Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Update: email nightmare resolved and it was not my fault! Surprised?

In installing a new computer in my office (I think it was to be a surprise), the tech dude (inadvertently?) set it so that the new email program (another surprise) would download email from the server every ten minutes. If I retrieved something at home (or elsewhere) before it got downloaded – mine! If I did not, it was wiped off the server. Some three fourths of email got slashed in this way, though I ultimately retrieved it in my office today.

I can only respond to it from the Law School because it is there and not here, and unfortunately I am here and not there. I will get to it all, I will. In the meantime, here’s a small chunk of attenuated responses:

Thanks, sorry you feel that way, no I cannot do that, of course you should study that for the exam, yes please do send it to me, gym would be fantastic, I liked your Christmas pictures as well, thanks for that story, no I am not insulted, of course I read your blog, I would love to eat dinner and I’m glad you’re not holding grudges over that unfortunate incident back in November.

Why is there a bright orange shirt set up as if it had a person in it?


No, it's not a shirt ripped off the back of a Ukrainian. Posted by Hello
I think Poles are predisposed toward artistry. I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Even at a time when art was blandly subservient to a political agenda, Polish artists developed a reputation for spectacular poster art (remember “Cyrk” posters from the sixties and seventies?). Poles had a knack for the stuff.

But fashion – it suffered in postwar Poland. The styles were conservative, the colors were uniformly washed-out. Burgundy looked like last year’s plum preserves. They said it had something to do with the quality of the dyes. Maybe. I think it had to do with a national disinterest in developing a great fashion industry. In fashion taste, Poles were being compared with their neighbors – to the west (Germany) and to the south (Austria), except it was said (I’m just reporting here, not commenting on the veracity of the claims) that the Germans and Austrians at least made shoes to last, even if you didn’t especially want to wear them.

So don’t you think that it is reasonable to compensate for the years of dyspeptic colors in this new Polish market economy by flooding the stores with strong statements about color?

I bought the orange shirt in Poland at “Reserved,” which like “Tatum,” is a leading Polish clothes retailer, sort of our meager analogue to J.Crew. Reaction here to my proudly displayed shirt:
-> it looks like it should be worn by a traffic person
-> nice and bright, isn’t it?
-> next time bring me one…around the end of October
-> really bright…

See, I knew it: suddenly it’s on everyone’s wish list. How nice to see that Polish clothes are making a statement again!

What to do when your connectedness waffles and wanes

Lately, things have been slow on the email front. Vacations! Holidays! – I told myself. But today, a colleague sent me an email basically asking why I haven’t responded to her emails no. 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. Why? Because I never got no. 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. But I got no.6. Oh oh. Further investigation reveals that other emails also have not reached me. Yet some have. Moreover, this has been happening for several weeks now.

Panic. I am certain that I have missed the crucial, all-important deadline. And, I have appeared rude to students, colleagues and friends. (And truthfully, some have appeared rude to me.)

Clicking onto the web-based Wiscmail reveals a completely empty Inbox. What???? I have been erased from the web planet! I am no more. Except sometimes, I am as before.

I will unravel this, I will get to the bottom of this hellish email ride. In the meantime, if you have written and received no answer, it is not my fault! The cyber gods and I appear to be having issues over who is really in control and at this point, they are ahead in the battle. Hang in there, nlcamic at wisc dot edu has got the wise and wonderful tech support staff on her side. They’re scratching their heads as we speak.