Jackson Confessions

I hear Michael Jackson's memorial service is happening today. Although a child of the eighties, my pop culture deficiency meant I didn't really listen to Michael Jackson until much later-- and then never seriously. I remember hearing about him though. I remember that when I was six, in a new elementary school, a friend told me that Michael Jackson just *loved* little children.

I was only six, but I thought there was something very weird about that. So weird and so disturbing, in fact, that I went home and prayed to God to kill Michael Jackson.

I've been feeling a little bit guilty all week.

Life as we Know It

The stove reads 3:55 a.m. and I am blogging in the dark in the middle of a thunderstorm. Timo has just come in to make sure the balcony door isn't leaking in the rain, and then gone back to bed. I was a good girl tonight and went to bed at 11:30, thinking I'd manage a decent night's sleep for the first time in a couple of weeks. This is the result.

I had my hopes pinned on that job in the UK and then the night before the interview, I got an unexpected e-mail. You know, the one from the Really Big Name UK University with the Excellent Research Institute for the post that was advertised as a more senior appointment and where the closing date was nearly eight weeks ago. I figured it was my belated rejection letter. It was in fact an invitation to interview on the 13th of July. I had to check three or four times to make sure it wasn't a mistake.

I thought I'd done well in that interview last week but today I received the rejection letter, indicating that 'on this occasion, I had been unsuccessful.' Most UK academic jobs phone you if you've gone to the trouble of being interviewed. This is a bit like being dumped by text message. I'm contacting HR to demand feedback (which they are, I believe, obliged to give). Anyway, that leaves me with another year in Ireland, or a long shot at The Big One. To be honest, the pressure is a bit much... probably why I haven't been sleeping.

Timo's situation has also been exciting, with a job offer here in Dublin followed by a shortlisting for a really good three year post in the UK. His interview is the third week of July.

Anyway, that's all the news that's fit to print over here. More updates as and when. Meanwhile, send good vibes toward London for the 13th please!

Intermission

I have a job interview on the 25th for a permanent post in the UK. Fingers crossed it isn't a disaster.

In other bright news, I've finished marking. It had been five and a half weeks and it was sucking my will to live. Now another eight to ten hours or so of meetings about grades, and my time will be my own again to write/rewrite those two articles that need doing by July or so...

The Fat Lady Does Vocal Warmups

The orb has been shining pretty consistently, but my optimism has evaporated, I'm afraid. Today I was informed that my current contract can be renewed. I feel suffocated, choking, and on the verge of a panic attack. Another year of this; another year with a worse boss, a new course to plan and my favourite course taken away from me, another year stuffed into a flat that's too small and costs too much in a city where I have fewer and fewer friends, where the basic resources of civilisation are few and far between, where Timo is unemployed and sinking deeper and deeper into depression. And my current head of department was so pleased when she told me. She thought it would make me feel better about all the marking I have to do. Is there a cure for good intentions?

I know it's not over yet: I haven't signed anything; not all the jobs have hired yet; Timo may still get something; the fat lady hasn't sung. I know that in a day or two, when the marking is done and I can have a day off or maybe even part of a weekend, I will pull myself together, remind myself that perseverence is the key difference between success and failure in this profession, and prepare to go another round. Today I just wonder if it's worth it, and what exactly it's worth. How much of my life am I willing to sacrifice to waiting?

In Which the Orb Shines Down Upon Us

Several tomato plants are now propped up with chopsticks, a small green pepper glistens enticingly on its stalk, and there is a bowl of butter sitting on the balcony melting in the sun. The last is Timo's innovation; better not to ask. But wait... sun? In Dublin? Yes, after about three weeks of solid rain, today we have blue skies and a high of 19 degrees. This, folks, is summer. Tomorrow it's supposed to rain.

But the blue skies promote blue sky thinking, and at least while they last Dublin looks rather lovely, the plants are growing, and summer fruits are on special offer at Tesco on account of some grocery store price war going on at the moment. No complaints.

I still have no job for next year (by the end of this week I will have applied for seventeen academic jobs this year... which is a lot by UK standards) but I've embraced the uncertainty long enough to book a ticket to Canada and am working on filling out an application for summer language immersion in Frankfurt in August. Speaking of Frankfurt, on Monday this week I cycled 15km with Timo and his parents, to a farm to buy white asparagus (spargel). I felt very German. And very competent!

My current employer is fairly certain they will be able to renew my contract for another year. It's not ideal, but it's a significant step up from unemployment. Head down, nose to the grindstone. And the applications aren't over quite yet.

Actually I've had my head down all week, on account of a lumbar puncture test earlier in the week. It sounds worse than it is (yes, thanks for asking, I did consent to letting them stick a six inch needle in my spine and withdraw cerebrospinal fluid for testing... let's not get into the details...) but the post-puncture headache is a bitch. Apparently most are gone within five days, though, so I'm hopeful this one will be finished by tomorrow. Like I said, blue skies thinking and all that.

Contingencies

I'm sorely overdue for a blog post, but April was madly busy and there's not much to say. Everything is hovering, hinging on whether and where and how I end up employed next year, and what might happen with Timo and work, which is also hugely uncertain. I'd like to make summer plans, book a ticket to Canada and ideally do some German language immersion in Frankfurt or Vienna, but I can't until I know what's happening with work. I'm not depressed about it-- yet-- just impatient. It's been almost five years now since I finished my PhD and I haven't been unemployed yet, so I'm cautiously daring to be optimistic that it won't happen this year.

A real achievement last week is that I managed to submit an article I've been working on in various forms for the last eight years. Eight years!! The ideas still aren't finished, but they were at a stage that they're ready for feedback and possible publication, if the journal (which has a 90% rejection rate) should deign to take it. If not, maybe another one will.

I'm off to Lancaster to visit friends this weekend, and then to Germany the weekend after for a wedding. So the travel continues-- some things are consistent at least!

My Feet Are Wet!

OK, how's this for getting worse?
There's a hiring freeze in academia, which affects all posts including contract replacement posts for people who've left or retired. That includes me.
The person I'm replacing here has finally taken early retirement, which means my dept is down several posts in the last eighteen months. All unreplaceable for the next few years, if ever.
The staff shortage is so severe that even with everyone taking a 25% teaching load increase, they are still one and a half full-time staff members short of being able to cover the basics of the curriculum.
Student numbers are set to go up because of the recession. TA provision is set to go down because of the budget constraints.

Yes, the ship is sinking. The staff are rearranging the deck chairs, unable to organise themselves well enough to take any action in response. Meanwhile, the government is taking an extra 1-2% off our salaries again due to the recession, and Ireland is expecting an 8% contraction in the economy over the next year.

I'm strangely cheered by the announcement that there will be no contract renewals next year. I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Admittedly, I woke up at 4am yesterday in a panic about us both being unemployed next year, but there's sort of a good feeling in knowing I can sink or swim on my own volition and not be brought down by this particular institution.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have seven or eight jobs to go apply for...