New job search: week whatever
It isn't actually the job stuff that did me in.
Well, ok. If you're keeping score:
Applications sent out: 4
Interesting job prospects: 3 (that is, applications still pending, though only the one that looked least interesting is probable. Of course.)
What happened is that I draft-blogged up a storm during my "writing hell week," as one of my few permissible diversions, then got bored with editing it. I didn't want to create new entries, what with a perfectly good -- albeit overlong -- draft post sitting in the pipeline, and then the dates overtook us (the entry, called "Dog days," was pegged to mid-August), but I didn't want to just abandon it, and then the whole blog, stopped up like a python trying to swallow a pig, just sort of got food poisoning and keeled over.
Forward? Back? I dunno. I never know.
But I did want to go back to sharing stuff that charms, amuses, or enrages me. Like this. Which, actually, I found charming, and am puzzled by the charges of misogyny leveled against it, when I found it very nearly to the opposite. It does sometimes occur to me that my feminism is rather idiosyncratic. Mostly, I think, what got me is the writing (and, secondarily, the dead-on cultural assessment). You can tell it's British, can't you? Such attention to precise word choice; it pleases me no end.
Well, ok. If you're keeping score:
Applications sent out: 4
Interesting job prospects: 3 (that is, applications still pending, though only the one that looked least interesting is probable. Of course.)
What happened is that I draft-blogged up a storm during my "writing hell week," as one of my few permissible diversions, then got bored with editing it. I didn't want to create new entries, what with a perfectly good -- albeit overlong -- draft post sitting in the pipeline, and then the dates overtook us (the entry, called "Dog days," was pegged to mid-August), but I didn't want to just abandon it, and then the whole blog, stopped up like a python trying to swallow a pig, just sort of got food poisoning and keeled over.
Forward? Back? I dunno. I never know.
But I did want to go back to sharing stuff that charms, amuses, or enrages me. Like this. Which, actually, I found charming, and am puzzled by the charges of misogyny leveled against it, when I found it very nearly to the opposite. It does sometimes occur to me that my feminism is rather idiosyncratic. Mostly, I think, what got me is the writing (and, secondarily, the dead-on cultural assessment). You can tell it's British, can't you? Such attention to precise word choice; it pleases me no end.
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