Quick post, still trying to finish my thesis. I’m going to start a “Dailies” page or section or something, so I can post a picture every day. Hopefully. So here it starts –
Sometimes routines are OK. In my case, I have a set list of things that I inevitably do before any sort of productive writing can be accomplished. Productive thesis writing, that is. This blog writing is productive too, but in a very different way, and indeed is part of the list I run through in the mornings. I used to get fantastically anxious before trying to write anything important, with things like “what if I never finish it”, “I have too much to do and too little time”, “my writing’s not assertive enough”, and “I’ve only sort of skimmed these citations what if they don’t match my text” running through my head, obviously increasing my amount of discomfort for writing instead of helping me get stuck in and get things done.
Now, however, I allow myself to “kill time” before being productive by doing fun things like listening to fairly catchy but, admittedly, fairly “trendy?” “crappy?” whatever(y) music on YouTube (see my new Sounds for Sore Eyes page for a list), looking at the news pictures on the HuffPo (I almost never actually read any of the articles), briefly flicking through Facebook to see if anyone has put up fun pictures or said anything particularly pithy, hopefully writing one of these fun posts, and occasionally watching some Eddie.
These “distractions” are now tools to get me calm, cool and collected (and awake, less annoyed, and more functioning) in the mornings where the last thing I really want to do is sit at a computer, reworking pieces of text over and over and over again until its not as boring as it started out being a month ago. Coming to the realization that this is time spent not time wasted has really helped me balance the chore of writing with the chore of being happy. Both need to be worked at some times, but both need to be recognized for their importance in my daily life. Soon, however, that writing will be done, and my job here will be something completely different. A welcome change to which I will now start a semi-formal and probably slightly inaccurate countdown.
T minus 9 days to release the thesis to the committee (and the start of my full time organic ag temp job).
T minus 23 days to final defense.
T minus 39 days to permanent submission of the thesis to the graduate school.
T minus 55 days to graduation.
T minus 70 days to Trinidad.
The big three things I’ve ever wanted were a bike, a kayak, and a camera. Through connections I had with a friend who worked at a bike chop shop (legal, I swear, well, I assume) that took bikes liberated by the police, refurbished them, and resold them for fantastically cheap, I got my road bike for about $25. That’s right, my back bike rack cost more than the bike itself. My work here at wonderful Purdue happens to be in aquatic botany, so, therefore, I got my professor to buy lab kayaks for research purposes. So the use of those were free, maybe even negative free, as I get paid for that research.
Which just leaves camera. The only camera I’ve really ever had is my Canon whatever it is that I got because of the 12x zoom and a whopping 5 megapixels! Mind you, that was utterly high tech when I got it, oh, 8ish years ago. It is the next step up from a point and shoot camera, and I have loved it dearly for that whole time. Loved it dearly unless I wanted to a) take clear pictures in pretty much anything but direct sunlight, b) take pictures at any particular distance, and most importantly, c) spend less than 10 seconds pressing two buttons at the same time and guessing in order to get objects in focus. Needless to say, this upgrade was a long time in coming.
I’m looking at this little beauty – http://imaging.nikon.com/products/imaging/lineup/digitalcamera/slr/d3100/
a digital SLR with 14 megapixels, interchangeable lenses, infinite control of exposure and everything you’d ever want to control, HD video, fast processing time (meaning shorter wait between shots, meaning 3 shots per second or so), and lots and lots of other fun things. Yes, this fun isn’t cheap, but I’m considering it an investment for my future. Who knows, maybe I could use it for some part of my next job! The only big decision I’m facing right now is figuring out when I want to go start that next phase of photography… Really, it’s a matter of how patient can I be right now, as this is the carrot I’m dangling in front of myself to finish my thesis. We’ll see…
Until then, here’s a song from an old friend –
I’m done with “winter”. For a while. And I think I’m allowed.
Having grown up just south of the “Great Nort’ Woods”, I’ve had my fair share of winters. From minus who knows what wind chills, snowbanks at school so high that we could only play “King of the Mountain” after school because otherwise we’d get yelled at (as in, “get down from there you hooligans, you’ll fall and break your necks”, or something), forts dug into the packed snow mounds that we knew wouldn’t collapse because the walls were so damn thick, ice skating at recess, sledding on the golf course, and watching all the cars and shanties set up shop on the lakes, waiting for their tip ups to, um, tip up.
These last three winters in Indiana haven’t been as extreme. They’ve been moody, with snow coming and going as the rain saw fit, but no real accumulation, no minus 20 wind chill, and no particular reason for the below freezing temps. I think I went sledding maybe twice the whole time. So, in my definition, winter without the use of the snow is relatively pointless. The two super cool things I saw here, and they were darn awesome, was the river freezing then thawing, breaking off huge icebergs that would race under the bridge so I could follow them like Poohsticks, making wonderful music in the quiet morning, and also the hoar frost that formed along said river before the bright sun came all the way up and melted its fun.
As of right now, I’ve experienced two types of winter in North America: very cold with lots of snow in which to play, and mildly cold enough with not much snow to speak of but an occasional fantastic but short lived feat of winterness. A third type does exist, and it’s called “warm”. You know, the kind of winter where it’s the rainy months of the year for that location, things are green and growing, and you can still wear sandals the whole way through without being harassed by co-workers for being nuts.
I want to experience that third type of winter. Soon. You know, so I can be well rounded and complete in my wintery experiences. And so I can wear sandals all year round. And not get the wonderful “cabin fever” I’m so accustomed to once a year. And so I can bike all the time, without having to worry about weather my break lines are going to freeze shut. And maybe so I can learn how to surf, and be really really good at it. Is that too much to ask?
First off, it’s Spring Break (woooo). The only difference that makes for me is that the campus, which I have not left, is now fantastically empty, and that all my roommates are gone but their pets aren’t. Meaning, I am taking care of said pets. Said pets being a dog (beagle, Stella), a guinea pig (crazy haired, Jurassic), and a fish (beta, who the hell knows its name).
Two of the three little beasties are pretty darn labor free, just make sure they’re fed and that one of them gets scratched on the nose enough and the other has its light on (you can figure out which is which). One, however, is more work. That’d be the 9 year old little pup.
Stella’s a great dog. Doesn’t bark at anything besides squirrels and other dogs when on walks, only gets hyper when its walk time, only occasionally does things on the carpets that needs to be cleaned up, and never chews on shoes or cell phones. She does, however, insist on sleeping on your feet and snoring the entire night long. Which does not work when your bed is tiny, and you have slight insomnia in the first place. And by you, I mean me. I tried to sleep on the couch last night so she could be in the same room as me but not on top of my feet. Do we think that worked? Not as such. Giant couch length wise, but she insisted on using my ankles as a pillow. I would just kick her out of my room at night, but that would lead to scratching of the door, an angry roommate later on (as it’s her parents house Stella would be destroying), and no sleep for me anyway.
So. If I ever get a dog, I’ll need a bigger bed. Or, and here’s a new one, a bed for the dog. Or a dog that sleeps at the foot of the bed, and not on the feet of me.
That’s right, I’m not done expressing how warped my childhood was. Warped in a great way, mind you, I wouldn’t want it any different. Here’s a furthered list of fun stuff that is normal for us Tuckers, and rare for the rest of the Norms out there.
Monty Python –
- An hoop!?
- Pining for the fjords!
- Confuse-A-Cat
- I’ve always wanted to be a lumberjack…
- Fish Slapping Dance
- One, two, five! (Three, sir…) Three!
- Long, nasty teeth!
- What are you gunna do, bleed on me?!
- Ministry of Silly Walks
- And sooooo many more.
Red Dwarf –
- Mr. Flibble
- Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast.
- Smeg head.
- Are you trying to tell me everybody’s dead?
- How’m I lookin?
Chronicles of Narnia (the good versions)
Box of Delights (every damn Christmas)
Walker Texas Ranger (muted) + Jazz on Saturday nights when Dad had a gig.
Think that about covers it for now. Oh look, a thesis to write…
Children are molded by those who raise them.
I was raised by NPR, PBS, and parents who thought those things were good. NPR meant lots of classical music, endless “games” of name the composer / time period, Car Talk, Whad’Ya Know (not much, you?), and I shudder to think of it, Prairie Home Companion. PBS meant Nova, Nature, Mystery, and Muppets.
And by “molded”, I mean warped.
It’s more fun to learn things when they’re funny, hence the endless “memory devices” utilized in my childhood. Happy Birthday to You was “Hippo Birdie Two Ewes”, Rimsky-Korsakov was “Rip-your-Corset-off” (as in Flight of the Bumble Bee is so fast…), you know this is what it is because it sings “Oh, my word, it’s Beethoven’s 3rd”, and that this is what it is because it sings “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a Mozart”, this goes “Old Mozart’s in the closet, let him out, let him out, let him out”, and that this is the “Pathetic Symphony”.
I also knew that Harry Belafonte was obviously “Harry Bellybutton“. The Muppets did this all the time. You have Alistair Cookie, Placido Flamingo, Polly Darton, and an entire list of famous people that children don’t know but their parents do. Jokes that the adults get and the kids will if a) their parents are weird or b) the kids actually pay attention and therefore learn things later on when they get to be weird adults.
There’s so many more examples like this, but I’m sort of trying to write a thesis… Don’t even get me started on Victor Borge.
what Was, what Is, and what Will Be 
