Blog ethics

I've just deleted my most current blog post, where I scanned and made anonymous a very absurd and awful paper a student turned in to me. I blocked out his name and made no reference to the course. In the paper, he references how "hip" he is, four times, and that he's "neato". The joke is that for his grand sense of self, the paper had absolutely no academic content or value, other than being ridiculous. After tonight's blogging/new media and ethics discussion in my History of Media, Art and Text course, I ran home with such an immense sense of guilt and terror. Though all efforts were made to keep the student's identity unavailable, I think the potential for trouble was imminent. I kept thinking, as I practically ran through campus, I'm fucked. I'm fucked for finding something funny and posting it in this wasteland. The fact that I covered his identity isn't enough to cover my ass because really, I compromised my integrity as a professor. Lesson learned. More than a lesson, a hands-on, tangible, worldly, first time ever brush with the underbelly of the internet. You can get the gist of the idiocy in the paper without me posting a scanned image of it; the above paraphrase seems to suffice. What I'm afraid of, sincerely afraid of, is that what I post on my PhD mandated blog will one come back with a vengeance and keep me from landing a job, grants, respect. I bitch all the time about media ethics, low standards, inaccuracy, and here I go and do exactly what I've found to be distasteful. No sense in beating myself up over it, damage averted for now. But my filter is up and that does make me a little sad. Now I have to censor myself in this forum, which I didn't want to think was possible. Alas, repercussions are so "in". And so traceable! It would probably be better if I posted drunken photos. I'll leave that to myspace.

Tetanus

Someone please! Bring me a rusty nail to step on!

I need to feel good, someway, about the VCU/State of Virginia sanctioned tetanus shot I had to get yesterday. I didn't sleep at all last night, because every time my left arm even bumped the pillow I would yelp in pain. Toss and turn, OUCH, toss and turn, FUCK! I awoke this morning groggy and feeling like I had been hit by a truck. Looked that way too. Christian had to do up my bra because I couldn't reach around to my back. It was excruciatingly painful to even put on a shirt. Four motrin later I started to feel better, at about 4 pm today after my GTA work required me to run my ass off on production day. I still can't fully lift my arm and there's a giant lump in it that is totally solid. Solid like a rock. Solid Gold.

And they drew THREE vials of blood to test me for a MMR vaccine. Brutality, I tell you.

Again, a board with rusty nails would be really great for mental health right about now. Or just a Rusty Nail with Dewars will do.