Emerson wrote, "The reward of a thing well done is to have done it."
In contrast, the punishment of accomplishment is to run out of things to do. I detest being bored, or devoting my time to making incremental improvements on uninteresting tasks (unpacking, laundry, data archiving, maintenance, etc.) but it looks like my destiny tonight is to wallow in it.
Two hours in to my evening at home and I'm already itching for some externally-imposed committment. Christ, what a Tool am I.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The Superfluous...
that too is necessary.
I woke up late today and went to unpack by way of the original 1369 Coffeehouse. I drank my cup of coffee and listened to David Bowie on the PA while reading the Glob. There was an article on the Pentagon enlisting faculty at Wellesley to investigate or structure an Office of the Victim's Advocate for the military services.
''Implementation of a self- interested Wellesley proposal could create a new job market for women's studies graduates schooled in man-hating ideology," says Elaine Donnelly, president of the conservative Center for Military Readiness, which has opposed gays in the military and women serving in combat roles.
''Sexual assault is always wrong and should be punished promptly at the local level," Donnelly said. However, a victim's advocate ''would operate as an office of male bashing that would nuclearize the war between the sexes."
Conservative activist Phyllis Schlafly has also attacked the plan in interviews and on her website.
''Wellesley is doubly bad because it is completely feminist," Schlafly said in an interview. ''The whole thing is a taxpayer-funded operation to establish the notion that men are natural batterers and women are victims and women are always right and men are always wrong."
I'm bothered that feminist ideology is getting mapped to man-hating gender-segregating finger-pointing. I would expect a Victim's Advocate to serve male assault victims as much as the females; God knows there's plenty of buggery going around to serve both genders. Sexual assault goes all ways, bastards.
Anyhow, the rest of today is unpacking and triage. I own a lot of trendy clothes, but I don't need those size 10 pants anymore. I missed Saturnalia, as is by now traditional (else I might have seen my 6.004 TA naked and that would have made class terribly awkward). Tonight are five other parties: xmal, chris, bonk, sam and ian. And more unpacking, picture-hanging and cleaning. Voo Doo is finished. The calendar will have to come out in IAP. Alicia is married. Work progresses.
I woke up late today and went to unpack by way of the original 1369 Coffeehouse. I drank my cup of coffee and listened to David Bowie on the PA while reading the Glob. There was an article on the Pentagon enlisting faculty at Wellesley to investigate or structure an Office of the Victim's Advocate for the military services.
''Implementation of a self- interested Wellesley proposal could create a new job market for women's studies graduates schooled in man-hating ideology," says Elaine Donnelly, president of the conservative Center for Military Readiness, which has opposed gays in the military and women serving in combat roles.
''Sexual assault is always wrong and should be punished promptly at the local level," Donnelly said. However, a victim's advocate ''would operate as an office of male bashing that would nuclearize the war between the sexes."
Conservative activist Phyllis Schlafly has also attacked the plan in interviews and on her website.
''Wellesley is doubly bad because it is completely feminist," Schlafly said in an interview. ''The whole thing is a taxpayer-funded operation to establish the notion that men are natural batterers and women are victims and women are always right and men are always wrong."
I'm bothered that feminist ideology is getting mapped to man-hating gender-segregating finger-pointing. I would expect a Victim's Advocate to serve male assault victims as much as the females; God knows there's plenty of buggery going around to serve both genders. Sexual assault goes all ways, bastards.
Anyhow, the rest of today is unpacking and triage. I own a lot of trendy clothes, but I don't need those size 10 pants anymore. I missed Saturnalia, as is by now traditional (else I might have seen my 6.004 TA naked and that would have made class terribly awkward). Tonight are five other parties: xmal, chris, bonk, sam and ian. And more unpacking, picture-hanging and cleaning. Voo Doo is finished. The calendar will have to come out in IAP. Alicia is married. Work progresses.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Ausgezeichnetes
On this whole "holiday weekend" thing; so far, so good. I do have to buckle down and get a lot of work done, but, you know, when don't I have too much shit to do? Ada experienced the full spa treatment (a cut, bleaching and a custom dye-job) for the low-low price of some excellent Masaman curry at the Thai place near Cruftlabs. I got a haircut that actually required me giving someone else money and picked up some new cold-weather gear. There was some tireswinging and hanging out with Chuck, Feldmeier and Jedediah in there. And I visited the lovely Mich at her place of caffeinated employment. All that's left is, you know, everything else that needs doing. And it started snowing. Winter is coming; prepare by setting snares for your Thanksgiving-fattened neighbors to ensure a constant and plentiful food supply. The strong must survive!
From Thanksgiving proper, before my journey to DangerGiving, Lifton, Tam, Chris, Thai and Jim (et. al.) -- which is to say "we, the bringers of the Senior Haus feast" -- went through a few handy innovation cycles. It happens when you're mickeying up food for 70 (you read right). As is by now traditional, I made brined turkey and pierogi. The exception was that, this time, I rolled out dough as fast as I could and about 7 people vied for the painful priviledge of actually making the peirogi. By hand, with forks! Engineers are masochists, but it really r0x0red on the labor-intensive polish food front. Anyhow, as a return to innovation, we had to come up with something original to serve with the squash. Check this out:
Orange Cranberry Stuffing
1. peel a few oranges and limes (3:1 or more). cut the peels into short, thin strips.
2. boil peels for 20-30 minutes; drain. that vegetable-esque smell is the lime peel.
3. boil up some simple syrup ++ (2 cups water, 2.5 cups sugar)
4. add peels
5. wait 15 minutes
6. add two packages of fresh cranberries (680 grams for those at home)
7. boil for 10 minutes
8. lightly smash cranberries with a blunt object; drain.
9. combine 50% of the mass of the cranberries worth of real steel-cut oats (not that Quaker nastiness) with two** egg yolks and the skinless, segmented bits of those peeled oranges (ditch the limes)
10. melt half a stick of butter in a pan
11. add 2 small/medium, finely chopped onions to the butter; salt a bit; saute
12. add about 2-3 finely chopped sticks of celery to the onions; saute a wee bit
13. combine that orangeggy-oat mix, the cranpeel goodness and the buttery celeronions
14. add a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper and about a teaspoon of allspice
15. stop looking skeptical. this stuff is xmal approved, dude.
16. mix it up good.
17. stuff it in some squash. bake according to squash instructions.
** Our cranberry:oats ratio was secretly only 4:1 so we just used one egg.
Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to rock out! l8r.
From Thanksgiving proper, before my journey to DangerGiving, Lifton, Tam, Chris, Thai and Jim (et. al.) -- which is to say "we, the bringers of the Senior Haus feast" -- went through a few handy innovation cycles. It happens when you're mickeying up food for 70 (you read right). As is by now traditional, I made brined turkey and pierogi. The exception was that, this time, I rolled out dough as fast as I could and about 7 people vied for the painful priviledge of actually making the peirogi. By hand, with forks! Engineers are masochists, but it really r0x0red on the labor-intensive polish food front. Anyhow, as a return to innovation, we had to come up with something original to serve with the squash. Check this out:
Orange Cranberry Stuffing
1. peel a few oranges and limes (3:1 or more). cut the peels into short, thin strips.
2. boil peels for 20-30 minutes; drain. that vegetable-esque smell is the lime peel.
3. boil up some simple syrup ++ (2 cups water, 2.5 cups sugar)
4. add peels
5. wait 15 minutes
6. add two packages of fresh cranberries (680 grams for those at home)
7. boil for 10 minutes
8. lightly smash cranberries with a blunt object; drain.
9. combine 50% of the mass of the cranberries worth of real steel-cut oats (not that Quaker nastiness) with two** egg yolks and the skinless, segmented bits of those peeled oranges (ditch the limes)
10. melt half a stick of butter in a pan
11. add 2 small/medium, finely chopped onions to the butter; salt a bit; saute
12. add about 2-3 finely chopped sticks of celery to the onions; saute a wee bit
13. combine that orangeggy-oat mix, the cranpeel goodness and the buttery celeronions
14. add a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper and about a teaspoon of allspice
15. stop looking skeptical. this stuff is xmal approved, dude.
16. mix it up good.
17. stuff it in some squash. bake according to squash instructions.
** Our cranberry:oats ratio was secretly only 4:1 so we just used one egg.
Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to rock out! l8r.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Happenstance
I went on my first real business trip this past week. Of course, my apartment lost power at 3am the morning of and I missed my original flight. A former friend once recommended Cryptonomicon for long flights, and I'm glad I took it with me as I spent all of Monday in transit. The Atlanta airport has free wireless, as long as you're only using SSH. Which means you can root their servers. I'd say to try it, but that might ruin the bandwidth theft for others.
I similarly slept too late to catch my long-planned trip to NYC this morning. Instead, I bummed around all day. In the spirit of avoiding rote habit, I took a long and new route home tonight through Inman, and what car should I walk by but Phil's Fiero. The lights were on in the church, and I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if I stopped in. I think I'll stick with my plan of having dinner, taking a shower and catching a jazz show with Scooter and Mar.
Last Saturday I met Anna next to the gaudy ornamental fountain on the Commons, for to go to dinner, and on my way there, I met a wicked nice guy from New Bedford, MA named Ian. We had a nice conversation. He's from the armpit of Massachusetts and was kind enough to give me a visual aid for that descriptor I'm hoping he had a good time on his daytrip. Before that, I'd stopped by SH to tireswing and maybe catch Pallo to be filmed for his class project. Instead, I was caught by Laura (who needed a pre-concert haircut) and Feldmeier who was being tracked by a film crew of underaged Harvard film students.
A off-hand conversation at IHOP later that night led to me being volunteered to shoot the women of Star Wars: The Musical Edition for the Eastside Calendar project. Which turned into a protracted photo shoot before the show's call yesterday evening. I had too much equipment to take at once, so on the second run I dropped off the model waiver forms and collected the strobes (they belong to EC). On my way in, I saw a tall, thin girl with stunning long hair. I nearly called out to her, but then I thought to see if it really was my friend Antimony because she'd get a real kick out of Star Wars: The Musical Edition. It was some other girl. I decided to drop the strobes off in SIPB so I could get a burrito at Anna's. Food in hand, I picked up a Tech and caught the elevator back up to W20-5. You know, it's something to read while you wait. I didn't even notice the article on Frostbyte, who passed away on Sunday, because Antimony was smiling at me from that distinctive grey box on the bottom right front page.
You know, reading my friends' obituaries... that's just not cool.
I've had more than enough of this death business. But it won't end in my, or any, lifetime.
I similarly slept too late to catch my long-planned trip to NYC this morning. Instead, I bummed around all day. In the spirit of avoiding rote habit, I took a long and new route home tonight through Inman, and what car should I walk by but Phil's Fiero. The lights were on in the church, and I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if I stopped in. I think I'll stick with my plan of having dinner, taking a shower and catching a jazz show with Scooter and Mar.
Last Saturday I met Anna next to the gaudy ornamental fountain on the Commons, for to go to dinner, and on my way there, I met a wicked nice guy from New Bedford, MA named Ian. We had a nice conversation. He's from the armpit of Massachusetts and was kind enough to give me a visual aid for that descriptor I'm hoping he had a good time on his daytrip. Before that, I'd stopped by SH to tireswing and maybe catch Pallo to be filmed for his class project. Instead, I was caught by Laura (who needed a pre-concert haircut) and Feldmeier who was being tracked by a film crew of underaged Harvard film students.
A off-hand conversation at IHOP later that night led to me being volunteered to shoot the women of Star Wars: The Musical Edition for the Eastside Calendar project. Which turned into a protracted photo shoot before the show's call yesterday evening. I had too much equipment to take at once, so on the second run I dropped off the model waiver forms and collected the strobes (they belong to EC). On my way in, I saw a tall, thin girl with stunning long hair. I nearly called out to her, but then I thought to see if it really was my friend Antimony because she'd get a real kick out of Star Wars: The Musical Edition. It was some other girl. I decided to drop the strobes off in SIPB so I could get a burrito at Anna's. Food in hand, I picked up a Tech and caught the elevator back up to W20-5. You know, it's something to read while you wait. I didn't even notice the article on Frostbyte, who passed away on Sunday, because Antimony was smiling at me from that distinctive grey box on the bottom right front page.
You know, reading my friends' obituaries... that's just not cool.
I've had more than enough of this death business. But it won't end in my, or any, lifetime.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Phraseology
Ruggedized. Hostile feedback. Pre-filter (as applied to social dynamics). And my favourite: active termination.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Phil
Riad wanted to know the story of Phil, and I admit, I promised to tell. There's not much more to it than my penchant for striking up conversations with random strangers. In this instance, Phil was getting some stuff out of his Fiero (I said, "Nice car. What's the make?") around 2am some work-night. We chatted for about 15-20 minutes before I headed home.
Anyhow, I think this (sanitized) email speaks volumes. I'd analyse it for you, but 1) that might be a bit unfair to the dude, 2) my Voo Doo would be showing (as many a SIPB member is wont to say). Which is to say, it wouldn't be a nice sort of analysis. Despite the fact that, at the time, I thought we had a very pleasant conversation. But... the email is just too creepy to ever warrant calling him up. I'm similarly disappointed that the completely crazy guy I ran into over by Tosci's a few weeks ago hasn't emailed me yet. He was hilarious. He had a geode where the crystal inside looked exactly like Australia, and he had it copywrited and was going to sell it to the Australian government for fat wads of cash. He'd made these really nice prints of photos of it and everything. I was looking forward to his art gallery/halloween party announcement. Sad me. Anyhow, for your reading pleasure.
From: CREEPY DUDE
Date: Fri, 7 Oct 2005 10:48:42 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Nice Meeting You
To: stupidwoz@wtfwereyouthinking.com
Hi ----, It was fun meeting you last night/early this morning. You have an interesting e-mail ID. As an Architect, "you" are an icon in classic form! I also have a Master's with concentration in Anthropology and Archaeology, have climbed Mount Olympus in Athens and stood as close to the Erechtheion's porch of the "Caryatides" (Archaeological alternate spelling) as I was to you when chatting from the ladder. Your personal character affiliation with this kind of statuary is telling of your inner sense of how you caption your role in life ...
Would really like to continue the "download" - seems we have much in common, and with a little exploring, will likely discover dissimilarities with good fits for exchange. Call me any time at the number I gave you - It's a satellite voicemail/pager toll free 1-222-333-4444. Gives about 20 seconds of voicemail, or you can tap in a reply phone number - gets to me either way in a few minutes after sending. If you want me to call you instead, you can e-mail me here with your phone or cell phone number.
Kindest regards, Phil
Anyhow, I think this (sanitized) email speaks volumes. I'd analyse it for you, but 1) that might be a bit unfair to the dude, 2) my Voo Doo would be showing (as many a SIPB member is wont to say). Which is to say, it wouldn't be a nice sort of analysis. Despite the fact that, at the time, I thought we had a very pleasant conversation. But... the email is just too creepy to ever warrant calling him up. I'm similarly disappointed that the completely crazy guy I ran into over by Tosci's a few weeks ago hasn't emailed me yet. He was hilarious. He had a geode where the crystal inside looked exactly like Australia, and he had it copywrited and was going to sell it to the Australian government for fat wads of cash. He'd made these really nice prints of photos of it and everything. I was looking forward to his art gallery/halloween party announcement. Sad me. Anyhow, for your reading pleasure.
From: CREEPY DUDE
Date: Fri, 7 Oct 2005 10:48:42 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Nice Meeting You
To: stupidwoz@wtfwereyouthinking.com
Hi ----, It was fun meeting you last night/early this morning. You have an interesting e-mail ID. As an Architect, "you" are an icon in classic form! I also have a Master's with concentration in Anthropology and Archaeology, have climbed Mount Olympus in Athens and stood as close to the Erechtheion's porch of the "Caryatides" (Archaeological alternate spelling) as I was to you when chatting from the ladder. Your personal character affiliation with this kind of statuary is telling of your inner sense of how you caption your role in life ...
Would really like to continue the "download" - seems we have much in common, and with a little exploring, will likely discover dissimilarities with good fits for exchange. Call me any time at the number I gave you - It's a satellite voicemail/pager toll free 1-222-333-4444. Gives about 20 seconds of voicemail, or you can tap in a reply phone number - gets to me either way in a few minutes after sending. If you want me to call you instead, you can e-mail me here with your phone or cell phone number.
Kindest regards, Phil
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Dangerhouse
I finally caught the first T back from a party. Here are some aggregated links for your enjoyment:
Crazy Japanese Artist Courtesy of Grace
Sculpted Leather Corsetry (the art pieces have some wicked detailing)
Wooden Sculptures
Surrealist Photography Courtesy of Sherv
Crazy Japanese Artist Courtesy of Grace
Sculpted Leather Corsetry (the art pieces have some wicked detailing)
Wooden Sculptures
Surrealist Photography Courtesy of Sherv
Friday, October 07, 2005
Mislaid but not Lost
I'm up in my whining, and behind in recounting my adventures in being a Midwestern Girl. I got a bit dizzy just now (I'm home sick from work and am finally putting my stuff to rights) so I'll type a bit and then get back to it.
Swapfest Coffee
The story of my Swapfest coffee dates from the last surreal week I spent working on my thesis. If I hadn't made a note of it here, I probably would have forgotten it entirely. I had been working in SIPB, and it was cold and early in the morning. I decided nothing in the world would be better than Ritazza French Vanilla Creme vending machine coffee. I gathered up my money and went down to the CoffeeHouse (now home to nothing save SaveTFP and some depressed vending machines), but the CoffeeHouse was locked. I continued down to Verdes, only to discover it was 20 minutes before Verdes would open. A man -- and I can't describe what he looked like anymore except that he was short with dark hair and a Boston accent, and he reminded me a bit of Bonk, which is to say of Tommy Lee Jones -- was similarly disappointed by the failure of Verdes to be open. You can spot a coffee addict who's jonesing for a fix; well, if you've ever been a kindred soul. There's a certain hunch to the shoulders, a twist to the brow. This man had the look, as I'm sure I did. We exchanged pleasantries (mostly swearing) about how nice it would be if Verdes would open so that we could get coffee. He asked me where else might be open, and I told him about the only other source of sweet, hot and nourishing caffeine that I could think of -- Munchies.
Then he left the student center. And I left as well, deciding that hot coffee was going to be far superior to flat Coke. On a lark, I ran to catch up with him, and we chatted on the walk north up Mass Ave. I didn't know his name and he didn't know me from Eve. Eventually I remembered that Sam's Luncheonette might be open (I mean, Sunny's Diner) and we made our way there (conveniently next to Munchies). But Sam's was closed. I was fine with bad gas station coffee, but this guy wanted a proper cup of the black stuff. We chatted for a bit about where other places to find coffee might be, when he metaphorically slapped his head and said, "Of course!" And said that there would be coffee at the parking garage.
Parking garage? I started weighing my options -- like how he probably had 20-30 lbs on me. My father gave me a healthy paranoid streak and, in return, I regularly give him heart palpitations by purposefully overturning caution for faith in basic human goodness. But there's still that moment of decision...
This man, he seemed honest and nice and we were having a good conversation (about Rush, Cambridge, Boston and MIT and, of course, the different kinds of engineering we did) so I took him at his word. There would be a man selling coffee and donuts at one of the MIT parking garages. And so we walked back, South along Mass Ave, then East on Vassar, then across the railroad tracks to where a table had been set up outside of the parking garage and a man was selling coffee and Dunkin' Donuts. The parking garage! Now it was my turn to slap my head -- which I really did. This was SwapFest.
This guy was a vendor at SwapFest -- otherwise known as the MIT Flea, and also something I'd never been to before. Despite the fact that I love crufting hardware; I hadn't had the money as an undergrad. But there we were. He'd come full-circle (when he'd made his way to Verdes, he'd completely forgotten about the Swapfest coffee guy) and I'd gone on a pleasant detour. We chatted a bit more, bought coffee, exchanged names, made our goodbyes, and I took my coffee back to SIPB and resumed work on my thesis. By that time, Verdes was open, but my coffee was better on account of how I got it.
And that is the story of my SwapFest coffee. Maybe it's time for a small snack and setting up my stereo. Nice, light labor.
Swapfest Coffee
The story of my Swapfest coffee dates from the last surreal week I spent working on my thesis. If I hadn't made a note of it here, I probably would have forgotten it entirely. I had been working in SIPB, and it was cold and early in the morning. I decided nothing in the world would be better than Ritazza French Vanilla Creme vending machine coffee. I gathered up my money and went down to the CoffeeHouse (now home to nothing save SaveTFP and some depressed vending machines), but the CoffeeHouse was locked. I continued down to Verdes, only to discover it was 20 minutes before Verdes would open. A man -- and I can't describe what he looked like anymore except that he was short with dark hair and a Boston accent, and he reminded me a bit of Bonk, which is to say of Tommy Lee Jones -- was similarly disappointed by the failure of Verdes to be open. You can spot a coffee addict who's jonesing for a fix; well, if you've ever been a kindred soul. There's a certain hunch to the shoulders, a twist to the brow. This man had the look, as I'm sure I did. We exchanged pleasantries (mostly swearing) about how nice it would be if Verdes would open so that we could get coffee. He asked me where else might be open, and I told him about the only other source of sweet, hot and nourishing caffeine that I could think of -- Munchies.
Then he left the student center. And I left as well, deciding that hot coffee was going to be far superior to flat Coke. On a lark, I ran to catch up with him, and we chatted on the walk north up Mass Ave. I didn't know his name and he didn't know me from Eve. Eventually I remembered that Sam's Luncheonette might be open (I mean, Sunny's Diner) and we made our way there (conveniently next to Munchies). But Sam's was closed. I was fine with bad gas station coffee, but this guy wanted a proper cup of the black stuff. We chatted for a bit about where other places to find coffee might be, when he metaphorically slapped his head and said, "Of course!" And said that there would be coffee at the parking garage.
Parking garage? I started weighing my options -- like how he probably had 20-30 lbs on me. My father gave me a healthy paranoid streak and, in return, I regularly give him heart palpitations by purposefully overturning caution for faith in basic human goodness. But there's still that moment of decision...
This man, he seemed honest and nice and we were having a good conversation (about Rush, Cambridge, Boston and MIT and, of course, the different kinds of engineering we did) so I took him at his word. There would be a man selling coffee and donuts at one of the MIT parking garages. And so we walked back, South along Mass Ave, then East on Vassar, then across the railroad tracks to where a table had been set up outside of the parking garage and a man was selling coffee and Dunkin' Donuts. The parking garage! Now it was my turn to slap my head -- which I really did. This was SwapFest.
This guy was a vendor at SwapFest -- otherwise known as the MIT Flea, and also something I'd never been to before. Despite the fact that I love crufting hardware; I hadn't had the money as an undergrad. But there we were. He'd come full-circle (when he'd made his way to Verdes, he'd completely forgotten about the Swapfest coffee guy) and I'd gone on a pleasant detour. We chatted a bit more, bought coffee, exchanged names, made our goodbyes, and I took my coffee back to SIPB and resumed work on my thesis. By that time, Verdes was open, but my coffee was better on account of how I got it.
And that is the story of my SwapFest coffee. Maybe it's time for a small snack and setting up my stereo. Nice, light labor.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Thesis
Food turns to ashes in my mouth, drink to acid. Physical labor is exhausting but not exhilerating. Tasks are accomplished. Conversations are held. Nothing satisfies me. I want love, but love is tedium. Thrills produce in me only a vague sense of unease. I want to feel whole, but know that I am incomplete. I really need to finish my thesis.
HTGAMIT is coming along. Really, at this point, I can't be bothered to talk about it more than that. Joe wrote something clever for Voo Doo (which I will worry about helping him edit, but later). Aside from purchasing tickets and a box-share, I'm putting off preparing for Burning Man.
I'm going to put on pants and go work now. At least I slept last night. Nightmares, though. Luckily, I didn't remember them. Dollars to donuts it was something about how I'd never get my repeat detection algorithm working because MKT hated me and wouldn't let me download her PHP debugger, or something.
HTGAMIT is coming along. Really, at this point, I can't be bothered to talk about it more than that. Joe wrote something clever for Voo Doo (which I will worry about helping him edit, but later). Aside from purchasing tickets and a box-share, I'm putting off preparing for Burning Man.
I'm going to put on pants and go work now. At least I slept last night. Nightmares, though. Luckily, I didn't remember them. Dollars to donuts it was something about how I'd never get my repeat detection algorithm working because MKT hated me and wouldn't let me download her PHP debugger, or something.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Deltas
Everyone's like, "Oh, you're so thin! How are you?" It takes epic amounts of restraint not to reply, "I've been better, but that's only because you never talked to me when I was fat."
Ho ho ho.
I was poking around in my Athena directory, and apparently back in double-ought-three I had acquired the excessively girly pre-occupation of fretting about my health and my figure. Even normal people do this. They say things like, "Oh, I wish my clothes fit a bit better," or, "I wish I were in better shape, I get winded so quickly during sports." I was no exception, but I didn't really care since my boyfriend wasn't the choosy type. But, I guess I saw some photos of me and I was not in compliance with even my own (somewhat lax) personal aesthetic. Error 507: Woz out of Spec. Some women join gyms or start running: being an engineer I ran a comprehensive analysis of my exercise and nutrition habits (by keeping a diary) with a weight/dimension/peak expiratory rate log (cross referenced to some arcane system tracking how many hours I had tooled or slept each day).
Needless to say, I don't really care about doing things especially to lose weight. I care about doing things to get better at them. The current list is Ultimate, tireswinging, rollerblading, cycling, backpacking and doing pull-ups. But, losing weight is an excellent bonus to the joys of physical exertion, I will not argue with that.
So, courtesy of this log I kept in 2003, I have the hard numbers to figure out the total deltas from back then, to now.
Mass: -2 stone
Bust: -3.5"
Underbust: -3"
Waist: -2"
Hips: -5"
Thigh: -4"
Calf: -2"
Ho ho ho.
I was poking around in my Athena directory, and apparently back in double-ought-three I had acquired the excessively girly pre-occupation of fretting about my health and my figure. Even normal people do this. They say things like, "Oh, I wish my clothes fit a bit better," or, "I wish I were in better shape, I get winded so quickly during sports." I was no exception, but I didn't really care since my boyfriend wasn't the choosy type. But, I guess I saw some photos of me and I was not in compliance with even my own (somewhat lax) personal aesthetic. Error 507: Woz out of Spec. Some women join gyms or start running: being an engineer I ran a comprehensive analysis of my exercise and nutrition habits (by keeping a diary) with a weight/dimension/peak expiratory rate log (cross referenced to some arcane system tracking how many hours I had tooled or slept each day).
Needless to say, I don't really care about doing things especially to lose weight. I care about doing things to get better at them. The current list is Ultimate, tireswinging, rollerblading, cycling, backpacking and doing pull-ups. But, losing weight is an excellent bonus to the joys of physical exertion, I will not argue with that.
So, courtesy of this log I kept in 2003, I have the hard numbers to figure out the total deltas from back then, to now.
Mass: -2 stone
Bust: -3.5"
Underbust: -3"
Waist: -2"
Hips: -5"
Thigh: -4"
Calf: -2"
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Produce
Beth and I went to the Haymarket today as our contribution to the fourth floor food co-op. If you've never been, its a market where you really have to shop around between stands. One might sell you 10 good limes for a dollar, and another might have 15 rotting limes for a dollar (but you wouldn't know until you bougt them, because the vendors rarely let you choose your own produce). Some of the vendors are rude and yell at the customers, particularly any asian or ethnic shoppers. You can just shop based on the produce, but it helps to pay attention to the vendors, because nice stall operators make all the difference. From one man, I asked for four pounds of yellow onions and three pounds of roma tomatoes (for two dollars). He said, "Onions, yes. I will not sell you the tomoatos, they are no good." He gestures over his shoulder at the manager who's looking in the other direction. "He says to not look as you fill the bags, but..." And that was very nice of him. There was a pair of asian women running a huge booth, and they had the best vegetables of the entire market, I think. We bought lemons, white mushrooms, cherry tomatos and red and green peppers from them. I haven't been able to find cherry tomatos in the normal grocery stores, so that was excellent.
Beth and I had gone all the way through the market and were heading back (in order to buy a box of strawberries from the only stand where they looked decent), when Beth saw a vendor with herbs and said, "Oh, the basil!" We'd been looking for basil and spinach all morning (and had also just bought the best baby spinach for $1/lb). The vendor heard her, turned to us and said, "Ladies, I have two kinds of basil. I have bad basil and good basil, and both kinds cost the same. Two dollars." Well, it was no contest. Beth and I stood around talking while he talked to another customer. He turned back to us and asked, "What will it be?" Beth laughed and said, "It will have to be the good basil, please."
It took him a minute to find it, but he pulled a sealed produce box from where he had hidden it underneath his stand. I thought it looked suspicious because water had condensed all over the box, but when he opened the opaque plastic bag, you could smell the basil. The bunch of basil was a good handful around and as long as my forearm and the leaves were absolutely perfect in shape, size and color. We paid the man and thanked him, and he told us to have a good day. We meant it, and so did he. We spent our last two dollars on the strawberries and walked back to Government Center to catch the T.
We ate strawberries while we waited for the train.
Once we got back to Senior House and put away the vegetables, Usman and I made breakfast. We made omelettes and a spinach-basil salad. It was delicious.
Several hours (and minor adventures later) I've set up my external hard drive and am thinking about my thesis. It's produce of a different kind.
Beth and I had gone all the way through the market and were heading back (in order to buy a box of strawberries from the only stand where they looked decent), when Beth saw a vendor with herbs and said, "Oh, the basil!" We'd been looking for basil and spinach all morning (and had also just bought the best baby spinach for $1/lb). The vendor heard her, turned to us and said, "Ladies, I have two kinds of basil. I have bad basil and good basil, and both kinds cost the same. Two dollars." Well, it was no contest. Beth and I stood around talking while he talked to another customer. He turned back to us and asked, "What will it be?" Beth laughed and said, "It will have to be the good basil, please."
It took him a minute to find it, but he pulled a sealed produce box from where he had hidden it underneath his stand. I thought it looked suspicious because water had condensed all over the box, but when he opened the opaque plastic bag, you could smell the basil. The bunch of basil was a good handful around and as long as my forearm and the leaves were absolutely perfect in shape, size and color. We paid the man and thanked him, and he told us to have a good day. We meant it, and so did he. We spent our last two dollars on the strawberries and walked back to Government Center to catch the T.
We ate strawberries while we waited for the train.
Once we got back to Senior House and put away the vegetables, Usman and I made breakfast. We made omelettes and a spinach-basil salad. It was delicious.
Several hours (and minor adventures later) I've set up my external hard drive and am thinking about my thesis. It's produce of a different kind.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Shhh...
Dispatches from the front, avid friends. I'm writing from a darkened room. The only light is the soft yellow bleed of a hallway table lamp and the phosphorescent glow of mnemosyne's LCD. The room is dark. In front of me two men work in a desperate and feverish silence to install Ubuntu on a tablet PC. To my right, a ToughBook. To my left, another. I, my intrepid reader, am hiding under a coffeetable as I transcribe these events for you. As long as I am here, my cranium is protected from the possibility of concussions delivered by my closest and dearest freshman year lab partner.
I almost choked out Rodin earlier tonight. At least, that's how I'll tell it to my children when I recall these halcyon days. We also made (a most excellent) pie. In the morning, there may be swimming in 60 degree waters. There might be kayaking. Welcome to the Lake.
I almost choked out Rodin earlier tonight. At least, that's how I'll tell it to my children when I recall these halcyon days. We also made (a most excellent) pie. In the morning, there may be swimming in 60 degree waters. There might be kayaking. Welcome to the Lake.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Nostalgia
If you're ever tempted to re-watch that movie that was so cool when you were between the ages of 8 and 14... For the love of God, don't do it. No! Put down that copy of 'Ladyhawke'! No matter how much of a cute, awkward nerd boy Matthew Broderick might be, the bad 80's synth soundtrack makes it very much not worth it. Not with only one other person. No, it takes a horde of snide, irreverent over-educated college jackasses to make this film entertaining. Do you hear me? Put it down!
I'm nostalgic for a time when I didn't want to rip my eyes out and bang my head repeatedly against a cinberblock wall. Yeah, that's it. That would hit the spot, right now.
I'm nostalgic for a time when I didn't want to rip my eyes out and bang my head repeatedly against a cinberblock wall. Yeah, that's it. That would hit the spot, right now.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Editorial Rag
Just for knowing me, I'll give you a bonus preview of 25% of the text in Issue 91 Volume 1 of VooDoo, MIT's Only Intentionally Humorous Publication. It's the editor's note, otherwise affectionately entitled, "Editorial Rag". If nothing else, it will give you a good laugh at my bitterness quotient.
[REDACTED -- Ed.]
You people can just read my rag when the issue comes out. It will be posted on the VooDoo website, never fear.
In the next... 30 hours, I have to finish compiling my knowledge of conduction and charge transfer in organic polymers, write a 10 page paper analysing a published paper on the topic and give a 15-minute presentation on same paper. I really hate making presentations, but I don't even have powerpoint, so I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Ada warned me that everyone in this class does a professional job, so it's not like I can go in with some grungy course VI overheads. We'll see. I will then need to go back and finish my analysis of organic solution laser spectral data in addition to emission and VI data for an organic LED. Somewhere in there, we'll get together the Final Review packet and give a Final Review session! If I were nice, I'd make sure all of my pulmonary mechanics notes were completely correct before posting them for the students' use -- we'll see how much time I have. My work is due in a day and a half, and the final exam is in 6 days. I'm having a hard time motivating myself to get cracking because, when you're cocky and on your way out of school, everything seems like a previously solved problem.
Not that I'm lazy (although I am), but things just don't seem like nearly as much work as they actually are. But if I get this paper on the formation of conductive wires in "solid electrolyte" films read before I go to bed, I'm on a good route to having an answer as to why these guys are seeing such a fantastic change in conduction when they apply a high enough bias.
[REDACTED -- Ed.]
You people can just read my rag when the issue comes out. It will be posted on the VooDoo website, never fear.
In the next... 30 hours, I have to finish compiling my knowledge of conduction and charge transfer in organic polymers, write a 10 page paper analysing a published paper on the topic and give a 15-minute presentation on same paper. I really hate making presentations, but I don't even have powerpoint, so I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Ada warned me that everyone in this class does a professional job, so it's not like I can go in with some grungy course VI overheads. We'll see. I will then need to go back and finish my analysis of organic solution laser spectral data in addition to emission and VI data for an organic LED. Somewhere in there, we'll get together the Final Review packet and give a Final Review session! If I were nice, I'd make sure all of my pulmonary mechanics notes were completely correct before posting them for the students' use -- we'll see how much time I have. My work is due in a day and a half, and the final exam is in 6 days. I'm having a hard time motivating myself to get cracking because, when you're cocky and on your way out of school, everything seems like a previously solved problem.
Not that I'm lazy (although I am), but things just don't seem like nearly as much work as they actually are. But if I get this paper on the formation of conductive wires in "solid electrolyte" films read before I go to bed, I'm on a good route to having an answer as to why these guys are seeing such a fantastic change in conduction when they apply a high enough bias.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
The Individual With Responsibility
In about four hours, I'll have my first quiz review ever (from the teaching end). This will determine which TA students think is the good TA, or the bad TA, or the TA most likely to give them all the answers. Hah! Suckers! Thank god we don't see the quiz until the day of.
But it's time to go and prepare notes for the miseducation of the malodorous youth.*
*I actually like my students. They're fairly clean, too. I just think this whole teaching thing is such a trip.
But it's time to go and prepare notes for the miseducation of the malodorous youth.*
*I actually like my students. They're fairly clean, too. I just think this whole teaching thing is such a trip.
Friday, February 25, 2005
I still hate the RIAA
I feel bad about making copies of all the excellent albums that I should share with my friends. It would be so easy. But I'd rather have the artists make money from their music, which is why I love the independent labels. I'll stick to making mixes for everyone else, even though it's a lot more work.
But you! Yeah, with the hat! You should listen to the New Pornographers. Right now.
But you! Yeah, with the hat! You should listen to the New Pornographers. Right now.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
For Porn
In the process of investigating human sexuality (the internet is for porn), I found some stuff that's kind of funny. At least, reading it made me giggle. Maybe you'll find it funny for your own reasons.
Do Women Find You More Attractive If You Climb With A Drill And Hammer?
How To Be More Attractive To Women (become a player!)
... and Woman Evolution has got to be the cream of the dating advice crop.
The tips and tricks site needs some recognition for the line, "I thought you might like this, but if you don't want it I'll eat it."
Do Women Find You More Attractive If You Climb With A Drill And Hammer?
How To Be More Attractive To Women (become a player!)
... and Woman Evolution has got to be the cream of the dating advice crop.
The tips and tricks site needs some recognition for the line, "I thought you might like this, but if you don't want it I'll eat it."
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Just Say No To Fascism
Or, you know, mean people who suck.
A Virginia politician is trying to pass legislation that would make it a Class 1 Misdemeanor if a woman has a miscarriage and fails to report it, along with personal vital statistics to authorities within 12 hours of the event. There's a fairly angry page about it here.
I hear our government is using public funds to run the propaganda machine.
And just because I feel like it:
"Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they're so frightfully clever. I'm awfully glad I'm a Beta, because I don't work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don't want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They're too stupid to be able to read or write. Besides they wear black, which is such a beastly colour. I'm so glad I'm a Beta."
Try to figure out how to help people despite the world's inertia naturally preventing that sort of altruism. Have a fantastic weekend.
A Virginia politician is trying to pass legislation that would make it a Class 1 Misdemeanor if a woman has a miscarriage and fails to report it, along with personal vital statistics to authorities within 12 hours of the event. There's a fairly angry page about it here.
I hear our government is using public funds to run the propaganda machine.
And just because I feel like it:
"Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they're so frightfully clever. I'm awfully glad I'm a Beta, because I don't work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don't want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They're too stupid to be able to read or write. Besides they wear black, which is such a beastly colour. I'm so glad I'm a Beta."
Try to figure out how to help people despite the world's inertia naturally preventing that sort of altruism. Have a fantastic weekend.
