Archive for February, 2008

Writing a Speech

Spent most of the day writing the speech I’ll give in about a week for the induction of Robert Jordan into The South Carolina Academy of Authors. It isn’t long — just 1600 words — but it was rather difficult to say all that I wanted to say, how I wanted to say it.

It’ll need refinement, I’m sure, but I’m glad to have that first draft cracked.

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New Review on ratemyprofessor.com

I needed something to smile about this evening:

Dr. Livingston is one of the best professors that I have ever had. He is very helpful and very understanding — not to mention super intelligent. He really cares about his students, and you can tell this as soon as you meet him. He is just a great guy all around!

Yes. That helped.

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Vote Bull Moose

There are many reasons to like Teddy Roosevelt. Take, for example, this, from a letter he wrote from Oyster Bay, NY, on 1 September 1903:

There are good men and bad men of all nationalities, creeds and colors; and if this world of ours is ever to become what we hope some day it may become, it must be by the general recognition that the man’s heart and soul, the man’s worth and actions, determine his standing.

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Encapsulating Robert Jordan

I’m just about all recovered from my illness now, and with recovery comes good news.

In a couple weeks James O. Rigney, Jr. — a writer known to most of the world by his pseudonym, Robert Jordan — will become the 47th inductee in the South Carolina Academy of Authors. It’s a tremendous honor, one that I’m happy to say was in progress even before his death in September. I’ve written about my high regard for Jim here on this blog, so I was especially glad to learn about this. My elation grew, however, when it became clear that the induction ceremony would be held here at The Citadel (Jim was a proud alumnus), and that I would be among the faculty asked to attend.

But even that is not the good news this week.

No, the good news — the astonishing news — is that I received a phone call from the man leading the ceremonies, asking if I would be willing to give a short speech about Jim’s literary legacy. Indeed, it turns out only two people are planned to speak at the induction. One is an old friend of Jim’s, who will speak about Jim as a human being. The other (gulp!) will be me. With his family in attendance, in front of an audience of distinguished poets and authors, alumni and faculty, I will be responsible for encapsulating Jim’s life’s work as a writer, perhaps even to the point of defending the genre of Fantasy itself.

Great news, eh? And I’m sure glad it doesn’t come with any pressure or anything …

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Back to Work

Went back to the grind today. I’m still not near better, but I’m far closer than I was last week. Never again will I take the word “flu” in vain. I used to say things like “Oh, I had a 24-hour flu bug” or some such. No more. I’ve had the flu for real. I won’t mistake the copycats again.

It had been a few days since I’d been out and about, but walking to my office brought all the Citadel fun back to me: I had to return two salutes (one not quite crisp), and make my way through a small army contingent in full field gear (packs and guns and camo) taking up a defensive position in the parking lot and trying to pretend they were in enemy territory and not beside a Honda. I imagine my frumpy, muttering presence did not improve their exercise. Given my higher rank, it probably offended them, too.

My bad.

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Bored, Bored, Bored

Bedrest blows. Can’t do squat. Can’t walk. Can’t really talk.

Blech.
The only thing making it tolerable at the moment is season 2 of HBO’s Rome. Good stuff. Useful for my mind, too, since Four Shards has many of the same characters.

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Influenzavirus A

Not a little “flu” bug. No no. The real, bonafide Influenzavirus, type A.

So that’s why I feel so horrid. The doctor actually laughed a bit, saying the diagnosis was pretty easy since there weren’t many respiratory problems that could make a person look as bad as I do. Gee, thanks. He said he’d had the real flu once in his life: 28 years ago. He said he hopes to never feel that miserable again.

So. Bedrest and medication for days. Tamiflu to attack the virus itself; Vicodin (the stuff House is addicted to) for the rather excruciating pain. Seriously, I think I’ve got a high threshold for physical pain, but it feels like I’m being bludgeoned with a hammer every time I cough.

It’s insult to injury that I have forced downtime yet can’t hardly keep a coherent thought together — making writing near to impossible. This post has taken a long time to write.

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Misery and Woe

Can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t hardly breathe.

And the gorram doctor — I actually broke down and called a professional — can’t see me until tomorrow morning.

I thought about going to the ER — it really feels like that — but without a bullet in my gut I’d probably just lay around in even more misery there.

Woe!

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