... And let's reinvigorate!

Aaaand, we're back! I know, it's been so long. Truth be told, part of the absence of new text resulted from me losing my login details and thus being foxed out of the dashboard. Oops.

So, what's new? New year, new abode, new shoes, new classes, new hobby, same old me.

The New Year: 2011 is set to be the year in which I complete my doctoral dissertation in contemporary philosophy and visual culture (read: general humanities bullshit) whether I'm ready or not. Honestly, I'm not ready-- so many things I've only skimmed when I should have read, listened when I should have noted, gotten up and made dinner when I should have written. But now it's down to the wire and I must put up or shut up, and shutting up won't get me a job. And a job is unquestionably what I want out of this whole melange of marginalia and tea stains that I'm calling my dissertation. More on that at some point, it's unavoidable.

The new year also saw me falling in love. What? you say with great distress, You, in love? Yes, it's true, but not with a man. Not even a woman. A little girl actually, named Coco. She's the daughter of a dear friend and the close of this past year heralded in her existence outside the womb and into my arms. I was lucky enough to be hanging about for her first month of soft cooing, bottles, nappies and evenings in the rocking chair, and the word 'privilege' doesn't even begin to cover it. She's beautiful: big blue eyes, tiny mouth, exquisitely long fingers and, best of all, she giggles in her sleep. Leaving Boston at the end of January and knowingly walking away from her was one of the most counter-intuitive things I've ever forced myself to do. I'm lucky enough to have a near daily dose of Coco-cam through skype, which is essentially what's keeping me sane. Holy hell, broody, Batman.

New Abode: I've relocated to the Eyrie! It's a top floor flat in the older section of town, which is both for better and for worse. I miss the period details of the old Nest (the high ceilings, the plaster internal walls, the paint, the ceiling embossing and roses) but the Eyrie is the whole top floor of an old granite building with a view of the North Sea and the mouth of Aberdeen Harbour from the kitchen window. Pretty spectacular. So is how cold it can get. Being in such an old, though disgustingly central, quarter of the city means there's no gas-- everything is electric as they can't just put in a main. Electric heat, electric cooker, electric shower, the works. It's not been as pricey as I had feared and we've got a meter that we top up as we go (so no surprise bills, which is BRILLIANT) but the storage heaters are something to be reckoned with and the storage hot water tank makes showering an adventure. Will you have enough hot water to finish shaving your legs AND rinse the conditioner out of your hair? WHO KNOWS! Yes, living life on the edge, that's me...

The New Abode has also brought a new flatmate, and she couldn't be lovelier. She's soft-spoken, not an axe-murderer AND she cleans! It's amazing. I didn't know her before moving in, but I couldn't have pulled a luckier draw. Her girlfriend has recently relocated from Denmark and now there's pleasant, chirpy Icelandic spoken in our kitchen on a regular basis and it makes me really happy. Somehow the sound of people speaking kindly to each other, regardless of my lack of comprehension, is enough to brighten my mood.

New Shoes: Trivial, but there's nothing that makes me walk taller (quite literally) than a new pair of shoes, and I've recently acquired two pairs. Office clearance sales are dangerous places, especially when chronically skint, but I'd recently had the misfortune of discovering at the most inconvenient of times that my pair of Primark lace-up flats had come apart at the seams and I couldn't fault myself too heavily for dropping a tenner on a pair of blue velvet and leather wingtips. Additionally, a girl can never have too many black stilettos, and the satin was just divine, so they came home with me as well. They are undeniably reminiscent of my very favourite pair of shoes EVER, which I bought a few years ago from Jones Bootmaker (also on sale) and have worn very selectively to things like my masters' graduation ceremony, but alas, the cobbles round these parts destroy pretty heels with single-minded ferocity. Thus, the new pair has been acquired. The dress heels are dead, long live the dress heels.

New Classes: This is a bit misleading. They are technically new in the same sense that the polluted river is always new everytime your wellie slips into it. The students are new, but the overwhelming majority of the syllabus and films contained in the screening list are not. This is just fine by me as it means that I have less to scramble to prepare as virgin material. I've got four sections of Intro to Film this half term and couldn't be happier about it. These, with the two screenings I'm running weekly and the hour of prep time for which I'm being paid should mean that I'll be financially solvent, if only for a little while.

Then, there's new close reading group and seminars for the coming months, new discussions of old books and all the other joys of academia. I sat in on a one-off lecture by Martin Crowley this evening and was simultaneously daunted and exhilarated. There, sitting plainly before me with his heavy-framed glasses and sky-blue socks was the soft-spoken man whose reading of Antelme has so influenced my doctoral work. And then, at the pub afterwards, he thanked me for attending and encouraged me to email him and strike up a correspondence. At what point is it appropriate to ask an academic to sign some part of ones' skin? Just askin'. If the rest of the seminars are half so interesting, it'll be the best time here yet.

New Hobby: So, with the patient instruction of the old flatmate, I've taken up Ikebana. It's the Japanese art of flower arranging, and I adore it. We meet on Sunday afternoons, and it's simply the most calming thing possible. I'm decided to go back to attending Mass regularly (which is a post for another time) and once I've had my cup of tea in the vestibule, I wander casually across the Castlegate, stop at the Markies' flower stand (they have a flower loyalty card, isn't that great?!) and then into the steamy warmth of the Coffee House on Gaelic Lane. The attention to the faces of the flowers, the angles of trajectory and the gentle bending of stalks is as restful as meditation and doesn't take nearly as long to achieve. Here's a sample of my latest work:

Poppies and Brush Roses, January 2011

I'll try and keep this up to date with a little Sunday flower treat. It's nice to go and tread gently with the transience of cut flowers without having to drag Heidegger back out into the light. Well, at least, not until Monday morning.

Same Old Me: Well, that about sums it up, doesn't it? I'm still living in essential intellectual quarantine until I self-actualise into a Doctor of Philosophy. I'm still drinking too many cups of not-quite-hot-enough tea. I'm still a little lonely in the evenings as I wash up my single plate, fork and knife. I'm still falling asleep to the dulcent tones of David Attenborough as he narrates the natural world for me via BBC iPlayer, and I'm still occasionally lucky enough to have him provide the voiceover for my dreams. Long may it remain so.

While You Were Out...

Big changes upon which I will expound in due time (read: not now). Best to bust out the bullet points for this one, methinks!

• Got a new job on campus, that basically means I'm on campus every day, breathing the academic atmosphere and shifting my focus back away from shift work to intellectual work, despite the fact that I basically do office work. Regardless, it pays and it's fewer and better timed hours. Baby gets her evenings back! *woot woot*
• Quit the wine shop, which was good fun and good viniculture education, but not so related to my life as I want to be living it post-phd. That, and the basement where all the wine is stored had a ceiling so low that even I couldn't stand up straight. This is shocking if you know how tall I actually am in flat shoes. That, and hauling the cases of wine about was doing my back in on a repetitive basis.
• Came to the sad realization that I have an abusive landlord. This requires a whole backstory that I really don't have time to write at the moment, so I'll just leave it at this.
• Found a new flat! I'll be letting it from the parents of a friend, and it's b-e-a-utiful! The rent is a £100 more than I'm paying now per bedroom, and it's just a two bedroom place. This is a good thing because...
• A very dear friend of mine, let's call her Jen, is moving here from the US! YAY! She's basically fleeing the country, for many reasons I'm sure. But I've just secured a two bedroom apartment for us, and she arrives towards the end of October! And since it'll just be the two of us, no more sharing a bathroom among six people!! Exclaimation points for everyone!
• On the short list for providing a new home for a lovely pup-- Bonnie. She's a bonnie wee lass, an older Scottish Terrier who really needs a new family to love and adore her, but I need to double-check that the new landlords would be cool with having a fully-trained smallish dog in their flat. I really, really, really hope they are, as I've been wanting a dog for a while now.
• Booked my train tickets down to Bristol for this woman's wedding. I've not been that far south on this lovely island yet, so seeing the countryside from the train should be nice. However, it's going to take ELEVEN HOURS to get there. No joke. Even for me, that's a lot of countryside. Here's to hoping the train has wireless-- some of them do, so stop laughing.
• On the way back from the aforementioned wedding, I'm stopping in London. There are some bride's maids committments that I've got to fulfill on Saturday morning, and that means that I can't leave Bristol early enough to get back to the 'Deen the same day. So, it'll be Miss Melville in London: One Night Only! I'll be spending Saturday night in the fully capable care of Aplha, who's living down there nowadays, and crashing on her floor if there's any crashing to be had. I have a sneeking suspicion that we'll just stay out until she pours me back onto the train at Kings Cross and then I'll have 8 hours to sober up before changing in the Burgh of Edin. I'm anticipating carnage and shinanigans.
• My welcome and orientation meeting the the Ph.D. of DOOM is slated for the 25th. Holy shit.
• I get my own office. Or, at least a desk in a cupboard somewhere. They were a little hazy with the details. Regardless, I'm putting my name on the door, even if I have to whittle it there myself, Old Red-style.

I think that's about all for now. Needs must run to the mobile store to try to get someone explain to me why the new phone I bought is doing a fantastic impression of a rock.

New Year, New Apartment, Same Old Existential Quagmire

I've finally done it-- I have a private apartment with hardwood floors and my rent is paid. This may not be a milestone for other folk; others look at buying their first house or getting married as a momentous occasion. Considering that I plan on staying firmly enfolded in the abusive arms of academia for the rest of my natural life, this is very likely the best I will ever do. My cable magically works without a box and I'm not paying for it, the telephone has a dial-tone, and there are french doors between the living room and the dining room come library which are only missing two panes of glass.

Moving was a hurculean effort which I have no desire to revisit-- let us merely say that I have a few wonderful friends. On the topic of friends, let's provide some pen names for them. Firstly, my best friend, Hello Baby. This is also the main lyric of her internationally-recognized theme song by Ursula 1000. Some have speculated that Hello Baby is part Veela, and that is what has men falling lapping tongue over tea kettle to open doors for her. Regardless of her physical charms, she is a charming, intelligent, wonderful friend. Secondly, our mutual friend, Raw/Regal, a prominent figure both on campus and at the bar. Raw/Regal and I have a somewhat contentious history, but have of late (barring the intereference of individuals not yet mentioned and recently graduated) come to a close understanding. She is also playing host to a crew of pirates, two of them principally-- Flaxen-Hair and Jolly Roger. These two gentlemen of fortune are a basically inseperable pair, mostly traveling with their canine, Gator. Lastly (for the time being) we have Snow White, my dearly devoted friend who, when you really need her, when you're to the wall and you've got to move 12 milk crates of books to your second-floor apartment, she's there and plans to stay until not only the books are up, but the clothes and dishes as well. She's also the most loyal girl I've ever met.

That said, Snow White helped with the move every step of the way. My landlord, a biology professor on campus, is notoriously hard to reach, and I finally tracked her down the morning of the great move, nabbing the new keys at around 11 am. Snow White met me with a crock pot in which to make chili (did I mention she is a newly-minted militant vegetarian?) and her tool box, should we need it. Despite their honest intentions, Hello Baby and Raw/Regal did not arrive on the scene until almost 2 pm. We'd all gone to the hockey game the night before, but while I had returned to my former habitation to pack up my material possessions, they dicided that a fifth of vodka each sounded like a good idea. Now, we're all seasoned drinkers up here in the frozen north, but still... When they finally did appear, there was no doubt that they were still drink. Giggly-drunk. Ridiculously drunk, actually, and I really should have just sent them home, but my back was already beginning to ache as a result of the aforementioned book-filled milk crates. The two of them managed to move most everything else that I own to the new place, and several things that I didn't own, like frozen brownies, towels, laundry detergent, magnets, coupons, and an onion. Thank you, Ladies. They also violated the fourth ammendment by opening some other people's mail, but let's just forget about that.

I spent the first night in my new place on Saturday night. I would like to be able to say that I'm a real adult and am comfortable being alone, but it's not true. No, I'm a big chicken. I made Hello Baby stay the night with me. It's an old house, very creaky, and the wind was blowing. All of my powers of rationalization were not enough to keep me from yelping every time one of the pipes popped or the floor squeaked. I had confined myself mainly to the bedroom and continued unpacking until a bag tipped over in one of the front rooms. I honestly screamed and dove under my covers, which is where I stayed-- shivering all the while-- until Hello Baby rescued me from myself. She's pretty great like that.

Since then, I've been fine. Unpacking is a gradual process, but it's moving along. I discovered that I have cable which I'm not paying for, and this is indeed a blessing. 90 channels of indulgence? Yes please. It's a fine distraction. I still need to figure out how to acquire the internet in the apartment, but I'm planning on making brownies later and trotting them down to the two boys who live in the downstairs apartment. They're both Fisheries and Wildlife Science majors, and I'm wondering if they'd be willing to run a line up to my place if I chipped in $10 a month? We'll see.

I've come to the conclusion, after laying on my couch and listening to no fewer than three faucets drip in almost-unison, that I miss living with someone. Almost anyone, really. I don't particularly need a boyfriend at this stage of the game, but having someone around to fix things like the faucets or find the replacement lightbulb or eat the rest of the gulosh I made today would be nice. Just someone else, someone's thoughts other than my own. A good guy to share a roof with-- wouldn't that be nice? I'd split the grocery bill and he'd hand me my water glass when I'm all cozied in to my chair and I've left it on the coffee table.

I need another beating heart in my abode.