So today I was reading the minutes from the last university senate meeting and I was reminded of an exchange that took place during the "open floor" item on the agenda, i.e., when anyone who has anything (important) to say that was not contained in the agenda can raise an issue that can be discussed or put on the table for future discussion.

At this last meeting it was brought up that the university is very highly-ranked for many of its outcomes and mission goals--research, aquisition of grants, teaching--but that in the category of "Doctoral studies" it is consistently ranked 10th or so in Poland. This fact did not provoke a discussion of what we could do to make our graduate studies better, or how to gather data from the doctoral students to find out what is lacking here that is present at other universities. It did not provoke a discussion of the flaws in the existing system that hinder young scientists from fulfilling their potential in these hallowed halls. What it *did* provoke was a short statement from the Rector of Students, followed by assurances from the doctoral students' representative, that we would try to find out what the criteria were for creating this ranking system so that we could pinpoint exactly what the committee was looking for and ensure our higher rank next year. This just makes me so deflated. The goal seems not to be an analysis of the actual feedback we got from doctoral students, but rather an analysis of the committee's standards to see just how we can adjust the data we give them so that they match. Ugh.

When I think about this I can't help but recall the feedback-hungry Koreans, who are eager to hear how they are failing so that they can change and improve.

The only time I ever am exposed to morning television is when I donate blood (only ever in the morning, and they have TV's set up to distract our attention while they drain us of vital fluid). So yesterday I watched a segment targeted at men about "how to wear colourful socks".

It is funny how I want R to admire me for everything anyone has ever admired me for. But he just admires me for the things he admires me for. Funny.

Wow, this has not been a very blog-heavy year so far.

But today one of my TA's said that the other TA had said that I was "cool", which, she explained, in this culture should be understood as the opposite of "girly", which, she assured me, is a very good thing.

I went to an LGBTQ workshop this morning. A few thoughts.

1. Key quote regarding terminology about how the majority treats the minority: "Traffic jams are to be tolerated; people are to be accepted and celebrated."
• This fits with W's dissertation research about "tolerance" of others not leading to anything good. People, stop thinking "tolerance" is a goal we should strive towards. It really isn't.
• As cheesy as it sounds, I really like the idea of celebrating people. I like it. So there.
2. I found the atmosphere, which was so supportive and inclusive and mindful of our individual unique experiences (the facilitator repeated quite a few times that we should "take care of ourselves" to make sure that what we are doing is authentic and feels good to us), to be a misrepresentation of actual interactions with people whom we might have to confront about homophobia/transphobia/etc. People do not respond with interest and an open heart when You tell them that what they just said or did is not cool. Even if You target their behavior and not their identity. They are resistant and they are quick to defend their own intent and dismiss the impact their behavior might have on others (especially when those others are absent). I think this workshop should have recognized that most contexts do not provide such security of expression.
• Regardless, I think people do not take care of themselves enough. People, take care of Yourselves. Mind Your own emotions and act accordingly.
3. I am going to write an email now to someone reacting more explicitly to a comment made by that someone yesterday that I reacted to but probably not explicitly enough to make that someone think about what I was reacting to.
4. When I am lecturing I usually limit my examples to family relationships that have nothing to do with romantic relationships. So, I use my brothers rather than "my husband/boyfriend/girlfriend" when I talk about communication or whatever. Partly this is due to the fact that I never have a romantic partner. Partly it is because I am aware that embracing my own heteronormativity in front of them would not be neutral to some students. But I am thinking about how to navigate these examples in a way that makes it clear that what I identify as is irrelevant, but also that what they identify as should be "celebrated".
5. I appreciated the way the guy emphasized that "identify as" is a subjectively more agentic term than "am". I buy that.

I was going to spend today writing about everyone else's awesomeness, but I have too much to do, too many awesome people to spend in-person time with, to actually write about it. Rest assured, I probably think You are awesome. If You are someone and would like to know why I think You are awesome, ask, and I'll articulate it. :-)

Today I'll write about my nieces. I haven’t really known them for very long, so I have less experience with their awesomeness than with other family members', but man, their awesomeness is sssoooooooooo monumental that it’s conspicuous. 

B is the sweetest thing on two legs. She is so free with smiles, and so willing to approach people, and come into contact. She is not anxious. She will make friends easily. She is open and spontaneous in her emotional communication. She loves stories, and remembers them well. Her memory in general is amazing. She is comfortable communicating in at least 2 languages. She yearns for knowledge, and will happily listen to lengthy explanations about complex issues, and then ask follow-up questions. She's a thinker. She has a clear, personal sense of aesthetics that drives her wardrobe decisions. Ha. 

Z, meanwhile, has a singularity of focus that I truly find astonishing. She will take on tasks that require fine-grained, meticulous movements, and pursue them until they are complete. Things I never would expect she could do, she does. And enjoys it. She has inner determination. She is tough. She is very aware of others' emotions, and is considerate of them. She is calm, mostly. She does not externalize her emotions as easily as her sister, but she communicates them in subtle, meaningful ways. She loves dancing and will sometimes spontaneously begin to sway and twirl, she's so graceful.

Their awesomeness as a unit should also be mentioned. Their amazing sync. They sound alike, and when they speak or sing or yell or move in unison, it’s like a single superawesome extrapowerful entity. Their love of and attunement to each other is wonderful. 

Today I'll write about my parents. Some parts of this will be more difficult than others, as You, if You know me, can easily imagine.

My father is one smart dude. He has a phenomenal memory for words. He can recite tens/hundreds of songs/poems that he learned years and years ago. He loves language, he delights in recitation. That is what originally brought him to the stage. There is no doubt he is creative; I think his output is partly driven by his utter conviction that he has something important to say to the world. I often think this is so much more valuable than someone who has even the best ideas but feels no compunction to share them. What's the value of an idea if awareness of it is limited to its generator? So, anyway, he has that. He also loves his children. He obviously wants what is/he considers to be best for each of us. His ability to translate that to actual support in helping us pursue happiness can be questioned; but he without a doubt wants us to be happy. He has presence. He commands attention. He has charisma. He can make himself liked by almost anyone when he wants to; I think both M and I have this trait from him. I look almost exactly like him, in female form. He has strong genes.

Mom is in a way a more difficult object of description, because there is so little about her that isn't the best ever. What can I say. Hhmmmm. She is the best cook ever. She cares a lot about food. I think she should definitely open a restaurant, because then people would actually appreciate her efforts. I will eat almost anything, and that's not who she's really cooking for. She deserves more refined, questing palates. She is the most caring person alive. She will never, ever, knowingly/intentionally make anyone feel bad. Even if they deserve to feel bad. She will protect people's emotions far beyond what is courteous or typical. She has a warmth that is overpowering, paired with an intelligence that is always evident, but always subordinate to that warmth. This I am trying to learn from her. She's incredibly good at helping in ways that are actually helpful. It's hard to explain. But it involves flexibility, silently adapting to other people's needs in ways that make them unaware that she is actually having to simultaneously reconcile multiple other needs. She loves her children, and also she loves everyone her children love. Which is sort of nuts. But awesome! She is so respectful. She never denigrates anyone, which is particularly noteworthy when applied to people who have less power/status/whatever. She never even uses her legitimate power, let alone abuses it. Or at least it never feels that way. She interacts democratically. She raised us to be fairly responsible adults, I'm convinced, by never treating us as less than responsible, conscious, thinking individuals. That is rare in a parent. What else? She has taste, she has savoir vivre, she is knowledgeable about literature and music, she can cut a rug, she can sing. She speaks 3 languages fluently. She is a mathematician by education, which I bet just surprised You if You didn't know it already. She's got a logical, pragmatic, problem-solving mind. But she's whimsical and spontaneous and light-hearted whenever an occasion arises. And she lets me throw parties whenever I want.

Today it's M's turn.

M is by virtue of being my older brother one of the formative influences of my life, in giving me a sense of self-assurance and capability and security of self-expression. He is very nurturing and caretaking, and he without a doubt gave me more confidence as a child than I would have otherwise had, in navigating my social and physical environment. Because we moved a lot, he was the steady anchor that allowed me to wander with comfort that someone was not only beside me but in front of me, and, if need be, behind me. He has grown up to be such a rock of certitude. Unimaginably civically responsible, honourable, principled, idealistic. But also profoundly thoughtful. Does not let himself accept idle whimsies, intuitions, as truth. Considers, evaluates, concludes. Has masterful, no exaggeration, proficiency in the Polish language. Crafts sentences and arguments in a way that makes them clear without loss of nuance. That is no piece of cake, Dear Readers. I am having a deja vu experience as I write this. I must have thought about this a lot before. It is extremely important for me to mention, here, that the work he does, professionally, is nation-building. It is norm-changing. It is refocussing our attention, as citizens and individuals, from what is salient to what is integral. That, I think, is something to be proud of.

So, it's J's nameday today, and to celebrate this, as well as to counteract the interaction I had with my father recently on their topic, I'm going to write about how awesome my younger brothers are.

K: one of the most multilaterally talented people I have ever met. Athletically, linguistically, musically, artistically. Also, so energetic. He DOES shit with his talents. He doesn't lay them by the wayside like some of us. He's giving; he readily, easily connects with people, and people just goddamn adore him basically on sight. He has an incredible store of knowledge, because his memory is astonishing.

J: unbelievably orderly. In his head, I mean, not only in his environment (that too). Efficient, careful in his thinking. Really, would have been such a fantastic computer programmer. Also, really fucking funny. And a joy to be around, when he wants to be. An excellent, devoted cook. Does not employ half-measures. Takes shit seriously, responsible and reliable. Plants and animals in his care will not die.

S: the smartest person in our family, I think. Deep thinking. He writes fiction beautifully, engagingly. Also, fun-loving. So willing to put himself out there! He entertains, he wants people to enjoy themselves. He makes me laugh like no one else. He dances and/or sings along to anything that I play on the car radio, ha. He is irritatingly strong. He is emotionally aware, good at relationships.

There are those who note the soft white toilet paper now in use at Stawki, in lieu of the grey corrugated kind of old*, and ask: is this the best use of taxpayer monies/tuition payments? Others have no questions.

* last month

I think the past few months have led me to the conclusion that I am really not looking just for someone to brush my teeth next to every night. I guess I like being alone more/am more selfish than the average person.

You know sometimes You meet someone, and it feels like they are a reward for all the tedium and suffering and work You've done on Yourself, and all the sacrifice and the delay of gratification, and all the whatever kinds of costs we incur by being the best people we can be. You meet someone and it feels like You deserve this person, and You would not have the benefit of this person if You hadn't given so much of Yourself in the past, and now it all turns out to have been worth it. It makes sense, in a long-term developmental sort of way, and it's comforting.

And then there are other people You sometimes meet. And these people feel, they feel like miracles. They don't feel like a reward, or like You deserve them, or that they are in any way connected to anything You may have done in the past, they feel like a windfall, unexpected and glorious, and it's disconcerting, because nothing in Your meritocratic (or even karmic) philosophy has led You to believe that human connection, or anything else, works this way. It's not comforting; it's shocking. Like any miracle.

The UiT boligkontor answered my prayers and put in a narrow but long desk by the window of the visiting-scientist-apartment where I am staying for the next 3 weeks. I know You might tire of my repeating this, but I LOVE IT HERE! Aaaaahwhwhhahahwhahhahhahahaaaaaa!

I have to admit, ever since my dreams didn't come true, I have been a lot less tense. I vacillate between interpreting this as my having lost all hope, because nothing actually really matters anymore, and as a healthy embracing of my not-quite-dreamlike-but-also-not-a-nightmare status quo.

The elderly woman I walked back from the voting place this evening not only at length expounded the benefits of singledom ("Men just add work. They're like a second job. Now you can go home, eat what you want, listen to what you want, go to bed when you want. It's better."); she was also radically classist ("there are hardly any Varsovians in Warsaw anymore! It wasn't like this in the old days! They came here, to the schools, where they got special treatment, because, you know, they were 'disadvantaged', and they stayed. You really can't count on anyone with a sense of community anymore. No one helps anyone.") as well as shockingly straightforward regarding abortion ("She has 10 kids. Her husband, he didn't let her terminate any of her pregnancies. Her breasts are a disaster, of course she breastfed all of them.").

My seatmate on the flight from Oslo to Tromsø, an engineer on his way to Hammerfest for work, asked me about my Norwegian, and when I said I could usually understand some of what was going on and achieve most basic survival goals he said, "Ah! Just enough to get into trouble, but not enough to get out of it!" Precisely, Dear Sir.

I just re-read my post about Anna Karenina. So, yeah, the tragedy wasn't all that tragic. [UWAGA! SPOILERS AHEAD!] By the time AK got around to throwing herself under the train I was so tired of her neurosis and paranoid whining that I was basically glad to see her go. I was much more worried that my sentimental favourite, Levin, would be injured or tarnished. But he came out unscathed, unburdened even--of his doubts regarding the meaning of life. So, basically, this book ended well.

But I do think the last chapters were needlessly drawn out, could have easily wrapped that shit up in half the pages.

In other reading news, I'm almost at the end of Gone Girl, which I won't link to because really I don't want to endorse it too strongly. It is adeptly written, no doubt, but I had higher hopes of it after the first 100 pages than were warranted by the following 600 (really? this book has that many pages?? it reads very quickly). We'll see how I feel when I finish it (probably tonight! it is Friday after all!!).

I'm also reading The Jungle Book on my iPhone (thanks again, iTunes!) and I have been liking it, and I am more firmly than ever convinced that I should re-read Just So Stories so that I can incorporate some aspects of those into the stories I have to constantly tell my loveliest of nieces.

I've been having a lot of discussions about religion recently, and today at lunsj (that's how Norwegians spell "lunch"! isn't it adorable!) during a discussion of separation of church and state I had a thought that was coherent enough that I decided to write a blog post about it, but now I can't remember it at all.

So instead I'll write about something else for a bunch of paragraphs.

I'll write about how I was going to go to the grocery store today but have reconsidered since it began to rain (again). The only thing I'm desperate for is milk, and I've been weaning myself off coffee with milk  for a while now (well, specifically, I wean myself off coffee with milk whenever I am in Norway, I suspect because the coffee is better here). The only downside to this is that I will not be able to make oatmeal tomorrow for breakfast (oatmeal, Dear Readers, must be made with milk, don't even suggest that other liquids can serve the same function! NO! THEY CANNOT!).

Originally I was going to go downtown this afternoon to meet up with T, whom I haven't seen in 2 years (except on FB!) but he, as it turned out, has to work today. So we agreed on the weekend. Had I gone downtown I might have a) bought milk, b) reloaded my buspass. That needs doing before any further bus rides are taken. I have been taking the bus more this trip than on previous trips, and do You know why? It's because the Norwegians paid me WAAAAAYYYYY LATE this year, and my bank account is full of moolah!!! Usually they pay me in the spring and by the time the fall rolls around I am not rolling around (in cash) which makes me quite frugal. Not this year! I've been out to dinner TWICE!!

What else. One of my students approached me after class on Tuesday and asked some question, then afterwards complimented my lecturing and shook my hand. So nice! Apparently hand-shaking is not the norm even among Norwegians (I asked) so I guess he wanted to make it more official than just a verbal communiqué but less personal than a hug (which might have made me flinch, heh).

Here's another thing. They renovated the university apartments last year (-ish) and the fresh paint and furniture are quite lovely and all, but one major deterioration of conditions is that instead of a desk I now have a long, low cupboard that I completely, completely don't need. It is much more difficult to create a comfortable workspace at home now. As a consequence, I don't do any writing at home, I just prepare lectures and goof off. I write here (at the university), but I don't get nearly as much done as I should because I never work during the evening. So, boo on UiT for changing that up. They really seem to not have considered the needs of people staying at these apartments. We stay for a few weeks at most, so it's not like we have mountains of clothes. The existing closets were more than sufficient. We really need the desks. Bring back the desks, UiT!! This is not the first indication that these apartments are not entirely designed with work-intense short-term stays in mind (even though that is what they are used for). Like, there is a giant dishwasher, but no microwave.

Anyway, enough ranting. I'm going home.

I've been reading Anna Karenina all summer (thanks for the free ibook, iTunes!). Pretty much the only thing I knew about it before I started is that it ends tragically. I'm now on screen 2603 of 3197, and I keep waiting for the tragedy. Anything that happens in this book I am ready to see as foreshadowing. They go hunting, I anticipate them shooting each other. They go mushroom picking, I foresee the obliteration of a whole family by way of food poisoning. I am trying to talk myself out of this permadread but it's getting worse as I approach the novel's end. Something massively bad must be around the corner.

The other thought I keep having is that I shouldn't prepare myself for a post-modern ironic sort of tragedy--such as the aforementioned mass poisoning--but consider more 19th century Russian types of tragedy, which, of course, must be based in romance, rather than banality. We'll see.