Consumer Whore-mas Gift List

everyone is doing it. even adults my age. i figured i should get in on it. now here's the clincher: my birthday is around christmas. so i get twice as much. yay!

Fuzzy Slippers
Cat food (Purina One Kitten Blend)
HPV Vaccine
Hair Cut with Rena
red cordaroy pants
green/loden cordaroy blazer
brown cordaroy blazer
dk brown canvas blazer
button down shirts (not teal)
bright green sweater
donations to the Send Elizabeth to San Jose fund
membership to the SAA, SHA, SIA, and SEAC

A rundown

It's been a busy while. I'm posting a blog that i wrote in my word processor a while ago, so if you scroll down, you'll see it dated to its creation. I have quite a few fronts to report on, though, so feel free to read on.

Cats

Boy

School

Friends

Thanksgiving

Cats -
Orion and Neci are both getting along very well. They are still vessels of boundless kittanic energy, so they keep me going and on the ball. Orion loves spicy tomato sauces as well as beans and pasta. She doesn't like, however, any meat that I cook. She just got her rabies shot, so my little bitty itty kitten has two big shiny radies tags. The blingbling of the feline world? The vet is actually surprised at how small Orion is, so we're waiting as long as possible to spay her. Probibly some point in January. As she's an inside cat, if we don't get her before she gets fertile, it'll be a bit annoying on our part, but it won't hurt her. I would rather she be large enough that she goes through her surgery safely.

Neci was spayed before I was even allowed to take her home. Granted she was with a recue group, so not actually belonging to anyone, I'm sure that the sentaments if she didn't pull through ok would be different. Neci likes to drink water... out of my glass. It doesn't matter how much is in her water bowl and whether it was just washed or not. She goes for my water glass. I wouldn't mind so much if she was also not so facinated witht he bathroom. She likes to walk the rim of my tub whether or not i'm in it. She also likes to watch the toilet, and once surprised a male in the bathroom by popping up between his legs and watching the happenings.

They have also learned that if my phone alarm goes off, I don't wake up right away. That gives them time to knock it off the table and under the bed, where I won't hear it go off again. This means that I'll stay in bed, where they are also snuggled under the covers (except for the one to knock the phone off, who i saw go right back under the covers when I did wake up once)sucking off my body heat. Neci alone, however, has learned that if she doesn't want music, she just needs to jump on my clock radio. In fact, I'm totally messing with her by playing music from my computer. She came over and started walking on the clock radio, knowing that if she does it enough, she'll turn it off.

School

I hate school. I want to be done. And the catch 22 is that it won't be done until i put in sufficient effort. I want real life again. I don't mind school, but I would love to do the part time thing. Not to put the cart before the horse or jinx me in any sort, the park will be opening my old position back up. If I get it, then I can totally and entirely do my real life job, which frustrated me to no end, but at the same time fulfilled me. I just hope that everyone will be able to put up with the exhaustion and intensity that this job gave me. I do so hope that it all works out. Losing that job, even though it was from funding problems, was a huge ego drain, and I feel so incomplete without it.

Yes, I'm one of those people who define themselves by their job. If I didn't want a job so intent and crazed, would I be killing myself at school for it? All you old schoolers know that the one thing I prided myself on was what I got paid for.

Boy

Wow - well, he's definitly proven interesting and good. Those two adjectives are horribly insufficient, but they'll provide a base. Well, he did halloween with me and with some of my friends. We started at Sr. Taco. While there, we invited his brother, his brother's wife, and another friend of theirs. So there were many people enjoying themselves. After Halloween dinner, we had planned on going out, but for some reason, perhaps because it was Wednesday, we ended up going to my place to drink vodka and play with kittens. The weekend after halloween was SEAC, and well, after past experiances with official stuff and bringing a sigoth, I was a little hesitant, but he wanted to come to the friday night dance. I figured that I had built up just enough of a reputation for myself between my past job and my time put into the department that I could introduce an "outsider" to the conference. Besides, it was local so everyone from Ktown brought their spouse(-to-be). Plus, it was not the first time for my circle to meet him. We had had a pot luck a few weeks earlier, and everyone had only positive things to say about him.

So we go to the dance and have a good time. One of my friends is in the middle of an intoxicated conversation with a rather renowned SE Archie, and as we were driving her home, we had to stay with her. He insisted that the conversation continue at the hotel bar when the dance venue kicked us out (midnight).

The following evening is the department party. I was definatly wanting to bring him to this as it's very informal anyways so it's a good venue to debut new members of the anthropology auxilary. We all dressed up, picked up two other friends along the way, and had a blast that evening. He even met and sweet talked the prof who had been giving me relationship advice before. The interesting thing is that, if I haven't mentioned it before, this guy went to highschool with two of my best friends (one in the department), and he graduated with my girlfriend's sister. At this party, we found that half of the significant others in the department (ok, a bit of an overexaggeration) went to highschool with them. This is a little podunk town abotu 1.5 hours from knoxville. Apparently they train them to put up with UT Anthopologists.

Friends

I love my friends, I really do. I do with all my heart, and I would and do do most anything for them, if I can. They've been having it rough, both the ones down here and apparently a few of the old schoolers. Guys, you'll all get it done. Remember what I always said in college: enough hard work will get you your way.

Thanksgiving.

I'm hosting Thanksgiving! So come here! I'm doing an Orphan Thanksgiving for anyone who doesn't have the time to head home. As far as I know, I'm doing meat, stuffing,sweet taters,a vegetable dish, and probibly I'll make an apple cobbler just because. I currently have 4 definate guests, and two who will be showing up later (one being the boy who had originally planned on being here the whole time, but was slammed with a family obligation just this week, so I'll deal.) I do hope that it goes well. I think we'll be so totally fooded out, that we'll be sooooo happy.


See - I update - occasionally

update on the kittehs

my kittens are sick.... sorta.
Orion has had a continual sneeze. The vet attributes it to allergies and my house, I'll admit, is def on the upperside of the dust containment median threshold. No worries though, right? Especially as the grandfather dumped off a ton of shtuff the other week. Well, right after he did that, Neci started to sneeze and her eyes (more specifically her third eyelids) looked irritated. We had a vet appointment for boostershots the next day, so I told the vet and she said it's probibly just irritated. Ok, so I have two cats, one sneezing, the other w pink eyelids, but it's normal. right??

I may or may not have mentioned in previous posts that I have never before had me a fuzzy pet. They've always been fish, fireflys, critterpillers, cicadas, or other bugs that I managed to sneak in and not let my parents find. Something fuzzy that actually gets sick, goodness, who knew? So Neci's eyes don't get better and hte weekend comes. I debate going back to the vet, but on Monday I get home and Neci, who had been all lovey and snuggly on sunday and monday morning (translate that to "sluggish") is on my bed with her eyes gunked shut. So I use a wet towel to ungunk them and immediately call the vet. Appointment for the next day and we go. Poor Neci was lost without Orion, but we made due. Vet looks at Neci's eyes and says

"It's Chlamydia"

yes, my cat has the clap. The two viruses, human and cat, however, are different. So all jokes said, done, and repeated till old, my cat is not a tramp. So now we have oral amoxicillian and two sets of eye drops. Its a good thing that he's always been rather calm. She's also learned that Mama doesn't let go till all the pink stuff goes down her fuckin' throat. Even if it takes 6 tries, so she just sits still and takes it now. A cat who follows directions? Who knew??

Two curries down and good! One up in the air and planning!

I made a typical vegetable curry the other day, adapted from a recipe in a cookbook of mine. It was utterly delicious. I had hoped to add eggplant to it, but I baked the eggplant for a little too long, so I said “hell with it all” and tossed some cooked rice in the bottom of a casserole dish, next layer was the eggplant scooped from the shells and mashed, and the the curry. I ate that all week.

The next attempt was a pumpkin apple sweet potato lentil curry ( http://www.ivu.org/recipes/holiday/pumpkin-curry-j.html ) (link is to recipe). That too turned out very well, and this time I was not the only one to eat it.

This friday I’m having a pot luck and I’ll be trying East African Eggplant Curry ( http://www.aubergines.org/recipes.php?eggplant=2341 ). Wish me luck!!

See more progress on: Learn how to make curry

Brewers jam and boys

Him: "I feel bad, talking to you and keeping you away from your work."
Me:"You know, having someone where I can look forward to talking to them is actually quite motivating, I feel like I need to get something done because there's something definate to look forward to."... especially since he can not only keep up but also contribute to my conversations.

This is a paraphrase of a conversation this past evening between me and a gent I've been spending an inordinate amount of time with both in person and on the phone. Label it whatever you want, but I like him and he's cool.

I'm rather excited, as I was getting to the point where I felt I should start recording my social meetings with the opposite sex and publish them in a book. One with all the proper disclaimers that "they really aren't real people, if it seems so, it's all coincidental."

I met him at Brewer's Jam. There's a long story of many levels, as my stories get at times, but the "short" version is as follows:

My friend had relationship problems starting on Monday. Really REALLY bad problems, so we decided to go out Friday Night. She gets nice and trashed on PBR while we see Cutthroat Shamrock and Zombie Bazooka Patrol. While there, we see someone who is mutual friends with her and someone who used to be in the department. We start hanging with their group a bit and find out that those that don't need to work are going to brewer's jam. yay!

So we go to Brewer's Jam and see those guys. Don't really hang out with them as we have our own group from the department there: S who studies holes in kid's heads, C the 1st year PhD, friend with problems and her mother, Mssr. E (from past adventures) and see a few others from the department also. We're all having fun and Mssr. E and I are plesently having random conversations and "cheer"ing sessions with anyone who happens to walk by. My favorite move is to say to some dude passing by "OH MY GOD! YOU MADE IT!!! THAT'S SOOOO AWESOME, MAN!!" and try to get them in a conversation till they realize that they really don't know me (many actually asked if they knew me) and that I'm just crazy/drunk.

Well, in line this dude is wearing a Tshirt saying something like "Mustache Warrior" or "Mustache Fighting Leaugue" or something related to mustaches and violence. So, like one would do, I say to him "does this mean that you battle mustaches, or that you fight while wearing a mustache." He brings up some arcane celebration known as Mustache May. A friend and I start psuedoquoting from the Camelot song about May "Well, May is lusty, gusty, and busty. Mustache though, it is not!"

The gent starts hanging out with us. Not uncommon, actually, so I'm just taking it in stride. Always good to meet more interesting people, correct? He and I start talking, and in retrospect, he really doesn't talk to many others in the group, mostly just me. But I probibly didn't notice it because the conversation was not forced. It was a pleasent conversation of brewers jam drunk observations, pleasentries about types of beer, random puns, and other such things that are natural in a conversation mit ze Gexx.

After a bit he admits he needs to find the loo, as one would need to at a beer fest. So he asks for my number so he can find us later. We swap numbers. Why not? My drinkaged mind is not phased by such. If anything, I'll end up putting him in my "do not pick up" phone catagory (specifically for bad/not thinking/"it was a good idea at the time" decision phone number swaps so I don't accidentally pick up when someone attempts to arrange a booty call). It's all good. I have planned all my escape routes.

Well, he calls back a bit later to find us. Not right away, but after he hung out with *his* friends for a bit. That's good, methinks, as it means he's not creepily obsessed like some odd birds I've dealt with (I told you this earlier, I should right a book about all that crap and those crazy dudes). But we do end up meeting again toward the end. When he goes to leave the jam itself, he asks if I would be interested in meeting up later (after we've had a chance to sober up some), and I figure why not and tell him to call me.

He then surprises me (those who hate adorableness scroll down. I mean you, Betel!! No, not really.) by asking if I would allow him to kiss me on the cheek before he heads out. I'm so flabbergasted (consider my mental state at the time) and so cynical from past dude-speriances (book! book!) and think that it's so sweet and at the least it'll make a good blog story that I agree. And he does. Awwww!

And it has made a good story - but the whole story isn't done yet.

So beer is running low and Brewer's Jam is wrapping up. My peeps are coagulating and heading out. My girl with problems and her mom go together, and the rest apparently left for pizza. I was invited, and they all thought that I had been invited, but no one actually completed the inviting circle by telling me what was going on. They left thinking someone else told me and that I was with one of the other groups. No worries, but suddenly they weren't their. Apparently my missing wasn't noticed until the couple/three cars (driven by the sobers) got to the pizza place. By that point, it was too late. I see the dudes from the evening before, and they're like "where's your crew?" I respond that my posse has abandonded me, but that I'll just hang at my office till I can drive home. They then invite me to go with them to get pizza (not where the others were, though).

So we go to get pizza, walking through parts of downtown that are perfectly fine to walkthough as a group during the day. We get the pizza and eat it, and I figure we'll head back soon, no worries, right? Well, they start to drink again. I ask what their plan is. Come to find out they're friends with one of the waitresses, and that she'll drive them back to their car when she gets out of work - at 1AM. Gah! It's 9 right now and I'm ready to pass out (tired, not drunk. i spent the whole day outside!!). I scramble through my phone looking for someone who could be sober and was not out of town. 67 people in my phone, and who do I decide is the best idea? The gent from earlier.

I know many of you will say that I took a bad risk. But getting a taxi would have been too visible, and I didn't want to walk back alone. I like to say I'm a decent judge of character and don't often trust people. And I haven't been too wrong in the past. 99% of people I've trusted have atleast been a decent human being with no intent of violence toward me (ax murdering, shooting, etc). Pricks are still decent human beings, in my book, because the important part of their moral compass is still intact. Besides, might as well find out sooner rather than later, right?

I text him "Wouldn't mind seeing you again, but I'm stuck in Old City, and my car is on campus." I get a message back saying "I'll be there in 15 minutes." After about 15 minutes, he texts saying he's outside, so I pay my part hastily and run off, thanking the dudes for allowing me to accompany them and sharing their pizza (it was damned good pizza). I bound out and almost knock right into the gent, and he drives me back to my car, like any decent human being would do.

I realize that I just totally used someone's feelings of good will toward me, and I feel horrendously guilty. Especially since he seemed really really cool while we talked on the ride to my car, so I suggest we get a drink together. We do, and I find out that we're rather compatable, and we've been meeting up and talking on the phone rather much ever since (yay).

So yeah, that's one of my latest stories. He'll get a name... eventually. You know it takes a while for that to happen. But I think he'll be showing up quite a bit.

i'm back from the dead!

It's starting to get chilly here. Which is good. I filled up my gas tank and exclaimed "wow - finally it's feeling like fall".

So - excitement - this weekend is brewers jam. Six hours of beer drinking awesomeness with bands and all that stuff. I'm going to park by my office so I can hang out there if I get to the point of not being able to drive.

I've been doing some pleasure reading, which is bad. i should instead be working on my many many other projects. But some days and nights I really really really don't want to do anything intellegent.


Janet Evonavich - this author has done a whole slew of light chick books. The main character in most of them, Stephanie Plum, is a bond agent with plenty of her own foiables. With her pluck and the help of her boyfriend, a homocide cop, and her lust-buddy, a professional bounty hunter, she manages to bring in the bad guys. Sounds sorta cliche, but there's enough twists and jokes that it's an easy fun read.
Preferred refreashement: Laird's Apple Brandy over ice or extra strong Mojitos (I grow my own mint). Peanut Butter Chocolate Ice Cream

Song of Solomon - Awesome book that I picked up because I wanted to read something "controversial" for banned books week. I love her way of description, tossing out details that over the course of the story are not only important but create a seamless narrative and description.
The main plot is of a Macon "Milkman" Dead, the son of a well done landlord and the grandson of a well respected doctor growing up in the middle of the century in Michagan. The story follows his negotiation of his race (african-american / black) and class (upper middle) not in the general world, but in his community and his family. Once he thinks he realizes where he stands and how to improve the public's view of him (become financially independant) he, no kidding, goes on a multi-state huntfor a stow of gold his father mentioned in stories. In the search, he meets individuals who were but characters in his father's stories of childhood, causeing him to search deeper for where "his people" come from.
Preferred refreshment: hot tea and chocolate chip cookies, South Paw Light

Hocus Pocus - Kurt Vonnegut
I've always loved Vonnegut, I'm sorry. This book, published in 1990 tells the story of an ex-professor ex-soldier who loves older women, fought in Vietnam, taught at a college for disabled individuals, and is currently being held for trial for his involvement in a deadly prison break. Vonnegut writes with such wonderful detached sections that, after devoting some time, make sense. Running jokes, themes, symbolism: this book is an english teacher's paradise. And his character (telling the story) doesn't swear as his grandmother told him "profanity and obscenity entitle people who don't want unpleasant information to close their ears and eyes to you." One key theme in this book is how the character can't stand his service in Vietnam, not because of the any inhumanity, horrible sites, or anti-war stance. Instead, it is brought by the futility of the war and the public's anger of the government leading the country into such (in the end) meaningless conflict to general animosity toward the return of the soldiers. The main character is consistently jealous of World War II veterans because of the respect the country's populous gave to them. This theme is one that the many yellow ribbon on our vehicles is aimed at preventing. Some call it "patriotism light" but instead, it's supporting the safety and return of the troops and not the continual conflicts that the ruling class tends to get its lower classes into.
Preferred refreshment: Cabernet Savagnon or Pearl Pomegranate Vodka. Mochi


Class struggle! Class struggle! I just eat it up!!! Yum yum!!!

Kittens! pictures coming

So I now have cats. Last week I had a cat. Last month I had fish. I still have fish, no worries there.

How this transpired:
A few weeks ago I helped run a public education program at one of the local historic sites. There, a volunteer brought a carrier with four kittens, two long haired, two short haired, two gray, two butterscotch (blue and buff, respectively if you want to use proper terminology, but we aren't worried). Not a one the same, a mendel square of distribution. As we had no one at our section, we played with the kittens. One short haired gray one fell asleep on me, and the volunteer said "they need a home." Well, I may be a heartless bitch, but even that was too much for me. So at the end of the day, when we picked everything up, I looked for the cat woman and told her I would love to take one home. I ended up picking the little gray one. All of the remaining kittens, I was told, were male. So we rode home, totally unsafe. I stuck him on the passenger seat, and he (thankfully) meowed the whole five miles home. He made his way to the back seat, to the back shelf (that one against the back window, you know what I mean). We get home, and I bring the little, stinky, flea ridden fuzz ball right to my massive claw foot tub and stick him in it. Then I go to the supermarket and buy food, litter, a plastic shoe box, dawn (safe for kittens, bad for fleas I was told), and a pack of toy mice. Then we go, and he has a bath. He's rather patient with that, i'm surprised. In the next few days I discover he has "butt worms" (I learn that they are specifically tapeworms), I set up an appointment with the vet (reccomended by a friend), and the receptionist at the vet reccomends some OTC worm pills for kittens. I then go out and buy all the pampering supplies: pet bed (fuzzy brown), more toys (squeeky frog), brushes, lead, coller, tag (I decided to name him Orion as he continually pounced; I was thinking Siddartha but he was in no way calm enough), harness (yes, he will walk on a lead), and all that stuff. He sleeps with me, but a full night's sleep is rare as he wakes up constantly and thinks that my lips, ears, and nose are toys. We go to the vet, and I'm informed that Orion is female. Oh well, the name will stay. She gets her shots, more worm medicine (another type was also infesting her), and Advantage. She is 1.9 pounds and 2 months old at this point, and her coat is noticably much better than when she got to my house a week prior.

My professor, after 3 beers, asks me how I'm doing and I tell him that it's uneventful, save for the kitten. He takes that to mean "I am a single bitter female who has given up on human companionship" and proceeds to offer me life encouragement and relationship advice. Yay.

Still, she refuses to let me sleep through the evening. I start to close my bedroom door to keep her out, but she just cries. After some consulting about the nature of kittens, I decide I need another one.

So this past Saturday my neighbor and I went to the mall (we both have a wedding this month) and then to the petstore where the feral cat rescue people set up. I talk with them, and we pick out a quirky 3 month old female calico kitten. Her tail is broken. The tails of all her littermates are broken in the same spot, actually. This just adds to her personality. I pick up some extra supplies: another carrier to take her home with, a cream fuzzy bed, and a pink flamingo squeeky plushy. I take her home and she and Orion really don't hit it off. They tolerate each other, but continue to hiss. One took her post on my knees, and the other on my chest (I was laying down reading) and they hissed at each other, then stared, then they fell asleep. So I think they'll learn each other's roles and deal well.

Saturday night we go out to grab some pizza and listen to a band. I figure it will give the cats some time without my interferance. The band was relatively decent (all cover tunes), the pizza was marvelous (sausage, artichoke, olive, tomato), Florida lost, UT won, and dancing was uneventful (as long as you don't count the dude who kept rubbing his arse against mine and pissed me off enough that I kicked back against the back of his knees, causing him to collapse). We get sorta bored, and in trying to figure out what to do next (it's only midnight, if we go home now, we're pathetic), we decide that since I still have a bottle of Pearl in the freezer that one member of our party brought to the last potluck, I should host people and we'll play with the kittens.

The kittens are overjoyed. They love people. I'm glad about that. Kitten number two, in being a little spitfire when Orion gives her a hard time gets her name Neci (pronounced by me a NEE-see), derived from Latin for Fire.

The two of them are odd. They can both eat from the food dish at the same time and not get mad at each other. But if they get bored, they get all over each other. Orion was rather nippy and sorta agressive before, but she's taken to hissing rather often now. Neci is calm and inquisitive until Orion starts hissing and batting at her. Then she's all sparks. Orion has started giving her a wide berth, but I'll walk into a room and find Orion ready to pounce if Neci walks through the door. So when she sees me, she looks guilty and tries to look like she was going to play with a piece of paper, dust, or invisible string on the other side of the room. Maybe there's some relation to how Neci like red wine and Orion likes hot sauce. I need to remember that the two can now get onto the table themselves.

I need to get a lead, harness, collar, and such for Neci. I wasn't too pleased with the selection at the petstore there.

So now I just need to work on my house, my halloween costume, and the 30 papers due soon. Yay SEAC!

what has occured

I apologize with little sorrow that I have not been blogging. I've been busy. Since I last blogged:
My mother visited, my friend visited, my grandmother died, my house has been painted, my car was totaled, i bought a new car, i rearranged my house, i met some interesting gentlemen, and i have actually (i think) gone on a date.

It has not been relaxing in any form.

Report from the field 2

I'm typing this in the front lobby at the Crowne Plaza in Center City Philadelphia. After spending another week in the backcountry dealing with bears and generators and stinky boys (not to be sexist, but those six dudes were RANCID on some days), my coworker and I are living the high life. Valet parking, luggage delivery - all that fancy stuff. Today, we plan to visit INDE (Independence National Historic Site) and the King Tut exhibit at the Franklin. We'll take the decidedly tourist transit system, it's only $4 for the day and runs a fixed route around all the tourist stuff, so we can get from one place to the next without much difficulty. Then we get to hunker down and do the professional stuff for this conference.

After this weekend, I head back to visit the parents because its my little brother's graduation this weekend.

I hope to get some pictures from this trip too.

Check out the other two posts below this one.

Job Advice: 2

• As an intern, your first day should be spent getting to know your position. Do listen to your super, as although s/he might explain some things you do know, it's easy to miss something you did not know - especially if you don't have any experience in the field at all.
• By accepting an internship position, you have told the place of your employment that you want to be there. Keep up that idea. Do not tell your supers that you only took the position because then you would be closer to an annual music fest.
• Do not tell your super that her job is unimportant.
  

Cats Part 3

The cats have grown up. But that's ok. Here's some pictures of them as little cute things.



No - not a cat. But he was in my backyard











and one more not cat

Report from the field

I'm heading back out to the field for a week, but thought that I would give a quick update on the general status.

The first week that we spent out in the field was fun. It was a touch chilly in the early part of the days, but a sweater was all that was needed. This coming week should be plenty warm. I have plenty of pictures of rusty metal, so you'll get some posted eventually. I even found my new most favorite artifact. It might make its way to the blog.

The week went fine, and I have one of my two interns in. He seems like he'll work for the summer.

Now I'm just trying to get all my stuff together and put together for next week. I'll be gone, but will make it back on Saturday - maybe.

Cats Part 2

I poked around a bit more yesterday, there are six... Chloe, Cleo, Cy, X,Y,Z (I'm working on those!

They all ran away from me, but then I put down a can of tuna and it was gone 2 hours later (still no sign of the cats). The mama cat is feral. We have a bunch in the neighborhood, descended from cats of the crazy lady who used to live in my house, moved away, and kicked her cats, so the original (old) ones are somewhat tame and hang around the area and will sometimes let themselves be pet. I spent the spring trying to feed the others and get them close so I could get a cage/carrier and get them fixed at the least.

The bird gore wasn't too bad, I swept up the wings and the poo in the corner they were using (reminder: get litter box) and tossed all that away. This winter, I'll set up a real box with blankets and keep an eye on (and feed) the momma unless I manage to snag her and fix her beforehand.

I knew the cats could get in and out because one cold day I found them laying around my water heater. I guess I should have expected this.

OH HAI - I IS IN YUR BAYSEMENT, FIXIN YUR BOXXORZ

if you don't get the title, read the post, then click *here*

Pictures may come.

This is CrossPosted at my House's blog... eventually.

I've been trying to mow the lawn for the last few weeks, but as I haven't been home while the sun was up as of recent, it's been a little hard. So I finally get out there the other day. I'm chugging along quite well, when suddenly CLUNK chugchugchugwhhhffth th ht. The mower stops because I hit a cinderblock. Oh joy. So I let it set, thinking that time will heal the mower. It doesn't. The mower goes back into the basement, with me verbalizing my dissapointment the whole time. While in the basement, I look up at one of the windows and notice one of the neighborhood's cats walking by. I really don't mind or care. Then, I go to get my weedwhacker - the front yard will be decent looking by the end of the day, even if its not mowed. Moving to the weedwhacker, I step over my shelves.
Wait - that's not right. The shelves are supposed to be against the far wall, not fallen over with the fishbowl shattered all over the floor and the other contents scattered. I'll take care of them all later. First - the yard!
So as I go to grab the weedwhacker, I hear some puttering about going on in another section of my basement. It sounds like someone's walking around, so I go into that section and am greeted by a floor littered in bird wings and spattered in blood. I knew the cats had gotten in and out occasionally, but I didn't think they took up residence. The boxes rumble again so I look over at them and see three little kitten fluffballs. They disappear into the pile, so I wait for them to calm down and then gently disinter their home. They're in the bottom box - of course, which is filled with assorted styrofoam pieces. The three little kittens move from one side of the box to the other, obviously scared of me.

So I just let them be. and weedwhacked my yard.

I'll go down later, pick up the shelving and sweep up the glass, clean up the bird wings, and leave them some food.

Don't you steal it!

Ok - riding on the coattails of the copy protection 09 F9 128 bit number "criminally" released to the internet last week, I have taken my own number.

Don't steal it by publishing it elsewhere.

D2 92 F9 F2 A2 A5 1D E8 96 51 F9 14 16 46 C9 26

I'm not joking, you take this number and I get to tell you to remove it.

Get your own number *here*.

Golden Compass

I remember reading the whole series when I was in Jr. High!

Blogswarm: Take Back the Blog

Take Back the Blog: "in support of the rights of women to participate fully in all aspects of our society, including specifically online in the world of blogging but indeed everywhere and at all times, day and night, without fear of harassment, intimidation, sexual harassment, online stalking and slander, predation or violence of any sort."

Oh goodness. I hope that I can fully explain my point, although it does deviate some from the general point of this Blogswarm. I suppose, though, that I should start with a preamble for those who are just joining me and do not know me personally. Then, perhaps, my position may make more sense.

Abstract: A portion of the internet is populated by the lowest common denominator. The effort to stop them is a waste. The responsibility instead lies with the reader to recognize these posts and comments. An intelligent reader or a professional will use discretion. But...

The blog, livejournal, or online authorship program of an individual's choice is a new medium of communication, expression, and dialogue. News articles tell the public this. News companies have even attempted to ride the want of publication by incorporating the public as lay journalists blogging and posting footage on the news website.

The online community allows for social networking with sites like MySpace and Facebook. Professional communities have even started to adopt this format for networking within disciplines beyond ListServes.

Blogs are a place for an individual to post musings and observations. It has become a place for political commentary and, dependent on the reader, threatening political dissension. Remember that: dependent on the reader.

The blog is not static, not discrete. It involves its readers in various levels, based on the anonymity of the author, the ability to leave comments, and the anonymity of those.

So - why do I bring this up? I live in the US (dropping a slight vestige of anonymity, I guess), I have no need to worry any politically charged blog postings being held against me. Do I?

No - I do not, thankfully. At least, to a point. This point is where we get to have our discussion. Anything that I post myself, or that is posted about me, is unregulated. That is the beauty of the internet. Anything can be written, and it should be that way. These "trolls," however, can cause damage. Therefore, a responsibility is placed on the reader.

Although it is not appreciated, any of you readers do have the ability to threaten and demean me in my comments. Until I moderate my comments and remove these posts, subsequent readers have the ability and the right to read said comments regarding my (lack of) sexual proficiency involving a candelabra and a goat. The responsibility lies in the reader, however, on whether or not to trust these commenters on an appropriate judgment of my possession or quality of goat-alabring skills.

So - where does this seemingly off-the-wall example lead? One more point and then we will tie it together.

I would expect my professional community to not post such goat-alabring comments on my professional profile. Why? Because it's not professional. Simple, right?

Not so much. The main example which leads to the TBtB post of today is documented here by WaPo, as well as here and here by an individual impacted.

What is to be done when a professional community turns on its own members, in this instance objectifying based on gender (here, also synonymous with BioSex)? When an employer Googles a potential hire, what is to be expected when comments on breasts and supposed STDs are returned? Is the potential employer expected to have this discretion? Either way, this is a liability to the individual commented upon.

So, dear reader, spread the word on intelligent comment processing and THINK. Those who we would truly wish to remove from the general population are destined to stay. Its our Catch-22. So learn to live with them, and spread the word.

Trackback

Metal 2

Here's something I found in the woods in February.

The scary thing: we think we know who it belonged to.

meta-blogging haiku

primary information

love. blogs have lots of info.

but all second hand.

Work and Play

Also called:

• Academics
• and Search: (Alcohol OR Sugar) AND Music Result: FUN

I'm just getting so burned out on this school thing. But my book chapter is in. WOOHOO!

"I" turned in 75 pages to my prof. I'm saying "I" because I actually compiled 75 pages for the chapter I'm leading on, but contributed to a total of 4 chapters. See, this is how we're doing it:
There are four of us Historic Arch's in the department. We each have our complimentary facets of archaeology that we're most interested in: Domestic, Military, Industrial, and Bioarch/Mortuary. There are also 4 distinct time periods that we need to deal with: Proto-His and EuroSettlement, Early Statehood and Antebellum, Civil War, and Reconstruction. As most site reports deal with the function of the site (dom, mil, ind, biomort), it's much much easier to write a paper on a site type rather than a time period, or else everyone will use the same 80% of the reports and miss major chronological connectors and themes. So instead, we each wrote a section on our theme (mine being indutrial, natch). We got them out to each other by Thursday noon. Then Thursday afternoon we were supposed to copy/paste the relevent sections into chronological chapters. We had divided responsibility for these chrono-chaps as one to each of us. This way, we each get a SELF et al citation. Yay! plus, we are also recognized as the et al in three other chapters.

So - I get a good amount prepared for each of the chronochaps, and I get sections for my stuff, and put it together. We were all thinking we'd get 45-50 pages, right? I got 75. The whole reason: a heck of a lot of archeology was done on Antebellum sites. I keep getting criticized for the size of my chapter's draft. but, think about it. In the Proto/Settlement time: there were few people around to make sites. In the Civil War: we have 5 years worth of sites. In the Reconstruction/Victorian time: things are not as old and still standing so they don't get dug or they're not as old and people don't care so they don't get dug. The Antebellum however: HUGE population explosion, major building episodes, major buildings, plantations and increased social stratification (ie: slaves), and stuff is "old enough." Therefore, LOTS of archaeology is done in this time period.

So - it was handed in at 15.30 on Thursday. Marvelous! Why? Because I could work on my Paleo paper!

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Of course not, don't be stupid! Thursday night was the free George Thorogood concert! So - as i am quite a fan of classic rock (and free concerts and plenty of beer), I load up A and E (my apparent constant partners of crime) into my car and we head off. Well, think of the demographics of a GT concert held during a local bike week. Dirty, old, leather clad gents and their ladies drinking cheap beer (how someone would drink a 3$PBR when Newcastle and RedStripe are only 4$ is beyond me, but mebbe it's an image thing)pervaded the atmosphere. No worries. Well, before GT got on, we hung out in the PrezPub for a bit. Two beers down and a stage hand, approx 50yo and tiny as all comes up to me

Stagehand: You know, you're awfully cute?
Me: You know, that's quite a coincidence. You know why? Because every morning I wake up, look in the mirror, and say "God DAMN! Why do I have to be so damn cute?"
Stagehand: So - You like George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers. You know - Bad to the Bone?
Me: Oh please, he has hell of a lot better songs than that overplayed trite. Plus, is he going to destroy anything while he's here That would be cool.
Stagehand: Well, he destroyed Delaware.
Me: Dude, seriously. Delaware is like, Delaware. You can destroy Delaware, swing down to Rhode Island, have a long lunch, swing by the store for some milk on the way home, and still be able to mow your lawn before the kids get home from school. Is he going to destroy anything while he's here? If he's not, I don't want to talk to you.

We get back to the crowd and in front of the stage as GT is about to get on. Sidetracked, A and I separate from E in order to talk to a few other classmates. No worries, we'll find each other eventually. Besides, E was probably going to the front to take pictures (his shtick)and A and I just wanted to have fun. Well, the classmates left for more beer. A and I made our way into the crowd. We were 10m from the stage (maybe) and in the direct center. Well, the concert rocked. It was loud, it was roudy, and he was a legend. Now, as a legend, he was on his downhill slope, and he did employ some cheesy lights, but - whatev - it was GEORGE FUCKIN' THOROGOOD! And I was tempted to order the one bourbon, one scotch, and one beer. But - I had to drive.

So - concert's over - we regroup back at the PrezPub. One more beer because E ordered Newcastle and they gave him a draught. He prefers bottle. So - leftover beer is still beer, and Newcastle is nice. We're hunched against the bar, I'm sorta standing, but leaned over the bar and we're mostly huddled, talking about our problems with the opposite sex. I straighten up and get hit by a DOM (dirty old man) on with the cheesy "you're cute" thing again. I blow him off, hunker over again, we laugh. I stand up again, a new DOM shows up "You're cute" blow off hunker down. Repeat ad nauseum. I start to think about this statistically. Are we weighted because of the proliferance of DOM skewing our normal curve? Or am I suddenly this darned swan? I think it's the former, no matter how I would like to believe the latter.

But, my "favorite" was with this 500 lb 50 yo with sweat pouring down his stringy long hair:

Dude: Hey - I think I know you.
Me: Probibly not, man.
Dude: No - I know your grandmother. It's Bettie Page.
Me: Dude - seriously. While that's one of the better lines I've heard all night, you still need some practice on the delivery. Go - elsewhere.

Soon after, we left. Walking home, we saw some other classmates as they yelled from their car "WOOHOO LOOK AT DEM ARCHAEOWHORES!" Now *that* was hilarious.

Saturday (today), A and I decided to celebrate Earthday KnoxVegas style: with a free all day music festival within walking distance of our office! We slathered on our SPF 50 sunscreen and headed over there at about 4PM. We had us some funnel cakes and snowcones. Yay! Sugar! A left at about 5.30 but I stayed for about another hour. After all, Dishwater Blonde ( www.myspace.com/dishwaterblonde ), one of the local bands I really really like, was playing. Thankfully, there were really no DOM there (at least of the GT calibre), so The GT experience was not continued.

And to all who know my music preferences: Yes, I realize Wolfmother is playing tonight (right now actually) at the Bijou, but I am too poor for $35 tickets. Especially since I spent the same amount to see the King Tut exhibit when I go to Phili. No worries. I'll just see them in a few years when they play the Sundown circuit.

Well, it's 10PM on a Saturday, and I'm blogging. I think it's time to pack up and find some dinner.

I don't think I'll be doing much with music during the rest of the week. I really need to work on this Paleo paper.

I'm always a few days behind these things.



I would blog about it. But I'm still trying to sort it all out.

Huh...

I don't advocate the oppression, suppression, or repression of anyone for any reason - why am I doing it to myself.

Music again! and one (two) other distraction(s)

So - this has been a good week. On Easter I decided to take a day to myself and devoured two books. A very surreal combination, but yaay for Jane Eyre and Neuromancer. Somber British romance followed by a cyber punk dystopia of the most lurid. (interesting, cyber is not recognized by firefox as a word - irony of ironies)

Bottom line: I would recommend either to anyone.

Now I'm working on work - of course. Well, not *now.* Consider it a Newton-esque law of mass applied to time. But last night was again a break from the grind. I joined Mssr. E (a friend of Mdme. A, who appeared in an earlier post) to see a mutually enjoyable band. Cutthroat Shamrocks (of my St. Patrick's day adventure) played at the Corner Lounge last night. The CL is approximately 1K square feet of coolness, with a bar (of course) along the side, miniscule one stall bathrooms which may or may not flush, and a barely elevated stage at the front. Posters and Tshirts of all the awesome musicmakers who graced their venue crowd the walls, ceilings, and hang from the rafters. NewKnoBrewCo on draught and $1.50 PBRs add to the shabby/chic whatever-ness of the joint. It is - a joint.

We got there, had a few beers before the band got on stage, and when the band started I noticed that it wasn't Cutthroat Shamrock. Instead, it was a group in corpse paint doing a boyband routine. Intrigued, I made my way to the front while E took pictures (that's his shtick). The gentlemen on stage composed Zombie Bazooka Patrol and regaled us with such songs as "worms in my head" and "undead brotherhood." I won't stick them in a genre, but shall instead continue with my evening.

After they played, Cutthroat got on stage. And the setlist was fricken HUGE! probably three feet long. The ZBP-ers washed off their face and hung out in the intimate rowdy crowd of the front. I ended up hanging with them a bit, talked to the bass player some, and even shared the last of my cigs with them. I love when bands are accessible. Everyone was so awesome and energetic. Being up front and on the more sober end of the spectrum, I inadvertently kept an eye on some of the sound equipment and saved a speaker (amp?) from toppling off of the milk crates that elevated them.

They played till 2 AM, at which point E and I talked with the bass player a bit more, and E showed me that he snagged the set list - FOR ME! He also, coincidently, had him a Sharpie. So I played the ironic fan-girl and snagged the signatures of the band members on the set list. I do plan to scan it eventually, but that'll be a bit later. No worries. I also purchased a "Limited Edition EP" of Zombie Bazooka Patrol (self burned and numbered) to add to my growing CD collection. I do believe that I shall listen to it on the way home.

After the excitement of the venue, we went home. Mmmmm - the sleep after adrenaline pumping. The day of work afterwards. Back to paper writing.

Metal 1

I'm going to try to weekly add a random piece of metal from one work or another.

Here's one. It's suspected to be a piece of a still. Fun fun.

Job Advice: 1

Working and schooling in three unique environments, I see a regular amount of turnover. In this, I also get to observe the actual hiring process. This week has been one of note, so I will start a (possibly) semi-regular blog feature called "Job Advice."

In "Job Advice" I will list real-life examples of what NOT to do (that's what I normally notice) to be selected for a position.

So - here we go:

1) Don't cold call the an institution you do not belong to and demand a paid internship. Especially when one has never been advertised. This goes double if one has never been offered and the institution is struggling for money.

2) Spell check your application. If you can't spell the position or the institution, you are not wanted to represent the institution.

3) Apply for the correct job. Those get tossed out, not transferred to the correct position.

4) When a recommendation letter for X states "X is a survivor," that means the hiring institution (me, in this case) should pity X. Do I look like Mr. T ? That's what I thought.

5) In your application, do not outline how you will use this position in a political agenda to destroy the integrity of the institution.

6) When interviewing, do not tell the interviewers that the institution is not suitable for its clients long term plans, and its focus should be on transitioning its clients to other institutions.

7) Do promptly return a phone call offering you a position. If you can't get back to the institution within a week, you're too lazy to have the job.

intermission for lack of sense: St. Patrick's Day

Revelations on waking up at 10.30 AM on the Day after St. Patrick's Day

1- Ow

2- Good think that I ate at 4AM, it's too cold to get out of bed.

3- My pillow smells of cigarettes. Hey - I bet I smell of cigarettes!

4- My feet hurt. Actually, the gashes on the top of my feet hurt.

5- I haven't been to a concert with that much energy since I saw They Might Be Giants.

6- Sheena may be a punk rocker, but Gexx is no mosh-pitter.


Yeah, I actually thought those, even number 6, even though it wouldn't have qualified as a mosh pit. So therefor, if I can't handle a St. Pat's rowdy crowd, I prbibly shouldn't get myself over my head (lit and fig). The funny thing, I was the mature, responsible designated driver. And I did it, I only had two beers: one at 9.30PM and one at 10 PM because St. Patricks day requires Black'n'Tans and I wanted a short buzz at the beginning. We didn't leave until 2.30 AM, because the band played until 2.15. Then we had to regroup. Of course we were hungry, so off to the illustrious Waffle House where we sat, drank tons of water, and started to feel human again. After dropping people off I made my way back home, rinsed off my feet, and dropped into bed.

So - what was this show that literally kicked my arse? It was St. Patrick's Day at the Preservation Pub with Cutthroat Shamrock.

I have seen Cutthroat Shamrock a few times before. They used to play in G-burg quite often. I remember meeting one of the band members at the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games in 2005, and if they played there then I saw them. There were so many bands, though, that I couldn't keep track of who I saw other than Claan an Drumma (now called Albennach). Also, they played at the 2006 Brewers Jam in K-ville, and althought the band's energy was high the only individuals dancing were a handfull of converse-clad highschoolers doing the Ska/Punkrock-Kick. Then, I saw them opening for Enter the Haggis. I went to see Cutthroat more than Haggis, but as they opened, they didn't get much playing time. At that show, there were so few people and only 4 of us danced. Dancing was somewhay awkward at that moment because the band's energy just calls for a crowd's dynamic.

So - last night. Well, because the previous crowds had seemed so low energy, I wore some going out clothes: going out jeans, going out green shirt, and going out sequined ballet flats. The venue is a long narrow room with sepia toned, blown up portraits of individuals and their quotes on drinking. I stood in the front, literally against the 3 foot tall stage, with a group of friends. Since it was the Preservation Pub and because it was a Saturday St. Patrick's day, there was a huge crowd. But we wanted to be in the front, so we made it.

The band started, and after a few songs, all of the incidental jostling transformed into contrived jostling. After a few more songs the created, contained bumping and jumping of Mob suddenly took off and WHAM! And because it was Mob, we joined. I was wolloped a few times, and I was knocked to the floor a few others. Everyone was quick to help people up, though. So that was nice - less worry of general bodily trampling. Instead, my feet in my little pretty shoes were smashed and covered with a sticky film of dirt mixed with the spilled beer. Ah well, the adreniline was running so high among us that I really didn't care.

A statement of one of my companions could not have been more true: "I think I have more beer spilled onto me than I could ever afford."

We, our portion of Mob, emerged soaked with sweat and beer. No bloodshed, thankfully. The evening was absolutely awesome! I'm so glad to see that the band actually does have a physical following and not just a MySpace posse. Next time I see them, I will wear my kick-arse shoes.

I really should do some work now, though.

Edit a video from the evening has been posted on youtube:

I'm not my mother's feminist

Finally - an update.

I'm not going to continue the past post's train of thought. Too much time has elapsed and I lost it all. Instead, I'm going to do a tardy "Blog Against Sexism Day 2007" post. Why? because I feel like posting, and it seems like a viable topic for this new, thoughtful blog. (Of course, I would attack it in my old blog, but this just seems like a much more viable venue.)



I'm not my mother's feminist

Granted, no one is *my* mother's feminist as she was never one for such "silly" things, and maybe that's why I feel strongly about these race/class/gender issues that tend to weasel their nuances into my work. And feminism and genderism has changed greatly over the years: "the women are people, too" school of thought of the 60s and 70s, the masculanized woman of the 1980s, the man-hating reclamation of feminine virtue of the 90s, and the gender rights "humanism" of the 'aughts.

The one point which always attacks me is the gender-based victimization of individuals. Of course, a good harasser will learn the sensitive points of the victim, but when these points are gender based - a slew of traits which cannot be changed - the victim no longer feels bothered/irritated, but instead feels vulnerable and ashamed. In the same way, many women (me included) have been raised so their "instinctual" action is the polite, "ladylike" one of pleasethankyoudemureglancedown. Yes, the readers laugh, but they have so rarely seen me so far out of my comfort zone that I retreat to these behaviors, which I never realized I was doing and then was reprimanded for being stupid and making bad choices.

Why is this *my* soapbox issue on my late/partial credit BASD Post? Because it is one that has directly effected me. It has influenced my decisions, it even carries over into my behaviors, my worries, and my paranoias. This is why I move my car to just outside my office before dark. Personal genderist attacks have shaped my political and social views, including my feelings on gun control. This is why I, an "independent woman" always tend to seek out some companion (preferably male) if I'm going out in an unfamiliar city. Or, for example, when I interned in the warehouse district of a city, as soon as I got off the bus, I hunched over and pulled a guy's hat down to my ears. Wearing my bulky coat, which protected me from gendered detection as well as the frigid Upstate NY winters, I would rapidly navigate the alleys to my building, passing by the lower echelon of legal and illegal activities. This practice, of course, was not adopted until after I handled a mild incident, but a soothsayer I was and am not and hind site is a great learning tool.

This, in a long hard retrospective look, is also probably why I stayed in that relationship for so long - because this way I had "the devil I knew" in the male next to me. Sure he treated me emotionally like crap, but like he told me, "[I]should be happy, [He] never hit [me]." I could just ignore his comments, but I did not want to ever be hit again. And definitely, being "girl" or even worse, "l'girl," and not a woman, or even Elizabeth (read more about fullness of person-hood later on) has influenced my relationship (or lack thereof) with my parents.

Instead, the bf was there to escort me out of threatening places, even if he was just on the phone. The thought of maleness embodies being a full person, and who in their right mind would ever attack a full person.

Those who are not this sought after "full person" [in this post we focus on gender (not on race or class - sorry, there much be blog days for those topics too)] are those who are not the man's man. Because we are not whole, we do not have a full defense against these genderists. This includes, but is not limited to: women/wimmen/womyn, girls/grrrls, members of the LGBTTQQ community, and even "effeminate" men.

So, what are individuals doing to reclaim the harasser's ammunition? Pet store feminists are reclaiming Bitch and Pussy? The Vagina Monologues, in exposing that word from it's hideyhole of kiddy-speak and slang (peepee, gash, cunt, slit) has placed the word in public parlance again. Perhaps when the Penis Monologues come out, the "PENIS!" game will also lose it's shock value. Cities have their "gayborhoods" (today's new word for me), and some have sex and gender based facilities to protect against such harassers.

I know that inequality is the only constant in social dynamics, but...

Do I view myself as being inferior because my observers see me as such? Or do my observers see me a sub, and open for harassment because I allow them?

(all who are reading, cut the "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" ERoosevelt crap)

The point of this ramble is not to make obvious the need to protect against gender-based harassment, but instead to make obvious the want to remove this gender-based harassment and uneasiness. It is an inherent right for me to walk down the street and feel safe. Yet I have also been raised being told that dealing with such actions, picking myself up afterwards, cleaning up and continuing on with my life is inherent with being female. I am sick of it.

Although an idealist at heart, I am not here to offer a solution, unless re-exposing the topic for maximum observation is a solution. But I refuse to allow it to be forgotten. I'm sure I could pull out some of the many Symbolists sitting in my bookshelf to "support" my point, but this is a blog - not a term paper. Thank you blogger, for giving me a canvas to air my thoughts as a verbal Pollack painting.
edit on 3/16/2007 to tie some points together

expression, responsibility, censorship, and

I was going to do a blog about the "Rape Only Hurts If You Fight It" article written by CCSU student John Petroski and published as an Op/Ed at his school newspaper. I was going to outline the nuances between the

• freedom to express a personal opinion (exercised by the author and the newspaper)
• the freedom to say one does not like the opinion expressed(exercised by the gathering student body and hordes of internetters)
• the responsibility to represent the school professionally (ignored by the author and the newspaper, offending the university and the student body)
• and the need to treat subject matter properly (ignored by the author and the newspaper, offending the many who have been affected by rape).

I was going to draw in the Journalist's Code of Ethics and the Newspaper Editor's Code of Ethics. But, I think that I just did that, and new topics have been brought to my attention that I would rather spend the blog space on.

..
more later

Squid!

I'm very much not a life science person. I tend to find that soft tissue is just *not my thing.* growing up, however, I wanted to be a marine biologist (among other things). And I wanted to study whales or squids. One of my top favorite movies was Disney's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

So - what do you expect: I have been avidly following this search for the giant squids. When this 10m invertebrate was landed, I grinned and HAD to blog about it. I just always thought that it was cool.

I find it interesting how all of these giant colossal squid are actually being recognized recently. They live in antarctic waters, supposedly, but are being found in the pacific. Why are these dieing squid picking *now* as a time to reveal themselves to us? Is it ::gasp:: a direct link to global warming? Or are they over populated, sending their excess out into the world of humans?

To have the time to write a book about what is going on in squid-world, ah, I would enjoy that.

overthinking: Pool

I want to get better at pool. I have purely selfish reasons for this. Last June, at a conference, a colleague who became a friend totally kicked my arse. He played all of his balls, then played my balls, then got the eight ball in. Granted, he didn't do it continuously. We probably took about 10 turns each, but I think I only sank two balls the entire game. Therefore, he's not marvelously good.

I'm just that bad.

I will be attending a conference with this colleague in June, and our hotel's restaurant is a British Pub with what seems to be an ample amount of pool tables. Therefore another game is very possible, and I really don't want to be as embarrassed this summer.

So on Friday, A, a friend and co-student in my department, and I decided to take advantage of two situations.
1) We are both rather attractive single women.
2) I have a pool hall 50 m from my front door.

After dressing "rockstar cowgirl" style, which is appropriate for 90% of the clubs and bars in K-ville, we wandered over and snagged ourselves some cues, a table, and a pitcher of Blue Moon. As we expected, we were the only single women there. Of course others noticed it also. On many occasions we turned down offers for drinks, and one gentleman was threatened with "git yur grubby paws offa mah table afore I jam this stick up yur arse and drag you away wit' it." by me.

Where does the geeking out come into play? Surely I've become used to conversations where "liminal," "cultural relativism," and "postprocessual" are thrown about like four letter words at a junior high lunch table. Yes, I have, and that is not what I am referring to. Instead, I continually watched the movement of the balls and the angles at which they hit. One time, the cue ball was spinning in place and I mentally reconstructed the force paths, picturing the little arrows that my physics textbook used to use. I told A about it, and she laughed and told me just to play the game. The final mental link that this game which cause me to realize how much of a geek I am was when I thought of a cartoon that I once had: Donald in Mathmagic Land.

In Donald in Mathmagic Land, Donald duck learns the value of knowing angles when playing pool (three cushions billiards, to be particular), but that scene has always stayed with me. Babysitting in high school, I had a chance to watch this when I first started playing pool. Therefore, the connection was made between geometry and rebounding.

In conclusion, I gradually improved. At one point I managed to get three balls in consecutively. The whole, time however, I thought of Donald Duck as well as little blue arrows. A and I have plans to go to the Grad Student Social on Monday night and play a few games for free there. I think that I'll be able to hold my own come June.

first post - new blog

This is a new blog for me, but not my first blog.

I have started this blog for a few reasons:
1) my last blogs were rather personal, this will separate myself and any new readers from them.
2) I am starting a new chunk of my life, so I would like my blog to reflect my new mindset.
3) I would like this new blog to reflect my actual level of literacy ;-) .

So - a short introduction or revisiting of me is in order. I am currently in my second year of an anthropology MA program. I am also a home owner and I like to garden. My media foci are reflected in the side bar. The change - often. Additionally, I promise that future postings will be more personable.