In another corner of the blogosphere, GayProf offers a dazzling contribution to our series (even though he doesn't, technically, know us), Excellence Without Money: Hard Times in Higher Ed. He's got a long, brilliant list of suggestions for how to cope with the increased scrutiny faculty are facing over class size as universities look to increase their economies of scale, as someone said to Moose in a meeting shortly before she fled the Eastern seaboard. Among our favorite ideas for making sure that students enroll in your classes and stay in them? We're keen on the idea of bar service in classes that start after 1 p.m., as long as the bar is open to instructors, too, but we are especially impressed with GayProf's efforts to exploit the tools of social networking in order to appeal to today's students. He'll consider an updated Facebook status line as the equivalent of attending class, for example, and, instead of final papers, he's going to let students Tweet their ideas about U.S. history. Now, that is some serious pedagogical innovation for these troubled times of ours, my friends! We'll mark that post with the official Excellence Without Money seal of approval.
Meantime, here in Roxie's World, my typist is still in a state of loopy bliss that makes it difficult for her to concentrate on the serious topics that typically absorb our attention around here. We don't know if it's the altitude or the sabbatical, but she's refusing to type anything that has to do with health care or the official QTU furlough policy, which was just announced today. Heck, we couldn't even get her to weigh in on how well Marissa "Shoulders" Coleman played in the Mystics' playoff loss to the Indiana Fever the other night! (Newsflash: Mystics just lost again to the Fever, in overtime, 81-74, to be eliminated from the playoffs. Boohoo.) All we get from her is a lot of hooey about how amazing it is to breathe a different air, see a different sky, walk a different path. What's wrong with the old path, I wonder? I like our trail just fine!
To try to get a clearer sense of what's going on with our prodigal typist and to pass that sense along to you, our passionately curious readers, we've enlisted the aid of a special team of (non)digital forensic experts to dig into the hard drive of Moose's brain and see what's in there right now. They're a bunch of high-level geeks, armed with what we might call, in homage to a pal and colleague, Kirschenbats, ready to flush out the truth. So far, their most intriguing find is a series of rejected Facebook status lines Moose came up with during her journey across the country and in the first few days of her stay at her undisclosed location. Here they are, in no particular order. Take a look at them. Let us know if you think we need to send the guys in white coats out to her undisclosed location to pick her up. Frankly, I am a little concerned.
Rejected Facebook Status Lines
Moose has settled the debate: If the universe had been intelligently designed, Oklahoma would have been much, much smaller. Think about it.
Moose cannot decide if, at the moment, she is Thelma without Louise, Lucy without Ricky, Lucy without Ethel, Bogey without Bacall, Gertrude without Alice, Hepburn without Tracy -- or vice versa. In her darkest moments, she fears she may be Fred without Ethel.
Moose has become that weird woman, dining alone, trying discreetly to take photographs of her food. You know, like this:
(Photo Credit: Moose, on her iPhone, undisclosed location, 9/19/09. What's the dish, which she neglected to photograph before she dove into it [which explains the jalapeno with the end bitten off]? Molcajete al pastor, which Moose loosely translates to, why Dog invented pork. Click here for a review of the restaurant and a description of this delicious dish, but only if you are not deeply invested in the fantasy of Moose's undisclosed location. You have been warned.)
Moose wonders if that is what coyote poop looks like.
Moose has looked at clouds from both sides now. Rather than illusions, she sees what appears to be a map of Africa, sliding slowly toward her from the mountains. It is one of the most sublimely beautiful things she has ever seen.
Moose is getting desert nose. 'Nuf said.
Moose now realizes that Rodgers and Hammerstein's "You'll Never Walk Alone," from Carousel (1945), is in fact a brilliant prolepsis of the existential condition of the iPhone user.
Moose moves quietly in her borrowed home, trying to intuit the rhythms and the ways of life there, slowly getting the feel of an unfamiliar space, full of gratitude for the generosity of friends.
Moose takes pretty good food pictures but feels defeated by the sky. She cannot capture it. Paging Ansel Adams! Ansel Adams, come in, please! Or Kate Flint. ;-)
So, what do you think, kids? Is it time to call in the mental-health professionals? Time to cut off her access to the internets? Time to tell her to get a grip, grab a pen, and start drafting the Big Whoop-de-doo Book on Blogging That Will Save the Humanities, Get Her Promoted, and Perhaps Attract the Attention of Nora Ephron? Like I said, we report, you decide. A gold-plated Kirschenbat (trademark RW Enterprises, LLC) to anyone who can make any sense at all of Moose's rejected status lines. Get out your secret decoder rings, and start crackin'!