frenchpony (frenchpony) wrote,

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Up And Down And Up And Down And . . .

So I haven't had a massive amount to say lately, mostly because I've spent the past few weeks tooling away diligently at revising La Dissertation. This is good news for my intended graduation, and it's going along at a steady clip, but it's not the most interesting thing to write about.

But between yesterday and today, I got two pieces of news that caused a major Mood Whiplash. The first piece was that, alas, my favorite job was given to someone else. Boo hiss! Now, this someone else is a friend of mine, and he and I had the same advisor, and I know his work, and I know as well as possible that the only thing that he had that I didn't was a Ph.D in hand. If it had to be someone who wasn't me, then I'm glad it was him.

But I still wish it had been me!

So I went to bed last night feeling kind of bleh (although going out for drinks with other students did help some -- hard cider and french fries and a grilled cheese sandwich smooth over a lot of hurts), and I really wanted to hear some good news this morning.

And, lo and behold! I did!!

Once again, I have been accepted to present at the British Forum for Ethnomusicology in April. Yaaaaaaaay! I love BFE. It's like a smaller version of SEM, only with more tea breaks, and you get to know people better, and I, at least, get to travel across the Atlantic, which is always fun. This year's BFE is in Belfast, which is awesome! I've never been to the Irish island before -- Dot, what's the actual name of the island, the one that has Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland on it?

I'm already thinking of the travel grants that I can take to fund this trip, and I think I can swing it such that I could stay for a few days after the end of the conference, and take my passport and a train and poke around the Republic of Ireland a little bit. That'd be fun. And I can replace Mom Pony's linen tablecloth, which is thirty years old and has holes worn in it, when I go to Belfast. Great God Wikipedia tells me that Belfast is a historic center of the Irish linen industry, and Mom Pony's old tablecloth was Irish linen, and she wanted it replaced with an Irish linen tablecloth from Ireland, which is why she let it get so worn out. She doesn't really care whether it comes from UK Ireland or Republic Of; both Protestant and Catholic linen, paid for with pounds or euros, are equally welcome in the Pony household.

So I get a trip to Ireland! Yaaaaaaaay!

Now if I could only get a job . . .
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