I've kept this blog, on and off, since 2006. In 2015 I used it to chart daily encounters, images, thoughts and feelings about volcanic basalt/bluestone in Melbourne and Victoria, especially in the first part of the year. I plan to write a book provisionally titled Bluestone: An Emotional History, about human uses of and feelings for bluestone. But I am also working on quite a few other projects and a big grant application, especially now I am on research leave. I'm working mostly from home, then, for six months, and will need online sociability for company!

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Happy Blogiversary, dear humanities researcher ...

Yes, my dear blog turns one today. It seems well more than a year ago that I began this blog with my very earnest intention of charting the progress of my new grant application. A hundred unexpected things have happened since then, and of course, I never actually submitted that application (just the re-submission of our "near miss").

Time, then, to reflect on the passing of the year.

First up, and looming largest in my mind, I got cancer and got as near to cured as they can get me. There's an unknown quantity of a 7%-10% risk of recurrence over these first ten years they can't control, but I'm doing my best with diet and exercise and a generalised intention of staying calmer, and trying to live a little more simply. It's not that I think I got cancer through working too hard; but I do find my health is better if I can keep anxiety and stress at bay.

This is pretty difficult in the academic sector, of course. And especially in my corner of it. What with the massive re-structures and widespread curriculum reform at Melbourne, the re-organisation of my ancient and ramshackle department into a program within a much larger school, and the disastrous budget deficit in my faculty, my workplace is barely recognisable from what it was twelve months ago. There are lots of things that are exciting about the new structures and plans; but much that's alarming, too.

Academic work often seems open-ended or provisional. There is a lovely finality about seeing an article published, or holding your book in its shiny and handsome covers, but you know you can nearly always do it better. You've almost never done enough, or it's the wrong kind of thing, or you've published it in the wrong place. One of the things I've learned about being sick, though, is to put all this stuff into a different time-frame. I've done hardly any writing on my Order of the Garter project these last twelve months. I'm sure I'm not the only scholar in the country whose work doesn't fit neatly into the time-tables we draw up for ourselves. But I'm not worried about this, and am starting to approach that project again, obliquely, so it doesn't notice me creeping up on it. I'm just going to do what I can, when I can.

And even with being sick, I've still done a fair number of things in the last twelve months. I've given papers at four conferences (New York in July, Adelaide in February, London in April and Perth in July), travelled to St Louis to start working on the Chaucer conference before I had to resign from the committee, and convened a day seminar at Melbourne in February. (I missed the Piers Plowman conference in Philadelphia but only because I knew I wouldn't be able to write something from scratch: if I'd had a paper written, I probably would have got myself to that one too.)

But it's true that life no longer stretches out into an infinity of endless health and energy. Given the limits I now find, I'm sometimes surprised to find myself still blogging. But it's part of the great mystery about how work gets done. Blogging doesn't stop me writing: it's a clearing house for ideas and reflections; and it helps me feel in touch with the broader community of readers and writers. That community is truly a virtual one, though. I know one or two colleagues and perhaps three or four postgraduates at Melbourne who read my blog. If others are, they aren't letting on. That's absolutely fine. I kind of like the mysteriousness of not knowing who reads and who doesn't.

For the record, I'm currently averaging 58 readers a day, and have received a total of 12,494 visitors (that's not counting my own visits). More than some, fewer than others. But unlike other forms of bean-counting in academia, this set of statistics isn't going to be used for me, or against me.

I'm currently reading the account by Algernon Bertram Freeman-Mitford Redesdale of his mission to Japan in 1906 to take the Garter insignia to the Emperor Mutsuhito. He writes of a ball at the British Embassy:

Princess Arisugawa brought her daughter. It was her first ball, and very much she seemed to enjoy it. Being in Japanese costume she could not, of course, dance round dances, but she did take part in quadrilles. As for me, when I see these things I feel like Rip Van Winkle. I have been asleep, and centuries have passed over my head.

Redesdale's comment is striking. There he is as a modern ambassador for the medieval Garter, with its own centuries of ritual, commenting on the implicitly medieval scene of the princess and her daughter. For once, the Garter stands for the modern. The obvious contrast, this week, is with the brouhaha surrounding the Queen, the BBC and Annie Liebovitz. Reading between the lines, do we detect the Queen, after all her years of service to court rituals, tiring of it all? The picture shows the eighty-year-old in full Garter regalia, and it would not be surprising that getting kitted up like that, with tiara and all, would pall after all this time.

Apparently the BBC documentary shows scenes of the Queen walking down a palace corridor and telling her lady-in-waiting: "I'm not changing anything. I've had enough dressing like this, thank you very much".

Snippets like this remind me, in the end, of how lovely it is to love one's research.


J J Cohen said...

Happy blogiversary from a dedicated reader!

I thought of you when I was in London and the Queen's [non-]huff was all over the news -- the order of the garter was mentioned repeatedly, especially in its relation to be well dressed.

I look forward to reading the blog for many years to come.


Elsewhere007 said...

Happy blogiversary! It's been a fine addition to the blogosphere.

Zoe said...

Yep, you have done quite a few things in the last twelve months ;)

lucy tartan said...

Happy blogiversary, and many happy returns!

MKH said...

Happy blogiversary, and thank you for your wonderful contribution to the blogging world over the last 12 months. Here's to many more!

Pavlov's Cat said...

Here's my second attempt, since Blogger ate the first one, to wish you and your lovely blog a Very Happy Blogiversary.

That you are an ornament to the blogosphere is no more than I would have expected, and I love reading about the research things too, but what I love most about this blog is the way it has given you a platform to write about daily life and personal things that I don't think you would have had occasion to write about otherwise, in a style that may be new for you, and that in turn has given your loyal tribe of readers some really wonderful things to read.

I also thought of you yesterday when ploughing through a novel-for-review in which one of the characters, recovering from breast cancer, says that she's sick of thinking of herself as 'a breast cancer survivor' and wants to move on/back into some other way of thinking about herself. And it crossed my mind that you don't seem ever to have been consumed by it in that kind of way, not even when you were in the middle of it. And I thought again, as I did at the time, what a boundless resource the scholarly habit of mind -- intellectual discipline and detached, impersonal curiosity -- has been to you right through all this, and what an excellent advertisement for it you are.

WhatLadder said...

Happy Blogiversary! And a Mitford reference, so cool!

(I am sorry I didn't get to see you for more than 2 seconds during this trip, too.)

Stephanie Trigg said...

Oh thank you, dear all. Whatladder, yes it was a pity I was over the other side of the country for much of your visit. Sorry to miss you and the stepladder.

P's Cat, yes the "survivor" tag is a tricky one. I reckon I can write that blog entry on the first anniversary after surgery... But there are lots of reasons, mostly physiological ones, that meant I didn't get consumed by the disease as comprehensively as it's possible to be. The nature of the surgery (where the cuts went, and didn't go), and the nature of the treatment (i.e. no chemo) helped. So body and soul went through the fires, without doubt, but we did it quickly, so we didn't get ever feel by the disease, you know.

Suse said...

Happy blogiversary! What an enormous 12 months you have had ...

Re your comment about your readers, I thought I had better out myself. I read and enjoy your blog regularly (and have commented maybe twice?) and am a mature-age, part-time student in your ancient and ramshackle department. You and I have not crossed paths in real life, only online thus far. I'm sure we will one day though. In the meantime I will continue to read ...