Happy Halloween...
A special Halloween musical tribute.
Friday, October 16
sabbatical fantasies...
Perhaps because of the particularly stressful couple of weeks I'm having, I've spent most of my day constructing an elaborate sabbatical fantasy in which, I work at home from January until May, then run out of steam around the time the kids get out of school, then - in order to "recharge" myself - I book a week in a private cabin at some "writers retreat" in the Catskills or the Berkshires or someplace woodsy and mountainy, and write for 10 hours a day in complete silence.
It turns out that this fantasy is not terribly out of the question. Cabin-ish retreats seem to cost around $600 a week, which seems entirely reasonable, and is entirely affordable as long as I don't blow my annual research funds on electronic gadgets and doodads before then.
The problem is going to be finding one with the right balance of necessities like electricity, toilets, and perfunctory internet access... WITHOUT all the stuff I do NOT want, like communal dining, guided meditation sessions, and seminars on various forms of New-Agey woo-woo.
The alternative is to just put out a standing notice to all my internet and real life friends informing them... if you are planning any extended vacations from January to August of 2010, I will gladly house-sit for you and feed your goldfish or whatever you need done, as long as you have electricity, a toilet, and perfunctory internet access.
Perhaps because of the particularly stressful couple of weeks I'm having, I've spent most of my day constructing an elaborate sabbatical fantasy in which, I work at home from January until May, then run out of steam around the time the kids get out of school, then - in order to "recharge" myself - I book a week in a private cabin at some "writers retreat" in the Catskills or the Berkshires or someplace woodsy and mountainy, and write for 10 hours a day in complete silence.
It turns out that this fantasy is not terribly out of the question. Cabin-ish retreats seem to cost around $600 a week, which seems entirely reasonable, and is entirely affordable as long as I don't blow my annual research funds on electronic gadgets and doodads before then.
The problem is going to be finding one with the right balance of necessities like electricity, toilets, and perfunctory internet access... WITHOUT all the stuff I do NOT want, like communal dining, guided meditation sessions, and seminars on various forms of New-Agey woo-woo.
The alternative is to just put out a standing notice to all my internet and real life friends informing them... if you are planning any extended vacations from January to August of 2010, I will gladly house-sit for you and feed your goldfish or whatever you need done, as long as you have electricity, a toilet, and perfunctory internet access.
Monday, October 12
woodstock... moon landing... bar-code... dave...
As of last night, I have officially blogged the entirety of my 30s. (If sporadically, of late.) Which is just one more depressing thought to add to the whole litany of depressing thoughts that this particular milestone inspires. I can no longer pretend to be the hip, young, just out of grad school professor. I can no longer pretend that I'm an "early-career" scientist and that it is anything other than pathetic that I haven't published anything in a peer-reviewed journal since I got my PhD. I can no longer deny that the music I listened to in college is "classic rock", or that when I go to a concert by any band that ISN'T classic rock, I'm not "that old guy" who I used to make fun of when I was someone who belonged at those concerts. But mostly, I can no longer deny that, by anything but the most unrealistically optimistic actuarial fantasy, my life isn't more than halfway over.
As of last night, I have officially blogged the entirety of my 30s. (If sporadically, of late.) Which is just one more depressing thought to add to the whole litany of depressing thoughts that this particular milestone inspires. I can no longer pretend to be the hip, young, just out of grad school professor. I can no longer pretend that I'm an "early-career" scientist and that it is anything other than pathetic that I haven't published anything in a peer-reviewed journal since I got my PhD. I can no longer deny that the music I listened to in college is "classic rock", or that when I go to a concert by any band that ISN'T classic rock, I'm not "that old guy" who I used to make fun of when I was someone who belonged at those concerts. But mostly, I can no longer deny that, by anything but the most unrealistically optimistic actuarial fantasy, my life isn't more than halfway over.
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