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|Tuesday, April 19th, 2011|
|Strange trips down memory lane
When music melts your mind
Takes me away to another place in time
I can almost remember what thing felt like back then
But the nostalgia has taken the edge off, sort of
Do I want this stuff dredged up?
I only can let it wash over me.
A childhood home, the way the heart palpitates to think of the effect you once had on me
Never to be again
And all the apologies I owe. Drown me in sorrow, making the past seem like such better days.
I sit and listen. The all washes over me. Can all be at one time? I feel it all. Wanting to well up inside me. All this love and joy and passion. What is it for? Not to be squashed down and contained like some disposable applesauce container, neatly held back by a thin aluminum lid. Love will tell. And all will spill. I must find a way out of the hole I have dug for myself, this creative vacuum is sucking my soul dry.
|Sunday, January 24th, 2010|
|I am going to start a blog... someday
For now this must suffice.
Heading toward veganism. No more meat at least for now (except fish).
Tonight we had a very white dinner:
Cauliflower and millet pureed with copious dill and some veganaisse- yum!
Tilapia filets with ground horseradish
cauliflower greens sauteed with a little Dulse in safflower oil (no salt needed) - yum!
and Bubbies sauerkraut
Went to a macrobiotics class this weekend and am all inspired now to eat a more balanced diet. I am convinced it will help my performance in all things - especially running.
Next time something really, really good happens, I will post it here. Until I get my blog, where I will tell everyone how I am beating plantar fascitis with running.
|Sunday, January 27th, 2008|
|Sunday, October 28th, 2007|
|Friday, July 27th, 2007|
Your results:You are Spider-Man
||You are intelligent, witty,
a bit geeky and have great
power and responsibility.
Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz
|Tuesday, June 26th, 2007|
You are 89% REAL Texan!!
High five, you're a complete Texan. People from other states should tremble in your presence because they're simply not worthy. Let them bow before you and convey their undying adoration to you while they announce their true desire to be Texan.
How Texan Are You?
|Thursday, December 21st, 2006|
calling up people I know here
Wishin' for a random encounter like the one so long ago, that night in Port A. Met a great friend. Had good times. Had bad times. Jammed together. Then split. Wanting a friendship like that TO LAST. Where to find it in the mother of all cities? God, this place is a wreck. When's the next big one going to hit? Just want to get done, get out and get back to my roots.
I got a feelin' it's a long way home. Current Mood: sigh
|Sunday, November 5th, 2006|
|Saturday, October 21st, 2006|
|Friday, September 29th, 2006|
|my advisor... the asshole
Communication problems aside, dealing with my graduate advisor is proving to be a nightmare. He snoops and gossips, bad-mouthing anyone and everyone, all the while believing he is the most witty man to walk the planet. He makes up mocking names for everyone in our group. I have embraced mine and in so doing made it my shield. (Thank you Lord Snow for teaching me that lesson).
The latest bit of evidence to make me hate the man, is the fact that he read my fellow students e-mail when she left it open on one of our group computers. What a schmuck! And he calls me
a nosy snoop. I would never stoop so low as to read his e-mail, though he's left me many opportunities. I don't need access to his motivations, bragging, gossipping, politicking or anything else he may convey through his email. I care abouot the practical, day-to-day, getting shit done agenda. His is plain to me without snooping through his e-mail:
He wants the money from grants that help feed his largely minority grad students, but he doesn't really want to have to interact with them at all as an advisor. He'd rather bully them like some twisted upper-classman would a fresh little fish.
He wants to keep up appearences and cover his ass so that he'll be sure his promotion goes through early next year, even though he doesn't give a damn about the department, the univeristy or its students. He will give all kinds of lip service to make whomever believe that he does care about these things, but actions speak louder than.
I'm sorry that I cam to grad school. I'm learning more about how to interact with people than I am about my subject (or so it feels sometimes). It is a good thing to know, but I'm left wondering if this is some sort of retribution for all those years I spent as an asshole. I feel like I'm back in high school, trapped in a living situation that I cannot abide, but must suffer trhough until I finish what I started. I can't wait to get out.
I don't mind the hard work or even the lack of recognition for all that I do. What bothers me is the lack of a support network. I came here because it was a small program, thinking it would afford me more one-on-one, but now I find myself wishing the department was bigger. I could have friends to talk to about scientific musings. We could brainstorm and bitch about projects and advisors, but although there are many grad students, most of them are commuters, so I only see them in class. I should work alittle harder I guess, to speed up the getting the fuck out out of here.
My message for all of you: choose wisely your grad program. Learn carefully who you will be dealing with before you sign so many years of y our life away. It is the human interactions that shape our lives and it is what we do that gives our lives meaning. Don't entangle the two in a downward spiraling mess. Choose carefully who you surround yourself with that you may all work together toward common goals that will lift you all up.
|Tuesday, September 26th, 2006|
I've been in a very unhappy place lately. Everything is culprit:
-not getting enough exercise
-my own criticisms
-everyone else's criticism of me
This is worse than just general malaise. This is a dryness in my throat, a tightness in my core and a rude word for every action I take, usually something along the lines of "you're such an asshole"
Is this my perfectionist nature on meth? Is it the changing of the seasons? Is it living a life less dreamed of?
Last night in my dream I was histerical. It is a reflection of my inner state in wakeful life. G had chosen the computer as a lover over me. It was unfair. I was unloved. I was beating him about the head trying to get him to notice me, to convince him that I was superior to the computer. To no avail. He hardly noticed me. I went through the house kicking and screaming and crying. An adult tantrum. Embarrassing to admit, but it was just a dream.
Why am I so pent up? Why am I so focused on the negative? What happened to my positive outlook?
Nothing is good enough. That is why. I try to make it better, but still, it isn't good enough.
I went to the gym yesterday. I thought it would help. Yet here I am again, in negativeland.
I have things to do besides search for the cause of my bedragesickeled state:
Homework, among other things.
|Friday, September 22nd, 2006|
Which Firefly Character Are You?
|Wednesday, September 13th, 2006|
I know I must have been dreaming... Around about the same time I won a million dollars in Vegas, paid in cheese and had an adorable little baby girl. I mean brand new. G was there and was very supportive. I met a man in some restaurant waiting area that seemed to know me, or at least was fond of me in a fatherly way. His name was Ryan. I remember this because he wrote me a letter that was there when we got back wishing me all the best and wanting to know how I was doing. I remember writing him a response. One of the closing remarks I made was "I just love being a mother!" and it felt so true. I took babygirl everywhere with me: into the field to do field work, on the bus, into the bank... and it felt so right to just hold her in my arms and share the love. I met an older lady in the bank who just happened to be from Texas. The bank was like a hybrid between the Wamu floorplan and a Vegas casino. There were no slot machines, but the tellers were all dressed in dealers' tuxes, replete with cumberbund and resigned look in the eye. I went up to the lady and plopped down my two bundles of million dollar cheese (they fir easily in my hands, being no larger than a whiffle ball if not a little more solid). I told her I had a million dollars to deposit and that I won it in Vegas. She congratulated me and I could feel my nervousness ebb as the transaction drew to completion. Do you have any idea how nerve-wracking it is to carry around a million dollars worth of cheese? She congratulated us and I asked her where she was from having a hunch she came from Texas. And then I was leaving the bank. And then BEEP/BEEP#BEEP\BEEP*click* 5:10- time to get up.
|Friday, September 8th, 2006|
|i see things that aren't really there
I awoke to the smell of cat turd. Sure enough. Light on, eyes open, there was a cat turd lying on the bed beside my pillow.
It was really there, but that did not break the magic of the dream nor the hold it had on me.
Now only the last bits remain, late in the day, and a long day at that. These bits I retained with a concious interpretation because I WANT TO REMEMEMBER: I see things that aren't really there. I was in a large house with many bedrooms. Friends and family were sleeping in their rooms all up and down the hall. I was in a darkened kitchen doing the dishes. Over the sink there was a bar through which I could see into the living room. Looking into the living room I saw a can of something, maybe oatmeal, on a shelf near of a stained oak book case. It was positioned near the floor, the second shelf from the floor. In front of my eyes, I watched it appear (or was it disapper?) It freaked me out. In the dream, the reason we were all staying together in one house was to watch out for one another, to protect ourselves against "the evil"- which is not what it was called, but conceptually that's what it was. As far as I can remember it didn't have a name. Call it ghosts, zombies, the devil and his minions, them out there.
So there I was, the only one awake in the whole house and I see this apparition. I ran down the hall screaming at everyone to wake up, that "they" were here, inside the house. No one seemed to hear me. Finally, in the room closest to the kitchen, the door ajar, slept G's parents. At first, like the rest, they seemed deaf to my plea, but then both of their eys shot open, their eyes glowing blue in the dark. They awake calmly and listened to my concern. Then just as calmly, G's father asked me to show him where it had happened. I took him into the living room. G had explained that I was in the kitchen doing the dishes. Somehow it felt as though he were defending me, against what I can't be sure; uncertainty, perhaps? Anyway, it wasn't there (or else it was) and this wise old man could sense no ill. He calmly explained that it was a trick of the mind. Later, in a crowded dining room the four of us sat at a table near the middle of the room. It was well lit and people were conversing all around us. D explained about all the hallucinations he has experienced in real life, day-to-day life and how he had to cope with them by first realizing they weren't real and then just going with the flow, that is, not letting others onto the fact that he was having a looney moment. He explained it in such a way that I could almost picture what he saw before his eyes and see him just going along through life rather nonchalantly, as though nothing were the matter. He explained about a mechanical device (we just happened to have one on the table) that would allow one to manipulate these images somehow, but only the elderly could take advatage of it. I asked him if I may, and he said "well of course, since you're 60"
It was very bizarre.
Interpreting: Clearly I have huge amount of respct for G's dad. He really does see to go through life with a very care-free happy-go-lucky kind of attitude and he is very successful (perhaps as a result of this). But in the dream, he had problems of perception (as everyone surely does). We all cast what we see in the light of our own mind and whatever perverse thinking has shaped our "reality." We all must deal with this sort of lack of a common paradigm, but we need not freak out about it. So I saw something that wasn't really there (or didn't see something that was), but as long as I could recognize it for what it was- i.e. not real, then it would all be okay.
I don't know what the blue eyes mean. Perhaps wisdom. Perhaps blessedness (in the arcane sense).
In any case I think it humourous, this dream. And I want to remember.
|Thursday, August 31st, 2006|
When the bouncer tells you before a show that the soundcheck sounded great, what he means is "I hope you brought earplugs"
Thus was our latest adventure at the Wiltern. At my behest, we went to see Wolf Parade play with Frog Eyes and Whale(something)? From my days at KVRX, I remember loving Wolf Parade and I remember when I discovered Frog Eyes at insound I was in love, but this...
this show sucked! I mean I know how it is. The soundguy tries
to get the band to turn down, tells them they sound great, but the venue is ill-equipped with monitors, so the band compensates by cranking it at the expense of the audience's hearing. This was a closed theatre, designed, by the looks of it, in the 20s and meant for theatre. I don't know much about acoustics. Is something that is ideal for vaudeville versatile enough to withstand the rigour of rock-and-roll? I dunno.
It could just be that the sound guy sucked.
I will never go to another indoor show without carrying ear-plugs. As a concession, I have agreed to let G choose the next show (two shows?) we go to, so it might be a while before I hear live music again. My biggest regret is that I wasted $60 on this night of revulsion when I could have wasted it on a night of revelry... doing any number of things... The Polyphonic Spree is coming to town. So is Willie, the Psychedelic Furs, Cracker, all of these promising to be outstanding. The opportunity is gone. School starts next week, so I will have to buy textbooks, plus I have registration fees to pay and other things besides (dentist, vet). On that note you can read all about our( sad cat story;Collapse )
hopefully it will have a happy ending.
In other news I think I am having other peoples'dreams again. This one belongs to my ex: ( The Innsmouth HorrorCollapse )
So there it is, my habitual Thursday update. I almost didn't make it. A couple of weeks ago, I rolled my special die and it came up WORK. I have refused to re-roll it because I know that's what I need to be doing right now and I have been so wrapped up in it, I don't even have time to be stressed (ha!) or do anything else really.
But, truly, I am making good progress (finally).
I am fretful because the gym at school will be closed for three weeks. I think it's very likely I will become moody and depressed without the regular exercise I have grown accustomed to and I am worried how this will affect my productivity. Already I have realized that the soil batches (even just the preliminary investigation) must be put off a little longer until I can get some questions answered and concvince my advisor to purchase the equipment I need.
Tomorrow I am helping Henry with some field work. I will also try to find time in the morning to make a list of the things I'd like to acquire so at least I will have a budget to show THE MAN. This would be so much easier if I had my own NSF grant. I could exercise a little more power in the decision-making process. As it is my advisor is an abhorrent micro-manager. And a shnookie at that. What a waste! I refuse to relate the details of yesterday's incident concerning a particular tripod and aluminum pole. He can shove it you-know-where for all I care, that is, as soon as I get it back.
But I don't want to end on a note like that. I mean, there must be something positive in my sphere.... hmmm, let's see....
hey, well, that's a breakthrough. I mean me? optimistic? who woulda thunk it? ;)
|Thursday, August 24th, 2006|
|returned with enthusiasm... sort of
I have returned from the conference. It was both deficient and a great success for the same reason, being an international
conference. Due, perhaps, to the difficulty of arriving in the middle of Texas in the middle of August, some presenters did not come, did not present. Thus we all missed out on what promised to be some very interesting presentations. On the other hand, we all got to hear of some of the cutting edge research going on in environmental sciences globally. And of course there was much networking to be done, which I will not elaborate on here.
Needless to say, I have realized there is much to be done (too much really), and have begun in earnest to do it. I will be busier than ever (but hopefully less stressed) with my newfound resolve to get results, literally. The preliminary batch experiments I hope to have underway next week. Still ( to do:Collapse )
In other news, I got my CA plates for my truck. Shed a tear for me. My own thoughts often frighten me. I hope I don't go crazy like my uncles and my grandmother before them. Or worse, crazier still.
|Thursday, August 17th, 2006|
|ah, the joys of stress
I'm not the only one feeling it. We'va ALL been busy this week. The professor even war a shirt procaliming:
"I am a geologist.
Forgive me my faults
as I am under a lot of stress
and pore pressure
Ha. He, it turns out, is an old high school football star. It fits. He said his thirty year high school reunion is in a couple of years, which puts him in his mid-forties, as I suspected.
In other news, I'm a tired bitch. I don't know if it's that I'm over-worked, or if it's the result of some sort of tummy bug I brought back with me from the Sierras, but I have been gru-u-mpy.
Got my poster printed out, but forgot to pick up my check. I guess that means I won;t be at risk of spending it before rent comes due.
Mouth is healing up nicely, except for the bottome lip, which is still solidy numb on my right side. Every now and then I get a phantom tingle or itch, but no real feeling yet. I'm keeping my tongue crossed and trying not to chew it to shreds in the meantime.
Flying out tomorrow night. Won't return until Tues. Debating on delivering a few things that belong to my ex's sister while I'm in town. Might be more driving than I'm willing to do.
I like my new butch hair-do. I suppose it makes me look a bit like a lesbian. George for one (a new co-worker) seemed taken aback when I mentioned I had a boyfriend. It's true, I have always enjoyed checking out attractive women. Sometimes they notice, sometimes they don't. When they do
notice, I typically get one of two reactions: either they appear pleasantly flattered, or blatantly annoyed/offended/maybe even scared. Today, the sadist in me took a lot of pleasure from that second reaction in a very sexily-clad female. She looked hot! And, well, if you're going to dress that way, you may as well accept the fact that people are going to check you out- both men and
women. So be it. I look like a dike and I think pretty women can be admired by other women. So what. It's not like I'm leering at them or even trying to pick up on them. Just appreciative. Jeez. I, for one, fit in the first group when I notice a woman checking me out. It doesn't happen very often, but I am often flattered. Whereas, men checking me out has a greater tendency to creep me out, but maybe that's because, in large part, the men who check me out are old and kind of lecherous looking.
It's 6:30 already. I was hoping to make it home by 9:30, but it's going to take me two (probably closer to three) hours to process the incoming samples, and the guys haven't even made it back from the field yet. I thought I'd take this lull in my day to update my dear journal. I could
be drafting my prospectus or any number of other pressing things that need doing, but then having me-time has gotten rather urgent this week. As G pointed out today, I'm trying to do two weeks of work in four days. But then if I didn't waste my time updating this silly journal... wait, did I update last week? I don't recall. Not important.
I'm going to try my luck with Aquachem. Heaven know as soon as I start doing something truly productive, they will return with the samples. So be it. It all suits my goals.
Wish me luck at the conference!
|Thursday, August 10th, 2006|
A good title for a book. Or so thought my dream self when the idea came to me last night. I don't remember the context of those words coming to me... were they spoken? did I actually start walking backwards, but I think it a cipher (and a pretty blunt one at that) for the trap of regression, repeating past mistakes, falling into the downward spiral, etc... But enough psycho-analysis. Let us enter the dream scape. ( sexy bitsCollapse )
Next thing I know we're all wondering along this beach. Not the children, maybe they were there, but the feeling I had was this place was filled with the forsook. Everyone had these droopy, forlorn expressions in body and face. No one seemed to be going anywhere- not up the bech or down it- but just sort of wondering around near water's edge, some had rambled up into the dunes. It was almost like something right out of a zombie movie. The waves were wild and powerful. No one was swimming or surfing in those forboding waters. The sky mathced the mood: dark and overcast. Then all the water started to retreat, like the tide going out, only all at once and in slow-mo. It kept going out and out. I realized this meant something BIG was coming. It quickened my pulse in the most-exhiliarating way. And although I knew it was fear I should feel, instead I was filled with utter awe. The excitement was overwhelming. My selse of self-preservation kicked in and I found myself running as fast as I could through the thick sandy dunes. It was more like slogging through the dunes, as anyone who's ever run through thick sand will know. Some of the "zombies" had also realized something dire was approaching and had begun to flee, but others remained, cluelessly wondering about where water's edge had been, some of them even venturing out in search of the water that had abandoned them.
Next thing I remember I'm in some swampy back-bay type area. It's not completely primitive. There are fishing docks built here and there in the marsh and deeper waters of the bay, but as far as I can tell they do not connect to the land upon which we hike. They are sunk, I suppose, into pilings at the bottom of the water. I'm travelling with a Tom Sawyer type, a good friend of mine in the dream. I think we are going fishing. We come into a patch of reeds that opens into a pit of water in which two or three of these dock structures have been planted. The water is deep and murky, blue-brown and ominous. "Tom" murmurs something about being careful through this pass... And as I proceed to jump onto one of the docks, I miss and fall into the water. It was not so much that I missed as I felt the water, like as vast abyss, pull me in before I ever had a chance to reach the dock. I hear my friend scream out "NO", but it's too late I'm falling as in air deeper into this dark murk. It doesn't occur to me to swim, but I know it will be useless. I know I will not be able to overcome the gravity of this water. And that is the last thing I rememember thinking as I scream, falling into the depths below, that water has gotten heavier. And I have a strange recollection that that is what "Tom" was trying to warn me about.