PRETTY BITS OF FOIL DISTRACT ME
My blog is an exercise in surrealist temporality. I've got photos and stories from Italy in December I've still yet to pull out. Not to mention the promised saga of last summer's backpacking and the Czech hospital story conclusion. Chances are they'll pop up at some random time. For now, I'll just tell you about some pleasant distractions I've had over the past two or three weeks.
Last week I was heading to school to hunt down library books and walking down a fairly standard street of charity shops, video stores and takeaways when I heard a clip-clop sound behind me. I turned to see a glass carriage drawn by four white horses with white plumes on their heads and a silver and white coffin inside and "Mum" spelled out in white flowers on the top. It was preceded by a cream-colored '40s style hearse full of flowers, some spelling "Mum" and "Old Ma". Following the carriage were four more '40s style cream limos with what seemed to be an inordinate number of children in them, all dressed in their finest. Everyone on this tired little street stopped to stare, and I heard some older lady breathlessly say, "That woman was loved." (Not that I think fancy funerals necessarily equal love, but it was beautiful and she probably was.) I quick called my friend Oci and told her to look out her window, as it was heading down her street. Alas, she was at the computer room and would miss it. But it made my day. I really, really wish I had some photos to show you, but I'd had this weird idea to pick up my camera on the way out the door that day, and said to myself, "Nah, what would I possibly see to take pictures of?" Silly me.
And a couple weeks before that, Jason and I wandered the parks and neighborhood picking blackberries in alleys and then came home and made a huge gooey delicious cobbler. When I looked up in my world cookbook* to remind myself of how to make it, I realized they call it "Appalachian Mountain Pudding"--I never realized or thought of it as a specifically Appalachian thing, but it is practically the first thing I ever learned to make by myself in good ole' Sugar Grove, so maybe it is. Anyway, my English friends had never heard of one, and I think they enjoyed it.
Now. Enough distractions. Back to work.
*World Cookbook = "Extending the Table ...A World Community Cookbook" put out by the Mennonites, who travel the world doing humanitarian projects and learning to cook ethnic food right. I love this cookbook.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
HELLOOOOOOO
Writing a dissertation is an isolating experience. I spent hours contacting and then interviewing farmers and food suppliers, one on one. I’ve quietly read and re-read articles, facts and figures, studies and reports on my study area, including census and geohistorical information about Cornwall, academic debates about relocalisation of food, food miles as a measure of sustainability, rural economic development, farm strategies, quality food networks, and theories of learning and methodology. And then there are all the government strategies, statements, studies and pronouncements. Very few of these have I discussed with anyone at any length. And now, I have pages and pages of text, some of it chunked together from my previous essays, quotes from my interviews, and my own thoughts. Now I’m working on how all this fits together. What is the story I’m telling? Which elements are necessary, and in what order, to take a reader through the discovery process? How much background is required for clarity and to bring out the significance of various findings? What are the relevant and useful findings to policy? What constitutes valuable analysis as opposed to mere description of the case study details?
If you know me at all, you probably haven’t forgotten that I like to talk. When I’m working on a play or dealing with a breakup or trying to make decisions about my future, I talk. And talk and talk and talk. I used to say that I was incapable of thinking without actually saying things to someone out loud. I’ve since given myself credit for having evolved to silent thought, but I still find epiphanies by talking about things. And this is in addition to the obvious learning by discussing that most people do, where the actual input from another party is enlightening. Sometimes, just having to explain things makes them suddenly clear to me.
And I can’t really do that with my dissertation. At this point, I am the only person I know who is familiar with the region, sector, issues and details of my study. So, day after day, I wallow around in the facts, figures and ideas in my head and try to make them stand up straight and get into formation. Herding cats, let me tell you. And what’s most frustrating of all is that it seems simple in my head. I know the stuff. I know what was interesting and useful in what I’ve learned. I know the background, am familiar with the trends and the representativeness of my interview subjects, know the limitations of my research and why it is useful to policymaking. But if I sit down it’s just a big pile of facts and bits of thought and won’t get its act together.
(Snowdonia, August 2005)
Writing a dissertation is an isolating experience. I spent hours contacting and then interviewing farmers and food suppliers, one on one. I’ve quietly read and re-read articles, facts and figures, studies and reports on my study area, including census and geohistorical information about Cornwall, academic debates about relocalisation of food, food miles as a measure of sustainability, rural economic development, farm strategies, quality food networks, and theories of learning and methodology. And then there are all the government strategies, statements, studies and pronouncements. Very few of these have I discussed with anyone at any length. And now, I have pages and pages of text, some of it chunked together from my previous essays, quotes from my interviews, and my own thoughts. Now I’m working on how all this fits together. What is the story I’m telling? Which elements are necessary, and in what order, to take a reader through the discovery process? How much background is required for clarity and to bring out the significance of various findings? What are the relevant and useful findings to policy? What constitutes valuable analysis as opposed to mere description of the case study details?
If you know me at all, you probably haven’t forgotten that I like to talk. When I’m working on a play or dealing with a breakup or trying to make decisions about my future, I talk. And talk and talk and talk. I used to say that I was incapable of thinking without actually saying things to someone out loud. I’ve since given myself credit for having evolved to silent thought, but I still find epiphanies by talking about things. And this is in addition to the obvious learning by discussing that most people do, where the actual input from another party is enlightening. Sometimes, just having to explain things makes them suddenly clear to me.
And I can’t really do that with my dissertation. At this point, I am the only person I know who is familiar with the region, sector, issues and details of my study. So, day after day, I wallow around in the facts, figures and ideas in my head and try to make them stand up straight and get into formation. Herding cats, let me tell you. And what’s most frustrating of all is that it seems simple in my head. I know the stuff. I know what was interesting and useful in what I’ve learned. I know the background, am familiar with the trends and the representativeness of my interview subjects, know the limitations of my research and why it is useful to policymaking. But if I sit down it’s just a big pile of facts and bits of thought and won’t get its act together.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
WWOOFin'
So, yeah, sorry it's been so long. But I'm tryin' to write a bloody dissertation, for sheep's sake. It's hard and it takes lots of thinking and writing. And blogging takes a certain kind of outward looking energy that i find it hard to muster sometimes.
Where've I been? Well, only the friendliest, prettiest part of the England, that's all. (No arguments here, please, it's subjective and I'm standing by it, admittedly having seen really very little of England.) I've been to Cornwall!
For my dissertation, I conducted interviews with farmers in Cornwall about their business, their markets and their perceptions or experiences in the NHS local buying programme. Basically, I'm looking at where public food procurement fits into the current situation of working small farms.
Now, Cornwall is a monster tourist destination--it's population doubles during the school holidays--which means its an expensive place to find lodging for an extended research project. So I WWOOFed it. There's this programme, used to be called Willing Workers on Organic Farms, now called Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms. (nice marketing decision, that name change, huh?). Anyway, you join and they send you a list of organic farms who will provide room and board in exchange for work. So, I found a woodland project that sounded nice (home brewing, permaculture, music and woodworking were listed in their blurb) and made myself a deal. Really, they told me they didn't have much going on and said I could just stay there, which was perfect since I had county-wide interviews to do. I ended up helping out by re-doing some compost systems, hanging out with the kids, and raking a community path (and some other bits and pieces of weaving willow and putting up hay), and I got to stay in this caravan for just over two weeks:
It was really great. Really. There was no running water or electricity, but there was a composting toilet and lots of friendly meals on the verandah down at their house. This was my view nearly every evening, and my "host family":
Yeah, now you're starting to get the picture. It was the perfect summer getaway. They also have these charming children, who have loads of energy and are endlessly talkative and love having stories read to them, especially Peter Rabbit stories.
It was great. And I walked and bused and trained all over the Cornish countryside, talking to great farmers and seeing the landscape. I couldn't have asked for better research conditions!
So, yeah, sorry it's been so long. But I'm tryin' to write a bloody dissertation, for sheep's sake. It's hard and it takes lots of thinking and writing. And blogging takes a certain kind of outward looking energy that i find it hard to muster sometimes.
Where've I been? Well, only the friendliest, prettiest part of the England, that's all. (No arguments here, please, it's subjective and I'm standing by it, admittedly having seen really very little of England.) I've been to Cornwall!
For my dissertation, I conducted interviews with farmers in Cornwall about their business, their markets and their perceptions or experiences in the NHS local buying programme. Basically, I'm looking at where public food procurement fits into the current situation of working small farms.
Now, Cornwall is a monster tourist destination--it's population doubles during the school holidays--which means its an expensive place to find lodging for an extended research project. So I WWOOFed it. There's this programme, used to be called Willing Workers on Organic Farms, now called Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms. (nice marketing decision, that name change, huh?). Anyway, you join and they send you a list of organic farms who will provide room and board in exchange for work. So, I found a woodland project that sounded nice (home brewing, permaculture, music and woodworking were listed in their blurb) and made myself a deal. Really, they told me they didn't have much going on and said I could just stay there, which was perfect since I had county-wide interviews to do. I ended up helping out by re-doing some compost systems, hanging out with the kids, and raking a community path (and some other bits and pieces of weaving willow and putting up hay), and I got to stay in this caravan for just over two weeks:
It was really great. Really. There was no running water or electricity, but there was a composting toilet and lots of friendly meals on the verandah down at their house. This was my view nearly every evening, and my "host family":
 |  |
Yeah, now you're starting to get the picture. It was the perfect summer getaway. They also have these charming children, who have loads of energy and are endlessly talkative and love having stories read to them, especially Peter Rabbit stories.
 |  |  |  |
It was great. And I walked and bused and trained all over the Cornish countryside, talking to great farmers and seeing the landscape. I couldn't have asked for better research conditions!
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