An Ongoing, Erratic Diary - March 2001

• Thursday, March 1, 2001

It's really tempting to flood you all with pictures. I think Karen put up the best ones from the visit, but I do really like this one that she took of me. Mostly 'cause I'm very fond of that dress. I really kind of enjoy dressing in red; I wore a lot of red this weekend. But at the same time, with any kind of bright red, I feel like The Scarlet Woman -- like everyone's looking at me, but not in a good way. I had a red silk shirt and a red silk dress that both had that effect, and I got so self-conscious about them that I eventually just gave them away, because they looked so forlorn hanging unworn in my closet. So now I wear lots of wine, and when I find dark reds, especially reds mixed with blacks, like in this dress (and in my Catholic schoolgirl plaid skirt), I get really excited. :-)

I'm also fond of this one, which I took when I first arrived at her place. The door was open, so I came quietly in, so as not to wake the baby, and found both of them fast asleep on the couch. Being an evil person, I of course decided to disturb them by taking pictures. I think what I like best about it is how protective Karen looks, curled around Jeremiah.

She's going to be (already is) a great mommy. :-)

I'm going to go make tea and figure out what to teach the munchkins today. If I have time, I'll check back in later.

• Friday, March 2, 2001

Okay -- stop by Cucina, buy some bread, come back, have some breakfast, pack a lunch, write review, head out. At 1:00 I'm on a panel on editing; I should be there on time, barring accidents. Not sure how long I'll stay; I thought about staying overnight, but I think I'd rather come back and go in again tomorrow, even though that does sound a little silly. It's nice to be home, though. Tomorrow's a panel at 3:00 on web publishing.

I've been having bad dreams often for weeks now. So I wake up grumpy and sad. But I really appreciate all the work I have then; I start doing it, and I start enjoying doing it, and it puts the world back into perspective again. Even this damned review helps a little. Work good.

• Saturday, March 3, 2001

It's not a work day. It snowed again last night, and yes the snow still looks quite pretty on the trees but I want it to be done done done. Fine, March came in like a lion, now I'm ready for it to go out like a lamb. Starting now. I'm feeling a bit snow-bound -- not in my house, but in this entire city...or maybe state. Utah bewilders me. There were babies (plural) in almost every single panel I went to yesterday. There were babies in every hallway of the student union building at Brigham Young. I suppose this was to be expected, but it still weirded me out. Never mind that all the mothers looked younger than my youngest sister (and undoubtedly were). I wanted to hug their tired bodies and tell them that it was okay -- they could put the babies in stasis for five years and learn how to be grown-ups for a bit first, before they had to go back to being responsible parents. (Heh. I wonder what it would do to the world if we did have cheap and easy stasis technology. Someone should write that story). I think I'm suffering culture shock.

• Sunday, March 4, 2001

Shit. My net connection suddenly got flaky. This cable modem -- I dunno. It's gorgeous when it works, but periodically it just cuts out for no good reason. I can always dial-in as a backup, but I got the cable modem so I wouldn't have to worry about dialing in.

And now it's back. Oddness.

I came back tired from the con last night, but managed to not turn on the tv. Turning on the tv really needs to not be my default action when I'm tired. I put on some CD's and made tea and started reading instead; within five minutes I was nicely settled into work mode. Loreena McKennitt's Book of Secrets now works as a pretty effective conditioned response; I've worked to it so often that my brain now tends to slide into work mode when I put it on. I think the other two CD's in there are Enya's Watermark (great sex music, btw), and The Chieftains's The Long Black Veil. Good stuff.

I caught up on my reading that I was behind on for class, and then started working on the piece I have due in narrative theory. I'm feeling some pressure to do a good job on this one, since there's no final exam in the class -- the two pieces we do are the sole criteria he has for evaluating us. Not that it's a very grade-focused class in any case, but still. You want to impress the teacher, after all. Heh. I might talk about it more, but since Francois may well be reading this journal occasionally now, I'd best not. (At some point, I wonder if I'll have to stop this journal, just because it's gotten so bland and workaday. I am very aware that the world is (potentially) watching. It changes so many things, when you have to assume that everyone you know or may know in the future will read this. Ah well -- hopefully, you're still interested. I haven't heard from any of you in a while, actually, now that I think about it. Anyone still reading?) We're reading Barthes's Camera Lucida right now, which I just love. It's a beautiful book, and one that I think you can enjoy even if you haven't read any semiotic or narrative theory. He takes exactly as much space as he needs to say what he needs to say, and not one word more -- I admire that. At the same time, he's elegant, lyrical, and often funny. Good book.

What I'm working on is a collage piece. Photos of Karina, fragments of poems, entire poems, and some sort of narrative. I laid out the photos and poetry in Quark last night (was going to do it in PageMaker, but couldn't remember how to import pictures there; when I tried to use the Place command for that, it froze the computer), printed out the five sheets, and made notes for the narrative sections. I'll try to write those at some point today. I'd like to get feedback from the readers' list, but I'm not sure how -- I could just send the Quark files, but I don't think most of them will be able to read them. Hmmm...

Really not feeling so good. I think I'm going to curl up with Barthes for a bit, then revise that review for Chris. (And once I finish this one, I'm not going to promise another review to SH for months, months I tell you!) The other tasks for today are pretty mellow -- hmm...surely I must have more to do? Aren't I supposed to be in a panicked frenzy? Something's wrong...

11:30. Finished the revision of the review (now to see if the reviews department thinks it's finished :-). Cleaned up my laundry closet (which included hanging a mirror on the wall, draping it with jewelry, and taking a huge blue scarf and draping it over the slanted ceiling of the closet, so that it looks like a sail. I'm feeling intense urges to make pretty things these days; no clue why. Hopefully, this too shall pass). Read some more Gloss. Putzed around doing random bits and bobs for SH. Read a really clear explanation of artists and micropayments, in comic form. :-) Planning on doing some dishes now, and then making a nice big pot of chicken and potato curry. I like Sundays.

Image Notebook

• Monday, March 5, 2001

It's been an exciting day. Last night I finished the Karina collage piece for workshop, and I'm tentatively happy with it. I woke up at 5:30 this morning and remembered why I like getting up that early -- the utter stillness and blackness of the night makes me want to write. I had forgotten; since I don't teach until 10:45 this semester, I'd been getting up around 7:30 and feeling like I had plenty of time to get things done before class. And it's true that I did, but having it be light outside somehow always made me feel like doing business-type stuff, rather than writing. I *can* write during the day, but it's easier if I start while it's still dark. I shouldn't forget these things. So I wrote a short story, about 3000 words, this morning -- "And Baby Makes Four" -- and sent it out to the readers' list and the EROS workshop. It's the first pure erotica I've written in a while; I wrote it specifically to submit to Best Bi Erotica II. Although calling it pure erotica is perhaps misleading, since there's perhaps two paragraphs of erotica amid many paragraphs of angst. :-) I suppose that's relatively typical of my stories, though.

Anyway, so that was very satisfying. I read a little Dorothy Sayers and then fell asleep on the couch around 8 a.m. Roshani called around 10 and woke me up; we talked for about an hour and a half, with me doing random household chores for most of it. (I've finally taken out the trash. Well, it's sitting at the top of the stairs, waiting to be taken down. But trust me, that's a vast improvement over spilling out of the trash cans and piling up on the kitchen counter.) Then I came back to my computer and puttered with various and sundry things, until just now, when I got the call from Sara telling me that contract negotiations are settled. I get a reasonable amount of money for _Bodies of Water_, I get some miniscule royalties this time (after we sell lots of copies), and my liability is a bit more protected than it used to be. Huzzah! I should be signing the contract within a week, sending it back to them, getting a check (which means I can actually pay my taxes, which is good, because it's hard to do all the things I do while hiding from the government), and putting out a call for submissions next week. (Technically, next week is Spring Break. In actual fact, next week is work-like-crazy-week, since I also need to make a whole bunch of phone calls for BW (the new acronym :-) *and* write a paper for Kathryn, which I'm dreading a bit.) Anyway, I need to get back to work, but I wanted to tell y'all the good news. I feel rather disconcerted today, what with the odd sleep schedule and still being a bit sick, but also very happy.

• Tuesday, March 6, 2001

I haven't gotten back any useful critique yet on "And Baby Makes Four", so I can't spend this time revising it. I'd sort of like to -- it feels moderately close to done, so I'd like to finish it off and send it out (although I've lost the submission address for Best Bi Erotica, so unless someone kindly sends it to me, I'll have to pester Cecilia for it again). Based on the first book, I'm pretty sure it's the kind of story they're looking for. Which is, of course, no guarantee that they'll buy it, but does mean that they're not going to reject it just 'cause it's not at all what they had in mind. Probably. I have no such assurance about most pieces I send to the lit magazines ("A Gentle Man" has been rejected from about four of them at this point -- I still have hopes for it at _Glimmer Train_), which makes me lazier about sending pieces to them.

I should probably do something relatively mindless, like paying bills, or sending out contracts/checks for SH. Make my authors happy. Oh, hey -- there's a new issue up. Very cool story by Shikhar Dixit, who I think may be of South Asian background (a bit hard to tell, based solely on a name and the childhood photo on his web page), about college, and love, and art. Moderately hard-core science article by Cat Faber (whom I've mentioned here before, but in a totally different context, since she's a filk musician and friend of Jed's) on plastics and regeneration of body parts and stuff. I must admit to not quite have enough of my brain turned on to follow it (and the molecular formulas scared me away), but the feedback indicates that other people like it a lot. :-) And there's a poem by Tim Pratt, the journaller! I like it! And there's an editorial on sports in sf/f, which actually interested me even though I don't much like sports, by Mithran Somasundrum (he's our Sri Lankan copy editor who lives in a small town in Japan -- odd, no?). And, oh yes, there's finally that review by me. It actually turned out okay, which is mostly Chris's doing. I gave him a very skimpy review, and he shot it back to me with a whole bunch of questions for further thought (very professor-like :-). I managed to answer enough of them to make a semi-coherent review in the end, though it did involve spilling a few more minor spoilers than I would have liked. I just couldn't figure out a way around that. Anyway, very solid issue -- enjoy!

I'm really pleased with the way the magazine is going overall, actually. This issue marks our six-month anniversary -- hooray! Fiction is still going strong -- in my humble opinion, publishing stories as good as what you'll find in any other sf/f magazine -- and the other departments are pretty much up to speed now too. Solid stuff, week after week. On time, every week. This is what a good magazine should be. I'm happy. I love my staff. And the readership is slowly climbing higher and higher. :-)

Aw, talking to you has made me feel better. I couldn't maintain that crabby mood. I did know there were more than six of you, btw -- but thanks to all of you who wrote in yesterday, claiming to be the seventh reader. You can't all be, but I love you anyway, so there. :-)

Okay -- tea. Work. Have a good Tuesday, everyone.

7:00. Hmm... Hmm... I'm not quite sure what to say here. I just read some entries by Marissa Lingen, sf/f writer. One of them was a rant directed against a rant by Harlan Ellison that appeared recently in Speculations. I had somehow missed the original, so I'm glad M'ris pointed to it. What has me so disconcerted by this is that I'm pretty sure that the DMCA (Digital Millenium Copyright Act), passed in 1998, the one that has Harlan so pissed off...is actually one that Kev's father passed. (Umm...well, more that he ruled on the relevant case. But anyway.)

I feel a little odd writing about this; I'm not quite sure it's appropriate to make it clear who Kevin's family is in this journal -- it doesn't seem quite fair to them, since they don't read it and probably don't know it exists. But I'm not sure how to talk about this without mentioning that this judge, a federal judge in California, is also Kev's dad. We had a lot of questions when this case came up (it was the big Scientology one; you may remember? Some guy posted their private religious documents on the net, and the Scientologists tried to sue his ISP). Kevin's dad ruled against the Scientologists, making approximately the same argument M'ris does -- that it's unfeasible and rather ridiculous to expect an ISP to monitor the content posted by its users and check for copyright infringement. I remember talking to Kevin's mom after the decision and trying to explain to her (a very bright lady, but not too net-savvy at that point) *why* it would basically bring the net to a screeching halt if ISP's had to try to enforce copyright. Can you imagine the man-hours that would require? And as far as I could follow Harlan's rather incoherent screed, that's what he's asking for. I'm not quite ready to say for certain yet, but I'm pretty sure that what's he's saying is just nonsense. And I think Harlan's fiction is quite brilliant, so it upsets me a little to see him being so dense here. Yes, the man is known for his emotionality and temper, but in asking sf/f readers for money (and incidentally asking them to boycott internet magazines, I think), he's gone beyond a simple emotional rant.

Anyway. I'm not positive of my facts on any of the above -- my memory is a bit fuzzy. I've shot off a query to Kevin on whether this is connected to his dad, and that should help me figure out whether I do follow what's going on. If I'm right, I suspect I'm going to feel some obligation to write something up and post it at least to Speculations (and possibly elsewhere, depending on how widely this thing of Harlan's has been distributed). Which makes me feel a bit queasy; it's not the kind of controversial thing that a new magazine editor wants to be taking on, going up against Harlan Ellison. But I can't exactly just let it slide by either, can I?

• Wednesday, March 7, 2001

My list for today is exceedingly short. I managed to send out this month's batch of SH checks and contracts last night, which was one of the big items on the list. Some random this and that, rereading the Busmiller book on Indian women (fairly light reading), and...um...that's it? I may actually get to work ahead a little, on one of things I have slated for Spring Break. Or maybe I'll just take the afternoon off. Umm...I'm not sure I still know what to do with an afternoon off. Though the weather's gorgeous out (it was light sweater weather yesterday), so just going for a long walk might be an idea.

Or, of course, I could try writing a novel. That appears to be Tim Pratt's response to having too much time on his hands. I find the man a bit bewildering, to be honest. He recently figured out that one of his stories would be happier as a novel, and he's delighted. Practically bouncing up and down with glee. Whereas I just realized that "Challah" probably needs to be a novel, and I'm terrified, which I assure you is the correct and rational response. Some people are just weird.

Image Notebook

I spent that Christmas with your family,
estranged from mine; she gave me a copy kindly,
framed in black, formal. I kept it in my desk,
not sure if you would want it out where anyone
might see it. I forgot it for a while. I moved
away, then moved again to join you, years later.
The photo moved with me, from desk to closet.

And then you went away, to work, and I stayed,
for school. I took the photo out of the closet,
dusted it, placed it on a table. It has sat there
since last September, full of stiff formality,
your almost-smile, our bodies facing forward,
clearly posed. Only yesterday I noticed, down
in the left-hand corner, almost lost against
the frame, your hand on my hip, pale against
the autumn dress. My arm stretches down,
and one finger curves up to embrace one of yours.

I had not noticed this before.

• Saturday, March 10, 2001

Here's the first one I tried:

It doesn't feel finished yet -- I want to keep it fairly simple, but there's still this big open space in the middle of it that I think needs something -- but I don't know what. I guess I'll just keep pondering until I figure it out.

I'm happier with the second one. It's layered on two sheets of glass, and I'm doing different things with the sheets. The first thing I did was choose the poetry, and then layer that with torn paper on the top sheet.

Then I took the bottom sheet, and etched waves on it -- I wanted to give a feeling of movement to the piece.

Then I added some dried thyme to that layer, and slid it back under the top sheet, so the fragile thyme would be protected (though I wouldn't recommend heavy jostling still).

I'm reasonably happy with how it looks so far, but it's not done yet. I'm pressing some white rose petals, and some rosemary, and some sage. They all feel appropriate (along with the thyme) for the themes in this poem. It'll be a few weeks until they're ready to add, so I'll just have to be patient for now. I'm looking forward to the finished effect, though.

Yes, I have plenty of real work to do. Why do you ask? :-)

9:50 p.m. Sometimes I spend too much time in my own head.

I got up this morning, puttered about, eventually went to mall for some killer end-of-season sales (I get great pleasure out of buying a $70 sweater for $10 -- and doing it five times in a row is an actual thrill -- and being efficient enough to find the clothes, try them on, buy them and walk out again in half an hour actually gives me the shivers). Then I met Paul and Marcia and we saw Crouching Dragon, Hidden Tiger, which I loved (and I was very glad that I avoided reading all commentary on it beforehand, so that I really had no idea what to expect). I picked up some craft supplies afterwards, and then came home, around 4:30. That was when I started to get mopey.

I don't think I really realized that I was mopey. I futzed with collages for a while, I cleaned up some things and messed up others, I started reading Emshwiller's Carmen Dog -- and somewhere in there I realized that I was really sad.

I called Kevin; he wasn't home. Jed wasn't home. David wasn't home. Lisette wasn't home. Kirsten wasn't home. And the terrible thing about this kind of phone call sequence is that with each successive call, you have it made clearer and clearer to you that everyone else is having a good time, and that you're just a big goober to be sitting at home alone, with a book that's depressing you, nothing decent on tv, and absolutely no inclination to do real work.

I was just about to start playing a computer game out of sheer desperation -- I didn't actually want to play, but I know from experience that the games distract my brain enough that hours can go by without my noticing; I would have been depressed when I stopped playing again (more so, for wasting all that time), but I wouldn't have had to endure the interim hours until bedtime. Then David called me back.

We talked a little, and I moped at him, and he made vaguely sympathetic noises. And it became clear over the course of the conversation that what I really wanted was to be around people I knew well, who loved me, and whom I could cuddle with. Kevin has mathematician guests this weekend and next, so they weren't good for him (or for me, since if I went out, he'd still be busy doing math with people the whole weekend). David pointed out that if I had a car, I could get in it and start driving and be in California in 12 hours. I said that I *could* take a train. We talked about this for a while (it's Spring Break, so I don't need to be here again until the 20th), and then I climbed out of bed and checked the train schedules. Reasonable fares, but trains sold out 'til Monday. Still possible, but given the 16 hours of train travel in each direction, seemed less sensible. And then I thought, what the heck -- might as well check the plane fares. Good for a laugh, anyway.

And it turns out that Delta has decent fares. Even though it's last minute. I could leave in eight hours if I wanted to (I don't want to leave quite that soon). And so now I'm thinking about going to California tomorrow.

I might not go. I need to think about it some more, and talk to Jed (who's at a concert right now), and then I'd need to convince myself that it's not totally nuts to decide tonight to leave tomorrow. I'm not good at this sort of thing. Kevin was always very willing to pick up and fly out on a moment's notice (or more accurately, pay for me doing it, 'cause he hates the inconvenience of flying and I don't mind it nearly as much (I even enjoy it sometimes)). I'm not quite that spontaneous. I *like* planning things.

But somehow, whether I go or not, I feel a lot better than I did before David called. In part because it was good talking to a friend. In part because it was good talking to anybody, getting out of my own odd headspace. And in part because it reminded me that I wasn't really as stuck in Utah as I'd been feeling.

I don't hate Utah. But I definitely don't love it either. Not in any way, shape or form. It's good for me to remember that I don't have to stay here if I don't want to.

• Sunday, March 11, 2001

Must scramble to clean and pack, so I'm gonna run. But I took a few minutes to put up a copy of Silence and the Word, which appeared some months ago in Sex and Single Girls. It's odd that I qualify as 'single'. :-) Those of you on the readers' list saw something like thirty versions of this essay and are no doubt sick of it, but the rest of you may enjoy it.

Until later, munchkins!

• Tuesday, March 13, 2001

I still love grad school. I do. I have absolutely no complaints about my program in the slightest. Well, maybe some itty-bitty ones, but far fewer than I have ever had about any job. Teaching is terrific. Studying is terrific. Fellowship applications are even not so bad. It all feels worthwhile, which helps a lot with the heavy workload and the occasional sense of crushing inadequacy ("There's so much stuff! How will I ever learn all this stuff??"). Basically, it's all good.

Except. Except except except for being separated from everyone you love. That, I have to say, sucks rocks. Big huge honking pointy sharp rocks that some evil person is shoving down your throat, screaming "Suck 'em, you stupid shithead! Suck! Suck! Suck!" And of course you know damn well that there is no evil person, that the evil person is you, that you voluntarily signed up for this damned five year stint of having rocks shoved down your throat.

All right -- I know I sound ridiculous. But Saturday night, I was so tired of being in Utah, so damn lonely, that I was ready to break something. This type of frustration does not rise in me so often. Usually it takes my parents to make me this crazy. And this was just that there was no one I loved there; no one who loved me. The telephone was suddenly not good enough.

So I am saying this to Tim, and to anyone else contemplating being apart from the people you love for the sake of work, of a career -- think hard about it. Do not flit away without a care in your head, assuming 'oh, I'll miss her a little, but I'll be fine'. Because while you will probably survive, and while it may even be very much the right thing for you to do (for you, for her, for him, for the relationship, even) -- it is still a loss. You will be giving up something that matters, hopefully for something else that matters. The time you spend together helps build something of value (for the sake of honesty, even though it interferes with my sweeping point, I will note that sometimes time apart helps build relationships too, giving you space to grow and think and change). The time you have is tremendously precious, and you should spend it on the things you love. And even if you love your work, even if your work is the most important thing in your life (as, I suspect, it may be for me) -- other people are pretty damn important too.

I sometimes mention, with horror, the two years I spent with Kevin in Philadelphia. Horror because of the television -- because Star Trek was on at 6:00 and 10:00 and why not just sit in front of tv for the hours in between. I talk about five hours a day, twenty-five hours a week, lost to tv that I don't remember. But I do remember the way it felt to sit for hours with his arm around me, leaning against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat, listening to him laugh. There are times when I desperately miss watching tv with him. And so I work extra hard at my graduate work, because it has to give back a hell of a lot, to justify what I've given up for it.

• Wednesday, March 14, 2001

Brief update (because David's keys are a bit annoying to type with -- too hard to push down; tough on my fingers). Spent Sunday afternoon at some computer expo thing with Jed, Kam and Tamara (friends of his) -- fun geek stuff. Cool toys. Dinner at Il Fornaio with Kam, and then back to his place to work for a bit, then bed. Monday, he dropped me on University Ave. in Palo Alto and I wandered about. Wrote about a third of "Savitha" (much more fleshed-out version) at a Starbucks, then puttered up and down the street, visiting various stores, stopping at a Borders to pick up another Jonathan Carroll book, etc. Met Arthur for dinner; we went for Afghan food. I'm very fond of fessenjan, a dish of chicken cooked in pomegranate sauce, though I think this place overcooked the chicken a bit, and the rice was too dry. Good sauce, though. Back to Jed's to hang out. Tuesday, stayed at Jed's, read many issues of the comic Finder, which is great! Did some online work. No writing. :-( Did dishes, 'cause I am a good houseguest. :-) Went out with him for Ethiopian food, shiro and yebeg tibs. Mmmm... Must have more Ethiopian food. Slept like a log last night. This morning, he dropped me at Caltrain on his way to work. Took the train up. Met David in San Francisco. Stopped at grocery store; will cook tonight. And now David's reading Nalo's book ('cause she's in town doing readings), and I'm talking to you. And that's all. :-)

I'm feeling much happier. Oh -- there's a new issue of SH up. Stableford interview, desert story, Wilson review. Enjoy!

• Thursday, March 15, 2001

One of the things I like about Jed is that I really like almost all of his friends. It's yet another thing that makes me a bit mopey about leaving the Bay Area, to be honest -- that I don't get to know all his friends a lot better. They tend to be interesting, smart, funny, etc. people. They make me feel smarter when I'm around them. Ideas flutter around like hyperactive butterflies. I'm sure they're not like this all the time, but enough. And they're not afraid to be silly. I love that.

Mad scientist's dazed subject.

Giggly Jedi knights.

Jedediah, in a characteristic pose.

• Friday, March 16, 2001

The tea is Stash Exotica Assam Breakfast; I gave David some (for Christmas?) and this is the first I'm trying it. It's good; different. Not sure it's actually any better than your standard breakfast teas, but a nice change. The sunlight is coming in thorugh a window he usually leaves the shade down for, but he has graciously allowed me to tilt the shades open today. And the daffodils are from Susan, who met us yesterday for lunch at Panini (yes, I'm still addicted to their sandwiches. It's sad). Sweet Susan. Sweet sunny Susan. The daffodils are so bright and yellow that you can't help but be at least a little happier when you look at them. We chatted at Panini over lunch, then it threatened rain, so we trooped over to the Starbucks, where I worked on my story in fits and starts, in between distracting her from her history of Russian science reading. Starbucks is good because it has outlets everywhere. Starbucks is bad because they play music so loudly that it interfered with my music, even with my huge headphones that normally do just fine at blocking out the world. Starbucks is good because they have chai. Starbucks is bad....well, for all the reasons you already know that Starbucks is bad. We only went there because of the outlets. It was really nice having a chance to talk to Susan a bit more; if I still lived in the Bay Area, I would be calling her up and dragging her to things all the time. Hey, Susan -- come have dinner with us. Hey, Susan -- come to a smut reading! (She used to work at Circlet Press for Cecilia before coming to Strange Horizons). Hey, Susan -- let's go sit in the library and study! Doesn't that sound like fun? (She's a first-year grad student too; she understands...)

I find it frustrating writing this story about a thousand words at a time -- usually I write them in fell swoops. But I think it's okay; I talked it over with S., and with Karen later, and I think I'm actually figuring out more stuff as I go along, with these pauses in the story, than if I'd tried to do it all at once. So that's okay, though it does mean that I think the style shifts a fair bit from beginning to (current) end. Hopefully I'll be able to clean that up before sending it out. But before that, I need to finish the darn thing (this morning's task, with luck), and send it out to be workshopped Tuesday. It's the story of the girl who still just a fetus in the story about the woman in the car accident with her alcoholic husband ("Lakshmi's Diary"), for those who are somehow managing to follow along; she's also Chaya's sister ("Bodies in Motion"). There's not a whole lot of plot in this story -- but I think maybe that's okay. We'll see.

Around 4-ish, I headed off to Karen's, with many stops along the way. Picked up a little sushi for a snack (and for old times' sake). Eel roll and spiced tuna, mmm.... Stopped at a sari shop and got some remnants, for possible use in collages and other silly craft-y things. Stopped at a bead shop and got some jingly beads. Took photos of various flowers and such, to record for my memory. It's funny how you forget things; when I was describing a Berkeley street in a story the other day, I remembered most of the typical flowers -- but I forgot the cacti, the succulents, the palm trees. I think my brain just edited them out, 'cause they weren't brightly colored. Eventually I did make it to Karen's, where we had a lovely evening socializing. Very relaxing. I think I was pretty tired by the end of the day -- I came home, checked e-mail, talked to Jed briefly, and crashed hard.

The plan for today: work! Dinner this evening with Debbie Notkin, Nalo, et. al.

The plan for tomorrow: brunch at Heather's with SH staff and Nalo, followed by Nalo reading at Other Change, followed at some point possibly by dinner with Jed and Ellie in S.F. If I'm feeling up to it, and if there's any battery power in the camera, I might go over early and wander about a bit and take some photos of places I've hung out in S.F., just to record them. But maybe I'll leave that for another trip. I'll undoubtedly be in the Bay Area again.

• Monday, March 19, 2001

I'm still in California; I had planned to go back Sunday, but changed my ticket to Monday. Jed came up yesterday and we took Nalo to breakfast; then I went downtown to work (finished reading Lolita and came up with a thesis for my paper, but didn't write anything), see Sherman briefly, and meet with Heather to go over her Clarion application story, while Jed was at the SFY workshop. (I was tempted to go, but I had other things to do and hadn't read the stories to be critiqued anyway). He came to get me around 4:30 or so, and then we went to stop briefly at a going-away part for a friend of his. I'm not sure how, but it ended up being about 8 p.m. by the time we got back down to the South Bay (we really did spend only half an hour or so at the party, so I really don't know where the time went -- very strange). And on the drive down, as I thought about all the work I had left to do (one paper to write for class; one story to revise; one paper to write for ICFA; one history book to read by Monday!) and how little time I had left to do it, and that I had to go back to Salt Lake City...I just got more and more stressed, until I was coming pretty darn close to a panic attack.

I started making Jed sing to me about halfway down the peninsula. He has a deep bass voice, which always startles me a little, but I find it comforting. When we got back to his place, I felt paralyzed; I had so much work, and I couldn't figure out what exactly to do. And then when he said something or other sympathetic, I just started bawling.

So he sat me down on the couch, and held me, and we talked for a little bit, until I'd calmed down and he understood why I was in such a mess. It's wasn't even the amount of work, actually. I'm not sure I can pull it all apart, but I think it was the work + Utah + leaving all the lovely Bay Area people, including the ones I just met (Tim Cooper, Tim Pratt, Marissa, Mark, Daniel, etc...) + being trapped in Utah for years to come + not seeing Kevin because he's so busy + not being able to just turn off my mind and enjoy Spring Break + the pure fact of getting stressed at all.

See -- I have this goal. While I was dating Kevin at Chicago (me an undergrad, him a grad), I saw a lot of grad students go through the mill. They fell apart. They had nervous breakdowns. They dropped out of their programs. They had explosive fights with their sweeties. They had incredible crises of faith in themselves. And I just didn't want to do that. I'm 29, not 19 (mathematicians start young), and I wanted to do graduate school not just well, but with grace. Maybe it's a futile goal. Maybe I just set myself up for failure when I demand that not only should I do everything and do it well, but that I have fun and be reasonably relaxed while doing it. Maybe everybody's right when they tell me that I do too much.

But I don't want to give any of it up. I'm stubborn that way. I want to do grad school well, and Strange Horizons well, and Bodies of Water well this summer, and keep progressing on my own writing (which, thankfully, is part of grad school), and maintain my friendships, and keep answering all the e-mail I get, and somehow put enough time into both of my romantic relationships that I stay sane (because the boys manage just fine when I don't call them for a while; it's me that starts falling apart). And I think the price of doing all this well may be some periods of intense stress and falling apart. Maybe.

Jed eventually set up my computer and logged me in. He sat on the floor next to me while I dealt with some ICFA stuff that I had to handle. He made me chamomile tea. He told me I'd be fine, and that I didn't have to stay in Utah if I didn't want to. (Which was good to hear, even if I'm damn well not going to let a stupid state defeat me). He spent an hour going through online magazines for me, helping me get my notes in order for my ICFA presentation. He convinced me to reschedule the meeting with my history professor, since there was essentially no chance of my reading the books I'd planned to read. He went over my schedule for the next two days with me, reminding me of things I'd forgotten. He fed me cheese and crackers at 11:30 p.m., and pointed me to an essay by Gardner that I should skim for my notes. He set up my computer in the dining room so I could work this morning. He tucked me in and held me until I fell asleep. He had lots of work to do himself, that he put on hold in order to take care of me. Have I mentioned that I am exceedingly fond of my Jedediah?

I'm okay now, and I think I can make it through the next week. I go back this afternoon, and am only there for less than 48 hours before I get on another plane and go to ICFA for six days. Then I come back and have one more month of school, culminating in a big paper that scares me a little but that I think I can handle. And then I get three months off, when all I have to do is put Bodies of Water together and work on my writing and not be in Utah. :-) Oh, and keep running the magazine, but really, everyone else does all the work; I just supervise and tell people how great it is. And go to WisCon. Anway...

I may not make it through with as much grace as I would like.

I'm not giving up.

• Tuesday, March 20, 2001

I didn't get as much done yesterday as I'd have liked; couldn't face working when I arrived in Salt Lake, so I went shopping instead. I needed white sandals, because the ones I had last year were pretty dead by the end of summer, and because it's supposed to be 80 or so in Florida right now. It's in the mid-60's here, which is actually rather nice. If I weren't presenting...I dunno. I'm tired. There's a little part of me that would be tempted to just stay here, rest a bit, and then try to slam through as much of my backlog of work as possible. But that would be dumb. I'll just go.

I've done most of the research for the e-zine paper at this point; I have a lovely database full of info (Jed keeps sending me things to incorporate, but at some point I'm just going to have to stop adding things, at least for now). I'm planning to actually write up the paper once I get to the con (or possibly on the plane; I'm travelling for about six hours tomorrow). What I really ought to do today is take screen shots for all the magazines, so that I can hook up my laptop to a projector during the presentation; that's a lot cheaper than making transparencies of all of them, and I think graphics really help focus people's attention. The only problem is that I'm not sure they'll have the cord necessary to hook up a Powerbook to the projector; I have one, but it's big and heavy. I'd rather not pack it, but I suppose I will, if I have room in my bags.

I'd still like to revise my story before I hand it in to workshop tonight. Technically I have two hours when I can do that today, but I also need to stop at the bank, deposit checks, withdraw cash, stop at the library, check out history books, and probably some other random errands, which will probably eat up an hour. Ah well; if there's time, there's time. If not, I'll live. I hate doing things half-assed, though. Maybe if I let my students go a little early today, then I can run some of those errands between classes.

I'm still having some trouble coping with things in the larger picture: My finances are not good, and they don't look to be getting better soon. I desperately need to find some time to exercise in this schedule -- all this travelling is horrible for my body; I end up eating a lot of crap in airports -- I ate at Burger King twice in the last week; yuck. Since Kev is travelling too (he's speaking at Yale this week), between our two schedules we haven't talked in weeks. I hate that. I'm just still feeling overwhelmed, I guess. But the short term stuff looks manageable. I suppose I should be grateful for that.

8:50. Feeling a bit better. I'm mostly packed; I have one load of laundry to do and then I'll be able to pack everything up. I'm going to watch Voyager while the laundry's going, and pay bills, and water plants. And then I'll revise my story (due to the school server being down, I wasn't able to get to it on campus) and e-mail it to Kelly, who'll kindly distribute it to the class for me. Basically, almost everything is, I think, under control -- except that because the server was down, I couldn't look up or check out the library books I needed. I've not had any luck trying to find them in bookstores, so I'm feeling a bit doomed on that one. But I'm not meeting with the professor until Thursday of next week, so I suspect Wednesday is just going to be a big history reading day. I can live with that.

If I think too hard about certain things, I get really upset. But if I don't think about them, I'm fine -- I can even laugh and have a good time. For now, I'll settle for not thinking.

• Wednesday, March 21, 2001

In the interim, there's a new issue of Strange Horizons up, with a very funny story by Joe Murphy, "The Calcium Efflux Conspiracy" (plus more, of course). What are you waiting for?

• Monday, March 26, 2001

I leave it as an exercise for the reader. :-)

The con was really nice. My paper went over well (I heard later that some of the higher-ups thought it was 'very professional' and that I 'really knew my stuff' :-), though I did run over time a bit. There was much socializing (and more drinking than I've ever done in a single week -- I think it was the pool's fault). There were good papers (though I admit that some were not delivered as well as they might have been (traditional academic drone)), and interesting panels (including one on the history of SF, and one on Carol Emshwiller, whom we'll soon be featuring at SH). There was lounging by the pool. There was a photo for the front cover of Locus, with lots of conference attendees, including yours truly in a swimsuit, eep! I think it was the pina colada that did it. I refuse to be held accountable.

There were many old friends from the author/editor world, and lots of new ones from the academic world. Particularly fun was running into Sean Stewart, last seen years ago at Monterey for World Fantasy (and he's just as sweet and charming as ever), and meeting Ted Chiang (who works as a tech writer in Seattle, and on the side, writes award-winning short stories). I was a bit intimidated by Ted, to be honest, but eventually figured out that he wasn't being aloof and snooty -- just shy. It's pretty cool how he can make shyness look like self-assurance, though. Wish I could do that. He just keeps his mouth shut and listens; when I'm feeling shy, I tend to babble like an idiot (which, of course, makes me feel even more of a fool...).

On Saturday, I took it easy -- some time by the pool, and then a trip to the beach with Nalo and Ellen Klages and Kate Elliot (who I think I had met briefly before, but got to know much better this trip; she's cool (author of the Jaran series)). It was nice to see some of downtown Ft. Lauderdale, though you'd think with such pretty land, they could build more attractive buildings. I kept stopping to take pictures, like a true tourist. The con ended Saturday, but I wasn't able to fly out 'til Monday, so Sunday I went with some people to the Everglades. It was so very beautiful.

I also fell in love with palm trees all over again. They have them in California, but somehow they don't seem to make the same sort of impression that they do in Florida. Maybe because Florida has more of them, or more flat land in between them?

Also beautiful was Nalo sitting on a root of what sure could have been a cottonwood tree (or at least what I imagine a cottonwood tree might look like). I find that I really love taking pictures of Nalo; something about how animated her face is, I think:

I have some time tomorrow morning as well, of course, since I don't go in'til 10:15. But I'd like to get the academic stuff done tonight if at all possible, so I'm not feeling stressed and anxious in the morning. We'll see how well my brain is working in the morning.

I also want to carve out some time to work on a story. I need to submit something to the editors above me for BW; it'd be nice to have something of mine in there, like last time. I think I'll try to keep it short this time around, though -- the last one was 7000 words, and I think they want to actually make this edition a bit shorter than the last (or possibly include some artwork). I have the glimmerings of an idea, but I'm not sure it'll work, or that there's enough to it yet to start writing it. All I have is a single character; no real plot. Plot is still my weak point, I'm afraid. But she's cool, at any rate. We'll see what happens -- but to be honest, probably not until May. I doubt I'm going to get any new writing done before then; I really want to get all the academic stuff well done and finished by the end of April -- that's the priority.

And maybe learning how to drive. If I can squeeze that in there somewhere, that'd be good...

If I do any writing in April, it should be revising a story to send to Glimmer Train. I think it's almost there; a few hours concentrated work and I think it'll be ready to send off (once I sweet-talk Jed into giving me a line edit, that is). I sort of want to start on it now, but my back hurts, my computer batteries are running low, and I don't actually have my notes with me. So best not, I'm afraid. I guess I'll think about the BW story instead, and see if I can come up with some sort of plot.

I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, and cooking a nice curry for myself. It'll be good to see Paul and Jenn et. al. I may try to do a couple more collages and take them to WisCon for the art show. Aside from that, though...I'm still not so thrilled about going back to Salt Lake. Ah well...I'll survive.

• Wednesday, March 28, 2001 -- David and Jed's birthdays!

Either that, or I have the date wrong on one of them. That could be too. But life would still be odd, I think.

I'm feeling a bit punchy with tiredness still. Yesterday was one of those get up at 6 and go go go until you drop kind of days. I remember exactly 10 minutes, from 4:30-4:40, when I didn't have anything to do. I just sat in a chair and tried to catch my breath. When I finally got home at 9, I watched Voyager, which was blessedly good and interesting and required nothing from me. I tried to crochet for a bit, but my arms were too tired. I need to find a hobby that doesn't use my arms or hands at all. Karina called at 10, and it was good talking to her until I fell asleep on her. She had to shout into the phone to wake me up enough to hang up.

This morning I've been trying to reduce the appalling pile of e-mail I had waiting when I got back. I'm down to 60 messages, which is a vast improvement, but still feels overwhelming. And a lot of the ones I took out of mail just got printed (like the SH questionnaires) or filed (like the BW stories) to be dealt with later. But that's okay, I think. I'll try to send out contracts and checks today, which will get a nice big pile of paper off my desk. (If you're a SH author reading this, please be patient with me. I pay you as quick as I can, really I do...)

Speaking of which, another great issue is up. I love it that it just goes smoothly up, rain or shine, even when my brain is clearly turned entirely off. If I were trying to do it all by myself, not only would it not be one twenty-fifth as good, but it wouldn't come close to going up on time every week. But I guess y'all know that from the erraticism of this journal. (Heh. Erraticism. Good word, I think. I'll keep it.) I think what I like best about the fiction story (Jennifer de Guzman's "Underground") is that while the overall guns and drugs and general mayhem story is going on, the real story that interests me is in the head of the male protagonist. I love that kind of story...

Yesterday was bright and sunny, though a bit cold, which was one of the few things that helped me get through the day (lots of tea also helped). Today is grey and overcast, and while in some moods I like that, today it just makes me want to go back to sleep. I'm still so tired; not a good day to be trying to read history, I'm afraid, but that's the main thing I must do today, and I really must do it, so tough luck for me. I wish there were someone here to keep pricking me with pins or something when I dozed off. I guess I'll just set up at the dining table instead, rather than on the futon or in the papasan, in the hopes that an upright posture will help with wakefulness.

Speaking of people here, Kevin is coming for a week or so starting April 12 or so. (I was very sleepy last night when he was trying to tell me his plans, so it's all seeming rather vague). At the moment, I'm almost too tired to be glad -- but I think when I wake up more, I'll be glad. And he's probably the house guest needing the absolute least amount of care -- if I don't do anything to prepare for his arrival (no cleaning, no grocery shopping, nothing), he really won't care. That can be a bit frustrating in reverse, when I arrive in Chicago to find that there are no clean towels left, and no milk for my tea (sometimes he remembers, sometimes not), but it's rather reassuring right now.

Okay, if I keep babbling here, I'll never start my reading. I'll talk to you later, my sweets.

3:00. The first history book, Stanley Tambiah's Buddhism Betrayed, is actually exceedingly good. It is clear, well-organized, and connects all sorts of other things that I've been reading about in the earlier history books, making some coherent sense out of them. I'm about half-way through at this point, and if you're interested in recent Sri Lankan history, and in how Buddhists monks end up agitating for political violence (and occasionally killing people), I can strongly recommend this book. It's written with the intelligent layman in mind, rather than for a purely academic audience, and so there's a minimum of academic jargon.

Despite all of that, I keep putting it down to do other things, which is why I'm only halfway through at 3 o'clock. I'm hoping to finish it by dinnertime, though, and then probably break on the history for the day. I'll try to get to bed by ten, and get up at six and read the other book for a few hours. I could, theoretically, just try to push through tonight, but I think my brain would implode. It needs to breathe a little between books.

Still 60 messages in my inbox. Still checks and contracts to do. But I've unpacked my bags and hung up all of my clothes and caught up on things with Roshani and chatted a little with Jed. That plus half a history book isn't so bad for half a day...

• Thursday, March 29, 2001

Stayed up talking to Kevin for a while last night. I didn't check the time when we went to sleep, and he said that it wasn't too late, but it was at least an hour later than I meant to go to sleep. And since I a) woke up earlier than my alarm and b) exercised yesterday for the first time since, like, October, I'm feeling pretty wiped.

It was also an emotional conversation. On the one hand, we finally both had enough time that I could dump all of my accumulated stresses and frustrations on him. That was good, in that I'm not carrying them all inside anymore. (I talk to other friends, of course, but there's still some things that I can only say to him. It's the many years thing, I think.) I feel relieved of at least some of them now. On the other hand -- it meant I had to go through all of that, which was stressful to think about and made me weepy and now my eyes are puffy and sore and it's a good thing I don't have to teach this morning, 'cause I'm not sure I could face all those chipper faces this morning. And my back is sore. And it's raining. And I'm hungry ('cause I got into some bad eating habits while travelling that I'm trying to get rid of). Did I mention that it's raining? I used to like rain. And I ran out of my thyroid medicine a week ago, and more is on its way but I don't have it right now, so I'm really cold all the time. I'm bundled up like a Canadian. It's spring -- it's ridiculous.

On the plus side, he'll be here earlier than expected, from the 8th to the 13th. That's really good. And, very sweetly, he pointed out that if I wanted to, I could get on a plane tonight or tomorrow, and come out there for a few days. Apparently the fares aren't insane right now. It feels too extravagant to me, since he'll be out here soon, but he doesn't tend to think in those terms -- if I'm stressed and need comfort now, then now is the time to visit, not at carefully spaced out and budgeted for intervals. :-) I think I'll be okay, though -- some rest and recuperation this weekend, a good curry, friends over for potluck brunch on Sunday, cleaning up my apartment -- those will all help. My dishes haven't been done in three weeks; I'm afraid to go into my kitchen. I suspect I'll feel a lot better when that's taken care of, which won't happen if I go bouncing off to Chicago. And I have people coming Sunday.

But it's nice to have the option.

• Friday, March 30, 2001

The day is feeling kind of odd -- I think because I'm being forced to read a book I don't really enjoy, Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire, for class, and am thus interspersing tiny bits of it with chores and e-mail. I feel very disjointed today. That's okay, though.

Mostly working on bits and bobs of SH stuff today. The author focus on Emshwiller is starting to come together, which is cool. I'm trying to organize my files a bit more, so that I know when various ads are going up, for example. I'm answering e-mails, sorting through the remnants of discussions started and dropped, trying to create order out of chaos. I do that a lot.

There's a part of me that really hates entropy. Life is good. Life, in all its pain and misery and stress and angst is still a good thing, in my book. I want mine to continue, and I want life to continue in general. Even if we went up in a nuclear holocaust, I'd take a little comfort in the last minutes that there was still life elsewhere in the universe, that something was going on. Which is why the fact (as far as we know at any rate) that it's all going to run down into a cold cinder is deeply frustrating to me. It used to drive me crazy when I was younger. I think it's a lot of what drives me to build things -- to create like mad, make things that are solid and strong and beautiful. If I had another life, I might try coming back as an architect, or an engineer.

(When I hung out on the Mucks, I was a builder, and that was the role that made me happy. It wasn't enough just being a player, enjoying other people's work -- I really wanted to build things. And I didn't actually want to be a wizard, who stood above it all and could take it all down if they wanted. Too much knowledge for me, back then. I just wanted to build things.)

A builder, a maker. That's me. And I suppose it would be easy to despair at the thought that everything we build will come down in time, that you can never build tall enough, fast enough, strong enough to resist the heat-death of the universe. Eventually, everything will end.

Somewhere along the way, that stopped bothering me. In fact, in an odd sort of way, I think I approve. The fact that it will all end is, in a strange sense, what makes it matter. Beauty can be enduring -- up to a point. In the end, it's all transient, from a particular sunset, to the face of the boy you once loved, to the rock formations in southern Utah. Shorter, longer -- it all ends. And because it ends, it's valuable, significant. Enjoy it while it lasts, because it won't last for long. Nothing does. And if it matters, it matters only because someone cared, for a little while.

I think one of the greatest crimes, in my book, is indifference. What a waste of time, of life.

Care
Love
Hurt
Hate
Grieve
Ache
Care
Love

Live

• Sunday, March 31, 2001

I can hear you singing (a sestina)

And was there any singing
on that night? No dreary tears
marred it, and I did enjoy the food --
I almost always do, with you.
As it went, congenial conversation
was not all we shared, that evening.

The sun went down, and evening
turned to lucent night. Call it singing
if you like, or even conversation
of a kind; no hint of future tears
in bodies moving, in skin and you,
heart's ease, soul's food.

The body has demands -- plain food
is not enough to sate it. Evening
brings honeyed thoughts of you;
my skin is shivering, singing
its frustration, would weep tears;
it has no patience with conversation.

I do find delectation, in conversation --
the dance of words serves as needed food
for hungry minds. Salt tears
do not always matter, in pale evening,
when words come sweetly singing
down telephone wires. You

tell me stories in the dark; you
fill my ears with quiet conversation
bubbling softly, and your singing
sends me safe to sleep -- songs are food
for hungry dreams, and my evening
ghosts lose their power over tears.

My tears are fewer, since that conversation
when you and I shared more than food...
In my long evening, I can hear you singing.

*****
for Jedediah, on his birthday