a thaumaturgical compendium

WHEREAS I have been “unproductive” as a scholar since I have been employed at SUNY…

This may or may not be an overstatement. I have about a dozen projects at varying degrees of completion. Closing has been the real issue. My efforts are distributed so thinly that I haven’t been able to push forward in any appreciable way. So the question is not one of whether I am spending enough time on research (though I may not be—see a future resolution!), but rather whether these are producing some externally measurable progress: i.e., publications and grants.

I feel particularly bad about how this has affected my collaborators. So here is a blanket apology to Maria (especially!), Kim-Alla, Jia, and Taso. I’ll be more with it in the coming year, I promise.

THEREFORE, let it be resolved that I will “close” two projects for every new project I begin.

This may sound a bit self-defeating, but it isn’t. I have enough projects in the oven right now, that I will still have too many open at the end of next year. This is just an effort to get things to be more manageable. By close, I mean simply that the project has been written up and submitted for publication, or that it has been entirely abandoned. My hope is to have four papers out for review in the first six months. None of these will likely be “new” work; all have already been started.

WHEREAS the amount and quality of reading I did last year was pitiful…

At the moment, I can think of only two-and-a-half works of fiction I read over the last 12 months: I reread Nabokovs Laughter in the Dark, and left it in a lounge in Schiphol so as not to read it again (it’s good, but not his best); stole from Jamie, quickly read, and thoroughly enjoyed Robbins’s Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates; and finally read Steve Martin’s bleakly striking novella (hence the 1/2), Shopgirl.

Naturally, I also read a lot of stuff related to my research, much of it interesting. But I can’t help but outline and read strategically when I pick up a book that is meant to make me know, not make me think. And many of these are research monographs, with writing that is informative, but not always compelling. I haven’t allowed myself to be immersed in a book from outside of my field all year, I don’t think.

When I first started grading undergraduate work, I would joke with my fellow TAs that my own writing was suffering. It was only partially a joke: short of writing a lot, the best way to become a better writer is to read widely and carefully. This piece of advice—which I regularly share with students—I have failed to follow recently.

THEREFORE, let it be resolved that I will read at least a half-dozen fiction and a dozen non-fiction books, from outside of the communications research literature, over the next year.

This may not seem like a whole lot, but it will require an investment of time that I haven’t given myself in the last year. I already have some ideas on the fiction (more Robbins, some Murakami, and maybe some S.F.). On the non-fiction side, I want to read some history, perhaps ancient, and more American pragmatism (James, Dewey, Peirce). In the latter case, I want to read slowly, and make sure I have a thorough grounding in each book I take on.

An article in the New York Times, entitled “Who Owns the Internet? You and i Do,” dicusses whether the “I” in internet should be capitalized.

I have, for a long time, and for many of the reasons Joseph Turrow suggests, thought that capitalization is unnecessary. It is, after all, a part of everyday life. Moreover, capitalization implies something unitary and definite—the internet (despite the “the”) is neither. So, if you look at my masters thesis and Ph.D. dissertation, you will find the lower-case “i” throughout. In things I’ve written in the interim, I have been forced by house style guides to use the capital “I” (with the exception of New Media & Society, which has used the lower case from its inception).

The question not addressed is whether it is “Net” or “net,” and whether it is “Web” or “web.” In both cases, but especially the former, the possibility of ambiguity is introduced. Nonetheless, I prefer the way the text looks when web and net are left lower-case.

Wish I had enough cash on hand to buy Bridgeville and set it up as utopia. Jamie and I actually bought a lottery ticket the other day—first time ever—but no luck. I guess I’ll have to wait on buying a town, they do come up now and again. Wired says Bridgeville has a thriving marijuana crop; seems to me to be an industry poised for growth, if you are willing to bet on deregulation.

Had dinner at a neighbor’s tonight. It was fun, even for an anti-social guy like myself. M is a local attorney who is planning on putting in a wireless system at his firm soon, which just happens to have a sight-line to his roof at home. I think I sold him on playing a bit with a pair of cantennas. I need to remember to follow up and let him know that I am keen to play if he decides to go for it. I won’t hit him up for a link-up until after :). Wouldn’t it be cool to make Snyder the first 100% wireless village in Western New York?

I hate that I now say “happy holidays.” It’s not that I am a raging Christian. Heck, I’m pretty un-Christian, as a matter of fact. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m down with J, I dig the whole walking on water thing, I just don’t buy into a lot of the nonsense that seems to surround the church.

But these days, I find myself saying “happy holidays” a lot. The reason is simple, I don’t want to offend people. Many of my friends and acquaintances are not Christian, and I suspect most of them would take “Merry Christmas” in the spirit in which it is offered: “There is a cool holiday coming up and I hope that you remain full of cheer and enjoy it, regardless of your personal beliefs about God.” But, for fear that I will offend some small number, I now say the entirely meaningless and artless “happy holidays.” Since I only half-way believe it when I say it—I’m trying, I swear, it’s just so damned bland—it makes it even worse.

So, Merry Christmas. If you are angered by this (and even if you are not), I welcome a greeting more related to your non-Christian holiday, and will receive it in the spirit in which it is offered. I think we should celebrate more, and if your religious beliefs allow this to happen, cool.

...to say this to a customs inspector:

“Yes, I’ve got monkeys in my pants.”

Though I’m not sure I would be willing to actually put… you know… monkeys in my pants, just for that thrill. (via Boing)