• Amuses

    And so it begins

    It was a long wait, from the end of November until February when I finally could start on my research master (“ReMa”, as it is affectionally called at “uni”). I might tell you I used all that time really well, preparing for my courses and lectures, catching up on everything that had been happening in Philosophy during the past 30+ years.  But that would be nowhere near the truth.

    For a start, even though I had been formally admitted, there were lots of administrative details to be completed which made me feel as if I had entered a different universe. For instance,  a form which had to be signed by all sort of high-up people agreeing that I could start in the middle of the academic year, and which was already overdue.  Which is a bit strange considering the official starting dates of my particular course are September and February.  I got through all the red tape, eventually. Bit of my own fault really, by started the admission process backwards, I must have confused people. 

    Secondly, I was suddenly afflicted with  a personal loss which I won’t elaborate on in these pages, but very nearly toppled me. I self-medicated on Belgium beer and the things that politician don’t inhale and I put in chocolates (rather than medication), and after some weeks, slowly picked myself up again. Thank you, my  husband, for watching over me.

    Third, my beloved employer on whose behalf I daily save the country, decided to reorganise all 30.000 of us yet at again.  This time they managed to eradicate the security organisation almost completely, so finding a new boss proved difficult for a while. Not that my workload has gone down, I still do the work of 2 or 3 people, and that is not including the work for my new boss. Must not complain though, because my employer pays half of my fees and I even get study leave (a day every two weeks), so that is grand. Just as a precaution, I decided on a social media strategy at work (we run an internal platform) so as to become more efficient at sharing information (and save myself many meetings in which I would constantly have to repeat myself). Let’s hope I can keep it up and not get side-tracked.

    In January I was finally administratively enrolled, and able to get access to the university digital environment. Which took me a while to get to know. I did not know where to start, so I did what I always do: I dived into the library. Ah, all those books, journals, publishers suddenly at my fingertips. Not that I had nothing before: I get full JSTOR access as an Oxford alumni, and I am a member of the Dutch Royal Library which has an extensive ebook section. Not to mention my international friends who graciously share their library access with me. But real university access is so much better. So I wallowed around in this newly found luxury for some days, reading all kinds of stuff just for the fun.

    After that came the settings up of email- and other accounts and my student pass. Aha, the student pass, with the student number. It entitles me to discount, and as I am Dutch, I cannot resist a bargain. So I have been buying useful software at knock-down prices. Husband graciously donated the use of his laptop (cannot take the company laptop into campus), and updated his own equipment at a discount. I renewed my local library card (50% discount), splurged on a great grammar checker (no discount) and experimented with speech-to-text software (which I decided not to buy because my typing speed is so high that there is not much profit, time-wise, to be gained).

    Then came module enrolment, a real pain in the neck. For a start, the schedules are not released until very late, and general descriptions are not, how shall I put this, information-dense. My professor had told me to look also at modules at other universities, which I did. The whole thing took several days of break-neck speed googling and consolidating; then validating the result with the professor.  The net result was that I should take 3 modules in the next 6 months which is the equivalent of a full-time study. Yes, I know, it is crazy. But husband and I had just watched Lord of the Rings yet again.

    Having arranged everything well in advance, I now sat back and waited. Nothing was happening on the courses I signed up for. I even sent a worry-mail to my professor, asking if I had somehow missed the posting of the reading list, as I wanted to buy the books, order them from the library? Aha, welcome to 2019! Reading materials are simply posted with the digital space every module has on the university system. I felt stupid. I nearly missed the reading materials when they were finally posted, because I had not set some parameter somewhere that meant I did not get informed, etc etc. Anyway, it took some late hours, but I read everything, for all 3 modules in time. Wow. My poor brain suddenly got stretched out again. Did it hurt, I hear you think? I am not sure. It is a mighty strange feeling. But addictive. I suddenly realised that most of my work comprises educating and guiding people, not getting new ideas myself. Well, of course I knew that, otherwise I would not have started on this whole escapade, but you get my drift.

    So I went to university, the first week of February.  I can get there by public transport, but husband insists on taking me by car, which is lovely and much quicker. 

    How did it go? I will tell you, in another post. I also need to tell you about what it is that I set out to do, in taking up this research master. Also another post. For now, I can just say this: No one laughed. No one even looked at me twice. The whole place was friendly, well organised, warm, bright, shiny and clean. I immediately felt at home. 

     

     

     

     

  • Amuses

    Back to the beginning

    Today, I received confirmation that I am to be enrolled on my coveted graduate course on Language and Logic. Great stuff. Now I am back in the world where the professor is God. I already went through an initiation procedure. Granted, the professor in question was very nice. He was just a bit worried about me wanting to do something practical – “this is not what we normally do ” 🙂

    The situation below depicts life until I have completed my own research. Which will take until my retirement – only 10 years away ….

  • Amuses

    Own thy name

    Today I received a mail via Geneanet containing this phrase: “I just happened to look into my family tree, which by the way I started many Years ago, and discovered change of ownership. What I like to know is; what gives you the right to claim ownership over a family tree to which you’re not related?”

    Where does one even start to put an end to this confusion?  I could not help making a quip about the genes on his side of the family not being very friendly. Then I referred the man to the Geneanet help-desk, hopefully they can sort him out.

    However, this incident has left me with a question. What does “ownership” mean in this particular case? A particular stake on Geneanet? Obviously I did not take over any family tree, he must have come across  my name because the same names are in my tree. Or a claim to exclusiveness on information about my great-grandmother who bears the same name as this irritable guy? I collected all this information by myself from Dutch archives, but then he might have done the same. Or the right to exercise administrative power as pater or mater familias to the family tree? Is my name mine or someone else’s? As it happens,  my official name is not the name that I was born with, and I do not feel I own either name; I am, in fact, nameless. There is a beautiful Dutch poem about not being named.  I will post it below . It has meant different things to me at different times of my life.

    It is strange how I felt compelled to defend myself against this alleged theft of ownership, without knowing what the word actually means in this particular context.

    The Dutch poem I referred to just now:

    Mijn moeder is mijn naam vergeten.
    Mijn kind weet nog niet hoe ik heet.
    Hoe moet ik mij geborgen weten?

    Noem mij, bevestig mijn bestaan,
    Laat mijn naam zijn als een keten.
    Noem mij, noem mij, spreek mij aan,
    o, noem mij bij mijn diepste naam.

    Voor wie ik liefheb, wil ik heten.

    Author:  Neeltje Maria Min, 1966 

    In translation: My mother has unremembered me/ my child is not yet aware  / now who am I? Name me, confirm my existence/ let my name be a like a chain/ name me, name me, address me/ o, call me by my deepest name. For you my loved ones, I will have my name

    Postscript!

    This story has an unexpected ending. You remember me somewhat acidly suggesting to the guy who wrote me the email, about his gene pool not being very friendly? As it turns out, he is a very friendly guy AND family. He knew my maternal great-grandparents; he was their nephew. He emigrated to Canada many years ago. We are in regular touch now.

  • Amuses

    Blauwbilgorgel

    Ik ben de blauwbilgorgel.
    Ik ben de blauwbilgorgel,
    Mijn vader was een porgel,
    Mijn moeder was een porulan,
    Daar komen vreemde kind’ren van.
    Raban! Raban! Raban!

    Ik ben een blauwbilgorgel
    Ik lust alleen maar korgel,
    Behalve als de nachtuil krijst,
    Dan eet ik riep en rimmelrijst.
    Rabijst! Rabijst! Rabijst!

    Ik ben een blauwbilgorgel,
    Als ik niet wok of worgel,
    Dan lig ik languit in de zon
    En knoester met mijn knezidon.
    Rabon! Rabon! Rabon!

    Ik ben een blauwbilgorgel
    Eens sterf ik aan de schorgel,
    En schrompel als een kriks ineen
    En word een blauwe kiezelsteen.
    Ga heen! Ga heen! Ga heen!

    Cees Budding (Dordrecht 7 aug. 1918 – Dordrecht 24 nov. 1985), Nederlands dichter en prozaïst, debuteerde met de bundel Het geïrriteerde lied (1941), maar maakte vooral naam met zijn Gorgelrijmen (1953), verzamelde nonsens-poëzie. Zijn literaire loopbaan liep langs uiteenlopende tijdschriften, zoals het anekdotische Criterium, het experimentele Podium en het nieuw-realistische Barbarber. Zijn poëzie is onder meer beïnvloed door het surrealisme en de jazz. 

    My husband has suggested that I translate this poem into English. Now there is a challenge…

    The Blauwbilgorgel poem is a bit like Lewis’ Jabberwocky, but unlike that poem, the Blauwbilgorgel does have meaning through its apparent nonsense, well, a bit more. Maybe. Which is interesting in itself, shade of meaning of nonsense. Judge for yourself.

    Jabberwocky

    ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    “Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
    Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!”

    He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought—
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

    And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
    Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

    One, two! One, two! And through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
    He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

    “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
    O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
    He chortled in his joy.

    ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    from Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There (1871)

  • Amuses

    A beginning

    The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third age by some, an Age yet to come, an age long pass, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

    From: The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan