March 2008

Nine years ago, this month, self was in Tel Aviv.

It is painful to read her blog posts from that time because her sister-in-law, Ying, eventually died there. September 11, 2008.

She got back from Tel Aviv, and self believes it was that same month when she got called in to the Dean’s office at Foothill and he asked her why she flunked two particular men — whose grade she had to change to a C. Even though they did not turn in a single assignment. They actually told the Dean that self threw something at them. And he believed them. Cause self is so YUUUUGE! She’s so fiery!!!

And, only months after, self’s stint as the only Asian American teacher (adjunct) in the English Dept. at Foothill was over. Because she got charged with discriminating against those two men.

Can you imagine the irony? The minority woman being accused of discriminating? Against two men?

Way to go, Dean! Enter slow clap emoji here.

If you can believe that self would do that (throw something) at two men who are obviously bullies, you would have to be nuts!

Nobody, absolutely nobody, believed self when she denied throwing anything. So then began endless years of wondering whether she had forgotten this incident?

And then came to the conclusion that, since she’s never thrown anything at anyone in her entire life, she couldn’t actually have thrown anything.

Case went up the complaint lines, until — after months of terror and stress — self changed the students’ grade.

Sucks to be an adjunct. Self’s just saying.

She wishes she could remember those two students’ names. Because they will forever know that if they bully a female teacher, all they have to do is accuse her of blah-blah-blah. Raise that ugly word. And voila! Done! Teacher’s toast!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Impregnable Quebec: MONTCALM AND WOLFE, pp 531 – 532

At this point, with less than a hundred pages to go, the Battle for Quebec is finally, apparently going to happen.

Quebec’s location requires the British forces to storm uphill. It’s bad enough they have to storm at all, but — uphill?

To make things worse, Wolfe, the British commander, is taken ill (almost on the eve of the attack, of all the bloody ##@@!!) and has to stay in bed for five days.

Meanwhile, the French have planted small detachments (with cannon. And guns) on each declivity. So that once the British get through one line of fire, they’re met by another. All coming from above.

But the British have to attack because: 1) winter is approaching; 2) months in the Canadian wilderness have significantly weakened the British Army. Wolfe, the British commander, knows it’s now or never (Self is so impressed with this commander that she gave his name to one of the characters in The Rorqual, her horror story-in-progress.)

At this critical juncture, the British are able to send a small detachment of soldiers to a hill overlooking the city. So now this small British detachment (very wee: something like only 150 men) is able to see directly into the town, behind the ramparts, from above. The British are able to reinforce this detachment by sending ships, ships that go undetected by the French. (The French fully expected the challenge to come from the front because they believed that the hills behind the city were impregnable.)

But, let’s not underestimate British determination! Not to mention Parkman’s eye for the droll anecdote!

The 22 ships are joined by “a diminutive schooner, armed with a few swivels and jocosely named The Terror of France.” She sails by the city “in broad daylight.” The French, “incensed at her impudence . . .  begin blazing at her from all their batteries.” Still, the schooner is able to “pass unharmed” whereupon the schooner salutes the British commander “triumphantly with her swivels.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Wish 2: Spring, Don’t Come Too Fast!

This week’s Daily Post Photo Challenge is WISH:

THIS WEEK, SHOW US A WISH

It was cold and windy today: fine, brisk, walking weather.

Self was captivated by these daffodils, springing up in bunches in front of the Main House in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre (The wind was blowing: you can see from the angle of the stems)

Spring can’t be far away. Which means warmer weather, longer days. Fabulous!

DSCN1081

Daffodils on the Slope In Front of the Main House, Tyrone Guthrie Centre, Annaghmakerrig

And yet, look at this picture she took in the early morning, two days ago: it’s only now she notices the filigree of the tree branches, silhouetted against the sky. So beautiful and delicate. When the leaves come back, this scene will be very different. So self feels conflicted: keeping winter’s bones might not be a bad thing! Especially when looking at trees!

If you look at this photograph with some detachment, doesn’t it look like an echocardiogram? Like the lines spit out of a defibrillator? Self means, the sharp up-and-down squiggles?

DSCN1054

The Lake at Annaghmakerrig, Early Morning

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

What the Writing Desk Looks Like Today, 12 March 2017

DSCN1073

Self’s horror story, The Rorqual, now up to 15 pp. YAY!

Stay tuned.

Book #3: Unit # 1, Tyrone Guthrie Centre

Mary Oliver’s Swan

Self has never read Mary Oliver before.

How I Go to the Woods

Ordinarily I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unbearable sound of the roses singing.

* * *

If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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