Escapes (and perceptions)

Since I moved to this town, I foster dogs. I think it was the 6th? 7th? foster that I ended up keeping. She had little/no hair due to various skin illness issues, had a bit of her ear chipped, and was terrified of everything. In the 3 years I've had her, she's grown her fur, is a tiny wee killer (two skunks, numerous small rodents, a possum, an attack on a deer, half a cat, many squirrels), and is massively curious about everything. The shelter listed her as a German Shepherd but there's no sense of "oh, hey, I quite like my human" in her. None. Humans exist to feed her and take her for walks/runs. She is also an escape artist/runner. I live in a house with no fenced yard and so I try take her on walks or put her on a long leash so she can run about in the big park in my back yard. As I am mostly sleepy, generally in my own world, type person and Dog is always "Kill NOW. What can I kill?", there's many times she's run off/escaped.

Today, I think was Dog's most epic escape (so far) (there's time) (my heart might not take more inventive escapes well). Taking advantage of slip in the ice/snow, she did a runner. I went around calling her name. No noise. No sound. Nothing. After scouring pretty much the whole neighborhood, I heard a whimper from near the House of Horror*. Turns out Dog had gone underneath HoH and got stuck. Of course, this didn't prevent her from trying to sniff/explore/etc so we ended up in a situation where Dog was fairly deep underneath this falling down/half fallen down house, it was getting dark and I knew the folks around there wouldn't do well to having some random woman wandering around in their territory.

So, of course, I did the sensible thing. I went home, got my mobile and rang the Fire department to ask for help.

Hahah-no! I crawled under the HoH, expecting any moment the house to fall down OR someone to shoot us, grabbed Dog, took her off her stupid leash and then, grabbing a wriggling Dog like a rugby ball, got us out of there. I walked almost a mile with 35lb Dog in hand. For much of this time, Dog was convinced she had to escape NOW and was wriggling like an eel.

We got home safe, I poured myself a stiff drink (whiskey. The good stuff) and I thought about the incident. If this were New Zealand or Nepal, I'd have tried to ask for help from one of the people whose houses were near the House of Horror. I'd have gone and knocked on their doors. But since this was Southwestern USA, I didn't. Not only didn't I go knock on neighbor's doors, but all the stories we read about strangers shot in garages, driveways, and so on came to mind. The whole time I was crawling under a falling-down house, I wasn't as much worried the house would fall on me or that I'd get a scrape (and probably end up with Tetanus--could still happen!) but that someone would notice the noise and start shooting. I was terrified to the extent that my arms and legs were trembling. This fear is, of course, more about me than about how the people here "really are". I"m sure the folks here would have helped too (maybe) but I didn't even feel I could ask them. There's a different kind of self-making when I am in SWVA than when I am in Nepal or elsewhere.

*House of Horror is a falling down house that exists at the end of my lane. Around it are abandoned/occupied trailers, a campervan, and various pickup trucks. The one time I was near there, a bearded gent came out and told me to "keep your daw-ug away from here" (this was in Year 2 and the dog was Harold, an adorable scamp of a thing) and I've never been back/near since.

On Johnny Walker(s)

Things are heating up on the uni front, with job searches (I'm on two search committees) and slight panic about dodgy technologies during teaching--again, the usual. I have thoughts about the new season of Agent Carter but will wait till it's over before sharing them. In the meantime, here's a classic: my granddad wasn't much of a Bollywood films person (my best memories of him are of us watching cricket and arguing over tactics) but he loved his Scotch. And he loved this film (Pyaasa). The guy who plays the comic barber in this clip is Johnny Walker (the actor, obviously). His story is pretty unusual too--a rags to riches tale often found in Bollywood fantasies but not that often in real Bollywood life.






Unlike the majority of Nepalis, I don't understand Hindi too well. I can get by and can make sense of what's being said (sort of) but the nuances of dialogues pass me by. That being said, this film is one of the best and it's pretty revolutionary for its time. The hero ends up with a prostitute. He denounces materiality and capitalism (well, not in *those* words but...). The songs are divine. If you get a chance, do watch it.

Here's a more romantic song: Hum Aapke Aankhon Me (which I reckon is: in your eyes, I'll place my heart)

And here we go again...(or, welcoming y'all to 2016 with a rant)

It's been a while and this is the semester I'm supposed to get myself organized and get my papers together and get stuff published/sort out another book/etc etc. Hence, it's obviously the best time to start this up again! For now, this will just be observations/random snippets that don't fit on Twitter/things I feel I wanted to get off my chest. The usual, in other words.

It's been a pretty snowy few days. We were promised blizzards and such and I think we got about a foot? a bit less? of snow here in SW Virginia. I discovered that some random pieces of plastic in my garage and realised they were sleds. Dog and I went sledding today.

On the academic side, I'm struggling with a paper that received a relatively favorable (I thought) R&R a few months ago and then, when I did the R&R, it was rejected. I admit I was not the best pleased by this--I thought it was one of my better pieces and discussed stuff that normally doesn't get talked of/about in IR/Political Science/whateveritismyfieldis (IR I think) (maybe). It also took a lot of time and the whole year was basically wasted on this paper while a straight up rejection would have meant I'd have tried (and hopefully published) it elsewhere by now. But, hey, that is academia especially when you do weird stuff on a mainstream-y topic.

I have also been in quite a few meetings and discussions lately and was thinking about a few things with regard to racial/economic/etc ideas of "diversity". Apparently, my university is all on its way to becoming inclusive (their word) and promoting diversity. So far, this has led to some interesting practices that I've noted, one of which is my "Academic Rant of The Week". Here goes (with the caveat this is my observation and not a generalization. In case that caveat is needed. I mean, this is a blog after all so obviously everything is my observation):

Apparently these days, it's totally ok to say things like: "hey, I"m a white guy, I"m not supposed to understand X (critical/non-white theorists/etc)" but if you say "hey, I'm a brown girl. I don't give a flying fuck about that one line in Plato and Aristotle" or even "Look, yes, Plato, Aristotle, blah blah but surely Z and Q are saying interesting things too?", you don't know how to "do political theory".

I'm so so close to going on a mini rant about this in a context that's best not ranted in so...here we go. In many ways, this is about "the canon", right? The canon of political theorists who are all aligned in some dark, dingy, library shelf somewhere and where "we" are all supposed to get our ideas from. But, I went to university in a setting where they didn't give much of a damn about these fellas. One of my theory professors was one of the very few (still one of the very few) folks who asked us to question the mainstream historical narrative of the establishment of the Australian nation-state. I did read Plato, etc and especially a lot of 20th century theorists but we read them in two ways: 1. to see what they themselves might have "hidden" or what we could perhaps discover underlying their accepted thoughts and in relation to the time/context they lived in, and 2. we read these theorists alongside local/Indigenous fictions/films to note how what they said could be questioned. Thus, you question the foundations of "political theory" while also knowing that these fellas (and, of course, it's usually fellas) make up what counts as those "foundations". I don't understand how this is any better or worse than reading a bunch of Plato/Aristotle/Whoever. It's just different. And, I'd argue, if you want real diversity, then you need to acknowledge that not everyone might have had the same/similar educational backgrounds and ways of learning. Indeed, diversity isn't just about adding a woman or adding a person of colour.* Diversity of thought about what is "political theory" might also be helpful for the institution and for students.

Well. I do feel better now that rant is over. Next time, I dunno. Agent Carter? How Dog sleds?

* I have a different rant about this but will save it for another time. 

Living in rural SW Virginia, part I: Get a dog.

It seems like I start off with good intentions of writing but am so sick of writing in general/for "work", that I can't be fussed to come on here and write again. Especially about work/"serious" stuff. Well, the semester's started. I'm teaching a class on International Relations Theory (which has had a drop off of students after the first class so it *might* end up being more of a seminar. This means I will most likely rework my current syllabus, which is (was) geared for a class of 40 or so students). I'm also teaching a class on Global Security. It should be...interesting. I'll write a bit about how they go as we proceed, more to record the experience for FutureMe! in case it's useful. This is unlikely to be of much help/use to yous, I feel but, ah well.

Since I'm horribly late on everything (book proofs due in two weeks; edited book to be edited; two papers to write for the yearly International Studies conference--in less than a month's time!; classes to be prepared for, etc etc), I'll give you a snippet from life here. Dog and I headed out of town yesterday (we are having terrible weather--ice, rain, icy rain) and ended up in a small town nearby. This was at one of those gas stations/shops which have *everything*. I love those shops.

"Miss, you should really lock your car when you park it. People can just get in and drive off"
"I need to leave the window open"
"We....ll (in the way that they say it here. With at least four syllables), if you've got money to throw around. But, don't say I didn't warn you" (this was a complete stranger btw)*
"Yeah, I'll risk it"
"All right then...he good at hunting?" ("he" = Dog. I've not acquired a human hunter whom I leave in the back seat of my car. Though that sounds surprisingly good)
"Yeah, all right. I don't take her hunting"
"One of those liberals?"
"I don't think the dog cares much about politics"
(laughs) "How about you?"
"I don't vote"
"Yeah, not much in it these days" (long discussion of the evils of govt)

These types of interactions happen *all* the time here. Two things: a) Dog is a diplomat for when we wander into small shops/towns in the area. People who would never talk to me, I feel, are very chatty once they see Dog; and b) "I don't vote" seems to mean "you agree with my views that the govt is evil"

You can see Dog here: 

As you can see, Dog is a bit of a mix. There's a group of veterinary students who run an organization that pulls dogs (and cats) from high kill shelters in the area and places them in foster homes. I am one of the foster homes and, before Dog, I had 4 other fosters. The day we went to get Dog, we had our eyes on a boxer mix.** As with most rescues, the group tries to pick out dogs that are adoptable. We got to the pound and there was this ridiculous creature that only had patches of hair and had been at the pound for almost a year. We were told she was skittish, afraid of most things and generally "sweet but no one wants her". Well, after convincing the organization's person (who was superb!), I ended up with Dog as a foster. She was adopted out twice (from me). One time, she was brought back overnight. The other time, she lasted a week before the lady who had adopted her brought her back. 

In the meantime, I went home for summer, came back and Dog was still with the organization. Readers, you know where this story is going. Six months after I first got her from the shelter, I decided to keep her. After long-term medication, she's grown hair (as you can see) and has a (very!) high prey drive and so can't be off leash (ever!). She's not the easiest of dogs as her general mode when outside is "KILL ALL THE THINGS!!!"

The highlight of her life is probably the time there was a deer in my back park (pictured above) and Dog rushed off and grabbed said deer (about twice her size) by the leg. Got kicked. This happened: 

Me: Hello, my dog just bit a deer and got kicked. She's staggering a bit but seems ok.
Vet hospital: How big is your dog?
Me: 30lbs
Vet hospital: (silence): can you say that again? 
Me: 30 lbs
VH: and she went after a deer?
Me: Yes
VH: (laughter) If she's walking, she'll be all right. Just keep an eye on her. 

It all ended up ok but, in the time I've had her, Dog's run off heaps of times (mostly when I'm half asleep/not hanging on to the lead with all my strength when she spots a squirrel), made it to DC and back with me this past summer (she was a star in our street in DC, where I lived for 2 months) and tends to hoover up any/every-thing we find on the streets when we walk. During winter, we are in the town more (the back park is dark and vaguely creepy by 4pm) and Dog generally hates other dogs if they venture too close to us. 

In short, I think I'd have been heaps more productive (maybe have had Book 3 out by now?) without Dog but, hey, if you plan to move from a city to a tiny town where you know no one, a dog is great. 


* I bought my car for $1200 off a Canadian postdoc who was heading off to Japan, with his wife. It's a 2000 Ford Thingy and is built like a tank. As I'm a fairly new driver (more on this in a later post), it's probably not the best car for me but, hey, it works and I don't drive much. 

**The boxer also got saved another time. Not all dogs in this area are as lucky.  

On experts and the construction of terrorism

So this happened. Steven Emerson, a person who has written books on terrorism and has his research firm (investing terrorism, of course) said that Birmingham is not just no-go zone but a no-go city. Here's the Guardian story on it and the video:





He later apologised and said he'd made a mistake but let's think a bit about this:

1. This is someone who made this claim in a well-known and very widely-watched TV network. The apology, most likely, won't be seen by many. So, for Fox News viewers, this was fact--that Birmingham has no non-Muslims (leaving aside the question of how we've equated "having Muslims" with "undesirable").

2. Yeah, he said that. This is someone who has talked to US government officials, etc. How can such a level of ignorance proliferate? Well, it's what *seems* right--Europeans have "Muslim problems" (a term used by more than one of my students in the past year or so). So, hey, might as well say it. 24-hr news = minimal fact-checking, maximum opinions and speculation.

3. Events like that in Paris actually benefit not just the perpetrators but also the media. How? Well, it's obvious--the perpetrators realize they can get heaps of publicity. The media also realizes the same. Terrorism sells.

Going back to Emerson for a bit, he also said that there are parts of London where Muslims run about making sure everyone's dressed properly Muslim-like. He didn't apologise for saying this.

If there's a tiny beam of light in all this, the hashtag #Foxnewsfacts on Twitter was hilarious. However, the point remains that this shouldn't have had to happen. And, again, my point no. 1 above. 

"Bring yer togs, mate!"

I've been writing about language and the fun(ny) things you can do with language. My first language was, surprisingly enough, Thai. My father was at university when I made my way into the world and he was preparing to write his Masters thesis in Thai. Hence, everyone at home spoke Thai. My mum, still now, speaks Thai very well but her English is iffy (never having had to use it, you see).

Well, anyway. My bit on language today was about postcolonial theorists and what they think of English (or French or any other "colonizing language"). I'm not sure what I want to say here. I'm writing about decolonialising so I guess the question would be how can we decolonize language-use. Dismantle the way we write and think of something new. But, how? I'll leave that as a question for now and just point towards this map.

It's a map of regional Australian dialects. I went to undergraduate in Far North Queensland (which, for those unfamiliar with Australia, is considered pretty much far out there by the rest of Australia) and then did my Masters (and lived afterwards) in Sydney. The cultures are very different. The populations are very different. And the language is very different.

As I found out when, as a newly-arrived 17-year old, I was told the sentence that forms the title of today's post as folks were getting ready to head off on a road trip. But, what was I supposed to bring?!

2015 is a good year for blogging (I hope)

It's an odd day to revive the blog. It's blustery (winds of up to 30mph) and very cold ("feels like -10 degrees F" with an actual temperature of 4 degrees F) tonight. I'm sitting at my coffee table (every other surface is strewn with books and papers for other things) trying to finish up an Enclyclopedia entry on, of all things, "Colonialism and Internal Colonialism". For which I have a grand total of 5,000 words to work with. It's been pretty dire.

Then, there is the shooting in Paris. You can do a quick Google and read all about that elsewhere. I want to just post this here (I posted it on Facebook but figured it's best to annoy other people--the general public, as it were):

So, have we just given up condemning/reporting (had to dig into the "Africa" section of the Beeb for this) killings that happen outside of "the West"? Or, is it because this doesn't have the romance of plucky-newspaper-fighting-for-free-speech? It does have plucky young people lining up to protect their fellows/etc. 

In short (or, in long): who do "we" identify with (Charlie!) = our perceptions of who is a(t) threat (US! and those-other people *are* the threat) = formation of suspect communities/continuation of discrimination against specific people. /end rant.

This is the news story that started it off: 37 killed by a bomb in Yemen. 

Future posts--I'll try be fairly regular--will, like before, note my observations about life here where I live, have stories of Dog and comments on (some) news stories and (a lot of) popular culture.