My 2019: Resolutions

As is custom (starting last year), my year-end navel gazing series ends with my resolutions for the new year, a little delayed because my iPad keyboard died while I was on the road.

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The eternal, nebulous, unquantifiable

  • Continue learning to let go of things that are beyond my control. Most things are.
  • Be more patient and charitable.
  • Smile more often.
  • Exercise to improve health, diet, flexibility and fitness, particularly since my schedule last semester got in the way of these healthy routines.
  • Take more time for mindfulness exercises, something started off doing well in 2019 but had largely stopped by the end of the year and intend to do more regularly in 2020.

The specific, concrete, actionable

  • Take at least one day each weekend not working, as defined by no work email, no grading, no preparing for courses, and no academic writing.
  • Take ten minutes every afternoon for quiet meditation and reflection.
  • Complete the book manuscript that I’ve been working on based on my dissertation.
  • Complete the (2) article-length pieces that I didn’t quite finish in 2019 and draft (1) new one.
  • Find (1) new book to review.
  • Complete the next piece of my research project on bread in ancient Greece.
  • I have gotten away from reading academic books for reasons other than class or research, and I want to get back to reading for professional development. My target for this is at least (12), or one per month.
  • I didn’t quite hit my reading goal of 52 books for 2019, but will re-up at the same level
    • 33% of those books should be by women
    • At least (5) should be by African American authors
    • These books should represent at least (10) different countries and (7) different languages

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Finally, to conclude this series a message for readers: thank you for following along. I have some ideas of posts coming down the pipe in 2020, including a revised list of my favorite novels, but, as usual, content here will reflect my year, what I have the energy to write about, and the fickle fortune of pursuing an academic career.

Whatever I write, I hope you’ll join me. In the meantime, may the coming year be one of warmth and joy for you as we all work to build a better future.

Recapping My 2019: best* posts; by-the-numbers; listicle; using words.

My 2019: Using Words

Judging solely on the resolutions I made for 2019, this was a year of best intentions come up short. At least two failures mirrored even minor successes, and, on the cusp of 2020, I mostly feel exhausted.

However, this assessment is colored by the fatigue I still feel from a particularly grueling semester. This year was broadly similar to the last, which was broadly similar to the one before that and the one before that. I had a few more professional successes in the past years, but I also had significantly fewer teaching responsibilities and more research support. Plus ça change.

Add in that I have now been in Columbia, MO for a decade and am currently without prospects for a permanent job in the area, and what I am feeling might be more appropriately described as stagnation.

All the same, I managed to deliver a paper on bread baking in ancient Greece last spring at the CAMWS meeting in Lincoln, NE, wrote a book review, and drafted two article-length pieces, one for an edited collection, and one I want to submit to a journal. Frustratingly, only the conference paper saw the light of day this year and I was once again unable to complete my first book manuscript (though I did make progress on it). I need to remember that this hardly counts for nothing when also teaching seven classes of my own (five new), picking up additional grading to make ends meet, and applying for academic jobs, all while also setting ambitious reading and exercise goals, and aiming to maintain a healthy relationship

I wrote last year about my recent struggles with anxiety and again earlier this year about struggling to write while depressed. These two emotional states dominated my year to the point that I tried to find a therapist in early September before the semester spun out of control. I received an initial evaluation and was prepared to spend quite a lot of money before my insurance would cover visits, but ended up not following through after being told the wait for start appointments.

Beyond simply the anxiety of the semester, I was (and am) particularly concerned about my career. The academic job market is the stuff of campfire horror stories for many reasons, but the long and the short of it is that most universities remain under regimes of austerity and those that aren’t are not generally not investing in full-time ancient historians. Add in a decade’s worth of accumulated PhDs and you have a recipe for, in some cases, hundreds of applicants and dozens of perfectly qualified candidates for every open position.

Nothing about these realities softens the notification that the job went to someone else.

My application materials are competitive and I have been receiving interviews, but I can’t help but wonder whether this will be the last year I get to do this job that I genuinely love, which, in turn, creates a negative feedback loop on my academic projects. For the work that I have been doing recently, this lack of stability is at least as much of an impediment as is the lack of research support. I have a long and growing list of things I want to do, but I have found myself in a position where I am disinclined to aggressively pursue the most ambitious ones without some promise of stability on the other side because the emotional toll and the cost to my personal relationships is too great. Perhaps I should take more risks, perhaps it wouldn’t matter. But, when combined with the significant amount time spent securing employment, often semester by semester, these issues create a contingent faculty Catch-22.

Professional anxiety was omnipresent last year, but it is worth remembering that there is more to life than this. I was able to reconnect with old friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in more than a decade, I spent time learning how bake things like croissants, and I remain in a long-term committed relationship with an amazing woman who helps keep me grounded.

I don’t know what 2020 has in store for me, but the new year is upon us so I guess I am about to find out.

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My year-in-review series is running behind, but this essay trying to make sense of my year is the penultimate entry. It follows a collection of my best* posts, a list of statistics, and a listicle.

Past essays in this series: 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015.

My 2019: By the Numbers

In the spirit of routines and trying to buck some of the frustration that comes with this season, I am again putting out a series of reflection and planning posts, that started with a list of best* posts of the year, and continued with a series of lists. Today is a list of numbers, data that somehow defines my year.

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There are any number of numbers that have been used to quantify the experience of 2019, including how much average temperatures rose, fires in Brazil and Africa, stock market tickers, shady phone calls, dollars spent on political advertising and for national defense, body counts from Yemen, total human population on Earth, instances and casualties of mass- and police-shootings—plus happier statistics that aren’t necessarily kept such as weddings, child-births, mitzvoth, or trivialities like cups of coffee, diapers, or speeding tickets. Here are some numbers about my year.

  • 7 – classes taught (across 2 semesters)
    • 5 – classes taught for the first time
    • 2 – self-paced online classes for which I was the instructor of record
    • 162 – students (excluding the online classes)
    • 5 – courses scheduled so far for 2020
    • 2 – letters of recommendation written
  • 16 – Job applications
    • 2 – interviews
    • 1 – interviews scheduled for 2020
    • 2 – campus interviews
  • 111.5 – Hours spent writing or editing academic work (YtD)
    • 1 – papers delivered
    • 1 – book reviews written
    • 0 – articles published
    • 2 – article-length pieces drafted
  • 52 – Books Read (YtD; not counting academic reading)
    • 17,462 – total pages
    • 342.39 – average pages per book
    • 21 – non-fiction books
    • 19 – books by women
    • 6 – books by African or African-American authors
    • 5 – Original languages
    • 2 – Graphic novels
  • 60 – Blog Posts (YtD)
    • 48,853 – words written
    • 814 – average words per post
    • 34 – book reviews
  • 3008 – site visitors
  • 3975 – site views
  • 8 – states visited
  • 2505 – Tweets (YtD)
    • 208.75 – average Tweets per month
    • 977,800 – Twitter impressions, per Twitter analytics
  • 173.8 – miles run
  • 1 – video game system purchased

As usual, these numbers mean nothing, anything, and everything. There are other metrics, but they are proprietary of NUDEan-inc, a private analytics organization. A NUDEan spokesperson is cagey when asked to share the areas of life quantified while keeping the actual numbers secret, leading one to speculate that the data is only being haphazardly recorded. Whether this situation is a product of gross incompetence or because many aspects of human life cannot or should not be quantified is unknown.

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Previous installments: 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015.

My 2019: Lists of Note

Every year around this time I try to make sense of my year that was. The series kicked off with a collection of the Best* posts, followed by a series of lists that double as recommendations from this past year.

Six favorite novels I read this year:

Seven favorite non-fiction books I read this year:

Books I’m looking forward to (maybe) reading in 2020:

  • The Sympathizer, Viet Thanh Nguyen
  • The Flamethrowers, Rachel Kushner
  • The Savage Detectives, Roberto Bolaño
  • A Darker Shade of Magic, V.E. Schwab
  • Sugar Street, Naguib Mahfouz

TV shows I loved watching this year

  • Elementary
  • Watchmen
  • Killing Eve (season 1)
  • The Good Place

Movies that were totally worth the price of admission:

  • Knives Out

Video games I enjoyed getting lost in:

  • Assassin’s Creed Odyssey

While I mostly listen to singles, these albums dominated my listening:

  • “Chime,” Dessa (2018)
  • “Old Time Reverie,” Mipso (2015)
  • “Dark Holler Pop,” Mipso (2013)
  • “Me Oh My,” The Honeycutters (2015)
  • “Cruel, Crazy, Beautiful World,” Johnny Clegg and Savuka (1989)

Find the past lists here: 2015, 2016, 2017, and 2018.

My 2019: Best* Posts

It is time again for a series of posts that I use to reflect on the year that was. First up, I want to highlight some of my favorite posts to this point in the year. These are not necessarily the best or the best-trafficked, but rather things I wrote that I look back on fondly and think are worth revisiting.

This was a down-year for me in terms of output mostly because heavy teaching loads left me too little time to write. Unsurprisingly, most of the substantial writing I did here were related to teaching, academia, or related topics:

I didn’t write much about current events or politics this year, but I did write about the Salute to America event this past summer, reflecting on commemoration, ceremony, and identity:

Finally, I published one long post about the reception of Sherlock Holmes:

See also Best* of 2018, 2017 and 2016.

My 2018 – Resolutions

Every year as part of this series I make a set of resolutions or goals. In the past these resolutions appeared at the end of another post, but this year I decided to separate this list into its own entry, divided, as always into two categories. This is the final installment in my end-of-2018 series.

My 2018: best* posts; by the numbers; listicle; using words.

The eternal, nebulous, unquantifiable

  • Continue learning to let go of things that are beyond my control. Most things are.
  • Be more patient and charitable with people I know and tolerant of distraction (while working to limit it).
  • Smile more often.
  • Continue to exercise, maintain or improve health, diet, flexibility and fitness.
  • Take more time for mindfulness exercises, something I did intermittently in 2018, but intend to do more regularly in 2019.

The specific, concrete, actionable

  • Take at least one day off each weekend, as defined by no work email, no grading, and no academic writing.
  • Take ten minutes every afternoon for quiet meditation and reflection.
  • Although I submitted my book proposal, I need to re-up the goal to sell my first book because as the year comes to a close that goal is yet incomplete.
  • Complete two article manuscripts for submission to journals. My goal of three last year was excessive, particularly while working on the book proposal.
  • Write two abstracts to submit to conferences.
  • Book reviews are not high on the list of priorities, but I would like to find one book to review in 2019. I did not do one in 2018.
  • I cleared my reading goal of 52 books for 2018, and will re-up at the same level
    • 33% of those books should be by women
    • I read 12 non-fiction books in 2018, but will re-up this year’s goal of 10 books
    • In lieu of languages this year, I am setting a goal of reading fiction from at least ten different countries. This should be doable, since I have books from more than five on my to-read shelf right now.
    • I want to read at least five books by African Americans (either fiction or non-fiction, suggestions welcome)

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Finally, to conclude this series a message for my readers: thank you for following along. I have some ideas of posts coming down the pipe in 2019, including a revised list of my favorite novels, but, as usual, content here will end up a reflection of my year and what I have the energy to write about. Whatever I write, I hope you’ll join me.

In the meantime, may the coming year be one of warmth and joy for you as we all work to build a better future.

My 2018 – using words

This is the penultimate post of my year-in-review series, an essay trying to make sense of my year that was. It follows a collection of my best* posts, a list of statistics, and a listicle. A post containing 2019 resolutions concludes the series tomorrow.

Past entries in this series: 2017, 2016, 2015.

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On the precipice of 2019 I am in a good place. By definition this should mean that I had a good 2018, and, compared to many, that is true. I had some measure of professional success; I published two articles, submitted a book proposal to an academic press (along with five revised chapters), taught five classes, and scored multiple interviews in the cutthroat arena of the academic job market. In a bonus victory, each of the academic successes brought me closer to articulating my larger research agenda. 2018 passed me as a blur of activity with steady, but not stable employment and whirlwind travel, but I was not burdened by toxic relationships or flattened by the trauma of loss.

Just writing these words twisted my stomach into knots.

Reading over the past versions of this essay, I realize that I have written something to this effect each of the past three years. In this sense, 2018 was more of the same, except that the highs were higher and the lows lower.

This year marked the first time in my adult life where I suffered health complications worse than the flu that were not sports injuries. All of them were related to anxiety. Last spring I experienced the first round, which included GERD and at one point breaking out in hives. The digestive issues meant that I had to give up first chocolate and then coffee. By the end of the fall semester a new wave of symptoms developed that, thankfully, have largely disappeared after I gave myself several days entirely off over the holiday.

I have coped with anxiety in various forms for quite a few years now, but an overlapping series of issues have caused the symptoms to grow progressively worse.

One is the brutal academic job market, where there are dozens or hundreds of qualified candidates for every open position and the number of positions overall in decline because of cuts to education funding. For me this meant working on short-term contracts to teach individual courses without the security of knowing whether I would teach again the following term and, simultaneously, feeling pressure to research and publish without compensation in the hope that someday it will be part of my job.

Teaching history at the college level is something I deeply believe in. There are other career paths out there and graduate study in history should do a better job of creating pathways for students to get those jobs, but when I look at myself in the mirror it is hard to give up on this dream that I have now spent almost a decade pursuing.

Another issue is the gremlin who has long sat on my shoulder telling me that I should be working harder. When I was young I could ignore him, perhaps too well, but in the crucible of academia he has grown strong indeed.

I gave in to that gremlin more often than not in 2018, sacrificing my weekends, my evenings, and much of the time that would have been spent just being outdoors, much to my detriment. By the end of the year, my partner started saying that even my hobbies started to look like work.

Self-care taken to its extreme becomes hedonism, but self-care itself is necessary. My much belated revelation at the end of 2018 is that things like self-care that I admire and encourage in others are also things that I need to allow myself.

But, like I stated at the outset, 2018 was a successful year by many metrics. I remain in a healthy relationship with an amazing woman and read a lot of breathtaking books. I was a little bit ambitious in my writing goals, which always ends up going slower than intended. Teaching new courses (four of the five I taught for the first time) consumes more time than I estimate, and most of my writing time was given over to “old” work, between editing chapters to submit with my book proposal and rounds of edits and proofs. Still, I am pleased with how my courses went for the most part and am pleased with the work that I put out into the world in 2018. I also saw progress in the long-term process of self-improvement, which provided hope even in bad moments.

As much as my year was defined by struggles with anxiety, I want to take time to reflect on those things that were good.

My universal resolutions every year revolve around mindfulness and happiness. Anecdotally and superficially, at least, I smiled more and laughed more easily in 2018 than I did in past years, but also with the impression that this was grim laughter going out into unrelenting darkness.

My 2018 – listicle

Every year around this time I try to make sense of my year that was. On Wednesday I posted the zero post in this series, my Best* posts of 2018 list and yesterday I posted the first entry, my annual By the Numbers. Today’s post is a listicle that serves as a vehicle for thinking about things I liked or did in the past year.

Getting back into the swing of things, here are the past lists: 2015, 2016, and 2017.

Three international news stories I’m following going into 2019

  • The ongoing war in Yemen
  • The changing responses to the refugee crisis in Europe
  • The fallout from US involvement and disengagement with the rest of the world

Seven favorite novels that I read

Five Nonfiction Books I particularly loved

Two Books about Teaching I particularly liked

Five Books I’m Looking Forward to Reading in 2019 [two repeats from 2018]

  • Go, Went, Gone, Jenny Erpenbeck
  • Beware of Pity, Stefan Zweig
  • American Pastoral, Philip Roth
  • Always Coming Home, Ursula K. Le Guin
  • Sugar Street, Naguib Mahfouz

Four movies I saw in theaters that were totally worth the price of admission

  • The Death of Stalin
  • Black Panther
  • Won’t You Be My Neighbor
  • Annihilation

Four TV Shows I have been watching

  • The Good Place
  • The Wire
  • The Great British Baking Show
  • Forged in Fire

Two music groups I listened to for the first time

  • Josh Ritter
  • Mipso

Publications Notice 2018

This year saw some of my work go out into the world beyond the ecosystem of this blog, in the form of two peer-reviewed articles and one book review. In reverse order, they were:

“‘Who Cares About the Greeks Living in Asia?’: Ionia and Attic Orators in the Fourth Century,” CJ 114 (2018), 163–90.

In this article I used the extant speeches of the Attic Orators as a window into Athenian public discourse about Ionia. Where a superficial distance between Athens and Ionia appeared at the start of the fourth century, these speeches, I argue, contain evidence a complex and ongoing relationship between the two even as their composers directed the attention of their audiences elsewhere.

“Oracular Politics: Propaganda and Myth in the Refoundation of Didyma,” AHB 32 (2018), 44–60.

This article challenges the widely-held position that the presence of Alexander the Great caused the restoration of the oracle at Didyma, which had lain in ruin for almost a century and a half since the end of the Persian Wars. I reinterpreted the ancient evidence for this spurious association, arguing that crediting Alexander served the political needs of the Milesians and of Seleucid royal family.

“Nudell on: P. Briant, The First European: A History of Alexander in the Age of Empire,” trans. N. Elliot (Harvard University Press: 2017).”

In January my review of Pierre Briant’s book about the reception of Alexander in Early Modern Europe, published in English as The First European appeared in CJ-online. The short version is that the book is excellent (Briant is one of my favorite ancient historians working), but I took issue with the title chosen for the English-language edition.


Each of these is a piece of scholarship, meaning that while I tried my best to keep the writing clean and readable, a certain amount of background context is assumed on the part of the reader. That said, I am happy to share copies with any interested readers, scholars, or students. If the numbers of off-prints are limited, priority goes to students and academics. Send an email to inquire about receiving a copy.

My 2018 – by the numbers

In the spirit of routines and trying to buck some of the frustration that comes with this season, I am again putting out a series of reflection and planning posts, that started with a list of best* posts of the year. Today is a list of numbers, data that somehow defines my year. Previous installments: 2017, 2016, 2015.

There are any number of numbers that have been used to quantify the experience of 2018, including how much average temperatures rose, stock market tickers, voters suppressed, emails leaked, dollars spent on political advertising, number of people who died in California wildfires, body count from Yemen, total human population on Earth, instances and casualties of mass- and police-shootings—plus happier statistics that aren’t necessarily kept such as weddings, child-births, mitzvoth, or trivialities like cups of coffee, diapers, or speeding tickets. Here are some numbers about my year.

  • 5 classes taught
    • 4 courses taught for the first time
    • 1 course repeated from a prior iteration
    • 114 students enrolled in my classes
    • 2 courses scheduled for 2019 (so far)
    • 4 letters of recommendation written
    • 1 committee served on
  • 20 jobs applied for
    • 2 interviews
    • 2 interviews set for 2019
  • 151.43 hours spent writing or editing academic work (YtD)
  • 1 book proposal submitted to a press
  • 2 articles published
  • 1 book review published
  • 2 academic papers presented
    • 1 abstracts accepted for a conference in 2019
  • 52 books read (YtD; not counting academic reading)
  • 16,889 pages
    • 9 original languages
    • 17 by women
    • 13 nonfiction
  • 63 blog posts published (YtD)
    • 37 book reviews
    • 11 posts about teaching
    • 5 posts about politics
    • 1652 visitors
    • 2371 site views
  • 20 states visited
  • 1 Canadian provinces visited
  • 3 ultimate frisbee leagues participated in
  • 2 Sourdough starters kept active
  • 1255 Tweets sent (YtD)
    • 104.58 Average Tweets per month
    • 340.1K Twitter impressions, per Twitter analytics

As usual, these numbers mean nothing, anything, and everything. There are other metrics, but they are proprietary of NUDEAN-inc, a private analytics organization. A NUDEAN spokesperson is cagey when asked to share the areas of life quantified while keeping the actual numbers secret, leading one to speculate that the data is only being haphazardly recorded. Whether this situation is a product of gross incompetence or because many aspects of human life cannot or should not be quantified is unknown.