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Jiggity Jog

March 14, 2011

Sleep. It’s a beautiful thing. And I always seem to need a little extra when I return from a conference, even one like this where I was, quite against character, able to get some while I was gone. At breakfast yesterday with my conference roommate and a former colleague of hers, we were all discussing this problem of conference over-stimulation — how we don’t sleep, and how we shut down toward the end of the conference, unable to take in even one more small thing.

I drove back with my conference roommate and a colleague of hers who, coincidentally, got his doctorate in my department under the same adviser. During the trip, conference roommate and I started tossing around the idea of a panel or mini-conference about a subject near and dear to my heart. I was recommending she look into an aspect of it that is related to her field of interest. By the end of the drive, we’d come up with a sketchy plan, including possibilities of other presenters and sponsoring organizations. Something interesting to think about.

I didn’t make it home until around 8 pm. I think. I was thoroughly confused by the multiple time changes: from CST to EST to EDT then back home to CDT, which turned out to be the same as EST, but I could no longer remember how I got there. In any case, that’s my excuse for the fact that I slept past 8 by my clock this morning. I think that’s the time it actually was. At least I hope so. I sent AJ off to school at 8:25 by that clock and he didn’t come home again.

And now I’m doing the usual unconferencing — unpacking, laundry, catching up with mail and messages, trying to return to a work routine, figuring out the next couple of trips down the road, and trying to figure out why on earth I dreamed about walking around my old Chicago neighborhood and discovering that the corner Zimne Piwo had covered the curved entrance with fake wood paneling, into which was etched its new name in big capital letters: THE ETHYLENE TAP, at which we all (in my dream) shook our heads and complained about the lack of aesthetics inherent in gentrification. My head is a very weird place. But at least there’s plenty of beer.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. freshhell permalink
    March 14, 2011 1:54 pm

    Beer is good.

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