Sun umbrellas, Diet Coke with fiber, & 15 hour days. Also: What did I just eat?

So busy I can’t remember the day I last made an entry.  Keeping up with a daily log has been impossible.

On teaching days (MW&F), I arrive in the classroom between 7:15 and 7:45 for 8 am class.  Class 1 goes from 8 to 11:30.  Break for lunch until 1pm.  Class 2 goes 1-4:30 pm, but it’s identical in content to the first class, so it’s not TOO bad, all things considered.  By the time it’s done, though, I’m pretty spent.

The first day… did I give a review of the first day?  I think I did.  Day 2–oh yes, my last entry was before the orientation.  Well, it took us a while to get down to the second campus, which is actually about an hour’s drive away, and we used campus transportation to get down there en masse, a group of the foreign profs.  The rest of them had extra paperwork to complete for their living arrangements, among other things; although we’re here on the same assignments, and guests of the same international program, and living in the same building, some of us have different visas.  I didn’t have to complete any additional paperwork or applications; my visa, classified as “F”, is good for multiple entries into the country as a guest lecturer, which left me free to open a bank account at The Bank of Beijing and see a little of the campus with my Student Assistant.

There was a meeting with the Associate Dean, a very lovely woman who is also an English professor, which included a brief orientation, which included some information on conscriptions.  As we were completing her presentation on the university and some relevant social and cultural aspects, we were joined by the rest of the visiting faculty.  Introductions were made, there was a little chit-chat, and then we were invited to be the Associate Dean’s guest for dinner, which surprised and alarmed me not a little bit, let me tell you.  I wasn’t prepared to have a formal differ in professional company and didn’t feel at all capable of not insulting everyone with my American ignorance, but it actually turned out very well.  There were 8 of us:  5 professors, including myself, the Dean and her assistant, and my student assistant.  I was the only new professor.  Everyone was very down-to-earth and the food was magnificent.  It went pretty late though, and it was almost 9 pm by the time we headed back to campus, with still an hour to drive.  I had class at 8 am the next day.  I was in bed by 10:30 or so, but up at 4 to make sure I had time to prepare.  It’s become my routine to rise at 3 or 4, work until 6, shower and get ready for class, leave by 7 or so, and get back to my rooms at about 5:30.  I crash before 8 pm.

So today’s my first day off since I got over the jet lag.  I slept in, then spent all morning working.  Had lunch at the “canteen” about an hour ago — pointing at whatever looked good (not always a successful enterprise… thought I was getting a steamed bun with something inside it today but ended up with what was basically a plain gigantic roll instead) and apologizing for not understanding anything; I hate doing it but it’s that or starve and for the most part people are tolerant — then ventured down to one of the dormitory convenience stores where I scored what I think might be a couple of versions of Gatorade (can’t tell because the labels are in Mandarin), which I have been desperate to find (more on that soon)and a sun umbrella, which absolutely everyone on this campus seems to carry, even guys, and for which there is a real need because the Beijing sun absolutely fries you (I’ve been burned in less than 15 minutes more than once.  I’m getting better about remembering sunscreen.)  The umbrella was a find; walking in that sun is punishing hell and none of the public buildings is air conditioned.  When I get done in the afternoon, the day’s temperature is invariably at its hottest and I feel like keeling over during that ultraviolet assault for an uphill mile.

Other solitary excursions into campus marketplaces resulted in purchases of some kind of individually packaged picked eggs, a couple of rolls of  toilet paper (not provided anywhere; one carries one’s own), orange juice, a can of diet coke (“Coke Light”– which is not, in fact, Diet Coke at all), and another bottle with the same design as the Coke Light that looks like Diet Coke and tastes like Diet Coke, and professes to have 30% fiber in it.  Don’t ask me.  I saw the fiber part after I got it back to the apartment.  I have not opened it yet.

The rest of the day will be spent doing class prep and staying off my feet.  Standing in front of a class for 7.5 hours is not easy.  Between that and the punishing melanoma slog, I have blisters and sore feet.

Upcoming posts will cover Beijing heatstroke, my personal  water filtration system, and urban famine.



Not-sleeping Sickness

… kept me from an entry yesterday, or I’d have done one after classes. Instead my day went like this: woke for the day at 11 pm.  Worked on last-minute course prep for 6 hours.  Met my student assistant at 7 AM to have breakfast in the “canteen”, as they call it, then get a tour of the lecture hall and facilities where my classes would be held.  Lecture TWO 3.5 hour classes (with an hour and a half for lunch in between).  Make my first solo venture into the grocery store in the basement of the lecture hall where I teach to grab some crap so I don’t starve in my room; in the store I am faced with The Language Barrier, an intimidating obstacle I will forever have much greater sympathy for from now on; luckily they figured out that I was an illiterate monkey and helped me make my purchases without incident.  It helps that my Faculty ID has a bank balance on it like most student cards in the US do now, so all I had to do was scan it.  Slammed a tiny Chinese Diet Coke (standard can size is about the dimensions of a can of Red Bull) and hauled my dripping carcass uphill through Monday’s 93F smog-infused humidity to the Faculty Residence, took a cold shower, and dropped dead into my bed by 6 PM.  I woke briefly for less than an hour at around midnight, but went back sleep and didn’t get up again until 4:30 AM, feeling like a champ.

This schedule, Lord have mercy.  That was just the first day.  7 hours of practically back-to-back teaching is insane.  First class was excellent, though, great group of  kids.  They applauded at the end of class, surprising but very nice, but I should have paced myself better; I was jacked-up so I was pretty high-energy and by afternoon I was feeling spent, with far less energy in the first half of the 2nd class.  It moved more slowly and lacked the dynamism of the morning class for a bit, but by the time it was about half over I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, I was able to pick it up a bit.  Engagement and interest improved dramatically.

Now I know better than to try to lecture for 3 hours twice in a row; bad idea.  We managed to save it and had an excellent second half, with the kids enjoying themselves doing silly group presentations.  My voice was suffering by the end, I was feeling the jet lag, and the adrenaline of Day 1 of my teaching assignment in a foreign communist country had dissipated.

Today *was* supposed to be my day off but I’ve been told that I have to attend some kind of orientation with the Dean and the department hosting me; my Student Assistant says to expect it to take all afternoon.  Great.  Oh well.  It’s at the other campus location, and I am looking forward to seeing more of Beijing; I’ve been here almost 4 days and between jet lag and work have seen a little, but not a whole lot yet.  The campus is gorgeous; everything on this site is brand new, including the lecture halls and the residence I’m staying in, and the place smacks of cash.   It’s been no great hardship to be largely tied to things on the campus, finding my way around, and there have been a few excursions into the city — one the first day to a mall for dinner at a restaurant my SA recommended, a place called Green Tea, where the food was very good and we ate some kind of pork thing, some kind of peanut-sauce drizzled lettuce, candied steamed lotus flower, and some kind of green tea discs that were fried and rimmed with sesame seeds that were absolutely wonderful.

At least my sleep situation has improved.  I still want to take some time to do prep for the classes before this orientation thing, so I better get going.

Day 2: I saw a pack of wild dogs and my grapes have seeds

Five dogs of various breeds, the smallest the size of a chihuahua, came from the direction of the mountains and wandered into a construction site beneath my windows. Now, that was a first for me, though I understand packs of wild dogs aren’t uncommon in this region and surrounding environs.  They didn’t seem aggressive or anything.  Just looked like a bunch of house dogs.

I’ve bought a few types of fruit just to have in my quarters, though most of my meals will be at the cafeteria, like the students.  I have a dragon fruit, which I’m really looking forward to, and something that looks like little sea anemones, which I suspect may be durian.  Will have to report back on them, as I currently have no knife to get past the rinds, an unforeseen obstacle.

The dining halls are impressive here.  I have a Student Assistant whose job it is to help me with teaching & to get acclimated to things; he took me around the campus yesterday and we ate lunch at a 4-story cafeteria (think of a sort of mini-mall consisting exclusively of 4 levels of food courts, with seating for at least 500 on each floor).  The food was pretty good.  I don’t recognize most of what I’ve been eating, but everything has been good so far.  At some point I will try to upload some pictures.  I’m still adjusting to a daylight consciousness schedule, so technical manipulations require a level of sophistication that’s still beyond me.  I just chew the seeds in the grapes when I get to them, and that gives you a pretty accurate sense of my level of competence right now.  I’m sleeping sporadically, a couple hours at a stretch at various intervals–most recently from 2:30 to 4:30 am.  It is currently 6:59 am.  My first class begins tomorrow at 8 am.

Until I’m on a more sane schedule, entries will probably be short.

I’m in CHINA

Beijing, the Capital City. Wow.  It is mind-blowing already and I’ve barely been here 36 hours.  EVERYTHING is different, and yet, in a lot of ways, things are the same as they are everywhere.  It’s a strange feeling.

A lot has happened so far, and there’s a lot I still need to do in the next day, most of it work-related, so this initial entry will be short.  But I want to keep a journal in real time while I’m here, which will be for approximately the next month, so I thought I should get the first real entry down at the end of my first full day.  Although time is a fluid notion, here; it was the next day when I arrived, since there’s a 12-hour time difference and China is ahead of EST those 12 hours, which places them across the international date line, so it is actually after midnight the 9th of June here… while it is still noon the 8th at home. Jet lag is a very real thing; I keep needing to sleep every 6 hours or so.

I’m here as part of my university’s partnership with Beijing University of Chemical Technology.  I’m teaching 2 classes, a total of 6 credit hours, for their summer term.  I hope I can get onto the schedule here before  my classes begin at 8 am Monday.

China is incredible so far.  Watch This Space.

I have this idea.

You know, I kind of had this idea before, long ago, but inadvertently… and inadvertently, I did what I’m about to propose that I do again now on purpose: keep multiple journals/blogs, separated by objective.  Specifically, at least two; this one and a rant basket/”Extranea” one.

Because time and again, I find myself making notes for entries and false starts; things I really feel like writing about but for one reason or another shy away from putting up.  It’s likely wise–this blog was always meant to be an intentionally professional project, and I don’t want to mire it in unseemly tantrums.  I’ve seen writers I respected ruin their blogs — and in at least two cases, their readerships — by doing exactly that, particularly with political crap.

I’m not getting into it online with random screennames, so politics will very likely never happen here… or anywhere else online for me, but there’s still plenty of vociferation to be dispensed on other fronts.  So there are a couple reasons for multiple journals:  number one — maybe most importantly — it would let me vent and get this stuff off my chest.  It needs to get gone; all my life I’ve kept journals, and writing is my number one way of processing things, so the effort would be therapeutic and personal, a personal indulgence.  Number two, it could be entertaining.  Certainly it would result in more posts.

I don’t necessarily want to create a dumpsite for random displeasure and disapproval, but maybe I need one. At least it would keep me from polluting the main blog with petty fusses and displays of temper; responsible adults with an interest in avoiding drama and personality disorders could easy skate right past the mess.

Anyway it’s under consideration.  We’ll see.


Days I can’t even read

Judas Priest, there just aren’t enough hours in a day.   I’m ready to check into the laughing academy.  When there’s so much going on, I just want to curl up in ball and shut down. Ah, well.  One thing at a time, right?

One thing at a time.

It’s a beautiful day.  Important things are getting done.  We had another successful rescue/recovery this weekend, and a kitten was brought safely back into the fold.  This of itself is cause to celebrate, even though it would have been better not to have to deal with it in the first place.

I love my job, I get to write and read and save cats and all this, so even my bad days, lately, are pretty good… I just wish I had a functional brain.  I do not.


The road to hell, she is paved with good intentions

And July ends.  JULY. How is this even possible?

It’s been an eventful summer, though I’ve not even managed to leave town; I’d hoped to visit family in other parts of the state but haven’t been able to make it happen yet, and no updates since March either, despite all that going-on about resuming updates and establishing a presence and so on.

Well.  Baby steps, maybe. There’s all kinds of other stuff happening–I’m back in the classroom; had a short class in the early summer and am gearing up now for the fall, which is going to be a handful with full-time classwork and all that entails.  Work at the rescue is always demanding, getting more complicated the more hats I wear there.

Button and Bug are thriving; integration with everyone else in the household is well underway.  There’s some resistance among the natives, as might well be expected, but so far we’re successful.

Publication progress has stalled in the summer months; it’s the dry season for agencies.  I’m grateful for the respite, anyway, what with everything else that’s been going on. And always, in the back of my mind, while my attention is aimed in other directions, I’m turning over the plot of book 2.

I do have its basic framework in mind.  It’s set in the same world as the first novel, THE BIBLE OF HELL*; but where the theme of BoH was words and genes (with underpinnings of language principles)–the theme of the second novel, BROKEN BOLERO, is music (patterns and math, an extension of the language systems concept).

And while I’m writing this, with both stories in mind, it seems like a synopsis of each plot is probably in order here but I have a few things to do before I make my first rescue run of the day and I’d like to make it a quality effort, so it should wait it least a few hours, and maybe a day or two, for its proper execution. Watch this space.






* a few early queries saw the title changed in an experimental faux pas to PHANTASMOSPHERE, which is utterly not the book I have written.  I worried that THE BIBLE OF HELL would be too big and bad and scary, putting off the more sensitivie sensibilities out there, so I changed it.  While that’s actually likely the case, it’s just going to have to alienate whomever it alienates, but PHANTASMOSPHERE never felt right.






Some days all I manage is one thing.  Ever have that?  Power enough only for the main thing, & not a micron more?  This happens to me more and more lately.  It’s particularly irritating during training, when the weekend long run’s mileage is increasing, because on long run days I know I’m going to accomplish nothing else, and I do mean nothing.  When I’m a rollicking success, I achieve a shower after.

Such inefficiency.  Is this what middle age does to you? Nutrition seems an effective answer to it; I’ve been back on the smoothie kick, trying to include chia, kale or spinach, beets, raw honey, and berries in every one I make, and usually one other fruit and/or one other vegetable.  It’s like magic; I can’t overstate the restorative effects.  One or two of these a day (12-24 oz.) makes everything better:  I sleep better.  Workouts hurt less.  Training endurance improves.  Mood improves.  Mental focus improves.  I really shouldn’t miss a day, but it’s kind of a hassle, cleaning and prepping six kinds of vegetables and fruit all the time, never mind shopping two or three times a week for fresh produce.  My first personal trainer used to do these smoothies every single day; she recommended cleaning a few days’ fruit and veggies beforehand and keeping them refrigerated for easy access, so throwing them together every day was mostly effortless.  I need too do this.  Seriously, it’s worth it.  The payoff is everywhere.

Anyway.  Maybe it’ll be easier when the weather warms up… I tend to do more miles outside then, and outside miles go by more easily with the smoothie thing going on.  This week is supposed to reach the high 50s.  Can’t wait.  I’m done with winter.



Classical music, messes & pawprints

I have got to get this book room cleaned up.  Right now it’s occupied by two resident fosters, whose presence at this address I intend to make permanent, though the Mr. doesn’t know it yet:IMG_20180325_1049186.jpg

That’s Kurt (nickname “Bug”) and his sister Kelsey (“Button”); Kurt’s the one looking at the camera.  They’re fun and trouble and doing just fine in my office; I just have a pile of paperwork that needs going through.  I’ve been ignoring it for months.  These are both litter mates of Tug, the newborn kitten whose life ended so early & suddenly last June, written about right here on this very site.  He’d be their size had he survived.

Anyway, the room is a decent size and the kittens are fine on their own in here, awaiting integration into the rest of the household pride.  They’re separate right now because Kurt has seizures (he’s epileptic) and they’ve only recently arrived and we’re trying to get the seizures under control in part by minimizing his stress, which means limiting new stressors (other/new cats).  So far he’s adjusting well.  He’s on phenobarbital and potassium bromide twice a day, which is definitely helping.  He also seems to like having his sister and me in here with him–I write in here, and Kelsey just stays with him.  They’ll be ten months old at the end of this month.

I leave a classical station playing in here for them.  It suits the environment somehow.

So, modest though my readership is so far, I’m slowly gaining a few readers here and there on various social media.  This morning when I saw multiple new additions my reaction was almost gleeful, surprising even me, but in a definitely happy way.  This is good news, as it will make updates much easier to do.

Facebook, though… Facebook I’m not quite sure about yet.  I do follow some writers’ accounts which I’ve talked some about here also, and for the most part these writers seem happy to integrate their own personal profiles with their readership and post only to one account, so that their personal contacts from real life and their readers are all sort of lumped up together.  I probably don’t have to go into detail about why I hesitate to do the same.  I know it’s possible to sort of partition your Facebook friends into groups and control who sees what, so maybe that’s a possibility.  I’m still trying to overcome my aversion to Facebook as a whole.  I really don’t like it, but that’s likely another post.

In any event.  Things are rolling along.  I’ve begun the process of submitting the novel to literary agents and have begun to collect the inevitable rejections, though only one so far, but it’s a beginning.

Besides Facebook, Twitter,  and this blog, I might start an Instagram account, though I’m not at all convinced it’s necessary, but it might be fun for cat stuff.  I certainly take enough pictures.  We’ll see.

Anyway, welcome.  I’m glad to see progress, however modest, establishing these new accounts and it’s wonderful to see return readers.  I’m glad you’re here.

Monkeycat Secret Bidness

Invisible every step of the way, thanks.

Yeah, you know, so here’s the thing:  I do not like visibility.  You might have noticed it’s been a while since the last time I’ve posted;  that’s not due to a lack of interest in posting, but to an extreme aversion to posting as myself, with my bare identity hanging out in the breeze.

This journal gets a few readers whether I’m posting or not, somehow.  It’s humbling and a little alarming, because I have no idea how they’re finding me or why they come back.  From the other side of the world, even.  It’s not like there’s a whole lot here, or even out there with my name on it at this point, but I’m grateful for the visits, even if they also make me want to hide in a hole.  When I was publishing short fiction, I did pick up some readers who wrote to me and visited and hung around for a number of years, so it’s not inconceivable that some of them are still out there, finding me here.  If that’s the case, I welcome them back with open arms.  That would seriously make my day.

But I’m a hermit.  And that’s understating it.  I mean, comically understating it… as in, an obscene understatement, if one can conceive of such a thing; if there can exist such a thing, if it’s possible to profane a relatively harmless concept like hermititude.

I don’t answer the phone.  I don’t have an online presence other than what I’m now establishing for professional purposes.  I don’t socialize much.  I just want to be here, mostly, in my house, left alone to do my thing… which, ha ha, requires an audience, wtf.

My family says I’m agoraphobic, which is utterly not the case.  I have no problem going anywhere when the situation calls for it.  If I want something, I go get it.  I’m out working with the rescue four or more days a week, in the company of actual other humans, and on the weekends I work with other volunteers to host adoption events, which requires, you know, being seen, interacting with the public, and talking to people.  I’m not afraid of people.  I’m not afraid of open places or public spaces.  I just need serious motivation before I’ll subject myself to any of it.  Seeing to the well-being of strays and waifs and taking care of them and evaluating prospective pet parents — THAT I’ll do.  I want to do it.  I have no problem scooping litter boxes in one of the store habitats where we have animals, or evaluating applications, or interviewing prospective pet parents, or talking to vets or any number of other things.  This stuff is ok; I don’t have to work up to it.

But an authentic online presence?  Where people might want to actually know who I am and talk to me?

Yeah.  So maybe publishing is a bad idea, then, for me.  I mean, honestly.  Publishers rightly want you to be visible and to market your work and to provide an engaging online presence.  And really, you know, if  I can do it from behind the screen, like this, I’m ok with doing it.  I like posting.  I don’t mind taking an active part in marketing my own work, or establishing and keeping up a regular online presence.  I used to keep blogs.  I had a couple, one for years and years.  What I don’t like — and I’m aware of the disconnection and paradox here — is the idea that there’s even a smidgen of a chance that one day, eventually, someone I do not know out in the world will see me and know who I am.

Is that weird?  It’s weird, right?  It’s totally weird.  All the writers and musicians I have known want that kind of attention, can’t wait to do book signings and performances and pose for author photos and get interviewed and talk about themselves.  (Well… there is *one* exception.  But he’s as weird as I am.)

The novel has been finished for some time.  Revisions are done, editing is done, the synopsis is just about done and this week I began the process of querying agents.  And an agent is going to want the novel to sell.  Which means an editor will be required, and an editor is going to want the novel to sell, which means a readership will be required.  An online presence gives you visibility during waiting periods between books, so people don’t forget about you.  I know from my own experience with the writers I love that online accounts are the first place even *I* go to find the people I’m interested in, because their books just aren’t enough, and I love seeing them regularly.  So it has to be done, and this is not an option.  The world of publishing is a different animal altogether from the first time I was represented by an agent because of Facebook, Twitter, and so on, which didn’t exist then.  My first agent, M, has since gone on to the Rainbow Bridge in the sky where non-practicing agents go when they abandon the life and go straight.  I don’t know whatever happened to her.

I have to do what the job requires.  So, back at it.  And now that actually peddling my stuff is in progress, there’s no more putting it off.  Updates here and on Facebook and on Twitter (and, soon, Instagram) are resuming now.