of writing, and attended to a few neglected household chores (yes, believe it or not, this is my life on easy mode… you don’t want to know what my hard days are like).

self-portrait taken during hour 6 of writing a paper during my Master’s

And tomorrow I will open up those projects and hit them hard.  I hope.  End of semester flop is nothing to joke about; it’s a necessary evil for the wanna-be-sane graduate student and without it, there’s no way I could be prepared for September.

The moral of this story: everyone deserves a break.  Especially after six months of consistent sixty to seventy hour work weeks.  I earned this flop with every till-midnight paper session and every Saturday that I said “sorry, I have to stay home and work”.

Enjoy your flopping!

It’s the End of the World as we Know it (…I feel fine…)

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Yesterday, much to the chagrin of my friends and family who weren’t in the loop (though I’m not sure precisely why they weren’t because I DID post a warning before this actually occurred), I hijacked my personal facebook feed to participate in the sixth annual “Blog like It’s the End of the World”.

This event was started in 2007 by “My Elves are Different” and takes place every year on June 13th.  The idea is that bloggers, tweeters, facebookers, and overall denizens of the internet come together to create a faux-event (namely the onset of the global zombie holocaust) via their signal-boosting power.  All day, folks are encouraged to use their digital presence to create this event and stories surrounding it.

And when you think of things that way, it becomes perhaps one of the most awesome things to occur on the internet.  For so many people, the internet is a way to connect with an outside world which is very much part of their lives, but for whatever reason they can’t attend to it daily (be it distance, invalidity, or agoraphobia).  For example: my mother, who lives in New York, keeps up with my antics via my blog and facebook feed because I update those much more frequently than I call her (oh, come on, like YOU call your mother every day).  In essence, anything I put on those feeds becomes reality for people who, like my mother, don’t see or speak with me on a daily basis.

And collaboration lends legitimacy.  Since it wasn’t just me in on the adventure and my posts were supported by those around me, suddenly it turned into something.  Just one person blogging like it’s the end of the world is an extremist piece of fiction.  Many people talking about the zombie holocaust like it’s actually happening turns into some semblance of reality.  It’s a communal fantasy which, when engaged with communally, becomes real.

So here is the story of our grand zombie adventure which occurred yesterday, as told by the facebook feed of myself, my roommate Stephanie (if you haven’t checked it out already, you should totally go look at her piece of internet fiction astroarcane…), and a few friends we picked up along the way.  A note: I wound up at the theatre last night so you’ll notice that my posts die out towards the end of the evening.  Ah, the cost of real-life living during the digital zombie apocalypse.  Many thanks to those who played along with me.  Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading these as much as we enjoyed writing them!

Danielle: (9:30 AM) Getting ready to roll out this morning, but it’s unusually quiet on the streets. Weird. By this hour I generally hear the kids from the school making all kinds of noise…

Danielle: (10 AM) The rain has let up, and maybe that’s what kept people from the streets. At Least I see some bodies now, but mostly folks shambling like they’re hung over or something. Odd on a Wednesday.

Danielle: (10:30 AM) Weirdest thing; on the way to the gym some guy tried to bite me! The homeless are getting really pushy these days…

Danielle: (11:30 AM) They had the TVs on at the gym and there was a lot of static coming through. Some stations were even down. Lots of news on though, and it seems like all the roads leading out of major cities are completely gridlocked. What IS going on today?

Stephanie: (11:34 AM) On my way home. This is ridiculous. Dani, let’s hit the road- I’ll pick up a flat of water en route?

Danielle: (noon) Alright, getting really nervous. Packing some things and going to pick up Stephanie at work. We’ll head north to [Friend with Guns and wilderness knowledge], he’ll have guns and stuff.

[Friend in NY]; in reply: I’ll meet you guys on the coast of Maine with [girlfriend] and The Intrepid as our floating sea fortress.

[Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge]; in reply: I’m already locked and loaded. Raided the Hannaford for canned goods and the harbor for a boat.

Danielle: (12:30 PM) I can hear some of those weirdos pounding on the garage door as I pack up the car. REALLY glad we had it replaced this year, sounds like they’re super strong.

Stephanie; in reply: Our landlord is a lifesaver, amirite? Did you have any trouble chasing [household pet] into the carrier?

Danielle; in reply: are you kidding me? Cats were the first thing to go. They’ve already been eaten by the horde.

Danielle: (1 PM) Stephanie retrieved successfully, though the cricket bat came in handy. Roads clear for now, but I’m anticipating a backup on the highway. Good thing I’m in an SUV.

Stephanie: (1:15 PM) Yeah, I’m really glad we’re in an SUV. Pile-up everywhere, and I think I just saw someone on fire. Yes. SomeONE. Danielle and I are still fine, thanks.

 [Local friend]; in reply: If there are any stragglers left, I’m going to try to grab [husband] and head up to the [family] Compound in VT. Shaw’s is a Meat Market right now (heh), so I may have to try to grab more supplies on the way. [Gay best friend], [Gay best friend’s law school fiancé] are you guys alright?

[Gay best friend’s law school fiancé]; in reply: Umm… I’m under a rock in bar exam prep-land…. what’s going on?

[Local friend]; in reply: stay under your rock if you can, until this craziness passes. Are you actually underground? That would be best. If you see shambling corpses, or someone tries to bite you, grab the heaviest Law Tome you can find and beat them with it. Then run. Quickly.

 [Gay best friend’s law school fiancé]; in reply: Ok. Constitutional Law is at the ready… If anything comes at me, they’re getting around 8 pounds of Federalism and the Fourteenth Amendment to the face.

[Gay best friend]; in reply: I’m good. Currently holed up with [other local friend]…I was wondering why the T was so empty. That would explain the random screams I heard in the way over.

Stephanie: (3PM) Danielle and I have made it into New Hampshire. Had to smash a barricade and plow over about ten shamblers. And some NH @@#*&(*^@ yokel took a potshot at our car with a SHOTGUN. [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge], [Friend in NY], we’re almost to you… hope you’re still alive.

Danielle: (3PM) …man, good thing I’m a crazy New Yorker. Definitely had to pull some Dukes of Hazard tricks out of my hat to get us out of some major issues on the highway. Don’t worry, though, Stephanie and I are nearly to the rendez vous point…. we did, however, pass many abandoned vehicles, and loads of carnage on the way. Pondering a stop at the first shop we see that’s likely to have firearms.

Stephanie: (3:15 PM) If this day gets any worse… friggin roadsitters blew out our tire! Keeping watch with axe in hand while Danielle pops on the donut… I don’t see any shamblers right now, but you never know… wish us luck, people.

Stephanie: (3:20 PM) It spit at me! Giant frog thing spit at me!!!! Auuuggghhh!!!! Tell me this

Myself and Stephanie being cool and not looking at the explosion… because cool gals don’t look at explosions….

isn’t infectious… Danielle finished swapping the tire and we’re out of here, but covered in giant zombie frog spit. Great.  I did chop off one of its legs though. Last spotted it hopping in circles. HAH.

[NY Friend with Guns]; in reply: travel safe but be careful as it seems Concord NH is being overrun. Also Cabelas is in Scarborough, ME. Tons of guns, ammo, food, camping supplies.

Stephanie; in reply: we aren’t going through Concord thank god. Scarborough though isn’t too far out of our way. [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge], [Friend in NY], you still waiting for us?

[Connecticut Friend]; in reply: Forget that, stop at the Kittery Trading Post – though a lot of people will probably be heading there.

[Housemate]; in reply: Be there soon! Keep your brains safe!

Stephanie; in reply: Oh hell no [housemate]! We’re already in Maine!

[Housemate]; in reply: Aw man, that’s so far away! It’s ok, I’ll just walk all night; I’ve been walking for a few hours ago and I don’t feel very tired, just hungry.

Danielle: (4PM) Okay we have decide to brave one last supply stop found a little mom and pop place that looks real quiet. Steph Is gonna stay behind the wheel and cover me/prepare to gun it in the event that things get not so quiet. Super glad I upped my cardio over the past few months!

Stephanie; in reply: nervous nervous nervous. Everything quiet out here…

[NY friend with guns]; in reply: Hope Danielle is still safe….

Stephanie; in reply: Roomie, why aren’t you out here yet?! Another car just pulled up…

Danielle; in reply: HOLY CHRIST ON A CRACKER WTF IS THAT!? ROOMIE, SKIDDING IN! GUN IT! GUN IT!

Stephanie; in reply: brb high speed car chase can’t update status… …okay, that was not the best way to “install” a sunroof into Danielle’s car. But we’re alive. we’ll be at the rendezvous in 30 and we have ammo.

[local friend]; in reply: ‎…there are crows perched everywhere on the rooftops. Just silent, and staring. Not sure if they are alive or dead, and don’t really want to go outside to find out. I have no firearms, just hairspray and a lighter….

Danielle: (4:15 PM): Alright, out unscathed and even scored some canned goods. Was a close call though. Apparently they have learned to drive. Let’s hope they haven’t figured out swimming yet.

Danielle; in reply: Well… By “unscathed” I mean “unbitten”. Gashed my leg pretty good on my over-the-hood slide as I got back in the car. Lots of blood, but it looks clean.

[NY friend with guns]; in reply: Not good

 Stephanie; in reply: We still have med supplies, she’s managed to get it pretty cleaned up.

Danielle; in reply: looks like a good clean cut. Big, but not deep. I’m relaxing with my leg up as Stephanie takes the wheel for the rest of the drive to the rendez vous

[NY friend with guns] in reply: Good luck ladies

Danielle; in reply: Hope you’re safe, [NY friend with guns]!

[NY friend with guns]; in reply: I should be fine…One of my customers just stopped by and hes a pilot so we are going to make for the airport

Stephanie: (4:30 PM): Ugh, another roadblock. Trying to offroad it gently, Danielle has her leg up and wrapped and I don’t want to jostle. We should be meeting up with [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge] in about 15, and then we’ll be out to sea… can’t wait to be out of this.

Danielle; in reply: it’s alright, roomie. I assume that [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge] knows someone who has the basic medical capacity to stitch me up. If not, it can’t be much different than sewing a hem, right?

Stephanie; in reply: I’m actually current on my first aid / cpr certs!

Danielle; in reply: no current, but know some things myself. This is a little beyond first responder stuff though. But hey, we’ll have fire and I brought a sewing kit. Maybe [doctor friend] will meet us there. Did we think to invite her?

Stephanie; in reply: well, that would have been SMART…

 [NY friend with guns]: (4:30 PM) Going to try to get to the airport and fly up to meet Danielle and Stephanie. This island is so overrun its crazy.

Stephanie; in reply: Careful in the skies. We spotted some fliers earlier.

[NY friend with guns]; in reply: Yeah, he flies an old WWII fighter and he thinks theres so ammo at the army base near by. Ill keep an eye out for swimmers…Zombie fish would not be good.

Danielle; in reply: We’ll wave a red flag emblazoned with a black stag. That’s how you’ll find us.

Stephanie: (4:45 PM) That was close.  Danielle and I are loading up our supplies onto [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge]‘s boat. I can’t wait to be safely out to sea away from these THINGS. Hope someone has a can opener…

[Connecticut Friend]; in reply: You can open any food can with a soup spoon. You’ll be fine. PS – giant frog things likely swim. Just a head’s up.

Stephanie; in reply: Are you and the fam OK?

[Connecticut Friend]; in reply: We’ve got food for a week and water for three weeks (if we don’t flush or shower), I’ve barricaded all doors and first floor windows, and I’ve stocked weapons. Infirmary is downstairs. I have access to the kitchen (with a generator if the power goes), the chemistry closet (as long as the internet stays up), and the maintenance barn (for more weapons if needed). I may take a run out for firearms, but we’re good for now.

Danielle; in reply: let us know if you need backup. We can organize a rendez vous point provided I survive this jungle surgery….

Stephanie; in reply: Yeah, but it can’t be Bridgeport – Long Island Sound is crawling with frog-things, I just heard.

[Connecticut Friend]; in reply: We should be good, but feel free to head this way. Rural area, large campus, lots of food and water sources. Also, I have a copy of The Colony on DVD…..

Danielle: (5PM): that was close. Managed to make the rendez vous point and caught [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge] and [his girlfriend] via boat. Stephanie had a heroic gun-fight with some damn smart shamblers while we loaded the supplies. We’re going to swing down South to pick up [NY friend], [his girlfriend], and [NY friend with guns]. Wish us luck!

[Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge]; in reply: I hope your leg wound isn’t a bite. I will toss your overboard for the greater good

Stephanie; in reply: I can back her up that it was a scrape from the hood of the car, I saw it happen. And I think she’d want it that way,

Danielle; in reply: Yes, if I start to change, shoot me in the head. But really, it’s too clean to be a bite.

 [Gay best fried]; in reply: If you can buzz by the harbor in Boston, can I jump on. Just made my way to downtown Boston, been clobbering things…but my arm is getting tired…Faneuil Hall is a mess, I almost slipped an fell in blood. Good thing I wore my boots.

Stephanie; in reply: are the ferries still running? If you can get out to one of the Harbor Islands, that’ll be a safer pickup than the Harbor proper. Not to say we won’t do it for you…

[Gay best friend]; in reply: I’ve located a kayak, and am en route to one of the said islands. Thankfully the waterfront is quieter here, most of the shamblers have moved inward toward the city proper. That and the smell of fish is covering my scent, I think.

Danielle: (5PM) Now that we’re safe on the boat, going to attend to that leg wound of mine. Fire is nature’s sterilizer, right? You know, I didn’t wake up this morning thinking that I’d be living an action flick by dinner, but I guess there’s no time like the present to get over your fear of needles and stitch yourself up.

Stephanie; in reply: I got you, roomie. We got this.

[Connecticut friend]; in reply: Don’t cauterize! Use alcohol!

Danielle; in reply: oh, I meant for the needle. Here we go…

[NY bartender friend]: (5PM) Still waiting for [NY friend with guns] to swing by and pick me up. Those bastards have been clawing at my door for hours now! Only bringing the essentials. Guns, ammo, hair gel and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. If I find out he went for those two floozies Stephanie and Danielle first, i’ll kill him.

 Stephanie; in reply: Nice priorities, bro.

[NY friend with guns]; in reply: Ladies, should I pick him up?

Stephanie; in reply: Only if it’s not too out of your way. I do like Johnnie Blue.

[NY friend with guns]; in reply: OK on my way now, [NY bartender friend].

Stephanie; in reply: could really use a PLANE shooting BULLETS at these ZOMBIES DRESSED LIKE PIRATES anytime now… actually hold that I think we just cleared the last of them

 [NY bartender friend]; in reply: Don’t bother [NY friend with guns]. I’m waiting for my cruise to arrive….I guess you could wait with me.

Stephanie: (5:30 PM) This is almost relaxing. Haven’t spotted any zombies in nearly half an hour. Danielle is dozing a little – she deserves it, didn’t scream at all when we stitched her up. All is quiet, [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge] at the helm of the boat…

Stephanie: (7 PM) Weird… just spotted 3-5 boats coming up on us fast. Not sure if friendly or not… better wake up Danielle and see what [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge] thinks. It might be [NY friend] and [his girlfriend], so I don’t want to overreact…

 Stephanie; in reply: definitely not friends. brb, high speed boat chase scene

[NY bartender friend]; in reply: Well shit, if you already have a boat, swing around down to the island. I’ll meet you at Captree. I don’t know how much longer I can wait on [NY friend with guns].

Stephanie; in reply: Captree should be doable – that’s on the south side of the Island right? Avoid the Sound – crawling with the giant frog zombie things. They spit! Brb hail of bullets…

[NY bartender friend]; in reply: Yes. Follow Fire Island and turn in between Robert Moses and Gilgo State Park. I’ll be upstairs in the Captree Cove restaurant. I’ll let you know if anything changes

Stephanie; in reply: will do after picking up [Gay best friend] – a few hours – argh crap brb

[Connecticut friend]; in reply: If you put in around New London, you can make it up here – just a few hours of driving. You can probably pick up a vehicle from the casino valet parking…. We just had an influx of guns and supplies from a local colleague. We’re going to start barricading the dining hall – it’s got a generator, and can fit roughly 200 people upstairs.

[NY bartender friend]; in reply: Sure thing [Connecticut friend], right after she swings by to get me. Noooooo problem.

[Connecticut friend]; in reply: Hey, just trying to help – frankly, you’re more mouths to feed….

Stephanie: (8PM) Holy cripes… I think [Friend with guns and wilderness knowledge], Danielle, and I just finished off the last of these zombies (dressed like pirates, of all things). Boat still good for gas; time to swing by the Harbor Islands and pick up [Gay best friend], Then on to [NY bartender friend]…

Stephanie: (8:30 PM) Have acquired [Gay best friend] and are on way to [NY bartender friend]. All quiet for now. Keep feeling like this only means it’ll get worse once the sun sets…

Stephanie: (9:30 PM) Fuel starting to get low. Trading some rounds for gas; this boat man is really wary. Think he’d be starting something if we weren’t so well armed… Almost to [NY bartender friend] and [NY friend with Guns].

Stephanie: (11 PM) Pulling up on where [NY bartender friend] is holed up. It’s dark. I think I see zomfrogs hopping… Ugh. Time for plan B for blow em away?

[NY Bartender friend]; in reply: No frogs near the docks. Make sure they don’t hitch a ride in with you or else we are in trouble. Just took out a walker that looked like the Gordens fisherman.

[Gay Best Friend]; in reply: If we go back to back we should be OK. Just don’t let any goo in your mouth.

[“Good Idea” friend]; in reply: did you get any fuel , diesel , tapioca ,and fertilizer … if so find a couple of jars or empty the blue out , put a cup of diesel in , cup of tapioca pelts , stir fill rest to about with rocks to about two thirds, strip out a cloth , fill rest with fert. turn upside down fast a couple of times hold side ways light and toss at the bastards… losing light going in forty jars made … plenty of ammo nice pc of hickory … right beside the beds. getem gang wish i could be there . have you figured a way to get the batteries charged out here .

Danielle: (midnight) Okay folks, after a successful Frog-o-cide courtesy of [“Good Idea” friend]’s special cocktail, I’m happy to report that we are all Safe afloat the good ship Pinafore. Hopefully this will all have blown over by tomorrow.