Good News, Bad News mini

Good News: One of my professors invited me to work with him to rework a paper I'd written for him into a submission for a conference in southern California.
Bad News: That conference is the same weekend as the conference here, and I'm sort of the de facto organizer, so I need to be around. Ugh.

Good news, Bad news purge

I know, I missed last week. Sorry. What's that? You didn't notice? Phew.
Good News: I'm posting!
Bad News: I'm posting even though I'm not done with my paper.
Good News: My paper is really interesting, and I have lots of fascinating things to say about my topic.
Bad News: I am at double the page limit right now, and there's more to discuss.
Good News: Society has made progress, I think, since the turn of the last century. Today, the deviant, transgressive, otherwise Other women don't always have to die at the end of the movie.
Bad News: This makes film theory a good bit more complicated.
Good News: I'm changing the subject.
Bad News: I'm changing the subject to my teeth.
Good News: Got those cavities filled.
Bad News: My teeth still hurt.
Good News: I did laundry!
Bad News: I didn't do the dishes.
Good News: I recognize that I'm procrastinating.
Bad News: I can rationalize it.
Good News: No, really, I'm going back to work now.
Bad News: You'll have to wait another week to read another illuminating good news, bad news post.

Me vs. Fashion

I know it's a risk, posting this so soon after I argued that I'm not really an old lady, but I recently went shopping and I have to say: what the hell? Granted, I didn't go to Nordstrom or anywhere really fashionable, but I'm not that fashionable. Which may be the problem....
First of all, there are still women wearing those clear plastic bra straps as if they were invisible, which they aren't. If you ask me, which you implicitly did by reading this post, they look significantly tackier than just letting your normal bra straps show.
Secondly, why is it so hard to find a normal sweatshirt? One that is only one color, that doesn't have funny pockets, or weird wrists, or hang halfway to my knees, or have prints, or flowers, or ribbons, or fur, or rhinestones? Also, now that extra long arms are apparently fashionable (great for me and my monkey arms), I would think that I could find a sweatshirt with long enough arms. Nope. I guess the fashion must be to let the extra long arms of your shirt hang out the cuffs of your not-long-enough sweatshirt.
Finally (really, my last fashion complaint), who on earth designs women's hats? Bald, blind men? For one thing, many of them face the same decoration problem as sweatshirts. I don't really want to be attacked by magpies while I'm out walking Nick. And apparently, since the designers spent all their money on fancy stuff to glue to the hat, they couldn't afford warm materials. My real problem with hats right now, though, is that they are designed for people without ponytails. If I put my hair into a hat, there isn't enough of it to stay on my head. One size fits all, my foot.
All this fashion makes me want to get a sewing machine and make my own clothes. It would probably require less energy than shopping....

Just a number?

You know that feeling like the old person inside you is trying to get out? Today is definitely a day for that. Christmas lists have been circulating in my family, and this morning I read one from Chris, who just turned 18. He was kind enough to translate most of what he wants (a "radient shred stick" is apparently a snowboard), but I actually had to google "polished rootbeer oakley gascans." His list kind of reminds me of beat poetry; I might get him a black beret and bongo drums.
It's not just Chris. Grad school is giving me some weird age vertigo. I have a few undergrads in a couple of my classes and their attitudes make me feel about 85. But some of the professors around here (especially my Middle High German professor and hero of the week, Anatoly Liberman) make me feel like I'm in 5th grade. Meanwhile, many of the other grad students I know seem to be in a bizarre limbo too: they look older than they are but live like they're younger. Maybe by the time I'm done with my PhD, my inner child and my inner octogenarian will find a way to peacefully coexist. I'll probably always need help with those Christmas lists, though.

Good News, Bad News

Good News: My laptop is speaking to me through the battery light.
Sort of Bad News: No one, not even Dell, seems to know exactly what it means. This might be because I haven't paid them $40 to tell me, but I'm thinking it's because they don't know anything (it's definitely not the hinge cover, which is what the first tech told me for free). It is generally agreed that the battery is on it's way out. Frustrating, since it's only a year and a half old, and since I haven't used the 300 charge cycles it's supposed to take to kill it. Grr....
Really Bad News: The light wouldn't stop flashing. I can work without a battery, but not with a blinking red light.
Good News: I took the battery out altogether. The light stopped blinking, and my laptop is now about 2 pounds lighter.
What I learned: Dell technical service is basically a waste of time. I lack patience when it comes to blinking lights and tech support. I'm going to need a new laptop battery soon-ish.

Good News, Bad News

Good news: Like a responsible adult, I finally went to the dentist.
Bad news: I have the weakest tooth enamel ever. Not only do I have two cavities, I need prescription toothpaste, a special toothbrush, and more calcium and potassium in my diet.
What I've learned: Being a responsible adult is really expensive.

Halloween Redux

Trick-or-treaters: 4 (8 if you count Rob's dad & co.)
Bags of candy: 4
Bags of candy I'll have to hide: 3.5
Halloween parties I was unable to attend: 2 (three if you count Rob's dad & co. in our backyard)
Pumpkins carved: 0
Costumes worn: 0
Now, I've been accused on more than one occasion of being a Halloween hater, but the truth is that I'm just a little too lazy. I don't like to dress up (no time, no money) and I don't like to carve pumpkins (there is something about the smell of raw pumpkin that makes me nauseous) and I don't like parties with rules (costume required). Frankly, I prefer having Halloween come to me while I sit on the couch, especially in cute little kid form rather than slutty drunken college student form.